Who’s In Your Cloud?

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”
— Hebrews 12:1-2

The writer of Hebrews had just been delineating the incredible sacrifices and suffering of past heroes of the faith. They are the cloud of witnesses who have gone before us.

Perhaps those we knew personally who have passed into glory were not martyred, and did not suffer for their faith. But we knew them, and loved them, and they have gone before. Their faith instructed us. Their love challenged us. Their joy encouraged us. And so much more. They are part of our cloud of witnesses.

Thinking about the fact that people I actually know, people I hugged and loved and laughed with and sang with and cried with, are actually experiencing Heaven at this moment, makes Heaven so real to me. It’s there! They’re there! Heaven is a place.

In fact my friend Jody wrote a song called “Heaven is a Place”. I listen to the CD and hear her sweet, somewhat husky alto voice singing, and tears always come. As the musicians begin, she calls out to the audience (I and my family were their for the live concert recording), “Are you ready to go to Heaven? I’m excited to go there because that’s where we’ll finally meet the King! Face to face. There will be fullness of joy, and pleasures forever! Maybe tonight. I’m ready.”  Then she sings. How her heart longed to be there. And on September 30, 2006, her desire was fulfilled.

There are others in my cloud. Those that I knew on at least some personal level. The first was my dear grandpa, Jess Vanderpool. I loved him so much! And there is Lynda, Bethany, Jody, Claire, Jasmine, Greg, Chris, Rob, and Tori.

Mrs. Claire Clint was my 2nd grade Sunday school teacher at Grace Community Church. She could have been my grandfather’s teacher, too, if he’d grown up near her. Because she was born six months before the declaration of the Spanish American War in 1898, and was 14 years old when the Titanic sank I sang in choirs with her great-great-grandson. She once told me she still remembered how she felt upon seeing the newspaper headlines. Between Grace Community and her former churches, Mrs. Clint taught Sunday morning classes for 80 years.

Talk about faithfulness.

Jody’s talent was music, and her gifts were never underused. Nether were her gifts of encouragement, speaking the truth in love, and helping others set their minds on things above. Bethany’s exhortation to all of us was always “walk worthy!”. She so desired herself and her fellow believers to walk worthy of our calling.
Tori was all about others. How she could serve, how she could pray, how she could help. She offered to talk any time I needed to . . . wanting to be of any consolation to my sore heart that she could.

I think God has been teaching our little church here in Little Rock how to love suffering people well. How to love, how to be grieving people. We have experienced a great deal of loss in the last several years. Our cloud grows, while we mourn. However, instead of a dark, heavy cloud, this cloud is full of light, joy, and anticipation. They now know that fullness of joy unspeakable, and they eagerly await the day that we will join them.

And we want to! It’s the Christian’s sanctified death-wish. We want to be with our loved ones, those who spurred us on to love and good works, and whom we loved so dearly. Even more we want to be with our Lord. They, with Him, are waiting for us. Let it be soon! Or come quickly, Lord Jesus.

It is better to go to a house of mourning
Than to go to a house of feasting,
Because that is the end of every man,
And the living takes it to heart.
– Ecclesiastes 7:2

No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever! 
— Revelation 22:3-4

Courageous Discernment

In the Heaven is for Real film preview, Mr. Burpo tells his young son that some people might be afraid to believe him.

However I fear that multitudes of people will be afraid NOT to believe him, because of genuine belief that “you can’t and shouldn’t just write off someone else’s experience”. Very many kind, sweet, strong and otherwise godly people do and will hold this view.

But on the contrary, we should and must have the courage to discount anything that doesn’t agree with the divinely inspired Words our Creator has already given us. They alone are trustworthy and they are final. Neither myself nor the preachers I quote are out to make our fellow Christians look or feel stupid. Instead we beg them to step back, search the Scriptures, and seek after priceless wisdom.

You may be thinking, “Look, even if we ourselves can’t confirm whether or not the kid’s story is true, why is it so bad to at least consider the possibility? What’s wrong with just acknowledging that maybe God allowed this experience, and let it give people hope?”

Because it feeds the notion that God’s revelation isn’t complete; that we can depend on something outside His Word to give us hope. David Platt says it thus: “Why, why do we buy this stuff when we HAVE the Word of God? Let’s minimize the thoughts of man, magnify, trust, bank our lives and our understanding of the future on the truth of God. On the other hand let’s lay aside our traditions and submit to God’s Word. None of us want to believe something is true about Heaven or Hell just because it’s what we’ve always been taught. There’s too much at stake for that.”

