janie | Janie B. Cheaney

April 28, 2017

The Writer’s Ego

Don’t do it! they say.

I never do it, claim the most successful.

I don’t do it often, but every now and then it can be instructive to search my own name online (I would say, “to Google myself,” except that sounds a bit naughty).

It’s not something anyone should set aside time for, but rather to do as the mood strikes. I can search two names: J. B. Cheaney refers to my fiction. Janie B. Cheaney yields references to Wordsmith, WORLD Magazine, and a series of posts I wrote on Revolution War figures twenty years ago. (Those mini-biographies are not only still online, but they still come up high in Google rankings, which tells me they’ve supplied many a high-school research project over the years.) The WORLD references are the most volatile, even though, if someone is going to the trouble of quoting me, it’s usually because they liked something I said. Unless they really, really disliked it.

Here’s a classic backhand compliment I came across during my last search: “Half the time she writes the most ridiculous stuff I’ve ever read, but the other half she’s spot on. For example . . .” The blogger goes on to quote one of my less ridiculous statements.

I had to laugh. I mean, I had to—mirth in self-defense.

However, the more I think about it, the more genuinely funny it is. Writers are roughly half-ridiculous—though some, it must be said, are all ridiculous, and wouldn’t be writing if it weren’t for the leveling fury of the Internet.

To turn one’s brain inside-out on paper is as risky as stepping out on a tightrope. It’s lining up words one after the other to bear the weight of one’s wobbling, wavering thought. This is crazy enough to try in private, but if your words appear in print, everybody is looking. Will I overbalance and fall, into the airy net of triviality or the unforgiving sawdust of pomposity? Will I make it to the end of the rope, but in such a clumsy manner any applause will be inspired by pity? Every time I step out on an idea, no matter how many times I’ve done it before, it’s with a certain amount of trepidation—will I make it this time? Will I feel like I walked a straight graceful line from one point to the other, or will the work feel clumsy and inept? Or will I fail and go splat? (It’s happened.)

However impressive it looks, there’s something inherently ridiculous about walking a rope. Writing, too, at least on the face of it: why climb that ladder, stand on that platform, step off on the thin edge of that mysterious medium called language, and hope to get to the other side with some assurance of success? Especially when so many others are doing the same thing, and many of them much better—or at least more successfully—than me? Also especially, when the reader misses my point and thinks I’m ridiculous?

Even more especially, when he got my point and it might actually be ridiculous, like some of the stuff I wrote when I was twenty years old.

All I can say is that circumstances, gifts, and experiences have conspired to make it possible for me to do this. So, “whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.” The best attitude for a writer, I’ve found, is a humble self-confidence, or a cocky humility, that says,

I’m not the best at this and not everyone will like me. But certain things only I can say; certain stories only I can tell; and certain readers are listening, whether they know it or not. So I’m going to go for it, and do the best I can at it, and get better at it, and I will not buy into the lie that I’m only successful if the world falls at my feet. Because then it would be all about me.

Every now and then it’s good to let Google remind me of who it’s not about. And that we’re all—not just writers—a bit ridiculous. (It comes with the territory of being human.)

April 25, 2017

Let’s Talk: Can the Affordable Care Act be Improved? and Should It?

Here we go again: my college friend Charlotte and I, Ms. Blue and Ms. Red, discuss how to improve government-subsidized healthcare. Is anyone on Capitol Hill listening? Charlotte goes first this time.

Charlotte: You and I wound our way through a couple of discussions that brought us to a shared conclusion that Americans should have access to affordable medical insurance and health care. Now we are considering our differences of opinion on the role of government; should federal and state funds be used to provide health care and subsidize insurance plans? Is that a proper function of government? I say yes.

You said in an earlier discussion that many governors resisted Medicaid expansion because they couldn’t figure out how to pay for it. A recent Vox article shows how Medicaid expansion has actually worked better than anyone expected it to. Even Republican governors were vocal in their protest against the failed Republican plan to decrease that program.

Jim Wallis of Sojourners reminds us that “a budget is a moral document.” How our government leaders propose to spend our pooled citizen resources demonstrates their core values. The current budget Blueprint and the proposals in the failed ACHA display efforts to increase the advantages of the already advantaged and compromise the lives of the already vulnerable. I say such inequitable use of our common funds is inherently immoral.

A recent op-ed by Paul Krugman says building on Obamacare and improving it doesn’t have to be that complicated. He gives several good suggestions, as do Sarah Kliff and Ezra Klein in the Vox article. I think you and your Republican friends can make a big difference here by speaking out for reform and insisting the Republican leadership collaborate with their Democrat colleagues. It’s high time for some bipartisan cooperation. Letting the current system implode when it can be tweaked and improved is ludicrous. And again – immoral.

State and Federal governments will be able to figure out how to pay for these kinds of crucial services when they take their responsibilities seriously to put people over profits. “Promoting the common welfare” is not only a Constitutional mandate; it is also the moral and ethical obligation of government.

