John Piper has begun a preaching series in the Gospel of John, and Mark Dever has begun a series in the book of Genesis. This is wonderfully exciting news!
C. J. Mahaney has commented on several occasions that, on the night before he is to preach, he reads a sermon by Charles Spurgeon on the same passage of Scripture. The inevitable outcome, according to Mahaney, is great humility due to the complete inadequacy of what he has prepared. Mike Bullmore has remarked that after listening to excellent preaching, his heart's response is twofold: a sense of despair at his own perceived lack of ability as a preacher, and a sense of excitement that Sunday is coming and he will have the privilege of stepping again into the pulpit and expounding God's Word.
I have the same experience when listening to John Piper and Mark Dever preach (and in listening to C. J. Mahaney and Mike Bullmore, for that matter). I only wish they had preached these series earlier -- I just finished preaching through the Gospel of John, and two weeks ago I preached on Genesis 3. I look forward to feeling inadequate frequently in the weeks and months to come.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Some Help in Thinking about the Banking Crisis
Justin Taylor has an excellent interview with David Kotter to help us think biblically about the current banking crisis, as well as to help us put it in its broader economic perspective. Kotter is currently Executive Director for the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood, but also has an MBA, has taught economics, and was a finance manager for Ford. All of which puts him in a good position to speak both to economics and theology.
The current crisis is big news in New York, and local TV news coverage here the night before Lehman Brothers declared bankruptcy was near hysterical. So this interview is very helpful for Christians here. And the financial advise Kotter gives is helpful at all times, not just during a banking crisis.
HT: JT
The current crisis is big news in New York, and local TV news coverage here the night before Lehman Brothers declared bankruptcy was near hysterical. So this interview is very helpful for Christians here. And the financial advise Kotter gives is helpful at all times, not just during a banking crisis.
HT: JT
Understandings of the Gospel and Culture
I have been thinking out loud for a few weeks about questions of Christ and culture. In this post, I highlight the tensions in evangelical thought today. In a second post, I wrote about Richard Niebuhr's Christ and Culture and D. A. Carson's Christ and Culture Revisited, advocating Carson's use of the overarching narrative of Scripture as a control for our thinking that allows for flexibility in interacting with culture depending on our particular context. In a third post, I indirectly critiqued the failure in some evangelical circles to engage sufficiently the city of man by critiquing Albert Mohler's book Culture Shift. And in a fourth post, I recommended Mark Driscoll's The Radical Reformission not because of its theological depth, and not because I recommend everything Driscoll does, but because he asks good questions that force us to get to know our communities better if we are to answer.
But in all of this musing and writing, I have not answered this question concretely: How is it that Christians of similar theological convictions can differ on whether the church should be involved in providing affordable housing, health care, or other social and economic aid? Note that I said "the church" and not "Christians." Most evangelicals agree that Christians should be involved in care for "the alien, the fatherless, and the widow" (Deut 27:19; Ps 146:9; Isa 1:17; Lk 4:18; Jas 1:27). Where we disagree is on the question of what the church as a whole should do.
Let's make the point of disagreement clearer. Almost everyone agrees that it is appropriate for members of a church to start a non-profit providing affordable housing. And most agree that it is appropriate for a church to give financial, prayer, support such an organization. But should a church start a community development corporation, such as New Song in Harlem, in which the church begins the CDC but it functions separately? And should a church itself engage in such work by putting volunteers, staff, and budget against such ministries? Is there a difference between running a food pantry, opening a health clinic, and building housing?
The more I read, the more I am convinced that the key issue is a disagreement over how broad or how narrow the gospel is. Does the gospel focus on individual redemption through faith in the Christ who died a substitutionary death for sinners? Or is the gospel broader, such that it includes the renewal of all things? How you answer this question goes a long way toward how you view some of the activities in the above paragraph. If a church gets involved in running a health clinic, is it that a distraction from or a fulfillment of the Great Commission?