With superhuman intelligence and thousands of years of practice, Satan is extremely good at his primary goal: deceiving people. He is the Father of Lies.  Originally created the chief of all God’s angels, he is cunning. A master of subtlety. He delights most in using lies that sound like truth (hence Catholicism, etcetera). They’re the most effective kind, after all.

In a video clip from a sermon of David Platt’s that is going around Facebook (the same from which the above quote comes), Mr. Platt quotes a man I know from our 17 years of residence in California, preacher and editor Phil Johnson. I wholeheartedly recommend his words for your consideration. (Copied farther below.)

Input from men like this, whose scriptural acumen and faithful perspicacity in their efforts to always be “rightly dividing the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15) is exceedingly valuable. God has provided us with gifted expositors of His Word, but they won’t do us any good if we are failing to obey Hebrews 5:12-14 and feed ourselves with the solid food of truth — not just milk! — and exercise ourselves to be discerning.

(All of the following is excerpted from Phil Johnson’s blog post “The Burpo-Malarkey Doctrine” which can be found on the Grace To You website http://www.gty.org/Resources/Print/Blog/B121018)

“Only four authors in all the Bible were blessed with visions of heaven and wrote about what they saw: the prophets Isaiah and Ezekiel, and the apostles Paul and John. Two other biblical figures—Micaiah and Stephen—got glimpses of heaven, but what they saw is merely mentioned, not described (2 Chronicles 18:18; Acts 7:55). As Pastor MacArthur points out, all of these were prophetic visions, not near-death experiences. Not one person raised from the dead in the Old or New Testaments ever recorded for us what he or she experienced in heaven. That includes Lazarus, who spent four days in the grave.

Paul was caught up into heaven in an experience so vivid he said he didn’t know whether he went there bodily or not, but he saw things that are unlawful to utter, so he gave no details. He covered the whole incident in just three verses (2 Corinthians 12:2-4).

All three biblical writers who saw heaven and described their visions give comparatively sparse details, but they agree perfectly (Isaiah 6:1-4; Ezekiel 1 and 10; Revelation 4-6). They don’t agree with the Burpo-Malarkey version of heaven. Both their intonation and the details they highlight are markedly different. The biblical authors are all fixated on God’s glory, which defines heaven and illuminates everything there. They are overwhelmed, chagrined, petrified, and put to silence by the sheer majesty of God’s holiness. Notably missing from all the biblical accounts are the frivolous features and juvenile attractions that seem to dominate every account of heaven currently on the bestseller lists.

Evangelical readers’ discernment skills are at an all-time low, and that is why books like these proliferate. Despite the high profile, high sales figures, and high dollar amounts Christian publishers can milk from a trend such as this, it doesn’t bode well for the future of Christian publishing—or for the future of the evangelical movement.”

A Shepherd’s Conference “Throwback Thursday” (and my baptism story — well, the funny bits).

Don’t have a photo for this TBT, but here goes.

As the Shepherd’s Conference is in full swing today, I am reminded of how set-up went in the old days! For years, my mom would begin our homeschool year two weeks early in Autumn, JUST so that we could spend one week helping with setup and the second week serving during the conference. I LOVED being a “go-fer” running hither, thither, and yon for all manner of errands.

We learned about sacrificing our time to make a big event happen. We learned about doing whatever was asked of us as well and quickly as we could. We learned how to interact with guests from foreign lands, some of whom barely spoke English. And so much more!

–In the room across from the kitchen (the kitchen by the Fireside Room), we spent a whole day walking around and around a huge square of tables, collating  all the attendees’ conference materials for the week into massive blue 3-ring binders.

–Used a paper-cutter to turn stacks of paper into all of the individual name-tags!

–Put hours and hours into sliding each name-tag into a plastic holder with a pin on the back, while trying not to seriously puncture a finger.

–Served sit-down dinners in the gymnasium; way back when ALL the visiting pastors FIT in the gym, even sitting around tables! (And I tripped on the blue floor-covering and dumped an entire plate of spaghetti *splat!* into the lap of a German church leader. Zum Glück war er sehr nett!)

–The Master’s Chorale would sing and I would sit enraptured, hoping beyond hope that I could sing in that group someday. (A wish that came true!) This hasn’t really changed. =}

–One year on a day during setup week, I was sent from the kitchen up to Dr. MacArthur’s office with his lunch, not realizing I’d forgotten to include any cutlery. He said, rather tentatively as I turned to go, “Thanks! Hey Elizabeth could uh, could I please have a fork?”  Oops.