One other thing on my mind: in an earlier conversation, you pondered why health costs in America are so high. I’m not smart enough to understand all the complex reasons, but my default response to problems like that is: “Follow the money.” The medical industrial machine in this country wields immense power. I found this quote in the Vox analysis:

“Regulating health care prices was never a serious part of the Affordable Care Act debate. The Obama administration made a conscientious decision, at the start of its health care effort, to get all major industry groups to stand behind the law — or at least not work against it. Regulating health care prices would have meant that hospitals, doctors, and pharmaceutical companies would all earn less. The idea was a nonstarter…”

It was a “non-starter” because of the out-of-proportion weight lobbyists hold in our political conversations.

Did you know that in America, 9 out of the top 10 highest paid professionals are doctors? American orthopedic surgeons earn three times what their counterparts in France will earn in a year. Of course this is complex as well: education and insurance are more expensive here than in other countries. But when we look at the costs involved with paying our doctors exorbitant salaries; the costs of our hospital services, especially in light of some of the over the top salaries of too many CEO’s; the costs of our medications, especially in light of some of the highly publicized price gouging by pharmaceutical companies (plus the bombardment of advertising. Why the heck should a pharmaceutical company be advertising anyway!?) … This is just a beginning. Reining in the medical industry is no small challenge. The money-is-power principle will continue to hold sway over our health care system until enough wise, courageous politicians finally step up and confront this problem.

But I don’t see this confrontation coming from the current Republican leadership in Congress. From what I can tell, Republicans are all about increasing the advantages of the already wealthy. If regulation of health care prices was too big a battle for the Democrats, then I’m thinking the Republicans – in their disdain for regulations in general – will not engage this fight either.

Here is an excellent example reminding us that “regulations” are actually “protections” against corporate abuses of their customers and the general public. I know you have taken issue with my position on this before. I would be interested to hear your critique of regulations and restrictions appropriate to the health care industry.

In our last discussion, you insisted that governments should be “impartial” – that is, “government should not favor either rich or poor, but protect both.” Isn’t it the purpose of regulations to work towards this goal?

Okay, your turn.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Janie: I appreciated the Vox article—it was reasonably balanced and somewhat fair, and a clear exposition of where folks on the center left stand, so that’s useful to know. I’m sure the ACA can be improved, but can’t intelligently address how because a) the thing is over 2000 pages long, with ten times that many pages in regulations already, and 2) I’m not at all sure it’s the best option for the most people. In fact I’m convinced it isn’t. Here’s a quick summary of the main problems with it: http://www.dailywire.com/news/12146/11-biggest-problems-obamacare-aaron-bandler

Like you, I can’t track the ins and outs of why medical care is so expensive now. I do know one thing: it was simpler and cheaper before the government got involved with Medicare and Medicaid and regulation of the insurance agency. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not against regulation per se, and I’m not opposed to all government aid for the indigent and the elderly. But remember how my family was able to pay for life-saving medical treatment for me, including an entire month in the hospital, on the income of a humble credit-union employee (my mother). She got her insurance (Blue Cross) through her employer, which of course was a big help, but it was also cheap at the time. That’s mainly because it was market-based; insurance companies ran the actuarial tables and balanced the risks and figured out how much they could charge to cover expenses and make a profit, which is what business is all about.

That’s not to say insurers are the good guys. When business gets involved with government, market factors go by the wayside. The main reason why consumers can’t purchase insurance across state lines, which would force insurance companies to compete for their business, is because the insurance industry wants to maximize profits without competition. The big players influenced laws in their favor, as they always have and always will. They don’t just influence Republicans; they also influence Democrats. No party is immune from this, and no law will eliminate it. The rich and the powerful will always find a way around the law and regulations; that’s one reason why they got to rich and powerful. The only real safeguard against undue influence is a free market (which I’ll admit is never really free, but nothing’s perfect).

The ACA attempts to blend private insurance with heavy government subsidies and mandates, and it wasn’t so great. The AHCA tried to build on that platform, only by eliminating the mandates and a few free-market gestures, and it might have been even worse. But since I don’t like the platform I can’t address how to improve the ACA in detail. The healthcare reform I’d really like to see is very different. I know I’ve mentioned elements of it, but here’s the capsule version, for future reference:

Most citizens responsible for their own basic care and maintenance. This used to be taken for granted: you paid for your doctor visits and routine medications out-of-pocket. Is that too expensive for most of us now? No. I realize that with medical advances come higher costs, more expensive equipment and drugs, etc. Still, the market keeps those prices down better than price controls do—just think how cheap smartphones have become in a mere ten years! Competition works for doctors, too: at this moment, in Springfield, Missouri, there are at least ten fee-for-service and medical concierge centers that charge anywhere from $50 to $150 per month for a menu of routine health services and 24-hour consultation. Even surgeons are banding together to establish cash-only surgical centers. With paperwork cut to a bare minimum and no time wasted on checkboxes, they cover their costs and make a profit.