In a recent post on the IX Marks blog, Greg Gilbert offered an observation that I found helpful. Folks who disagree over these matters tend to disagree over the right question to ask. In reflecting on what the gospel is, on what the Main Thing is for the church, one group is asking, "What is the message a person must believe to be saved?" The other group is asking, "What is the whole good news of Christianity?" He notes that the word "gospel" is used in Scripture to describe the answer to both questions and that neither question is wrong, and wonders if perhaps much tension would be cleared up among evangelicals if we realized we are asking different questions and using "gospel" in different but biblical ways.
Perhaps this observation seems elementary to some. But for me it was illuminating, so much so that it has led me to some principles that I tentatively offer for thinking through what a church should do in engaging culture. But this post is long enough -- I will talk about them in the next one.
But in all of this musing and writing, I have not answered this question concretely: How is it that Christians of similar theological convictions can differ on whether the church should be involved in providing affordable housing, health care, or other social and economic aid? Note that I said "the church" and not "Christians." Most evangelicals agree that Christians should be involved in care for "the alien, the fatherless, and the widow" (Deut 27:19; Ps 146:9; Isa 1:17; Lk 4:18; Jas 1:27). Where we disagree is on the question of what the church as a whole should do.
Let's make the point of disagreement clearer. Almost everyone agrees that it is appropriate for members of a church to start a non-profit providing affordable housing. And most agree that it is appropriate for a church to give financial, prayer, support such an organization. But should a church start a community development corporation, such as New Song in Harlem, in which the church begins the CDC but it functions separately? And should a church itself engage in such work by putting volunteers, staff, and budget against such ministries? Is there a difference between running a food pantry, opening a health clinic, and building housing?
The more I read, the more I am convinced that the key issue is a disagreement over how broad or how narrow the gospel is. Does the gospel focus on individual redemption through faith in the Christ who died a substitutionary death for sinners? Or is the gospel broader, such that it includes the renewal of all things? How you answer this question goes a long way toward how you view some of the activities in the above paragraph. If a church gets involved in running a health clinic, is it that a distraction from or a fulfillment of the Great Commission?
In a recent post on the IX Marks blog, Greg Gilbert offered an observation that I found helpful. Folks who disagree over these matters tend to disagree over the right question to ask. In reflecting on what the gospel is, on what the Main Thing is for the church, one group is asking, "What is the message a person must believe to be saved?" The other group is asking, "What is the whole good news of Christianity?" He notes that the word "gospel" is used in Scripture to describe the answer to both questions and that neither question is wrong, and wonders if perhaps much tension would be cleared up among evangelicals if we realized we are asking different questions and using "gospel" in different but biblical ways.
Perhaps this observation seems elementary to some. But for me it was illuminating, so much so that it has led me to some principles that I tentatively offer for thinking through what a church should do in engaging culture. But this post is long enough -- I will talk about them in the next one.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Christ and Culture on the Ground
Do you ever feel as if you have bitten off more than you can chew? I feel that way when it comes to questions of Christ and culture. I have only written three posts, and I find my thoughts running in dozens of directions. A new book by Andy Crouch has been published that seems to explore the questions I have been wanting to ask. I have been reading more resources from Tim Keller on ministry in cultural centers. There is more to think about and write about than I can possibly do justice to.
So allow me to ground these thoughts in my personal experience. After being on Staten Island for about a year, I felt lost. Perhaps that would put me in good company -- many a New Yorker has felt the same way after visiting the Forgotten Borough. But this is where I live, the place where I pastor, and my expectations for what living in a borough of New York City would be like were very different from the reality. I did not understand this place or the people here, and they did not understand me.
I picked up Mark Driscoll's The Radical Reformission around this time. Driscoll is no stranger to controversy. In fact he seems to enjoy it. Sometimes he is funny, sometimes he is crude. But I found this book helpful. Driscoll begins with the basic idea that Christians are called to love their Lord, their neighbor, and the church, and that fulling these obligations requires us to live in, observe, interact with, critique, and even reform the culture around them. In particular, I found his reformission questions at the end of each chapter helpful. Driscoll reminded and challenged me to get inside the attitudes and assumptions of this new culture by going to the grocery store, picking up the newspaper, and talking to my neighbors.