Lastly, in March of 1999 when the attendance had doubled since the years of my childhoood, I was baptized at the Shepherd’s Conference. They always have an extra-long baptism service, and it’s a wonderful, solemn, yet joyful time. Typically the women go first, and then all the men. But I’d been tagged onto the schedule at the last minute, and was set to go at the very end after the men (because Dr. MacArthur was going to step out of the water and my dad, who was on pastoral staff at the time, was to come baptize me).

Unfortunately, John . . . forgot.

He baptized the last guy, and began winding down toward a final prayer. There dad and I are, literally waiting in the wings in our fluffy white robes, and dad quietly says “Psssst, John. John!” He stopped mid-sentence and turned around, not-so-mild surprise on his face. Then turns back to the mic, jovially saying:

“I’m so sorry, we have one more!”

So at the tender age of 14 and not much keen on public speaking, I walked out there to the sound of ~4,000 men belly-laughing . . .

Six Things I’d Never Heard of Before Living in the South

Some of these are not strictly Southern, but here is a smattering of traditions, terms, and foods I’ve been tickled to learn about since coming to Arkansas six and a half years ago.

1) A “Pounding”

When new folks are moving to a home in your area from out of state/country, such as a new pastor or a new position at the office, the community helps out by signing up to buy a grocery staple (in many cases a pound, thus the name) and bring it to a party or to move-in day. All at once the newcomers are blessed with a full pantry in their new home. What a GREAT idea.

2) The “Groom’s Cake”

Oddly enough the first wedding I attended in Arkansas was that of a friend from college (in California). She was from the church we moved to in Little Rock, and had a beautiful wedding on New Year’s Day, 2008. But I was in for a surprise at the reception: two cakes?? I mean, another cake is always a good thing, but having an official bride’s cake and groom’s cake was a totally foreign concept. I love it though! It’s an entertaining way for the groom’s personality to have a platform at what is so often a bride-centered event. In the six years since then I’ve seen Darth Vader cakes, cakes made in the exact shape and detail of a soundboard, and my personal favorites: simply huge chocolate cakes loaded with chocolate icing. Yum!

3) “Dirty Santa”

In California and lots of other places, it’s  called “White Elephant”: the gift-giving game where you bring something to a Christmas party and everyone opens one and steals them from each other and has a general riot. Most of the time it’s up to the host whether you are supposed to bring something nice enough to keep, or total rubbish. Sometimes the distinction is not made, and the gifts comprise a little of both. (This would explain why I received  an old Linksys router at my boss’s house this year.) I suppose it’s the rubbish-version of the game for which calling it Dirty Santa makes sense. Some people I have asked say that it’s Dirty Santa when you’re supposed to bring clutter, and it’s White Elephant when the gifts are to be “nice”. Alrighty then.

4) “Chocolate Gravy” 

Similar to sausage gravy (or what the South calls “Biscuits and Gravy”), this extremely odd dish is just…chocolate gravy. On biscuits. Runny chocolate-ish “gravy” on plain dry biscuits. Great if you grew up with it I suppose, but this one I’m afraid I will never understand. (I did taste it.)

5) “Bridal Portraits” . . . weeks before the wedding.

This one really threw me for a loop. I felt pretty dumb. At that same New Year’s Day wedding there was a large, gorgeous framed photograph of the bride on a stand by the doorway to the reception. She looked exactly as she did in the service she’d just walked out of, but I couldn’t think how that photo could have possibly made it into that frame in the short space of time since her morning toilette. It was a morning wedding, after all. Did somebody take the photo and immediately have it rushed out to be developed, then get it in the frame and back to the church just in time? I was impressed. Mentioning this to the next person in line, I was informed of the tradition that is “Bridal Portraits.” Of course it wasn’t all done in a jiffy that morning. The photo had been taken weeks ago when the bride got all gussied up just like she would for the actual ceremony and went out for an official photo-shoot. Leaves more time for couples shots on the wedding day, and less stress for all. Huh.

6) “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit!”

I couldn’t do a post like this without including at least one colloquialism. This is *so* my favorite, but I have yet to encounter the, uh, appropriate moment to use it…

2 Million and Me: Alone in the Hall of Names

There is a phrase in Hebrew that means “a memorial and a name” — it is used in Isaiah 56:5 which says, “And to them I will give in my house and within my walls a memorial and a name that shall not be cut off.”  In transliterated Hebrew, this phrase is “Yad Vashem”. 