Affordable catastrophic health insurance available in an open market, for emergencies, surgeries, and life-threatening illnesses like cancer. That’s what Blue Cross was for my parents—my dad also spent weeks in the hospital due to back issues, but they could afford it. Nobody was turned out on the street to die or to suffer without treatment, even before Medicaid!

Religious organizations encouraged to open and operate their own health ministries for the poor. A lot of Christian, Jewish, and probably Muslim organizations are doing this already, and I’ll admit I don’t have a clear idea how governments could “encourage” more of it. But this is the kind of personal, hands-on care that homeless, rootless, and hopeless people need most.

A government safety net, such as a scaled-down Medicaid, for the truly needy.

Health-savings accounts for each citizen, to which the federal government contributes a small amount during the citizen’s working years, to be increased after retirement age. Perhaps Medicare could be incorporated with something like this.

Having said all that, I recognize that once we’ve started down the road of government control of health care, it’s very difficult to turn back. That’s why Canadians and citizens of the UK and other countries with single-payer programs don’t want to give it up: they can’t see the alternatives and can only picture themselves adrift without any support at all. Yet the single-payer model has its own problems, namely an expanding bureaucracy, rationing, and lowering standards as it’s less able to pay for itself. Besides, single-payer plans always develop a two-tiered system with the best care going to those who can pay for it and everybody else getting the leftovers. It can still work okay in a smallish country with a relatively stable population, but the U.S. is a big country with an extremely dynamic population, including legal and illegal immigrants. For us, I believe the more options, the better.

A couple of postscripts: First, could we refrain from ascribing motives to people we disagree with, such as, “From what I can tell, the Republicans are all about increasing the advantages of the already wealthy”? No doubt some of them are. No doubt some Democrats are as well. But Republicans are people too—even the politicians!—and are, like me, sincerely concerned about making health care affordable but have a different opinion about what works best.

Second, you say, “Reining in the medical industry is no small challenge. The money-is-power principle will continue to hold sway over our health care system until enough wise, courageous politicians finally step up and confront this problem.” I’d say the money-is-power principle will always hold sway in government, because government is about power, and something will always influence power. In our system it’s money because we don’t have aristocracy. This isn’t cynicism; it’s realism. The genius of our founding fathers was in assigning legitimate powers to the federal government and leaving the rest to local (state) governments and individual citizens. It’s not perfect, because people aren’t perfect, but it spreads the power around so no single entity has too much of it.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Charlotte: You’ve talked about your childhood illness before and the good care you got because of your family’s coverage by Blue Cross. I’m so glad! Above you claim that this employer-provided insurance was affordable mainly because it was market-based. Maybe that was a factor. But according to the history of Blue Cross, the primary reasons your coverage was inexpensive were because it was subsidized by non-profit hospitals and because it was offered as a community service.

For more than forty years, virtually all BCBS plans were organized under federal law as 501(c)(4) “social welfare” organizations which were “engaged in promoting the common good and general welfare of the people of the community. Such an organization is operated primarily for the purpose of bringing about “civil betterments and social improvements.”

501 (c) (4) corporations were non-profit and tax exempt.

I mention this because you seem to put quite a bit of faith in the free market. You say: “The only real safeguard against undue influence is a free market…” I strongly disagree. Governmental protections are safeguards put in place because businesses and corporations demonstrate repeatedly that they will take advantage of people every chance they get.

This one anecdotal experience with Blue Cross worked for your family in a simpler time. Much has changed in our society since then so that today charities and non-profit associations must find help and partnership with local, state and federal government. We cannot go back to a simpler time; it doesn’t exist. We must move forward.

For me, single payer is a very logical, tried and true approach for moving forward. In most every Western nation, single payer insurance and governmental health care has worked and worked very well.

Jerry and I spent several years in the Navy where all our medical care was provided by the federal government. It was excellent care offered by conscientious and competent people. In my opinion, Medicare insurance for all and public clinics would be a huge step forward.

To your request that I not ascribe motives to people I disagree with: I try very hard not to lump people into categories. I know full well Conservatives are not a monolithic group just as Liberals are not. In my opinion, you are the poster child for the classic Compassionate Conservative and I know there are many other good people like you out there.

I disagree that I was “ascribing motives” to the Republicans in the White House and Congress. Rather I will argue that I am judging them by their actions. Here’s my edited sentence. I can’t back down on my opinion any farther than this:

“… the current Republican leadership in Congress. From what I can tell, these Republicans are all about increasing the advantages of the already wealthy…”

So basically, you don’t trust government and I don’t trust the free market. You think the ACA is not worth fixing and I think it is. Looks like we are at an impasse in this discussion.