As I read and began to take another look at the world around me, I began to notice patterns, attitudes, and postures. This new world began to make some sense to me. I began to see things that were good that we as a church could encourage, or of which we could take advantage as we sought to reach our neighbors with the gospel. I began to notice things that were sinful and idolatrous in the community that I could address through teaching, counseling, and preaching. And I started to understand the ways that these cultural patterns, attitudes, and postures, both good and bad, had shaped the way people in the congregation thought about following Christ and belonging to the church.
If a sophisticated theological treatise on culture is what you are looking for, you will not find it in The Radical Reformission. For that matter, Driscoll is at best a mediocre writer; you will not be swept away by the fluidity of his prose. Much of what he does at Mars Hill in Seattle does not translate well to my context (I have the same difficulty with Tim Keller and Redeemer). But Driscoll is observant, and he asks good questions, and that makes his book worth reading.
So allow me to ground these thoughts in my personal experience. After being on Staten Island for about a year, I felt lost. Perhaps that would put me in good company -- many a New Yorker has felt the same way after visiting the Forgotten Borough. But this is where I live, the place where I pastor, and my expectations for what living in a borough of New York City would be like were very different from the reality. I did not understand this place or the people here, and they did not understand me.
I picked up Mark Driscoll's The Radical Reformission around this time. Driscoll is no stranger to controversy. In fact he seems to enjoy it. Sometimes he is funny, sometimes he is crude. But I found this book helpful. Driscoll begins with the basic idea that Christians are called to love their Lord, their neighbor, and the church, and that fulling these obligations requires us to live in, observe, interact with, critique, and even reform the culture around them. In particular, I found his reformission questions at the end of each chapter helpful. Driscoll reminded and challenged me to get inside the attitudes and assumptions of this new culture by going to the grocery store, picking up the newspaper, and talking to my neighbors.
As I read and began to take another look at the world around me, I began to notice patterns, attitudes, and postures. This new world began to make some sense to me. I began to see things that were good that we as a church could encourage, or of which we could take advantage as we sought to reach our neighbors with the gospel. I began to notice things that were sinful and idolatrous in the community that I could address through teaching, counseling, and preaching. And I started to understand the ways that these cultural patterns, attitudes, and postures, both good and bad, had shaped the way people in the congregation thought about following Christ and belonging to the church.
If a sophisticated theological treatise on culture is what you are looking for, you will not find it in The Radical Reformission. For that matter, Driscoll is at best a mediocre writer; you will not be swept away by the fluidity of his prose. Much of what he does at Mars Hill in Seattle does not translate well to my context (I have the same difficulty with Tim Keller and Redeemer). But Driscoll is observant, and he asks good questions, and that makes his book worth reading.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Seven Years Later
Just as most Americans, I remember where I was and what I was doing on September 11th, 2001, when I first heard the news about the Twin Towers. I was on my way to class. That fall was the last semester of my M.Div. program at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School outside of Chicago, and I had an early morning class on Small Group Ministry. I had tuned in on WBBM 780 AM to get a traffic update for the Tri-State when I heard a report that something had flown into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. When I was a kid, I had read about a B-25 bomber flying into the Empire State Building in 1945. I wondered if something similar had happened and hoped that no one in the building was hurt.
When I stopped in at the White Horse on campus to get some coffee, I heard conflicting reports from other students. It was a small private plane, some said, implying that it was nothing for us to worry about. But someone else thought they had heard that the other tower had been hit as well. Uncertain what to think, I headed for class. And that is where I heard the truth from students who had cell phones: Two commercial airplanes had slammed into the Twin Towers. We were all badly shaken. After praying together, we proceeded with class. Afterwards I learned that the towers had collapsed.
I remember the images repeated over and over again on television. I had to force myself to turn the TV off and leave it off for several days, limiting myself to the evening news and getting information from news radio and the newspaper. I remember the initial catastrophic estimates for over 10,000 deaths. I remember Mayor Giuliani and President Bush at Ground Zero. I remember a sense of relief when the death toll began to fall till it was "only" 2999. I remember the sense of national outrage, and the swiftness of our national retribution in Afghanistan.