“Yad Vashem” is what Israel chose to call their Holocaust Museum, established in 1953.
A visit to any Holocaust Museum will change you, but understandably, none of them compare to Israel’s own.

On a very hot July day ten years ago our bus wound its way up the western slope of Mount Herzl on the Mount of Remembrance in Jerusalem. I think it was July 5th. The previous day, our group of 35 American young people had splashed through Hezekiah’s Tunnel underneath the Old City, stood on the Mount of Olives, gazed across the Kidron Valley to Mount Moriah, and strolled near the Garden of Gethsemane. During dinner that night, at the hotel in Abu Gosh, we’d sung The Star Spangled Banner in celebration of our Independence Day, many Israelis and other guests joining in to sing and cheer with us for a rousing finish.

In the middle of the whirlwind 12-day tour of Israel, it was a short three days in the Jerusalem area filled to the brim with those and many other incredible highlights. Next on the itinerary was Yad Vashem.

From the moment we stepped out of the bus, the design of the place began to take affect. Set on a high green hillside, the low black buildings were surrounded by a stunning view and the whole place was intently silent. A long white stone pathway led up to the first structure. Lined with beautifully tended trees of varying ages, and at the base of each tree, plaques bearing names of all nationalities. This walkway is called The Righteous Among the Nations. Each tree is planted in grateful honor of any family that housed and protected Jews during WWII.

I have no skill to describe to you how the experience unfolds as you go inside and slowly walk the halls. Even though it was undergoing major renovations/additions at the time (a whole new complex opened the following year), none of that distracted from the power of what was presented there. Careful thought was put into each display, each room reflecting an exquisite attention to detail. It is totally consumed with honoring the lost, bringing you inside the world that crushed them.

One particular memory is an entire hallway wall that is a floor-to-ceiling, life-size photo of stacks upon stacks of bare metal cots; the pinched, haggard faces of men look out at you with utterly dead eyes. You can hardly stand to meet their gaze. You feel guilty for the clothes on your back and the food in your stomach. For the muscle on your bones. For being alive.

I searched each face, looking for one trace of defiance or hope.

Emptiness.

When it was nearly time to go back to the bus I found myself in a wide hall with some offices at the far end, and momentarily feared that I’d wandered into an area not meant for guests. But just inside and to the left was a small dark room and I approached close enough to read the little plaque by the door. Hall of Names. I went in, with some trepidation.

Everything in this room was black. Carpet, walls, ceiling, benches, lampstands, and black velvet ropes marking off an area filled with black shelves, laden with large black notebooks. Near the ropes, a small black podium with one of the notebooks lying open. A picture of a small girl. Her name, some biographical information, and a supposed date of death.

I suddenly realized what this was.

One of Yad Vashem’s documentation goals is to create a Page of Testimony for every single one of the 6 million Jews who perished. At that point, a little over 2 million of them had been identified and documented, and I was standing alone with all of their names.

Post renovation, the Hall of Names is quite different but doubtless equally powerful.
http://www.yadvashem.org/yv/en/about/hall_of_names/about_hall_of_names.asp

A Heart to Go and Half a Mind to Stay

Moving from one home, state, or country to another is a strange amalgamation of hassle and excitement. It’s usually a big mess. Often an emotional one too. Still, if you’ve done it enough times the manual-labor aspect becomes second nature, and it’s easier to enjoy the creative and social opportunities that come along with such change. New ways to arrange the furniture, neighbors to meet, etcetera.

But at the age of 29 I have moved 15 times. Only 4 were state or transnational moves but combined with all of the apartment/house/city re-locations in between, I’ve always felt like somewhat of a nomad. You should see the pictures of me at 5 years old, standing by the “SOLD” sign on the front lawn of that little blue house on Bradley Street in St. Paul, my face red and puffy from crying. It was the second home I’d lived in but the first one I remembered. We were leaving the only church and friends I’d known and gallivanting off to “the land of fruits and nuts”: California. Since then, my memories have been compartmentalized into chunks according to what house we lived in, where. Minnesota for nearly 6 years (2 homes), Santa Clarita for 3 (2 homes), South Africa for almost 1 (3 homes), back to Santa Clarita for 6 (1.5 homes), to Lancaster for 3 (1 home), back to Santa Clarita again for 4 (college dorms), then Arkansas (5 homes)…

The longest I have resided in the same house is 6 years. But I did live in California a total of 17 years. Viewed that way, it really doesn’t seem so bad.