I asked Jerry to read this before I sent it to you. I think he makes an important point:

The problem for both of you, as I see it, is that you are thinking in either/or categories. And both of you are right: Janie doesn’t trust government because government too often is corrupt and inefficient, and you don’t trust markets because markets too often are corrupt and greedy. Both opinions are well-founded.

What is needed is democratic tension, not ideology. How can we work together to solve problems, realizing that any solutions necessarily are imperfect, provisional and in need of constant revision? The willingness to solve problems with creativity and compromise is what’s missing in the current political climate where everything is polarized by ideology. At some point, if our politicians want really to accomplish something, they have to say, to hell with ideology, let’s figure out something that might work. And let’s fix it when it doesn’t work the way we thought it would.

You and I disagree on several fundamental issues, Janie, but we do agree that there is too much polarization in our current public conversations. That’s what started us on this shared blog quest in the first place. I truly am good with “democratic tension.” Here is another brilliance of our Founders: united but independent states, three branches of government, numerous and various representatives. It’s our broad diversity that makes us stronger and wiser.

None of us has all the right answers; we need each other. But we need to listen to each other better, respect each other more and collaborate with each other in good faith. I feel helpless to influence our tone-deaf politicians and this outraged public. Maybe what you and I are trying to do doesn’t really matter. But then again, maybe it does.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Janie: That’s a good way to wrap this one up. I appreciate Jerry’s point of view: both of us have good reasons to distrust both governments and free markets, since every human institution is prone to corruption. That’s why I don’t totally trust any human institution, including the free market, and believe it’s a good idea to spread power around so nobody has too much of it. I understand Jerry’s to hell with ideology, too, if what we mean by “ideology” is a certain set of core principles each side identifies with and won’t budge on. Still, everyone is driven by ideology to a point; that is, we all ascribe to certain broad principles that we believe to be true, either from experience or prior commitment (or both).

To sum up my end, I’d like to quote from an article in National Review: Repeal and Piecemeal: a Better Obamacare Strategy. It’s mostly about policy and process, but I’m in agreement with the writer’s general idea about what public health care should look like (emphasis in the original):

Modesty means recognizing that nobody in Washington is smart enough to design a better health-insurance system on his own. The best system is one that is relatively simple, doesn’t try to do everything at once, and leaves the largest possible amount of power in the hands of individual consumers, and the power of experimentation in the hands of all 50 states. A system that is designed to solve all today’s problems for all time—even if it succeeded—would cast in stone an inability to respond to tomorrow’s problems until they reach crisis proportions.

Whatever happens, I’ll live with it. But it’s vitally important that we keep talking to each other, in websites and on debate stages and over cups of coffee. We are not enemies, but friends. Thanks for being my friend!

Charlotte: My pleasure, dear Janie. Our think our friendship has grown even deeper through these conversations.

So your Right leaning National Review and my Left leaning husband both agree: Let’s figure out what works and then keep improving as we go along. (By the way, my friends on the Left would benefit from reading this analysis by Dan McLaughlin. It’s calm and well reasoned and helps us understand our friends on the Right a little better.)

I think “we the people” need to lead the way and remind our so-called leaders how to sit down together, talk and listen to each other and actually solve some problems; our politicians seem to have forgotten how.

What’s next? I wonder if any of our readers have a topic they might want us to explore.

April 21, 2017April 21, 2017

The New Face of Feminism

The suffrage movement in the early 20^th century was about giving women the vote. The feminist movement of the 1970s, beginning with Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique and cresting with the Roe v. Wade decision, was about giving women career opportunities. The latest women’s movement, inspired by the election of Donald Trump, is about . . .

Well, that’s a bit of a head-scratcher. After marching to the polls in 1920, marching to the Planned Parenthood clinic in 1973, marching out to work in hard hats and combat helmets, women are now just marching because. The worldwide demonstration last January that called out literally millions of marchers was gleefully proclaimed to be the start of something BIG. But, as critics remarked at the time, the participants didn’t seem to have a focus and couldn’t articulate precisely what they were mad about. They were just mad. A march with lots of signs, chants, and yelling is a great way to blow off steam, but it’s terrible for a sustained movement.

Recently I read Here We Are: Feminism for the Real World, a handbook for high school teens edited by librarian and book-blogger Kelly Jensen. In it, “44 voices write, draw, and speak” about the challenges still facing women today and what feminism means for our time.

In the Introduction we’re told that feminists come in all colors, shapes, creeds, genders and cross-genders, nationalities, and preferences. “What unites feminists is the belief that every person—regardless of gender, class, education, race, sexuality, or ability—deserves equality.” It’s about “embracing differences and encouraging change that benefits all facets of society.”