I now live on Staten Island, a borough of New York City, on which so many of the police officers and firefighters who died on 9/11 lived. I have members of my congregation who were at Ground Zero on 9/11 and have experienced long-term medical and emotional problems. One of the men of the church was a firefighter who went into one of the towers and never came out; his body was never found, and a small memorial to him is in the church's front yard. I have been to the memorials at Ground Zero and walked the periphery of that enormous pit. I have been to the "Postcards" Memorial on Staten Island many times. I have visited the Flight 93 Memorial. I have watched movies and documentaries. I have talked and prayed with men and women whose lives were forever changed and scarred.
And I have no idea what it was like or what they have been through.
I have had people close to me die, both friends and family. I remember the fear Chicagoans felt after 9/11 about our own skyscrapers. But after living here several years, I know enough to know that I do not understand the trauma that New York City has undergone. I do not understand the desire by some to reopen the old wounds every year. I do not understand how this city's swagger and in-your-face bravado exist side-by-side with a wounded psyche and lingering insecurity.
So that makes it very difficult to know the appropriate way to respond when 9/11 comes around every year. There are memorials and vigils throughout the city, and this remembering dominates the front pages of newspapers. But I was not here. Three years ago I asked the widow and sons of that firefighter what they wanted me to do that Sunday. They asked me please, please, please not to do anything other than pray. They wanted to move on. So I acceded. During the pastoral prayer, I prayed for families on Staten Island who were still hurting to find healing in Jesus Christ.
And that is still my prayer. Our God is still sovereign, though I do not understand His secret ways. He is still loving and kind. His Son still instructs us to forgive and bless those who harm us. And the same forgiveness and peace can still be found for all who call on His name.
When I stopped in at the White Horse on campus to get some coffee, I heard conflicting reports from other students. It was a small private plane, some said, implying that it was nothing for us to worry about. But someone else thought they had heard that the other tower had been hit as well. Uncertain what to think, I headed for class. And that is where I heard the truth from students who had cell phones: Two commercial airplanes had slammed into the Twin Towers. We were all badly shaken. After praying together, we proceeded with class. Afterwards I learned that the towers had collapsed.
I remember the images repeated over and over again on television. I had to force myself to turn the TV off and leave it off for several days, limiting myself to the evening news and getting information from news radio and the newspaper. I remember the initial catastrophic estimates for over 10,000 deaths. I remember Mayor Giuliani and President Bush at Ground Zero. I remember a sense of relief when the death toll began to fall till it was "only" 2999. I remember the sense of national outrage, and the swiftness of our national retribution in Afghanistan.
I now live on Staten Island, a borough of New York City, on which so many of the police officers and firefighters who died on 9/11 lived. I have members of my congregation who were at Ground Zero on 9/11 and have experienced long-term medical and emotional problems. One of the men of the church was a firefighter who went into one of the towers and never came out; his body was never found, and a small memorial to him is in the church's front yard. I have been to the memorials at Ground Zero and walked the periphery of that enormous pit. I have been to the "Postcards" Memorial on Staten Island many times. I have visited the Flight 93 Memorial. I have watched movies and documentaries. I have talked and prayed with men and women whose lives were forever changed and scarred.
And I have no idea what it was like or what they have been through.
I have had people close to me die, both friends and family. I remember the fear Chicagoans felt after 9/11 about our own skyscrapers. But after living here several years, I know enough to know that I do not understand the trauma that New York City has undergone. I do not understand the desire by some to reopen the old wounds every year. I do not understand how this city's swagger and in-your-face bravado exist side-by-side with a wounded psyche and lingering insecurity.
So that makes it very difficult to know the appropriate way to respond when 9/11 comes around every year. There are memorials and vigils throughout the city, and this remembering dominates the front pages of newspapers. But I was not here. Three years ago I asked the widow and sons of that firefighter what they wanted me to do that Sunday. They asked me please, please, please not to do anything other than pray. They wanted to move on. So I acceded. During the pastoral prayer, I prayed for families on Staten Island who were still hurting to find healing in Jesus Christ.