On the opposite of the spectrum from “not so bad” is the wonderful blessing that I’ve been able to visit 9 other countries. Visit lengths ranged from 4 hours to 9 months, and I am incredibly grateful to have seen so much of the world. That first international trip — moving to South Africa at the age of 8 — instilled in me a deep love for traveling. I love the atmosphere of an airport at 5:15 a.m., even when the lines are long. They’re great places to meet people too, all sorts. [We saw Jerry Mathers in the Phoenix airport (my dad spoke with him), and at LAX my sister and I “met” Kiefer Sutherland in the baggage claim when he tripped, bringing all three of us and our suitcases tumbling to the floor in a heap.]

More to the point. From the suburbs of Johannesburg to the delicious little Italian place on the Thames in London, from horseback-riding in the Jordanian desert to walking the magnificent halls of Pergamon Museum in Berlin, travel has lent real perspective to my worldview and led to wonderful friendships across the country and around the world. I’m very aware that these are not blessings granted to all who desire them, and I am extremely grateful to the Lord.

When it comes to the future, naturally I’ve often mulled over for what purpose God orchestrated my life this way. Of course there are the primary reasons of sanctification, character and personality development. I know He’s given me a desire to do some kind of Christian mission work and evangelism in foreign places, though my makeup is not such that I want to do so alone. Specifically in regard to future moves, I’ve wondered, is He preparing me for more? Or, knowing that He placed within me a love for travel and a certain enjoyment of change, could He perhaps have prepared me to be content with one place for the rest of my life? Sometimes I struggle with envy of those who’ve enjoyed an established home in the same area, near family, for many years. The homebody part of me really wants that, too. The positives and possibilities of both ways of life are clear to me. And I realize it doesn’t have to end up being one or the other; for all I know my future could simply be a mixture similar to what most Americans experience.

This summer, I realized I’d been in Little Rock for 6 years. Something about that gave me an inkling, a sneaking hunch that change should be on the horizon. But I have a great job, a comfortable little apartment shared with my sister (a situation which has vastly improved our relationship), an amazing church family, and many dear friends. Richly blessed! If God leaves me here, my heart would long for some get-up-and-go but I certainly would have no reason to complain.

If He picks me up and nudges me out the door again, well…bring it on. May I always seek His will first and pursue contentment with His plan.

Here We Stand

The following quotes were severely inflammatory words when they were nailed to a church door on this day in 1517, by an earnest young priest and theologian who feared God more than men. Part of a document that sparked many more necessary departures of doctrine from the corrupt Roman Catholic church, and planting seeds of truth with which the dissenters formed a true church that followed Jesus Christ alone, instead of popes and bishops and priests. Even more wonderfully, the Bible was translated into the commoner’s German so that people could read it for themselves — the Dark Ages would soon be over!

Note: Although many reforms were subsequently made within Catholicism, it is tragic that in much of the world Catholicism is synonymous with Christianity. I’d love to wipe out a millennia of semantics and make this no longer the case; if only wishing made it so. Perhaps there is a way. This weighs heavily on my heart. Followers of Christ MUST defend His name and not allow it to be dragged through the Catholic quagmire which makes its parishioners into slaves of the church rather than slaves of Christ!

50. Christians are to be taught that if the pope knew the exactions of the pardon-preachers, he would rather that St. Peter’s church should go to ashes, than that it should be built up with the skin, flesh and bones of his sheep.

51. Christians are to be taught that it would be the pope’s wish, as it is his duty, to give of his own money to very many of those from whom certain hawkers of pardons cajole money, even though the church of St. Peter might have to be sold.

52. The assurance of salvation by letters of pardon is vain, even though the commissary, nay, even though the pope himself, were to stake his soul upon it.

Another note: Even though so much of Martin Luther’s work was used by God to clarify the truth, we must exercise careful discernment as we think about the Reformers, and any other men in leadership or other influential positions. Here are some ways that Luther was not biblical in his beliefs/approach, as laid out by Dr. William Varner.
“He (Luther) had a lot of baggage that should not be overlooked. He persecuted the Anabaptists; he contributed to the slaughter of myriads in the Peasants War; he refused to work with Zwingli because of differences on the eucharist and was not displeased at his death; he approved of his secular elector’s bigamy; he spoke very disparagingly of James and Jude; he viciously attacked the Jews because of their refusal to believe the Gospel; and he supported the idea of a state church with infant baptism as its badge.”

We are all susceptible to error. Let’s commit to stay in the Word and regularly feed ourselves with its truth!