In these pages we hear from transwomen and transmen, the happily married and happily divorced, lesbians, singles, artists, and journalists, but the voices are not as diverse as advertised. Author Kody Keplinger writes about choosing not to have kids (she just doesn’t want them, okay?), but no one writes about the uniquely feminine joys of motherhood. “Reproductive rights” are supported uniformly and almost casually, but there are no reasoned arguments for the rights of the unborn. Muslim blogger Kaye Mirza extols her feminist-inspired faith, but no Christian writes about defining feminism in Christ. “Embracing differences” turns out to be about preference, not conviction. As far as conviction goes, these voices are all on the same page.

That’s no surprise, given the state of contemporary public discourse. I don’t blame the editor or writers, who just assume they are nicely diversified and on the side of the angels. How many have ever even sat still for a reasoned argument of the pro-life position or biblical complementarianism? Probably none, because reasoned arguments take a back seat to emotional appeals and crude caricatures.

Here are my main takeaways from Here We Are: 1) “Feminist” now means just about anything as long as it’s progressive. 2) White guys can ride along only if they admit their privilege and move to the back of the bus. 3) Female means oppressed. “Every woman, cis or trans, experiences gender inequality, discrimination or violence, but the ways they experience it differs because of factors like race, class, disability, or gender presentation.” 4) But oppressed females can imaginatively turn the tables on fan fiction sites, where they get to create pornographic scenarios for their favorite fictional crushes. (Do you know what “slash fiction” is? I didn’t, until now.)

Above all, 5) Identity matters more than anything—literally anything, including health, well-being, and common sense. In a chapter on “Body and Mind” Anne Theriault writes about her experiences with depression and anxiety. Amid some good advice, like refraining from isolation and choosing relevant role models, she drops this:

You get to decide how you identify. If you’re dealing with mental health issues but don’t consider yourself to be mentally ill, that’s cool. If, on the other hand, you feel like mental illness makes up part of what you are, that’s cool, too. If you want to self-identify as crazy or mad, that’s totally fine.

And that’s totally crazy. But it’s the logical extension of a “choose your own reality” approach to life.

Meanwhile, reality bites. David French worries that girls are being goaded toward “fierce” attitudes and

roles not all of them are suited for, while boys are made to feel guilty for the very same attributes. You can’t push nature very far before it starts pushing back. Boys will always be boys–are we going to teach them to be responsible boys, or reprehensible ones? Pornography has exploded with internet technology, especially on smart phones. Sex trafficking plagues the American heartland. Girls still obsess over their looks, weight, and sex appeal and their fathers are too often not around to protect and affirm them. Their mothers are distracted, wondering if they are any happier than their mothers. Women-centered feminism, generally, hasn’t made us happier; perhaps that’s why the movement is morphing to identify-centered feminism, where what you feel is what you are.

Reality: men and women are equally worthy of respect as human beings, yet different in ways that are not superficial. Exhorting girls to be aggressive and boys to be passive creates viragos and couch potatoes and a world of confusion and frustration. “Complementarian,” in the biblical sense, doesn’t mean that girls should not be Olympic athletes or scientists or presidents—those are surface distinctions. It does mean that girls are not equipped to do everything, and boys are not allowed to do nothing.

April 19, 2017

Resurrection Life

In church on Easter Sunday. The sermon is about life. But more specifically, life in the resurrected body.

When they are not hurting us, we don’t think of them. When they’re shivering or sweating or aching, we dismiss them. When they don’t embarrass us by tripping or stuttering, or missing that fly ball or limping across the finish line dead-last, they don’t matter.

But Resurrection says they do. Our bodies matter. Matter matters.

The sophisticated world of that time begged to differ. Learned men of Athens listened to Paul’s intriguing ideas and may even have considered them, until he got to the part about the resurrection of the body, and that was a speculation too far. Bring back bone and muscle and blood and dung? Please! Everyone knew—or at least the thinkers knew—that real life was in the mind. That’s where the “know thyself” takes place. These bodies are mere vehicles—slave-guardians at best, mangy diseased dumps at worst. The sooner we ditch them, the better. Until then, they are nags to ride or wild beasts to master. Or (if you’re the hedonist at the other end of the gnostic spectrum) east, drink, and be merry because indulgence of the body will make no dent in your soul.

The platonists and neoplatonists agreed. So did the sophists, who could argue from both sides because no side was ultimately true.

So do transgender advocates who locate identity entirely in the mind.

So, even, do educators who focus on reasoning and cognition, to the exclusion of recess, art, or practical skills.

So does Satan.

Sitting still on the pew, I experience my body. It’s not doing anything beyond its normal functions: blood pulsing, oxygen flowing, gut squeezing.

But on the molecular level it’s a hive of energy: red corpuscles trek single-file through threadlike capillaries, freshening every cell with oxygen. Acids are breaking food particles into proteins and sorting potential energy from waste. Muscle fibers are breathing and brain synapses are firing, weaving thought from sound waves that ride the air, while light pours through the pupils and prints moving patterns on the retina . . .