And that is still my prayer. Our God is still sovereign, though I do not understand His secret ways. He is still loving and kind. His Son still instructs us to forgive and bless those who harm us. And the same forgiveness and peace can still be found for all who call on His name.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Christ and Culture Shifting
I would like to pick up on a series I started on questions of Christ and culture. The first post attempted to frame some of the issues and show the tension that exists in evangelicalism. The second post interacted briefly with works by Richard Niebuhr and D. A. Carson.
Carson's contention, with which I agree, is that we need an approach to these sorts of issues that is thoroughly grounded in Scripture, allows for differences in regard to specific settings, yet has sufficient unity that we do not devolve into parochialism or relativism. So while it might seem obvious that the way Christians think about engaging culture will differ (and correctly so) on the South Side of Chicago, in Iraq, and on the East End of London, can we describe why and how those settings demand different responses while staying thoroughly rooted in Scripture?
The biblical theology approach outlined by Carson demands both theological and cultural exegesis. There are no shortcuts. We need to be steeped in Scripture -- to "bleed Bible" as Charles Spurgeon put it -- and to be on the ground interacting with people in our community, reading what they read, eating where they eat, shopping where they shop. This is where Tim Keller has been so helpful to those living in city centers.
But I do not live in a city center. So when I picked up Al Mohler's Culture Shift, I was hoping for some help in thinking through these questions for a setting less sophisticated than Keller's Upper Manhattan. I occasionally visit Dr. Mohler's blog, and the breadth of his reading and force of his intellect were recurring themes at the latest T4G, so I had some reason to be hopeful. And I was helped by the book, but not in the way I had hoped for.
At its best, Culture Shift uses secular/liberal sources to help evangelicals understand some of the moves being made in contemporary public discourse. The first three chapters on secular arguments against the interaction of Christian faith and public policy are helpful to those who pick up The New York Times op/ed page or wander over to the pages of The Nation and do not see the presuppositions or understand what seems to some to be anti-religious bias. The two chapters on abortion spotlight the fissures that have appeared in recent years in the pro-choice movement. This is helpful.
At its worst, Culture Shift fails to engage the "city of man" well enough to understand the issues with sufficient depth and nuance. One example of this failure is the chapter on the Supreme Court and religion, in which Mohler cites one scholar from one essay over and over, does not acknowledge that other constitutional law scholars disagree with this one source, and clearly has not interacted with the decisions of the Supreme Court directly. Perhaps on this particular matter I am oversensitive, since Establishment Clause jurisprudence was a topic of significant study for me in college. But I see the same superficial analysis in other one-source essays (I never thought I would write that about something Mohler wrote, but it is true here. The Supreme Court's Establishment Clause jurisprudence is a mess -- so what? Tell me something more that is not so obvious.) And the tension in the book between one essay advocating withdrawal from public schools because they are too dangerous for Christian faith, and another essay asking if we are raising a generation of wimps by coddling and sheltering our children, is neither resolved nor acknowledged.
But it is precisely in its failure to engage that I found Culture Shift useful. The book is endorsed by several leaders in evangelicalism that I respect. And that tells me that we evangelicals have not spent enough time on the ground in our communities thinking through how to live out the implications of the gospel. In the next post, I hope to talk about how we can do that better.
Carson's contention, with which I agree, is that we need an approach to these sorts of issues that is thoroughly grounded in Scripture, allows for differences in regard to specific settings, yet has sufficient unity that we do not devolve into parochialism or relativism. So while it might seem obvious that the way Christians think about engaging culture will differ (and correctly so) on the South Side of Chicago, in Iraq, and on the East End of London, can we describe why and how those settings demand different responses while staying thoroughly rooted in Scripture?