This Terrible Truth

For those of us who believe in the absolute truth of the Bible, there is a wonderful freedom to be enjoyed in the confidence that no human government can force us to disobey the God of the universe.  As I observe the steep downward turn in our nation’s moral trajectory,  my grief for its depravity is always accompanied by a strange excitement.

Jesus promised His followers that those who hate Him will not stand to hear truth. That we will be despised, slandered, abused, and even killed, for speaking it without apology. The spectrum of persecution is broad, and although early signs are visible, I don’t know at what speed the United States’ progression in it will accelerate. But there is daily proof that what Jesus said is true. I think that’s the source of the excitement I feel. It’s not that I wish pain on anyone. It’s that no matter what they do to us, they prove the Word true with their aggression just as we prove it true with our Spirit-enabled unwavering commitment. When we stand fast in truth, and suffer for it, we represent Christ and take part in His suffering.

It is astounding that although we DO deserve the suffering of eternal judgement, instead we are called to rejoice in a different suffering that we DON’T deserve: the privilege of suffering for the name of Christ.

Persecutions of all kinds are the pruning shears that will reveal the true size of the church in this country, as they do wherever it occurs. Obscured by its own dead branches, the church is in dire need of it. May we all be steadfast!

On June 25th I sorrowed for another godless decision from our U.S. Supreme Court, yet I rejoiced in its total impotence to alter reality. Further proof of Jesus’ words.

I take joy, confidence, and warning from this terrible truth in the words of King Solomon.

I know that whatever God does,
It shall be forever.
Nothing can be added to it,
And nothing taken from it.
God does it, that men should fear before Him.
That which is has already been,
And what is to be has already been;
And God requires an account of what is past.

 Moreover I saw under the sun:

In the place of judgment,
Wickedness was there;
And in the place of righteousness,
Iniquity was there.

I said in my heart,

“God shall judge the righteous and the wicked,
For there is a time there for every purpose and for every work.”

Ecclesiastes 3:14-17

 

Good Links for Good Thinks

Regarding the SCOTUS decision: “His majesty and person define what the word good means, and His majesty as expressed in creation defines what nature means. This requires that it also defines what against nature means.”
http://dougwils.com/s29-culture-and-politics/a-little-black-twisty-thing.html

and (audio)
http://www.familylife.com/audio/topics/life-issues/challenges/cultural-issues/marriage-undefended-dennis-rainey-on-the-demise-of-doma#.Uc4Idfm1G_o

Regarding the Statue of Liberty. It was 128 years ago last week that Lady Liberty took up her post, light of freedom ablaze in her hand at the front door to the country. I wonder, if she were able to look over her shoulder and see America today, would she be tempted to lower that torch a little?
http://radio.foxnews.com/toddstarnes/top-stories/army-reprimands-soldier-under-fire-for-religious-beliefs.html

Regarding what a man really is:
http://www.familylife.com/articles/topics/life-issues/relationships/men/men-should-be-investors-not-consumers#.Uc4JjPm1G_o

Regarding one of my favorite things, adventures in etymology:
http://mentalfloss.com/article/51150/12-old-words-survived-getting-fossilized-idioms

My Opinion and $3.75

I just read an article wherein the author told me that if I am “of a certain age” I probably remember The Great Mouse Detective. Seriously?!

“Elementary” is a travesty and “Sherlock” is pure genius. The End.
(For the definition of ‘travesty’ see the 2004 film The Phantom of the Opera or the last few installments of the Harry Potter film series.)

Remember on ‘The West Wing’ when Josh Lyman said “I’m so sick of Congress I could vomit.”   Yeah.
(Though he be a liberal and yea verily though he be fictional, I stand with Josh on that one.)

One of the retired Facebook features that I miss is the ability to throw sheep at my friends.

You don’t really know what kind of person you are until you have “Magnetic Poetry” on your refrigerator and observe the kind of *insert adjective* sentences you come up with. (Then you forget about them and have friends over and suddenly those friends know too.)

When you open the kitchen cupboard and a roach falls down onto the counter in front of you and you don’t even flinch, you might not be winning the battle.

It’s interesting to me that Dr. Sheldon Cooper is pretty much human selfishness and pride personified, yet he’s still such a popular character. Anybody else out there willing to admit that it might be because he simply says about himself most of the things we all think about ourselves, in the privacy of our own little sin-sick hearts? His relatability should tell us something. (I informed you thusly.)

And in other news . . . I just bought a ticket to go far, far away. Canada, gird your loins!