Every square inch of me is alive. Body and mind together; it’s all me. My body doesn’t hold me prisoner. It holds my joy.

Tears fill my eyes. He does not disdain or disregard this body—on the contrary, he loves it. He has big plans for it, and is so determined to carry them out he even became a body. He descended way, way down, all the way to particle level. He formed his own body, grew it, birthed it, walked it through a short life span, and took it to the grave—torn, shamed, and bloodied. But then . . .

The forests and fields are excitedly whispering that someday the sons of God will be revealed. Will they eat and drink? With pleasure! Will they work and play? That’s what bodies do best. Will they copulate? No, because the practical need to multiply no longer exists, but more because they were made for a pleasure even more intense. It was planned from the first moment in Creation when “Let there be” brought forth earth and sky, water and rock, root and leaf, feather. fin and flesh. He breathed in the Fall and breathed out the New Creation, no longer bound by time. On a church pew on Easter Sunday, I smell that rarified air. I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of the saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting—

“For our song of application, turn to hymn number 276 as we stand and sing. ‘Up from the Grave He Arose’.”

April 14, 2017

Good Friday

Let the scriptures be fulfilled, he said, when they came to take him away. What scriptures? Well, all of it. All of Scripture is a wrestling match between God and man: how can a holy God accommodate sinful people? You sense the struggle between love and justice throughout the Old Testament: “I hate, I despise your feasts” clashes with “How can I give you up, O Israel?” Reading through Isaiah (to take just one example), if I can say it reverently, is almost like confronting a schizophrenic personality, as the Lord’s righteousness wrestles with his mercy.

Here is where they reconcile:

Steadfast love and faithfulness meet; righteousness and peace kiss each other.

Faithfulness springs up from the ground and righteousness looks down from the sky. Psalm 85:10-11

And then, it’s Sunday morning.

Click here for a printable .pdf version of this image.

April 13, 2017April 14, 2017

Noise (Holy Week, #4)

Pilate addressed them once more, desiring to release Jesus, but they kept shouting, “Crucify, crucify him!” a third time he said to them, “why, what evil has he done? I have found in him no guilt deserving death. I will punish and release him.” But they were urgent, demanding with loud cries that he should be crucified. And their voices prevailed. Luke 23:20-23

Noise.

They could use it as an excuse later—Pilate, Herod, even some of those priests and elders who stirred up the crowd. Not all were equally invested in Messiah’s death—everything was happing so fast, they could say. All those charges and countercharges, and it was all so confusing, you know? Some said this and others said that, and some of it was blatant lies but nobody seemed to care. You’d need a flowchart to keep track of it all, and even that would have been difficult because of all the

noise.

Voices on every side, from every perspective. Rumors of violence, reports of slaughter, insane gloating and mock outrage and real fear:

“Who’ll help me blow up the White House?”

“The death toll in Syria has reached 250,000 . . .”

“F—you! And your f—ing Democrats too!”

“USA! USA! USA!”

“Is this America?”

“Love Trumps Hate!”

“Crucify him! Crucify, crucify, crucify!”

Noise. Maybe wiser heads would have prevailed in the Sanhedrin without the

noise. Maybe Pilate would have listened to his better angels were it not for the

noise. Perhaps a few in the crowd would have been moved to compassion, but

noise—staticy, rattly, stomping, pounding, amplified, magnified,

hysterical, chimerical, scouring, devouring,

whipping itself up until

our heads frothed and ached and rang and cried out in protest,

and we didn’t know—we just didn’t know

what

do.

If we would only look to the Silence in the center of it all.

April 12, 2017April 12, 2017

The Strange Case of Malchus’ Ear

It was all very confusing, you see. There was a scuffle, and a clash of metal, and torchlight bobbling and wobbling wildly—and then a scream. Everything skidded to a halt for the moment; all eyes went to the poor man who found himself in the middle, now sobbing and clutching the side of his head. Blood trickled between his fingers. “Find it—find it!” he yelled then, stabbing at the ground with his other hand. Seconds passed while men’s minds turned slowly over and figured out what he meant: there it was on the ground, a forlorn scrap of skin and cartilage: an ear.

(Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John: isn’t it strange that they all record this? Such an odd little detail, especially in comparison to everything else that was going down. Matthew and John were there, and Mark might have been too, if he was the young man wrapped in a linen sheet who showed up at the party for some reason. Luke would have heard the story from eyewitnesses. So maybe that’s why. Or maybe it’s because Malchus’s ear was the only casualty in a shortlived revolution, the anticipated coup that ended with a single command–)

“No more of this!”

A sword lowers in a hesitant hand. The would-be prisoner takes command, but instead of fighting he’s healing, one last time. Instead of calling out the troops he’s speaking one last word as Rabbi, and the word is not about truth or righteousness or saving the world—it’s about fulfilling the scriptures.*

One sword stroke can’t stop the plan woven into the ages, but before Messiah is crushed for our iniquities, he raises a hand in a temporary halt, bends down, and picks up the ear.