The biblical theology approach outlined by Carson demands both theological and cultural exegesis. There are no shortcuts. We need to be steeped in Scripture -- to "bleed Bible" as Charles Spurgeon put it -- and to be on the ground interacting with people in our community, reading what they read, eating where they eat, shopping where they shop. This is where Tim Keller has been so helpful to those living in city centers.
But I do not live in a city center. So when I picked up Al Mohler's Culture Shift, I was hoping for some help in thinking through these questions for a setting less sophisticated than Keller's Upper Manhattan. I occasionally visit Dr. Mohler's blog, and the breadth of his reading and force of his intellect were recurring themes at the latest T4G, so I had some reason to be hopeful. And I was helped by the book, but not in the way I had hoped for.
At its best, Culture Shift uses secular/liberal sources to help evangelicals understand some of the moves being made in contemporary public discourse. The first three chapters on secular arguments against the interaction of Christian faith and public policy are helpful to those who pick up The New York Times op/ed page or wander over to the pages of The Nation and do not see the presuppositions or understand what seems to some to be anti-religious bias. The two chapters on abortion spotlight the fissures that have appeared in recent years in the pro-choice movement. This is helpful.
At its worst, Culture Shift fails to engage the "city of man" well enough to understand the issues with sufficient depth and nuance. One example of this failure is the chapter on the Supreme Court and religion, in which Mohler cites one scholar from one essay over and over, does not acknowledge that other constitutional law scholars disagree with this one source, and clearly has not interacted with the decisions of the Supreme Court directly. Perhaps on this particular matter I am oversensitive, since Establishment Clause jurisprudence was a topic of significant study for me in college. But I see the same superficial analysis in other one-source essays (I never thought I would write that about something Mohler wrote, but it is true here. The Supreme Court's Establishment Clause jurisprudence is a mess -- so what? Tell me something more that is not so obvious.) And the tension in the book between one essay advocating withdrawal from public schools because they are too dangerous for Christian faith, and another essay asking if we are raising a generation of wimps by coddling and sheltering our children, is neither resolved nor acknowledged.
But it is precisely in its failure to engage that I found Culture Shift useful. The book is endorsed by several leaders in evangelicalism that I respect. And that tells me that we evangelicals have not spent enough time on the ground in our communities thinking through how to live out the implications of the gospel. In the next post, I hope to talk about how we can do that better.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Contradictions in politics?
I try to tread lightly when it comes to talking or writing about politics, due mostly to my role as a pastor and thus as the perceived spokesman for a church. But this was just too good...
We recently received some political advertising in the mail -- New York's state primary for Congress is coming up next week. I will not mention which candidate sent the ad, but I will mention two policies the candidate supports in the ad that left me scratching my head.
Policy #1: "Eliminate the subsidies to farmers for growing grain for ethanol."
Policy #2: Support "New Federal Incentives for Alternative Energy Development"
I read in the ad that the candidate blames ethanol production for higher prices for food. I am familiar with both sides of that argument, and frankly the question is complicated enough it makes evaluation nearly impossible for a layman such as myself (though I will admit that it seems to me that rising food prices might be more closely related to the cost of gas than to ethanol subsidies).
But it did strike me as strange that these two policy positions that seem to be at odds with each other would be listed right next to each other in a bulk political mailing. But that might just be my take.
We recently received some political advertising in the mail -- New York's state primary for Congress is coming up next week. I will not mention which candidate sent the ad, but I will mention two policies the candidate supports in the ad that left me scratching my head.
Policy #1: "Eliminate the subsidies to farmers for growing grain for ethanol."
Policy #2: Support "New Federal Incentives for Alternative Energy Development"
I read in the ad that the candidate blames ethanol production for higher prices for food. I am familiar with both sides of that argument, and frankly the question is complicated enough it makes evaluation nearly impossible for a layman such as myself (though I will admit that it seems to me that rising food prices might be more closely related to the cost of gas than to ethanol subsidies).
But it did strike me as strange that these two policy positions that seem to be at odds with each other would be listed right next to each other in a bulk political mailing. But that might just be my take.