He has straightened bones, restored sight to the blind and hearing to the deaf, even called a few souls back from the grave, so this act of healing is nothing to him. It’s tender and telling, though: I don’t need your swords or strategies. I want your ears.

The parade moves on and the drama plays out, but what about Malchus? And his ear?

I would like to think that, once Jesus touched it, the ear was his, good as new. And Malchus too. For the first few days, the incident in the garden was forgotten—and Malchus too. The crucifixion of the Nazarene, and the deep disappointment of those who hoped for something better, was all the news. If Jesus had stayed dead, even that news would have withered away within a generation—

But early on the third day Malchuis woke from his fitful sleep with a peculiar buzzing in his right ear. Or not really a buzz—more like a song with words he could not understand. But the sound filled him with an almost unbearable sweetness. It sang of memories and hopes, achievement and expectation above all he had ever asked or thought. His mind, lately roiled with memories of torchlight, flashing swords, and searing pain, quieted itself like a weaned child with its mother, listening. He put an arm around his sleeping wife and listened. He shushed her querulous complaints and listened. His heart warmed with compassion for his difficult son and sickly daughter while listening. When the sun was fully up and the city shook itself awake and rose to the first day of the week, the song faded like a dream.

By noon rumors were flying in the electrified air. Several people had visited the empty tomb and seen the limp winding clothes with their own eyes. The scribes and priests were quashing rumors left and right: pay no attention; it’s a trick; move along; nothing to see here.

Malchus, a loyal Levite, had served the high priest all his life—first Annas, then Caiaphas. He knew them well, and never thought to question an authoritative word from either of them. That day, authoritative words were ringing off the walls: It’s a trick! It’s a lie! It never happened!

But when Malchus first heard the news from a fellow servant, everything made sense, especially those puzzling scriptures the Rabbis loved to argue over. Messiah’s last touch, on the ear he restored, flamed to life again. The sweet song spun off words. He was filled with a joy inexpressible and full of glory.

What happened to Malchus? Probably an ordinary span of days ending in ordinary death. The song in his ear would diminish with age until he couldn’t even remember it, but if that life was planted in him, he is hearing it now.

He who has an ear to hear, let him hear!

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*Matt. 26:53-54. “Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than ten legions of angels? But how then should the Scriptures be fulfilled, that it must be so?”

Mark 15:49-50. “Day after day I was with you in the temple, and you did not seize me. But let the Scriptures be fulfilled.”

Luke 22:37. “For I tell you that this Scripture must be fulfilled in me: ‘And he was numbered among the transgressors.’ For what was written about me has its fulfillment.” (Luke records this earlier, in the upper room, but it’s in the context of a conversation about swords.)

John 18:11. “Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?”

April 10, 2017April 10, 2017

The Accuser

Accuse my accusers, Yahweh; attack my attackers.

Grip your shield and buckler—Up, and help me!

Brandish your lance and pike in the face of my pursuers,

Tell my soul, “I am your salvation.” (Ps. 35:1-3, New Jerusalem Bible)

I’ve never done a survey, but I would guess that at least one third David’s Psalms are cries to the Lord about his enemies. This one is especially passionate: he’s giving orders to God, almost—“Get up!” The man certainly collected enemies in his long and exciting life, but I was never sure how to apply these Psalms to me. I don’t have enemies. And if I did, should I be prodding the Lord into the ring to punch them out for me? It seems antithetical to, say, Isaiah 53 where the Lamb is led to the slaughter yet never opens his mouth. The Lord’s true servant, it seems, meekly takes all the abuse hurled at him with no appeals for intervention.

Speaking of Isaiah 53, did you ever notice how the servant’s tormentors are never identified? They are either abstract qualities (“by oppression and judgment he was taken away”) or shadowed by passive voice, with the victim as the subject, front and center: he was led, wounded, crushed, afflicted. In the Psalms, the enemies are never identified either. Evil snarls like a lion and bares its teeth like a jackal, but in the end it has no personality.

But evil has very real causality. What to do about it? These Psalms do represent moral progress, in a way. David wrote them in an age of blood guilt and honor killing, not that far removed, culturally, from Lamech’s time: I killed a man for wounding me, a young man for striking me. If Cain’s revenge is sevenfold, Lamech’s is seventy-sevenfold (Gen. 4:23-24). David is at least asking a higher power to intercede for him, knowing that the Lord’s judgment is perfect.

But notice his complaint: violent men accuse him, lie about him, gloat and jeer at him, tear his flesh, wait in ambush. He must be speaking metaphorically, since there’s no record of David being broken or severely wounded. From a physical angle, his looks like a charmed life.

But Messiah was literally treated in the way David complains of, so literally it makes us cringe. Gloated over? Jeered at? (Why don’t you come down from that cross?) Torn? (His flesh hung in ribbons.) Lied about? (He said he could tear down this temple.) Accused? (He’s trying to make himself king!)

Yet when David says Accuse! Christ says Forgive.

When Lamech boasts of seventy-seven fold, Christ pours out seventy times seven.

When David says, Rise up O Lord, Christ says, Here I am.

What David asked for, he got—only the blows he wished to fall on his tormentors fell on the tormented instead. And ever since, when righteous men and women suffer, they can at least know that the judgment has fallen, the accusations made, the attack carried out. They can find themselves in Messiah’s bloody footprints.

Why doesn’t God intervene? Ha already has.

Easy for me to say, in good health and comfort. Does it apply to the Syrian Christian tormented in a refugee camp, or the North Korean Christian huddling in scraps against the cold and scrounging for insects and amphibians to eat raw? It has to.

Tell my soul, “I am your salvation.” That’s what the cross pleads, and what the empty tomb replies.

April 7, 2017

Dear Mr. Keller

Abraham Kuyper, who would not have approved.

Early in March, Princeton Theological Seminary announced the winner of their annual Kuyper Prize for Excellence in Reformed Teaching and Public Witness: Tim Keller, long-time pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian Church (PCA) in New York City. On March 22, Princeton President Craig Barnes announced that the prize would be revoked, due to a rising tide of objections regarding his denomination’s stance on ordaining women and professing LGBT Christians, as well as a “complementarian” view of husband-and-wife relationships. Though he will not receive the prize, Rev. Keller has agreed to give the annual Kuyper lecture on April 6. The pros and cons of Princeton’s decision have been hashed out elsewhere; I’m just thinking how I should respond if I were in his place. (Which, since I hold to a complementarian view, I never will be!)

If you are insulted for the name of Christ you are blessed for the spirit of glory and of God rests upon you. I Peter 4:14.

Princeton Theological Seminary would vehemently deny that the insult is to Christ, who preached love and acceptance for all. Wouldn’t Christ be insulted in turn to see prominent pastors—in this day and age—holding to outmoded doctrines that encourage the subjugation of women and the inclusion of fellow believers?

Let’s assume for the sake of argument that the insult is not to Christ. But is it not an insult to the word to God that Christ came not to abolish but to fulfill? Is it an insult to Christ’s servants Peter and Paul, who taught (we believe) under the inspiration of God, at the cost of their lives? And whose teaching the church is built on? The insult is also to generations of witnesses, martyrs, scholars, pastors, translators, evangelists, and other unknown, unsung heroes who now surround us in a cloud.

So, going back to Peter: If Christ identifies with his church, and the witness of the church is insulted, you are blessed.

I believe you’ve been right, all these years, to preach Christ and him crucified at Redeemer Church, in the heart of the secular city. You were right to welcome seekers, sinners, strenuous opponents; right to keep the focus on Jesus through it all, wherever your listeners ended up on secondary and social issues. And you’re right to stand firm on traditional (we might even say, plain-as-day understanding) of those secondary and social issues.

The prize would be nice: another plaque to hang on the wall and a few thousand bucks to bank or give away. I’ll bet you know some people who could the money. But there is an unfading crown of glory waiting its proper time. I hope you give the talk, and I hope it’s gracious and glowing and Christ-honoring—because, remember, you are blessed.

March 31, 2017

How to pray, #349 (more or less)

I say this prayer to you Lord,

for at daybreak you listen for my voice;

and at dawn I hold myself in readiness for you—

I watch. For you. Psalm 5:3

When I pray, I usually find myself listening to me. And it often doesn’t seem as though anyone else is listening. But (thank God) David knew better: day breaks, the LORD tunes in. My servant rises. Let’s hear what he has to say.

Hard as it is to believe, God is actually listening for me. This Psalm gobsmacked me when I first heard what it was saying.

God doesn’t need to arise, of course, because he’s always up. Every hour is daybreak somewhere and every pray-er has a listener.

God does his part. My part is to hold myself in readiness (to “prepare the sacrifice and watch,” ESV). What helps with this and what doesn’t?

Get up. Praying in bed is fine for the dark hours (Ps. 149.5), but not for the morning sacrifice. Again (poke, poke): bestir these stiff lazy bones and get up.
Wash my face and hands. I have an important meeting to keep.
Raise my voice (because he is listening). I feel self-conscious praying out loud, but I know lots of hymns. Sometimes I sing them.
Present my body as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to him. He owns it, after all.
Listen. Then talk. Then listen some more. Then talk some more. Remember it’s a two-way conversation.

Learning how to pray is a lifelong quest, at least for me. After sixty-plus years, it’s sometimes discouraging: haven’t I got a handle on this yet? Then a Psalm comes along and cheerfully rings a bell: hey, you! Don’t you know he’s listening? He’s waiting to hear your voice—open up!

Can it really be that simple?