Driving with Your Eyes Closed
For the past four days, my family and I have been visiting my relatives in Hot Springs and Pine Bluff, Arkansas. I had thought that I would have time in one evening to eke out a post, but things did not work out that way. In fact, very little of our short trip worked out the way I had planned. Had I to do it over, we would not have headed south this past week. For anyone not keeping track of the weather, there was this small matter of Hurricane Gustav that resulted in overcrowded hotels, nonstop rain for three days, and some tense driving conditions. Not that anyone should feel bad for me and my family -- the evacuees have matters much worse, and Baton Rouge is nowhere near recovering from the storm. It's simply to say that we would have changed our plans if we could. But hotels, rental cars, and airline tickets were all booked and paid for back in July, and family that had not seen my daughter for almost a year was expecting us. So travel we did.
On Wednesday we were driving from Hot Springs to Memphis in a downpour of rain when something frightening happened: the driver's side windshield wiper started to come apart. One of the caps on the wiper has missing, and the two rubber blades were beginning to separate. We pulled off I-40 in Hazen, Ark., and found Parts Plus, an auto parts store owned by the Shelman family. I had planned to replace the wiper and present the receipt to the rental company for reimbursement. The Shelmans would not hear it. One of them stripped the cap off another wiper blade, stood out in the rain, and repaired the wiper blade, explaining that since I had no guarantee that the rental company would reimburse me, it made more sense to repair the blade than replace it. When I asked how much I owed them, they would not accept payment.
We chatted about the weather and nearby barbecue restaurants (Craig's in DeValls Bluff is the best pork sandwich on the planet, and Nick's in Carlisle isn't bad either). And then we headed back out on the road. I thought about how much danger we could have been in if the wiper blade had flown apart while on the interstate while driving through the storms trailing Gustav. I would have been completely blind, and we would have been stranded on the shoulder with a long wait for a tow truck and traffic flying by at high speeds with limited visibility. And I thought about the kindness of the Shelman family and our "good luck" at finding their store.
The reality is that even before the wiper went kaput, we were driving with our eyes closed. Perhaps I am using the phrase a little differently than Don Henley, but it is nevertheless true. All of us are. None of us knows what the next five minutes holds, nevermind the next five years or five decades. And none of us sees what invisible hands direct all that happens, even if we know Whose hands are there. The wiper blade stayed together, and we found the help we needed. We certainly enjoyed divine assistance and protection.
But if the wiper blade had flown apart, and we had been stranded for a time, or worse if in my blindness I had driven off the road or into another vehicle, or another vehicle had plowed into us, those invisible hands would have been no less present. Not only do we not see those hands, not only do we not see the future, we also do not see the purposes and plans that direct that future. And these are thoughts that sober me, but also make me grateful for what those hands have provided so far.
On Wednesday we were driving from Hot Springs to Memphis in a downpour of rain when something frightening happened: the driver's side windshield wiper started to come apart. One of the caps on the wiper has missing, and the two rubber blades were beginning to separate. We pulled off I-40 in Hazen, Ark., and found Parts Plus, an auto parts store owned by the Shelman family. I had planned to replace the wiper and present the receipt to the rental company for reimbursement. The Shelmans would not hear it. One of them stripped the cap off another wiper blade, stood out in the rain, and repaired the wiper blade, explaining that since I had no guarantee that the rental company would reimburse me, it made more sense to repair the blade than replace it. When I asked how much I owed them, they would not accept payment.
We chatted about the weather and nearby barbecue restaurants (Craig's in DeValls Bluff is the best pork sandwich on the planet, and Nick's in Carlisle isn't bad either). And then we headed back out on the road. I thought about how much danger we could have been in if the wiper blade had flown apart while on the interstate while driving through the storms trailing Gustav. I would have been completely blind, and we would have been stranded on the shoulder with a long wait for a tow truck and traffic flying by at high speeds with limited visibility. And I thought about the kindness of the Shelman family and our "good luck" at finding their store.
The reality is that even before the wiper went kaput, we were driving with our eyes closed. Perhaps I am using the phrase a little differently than Don Henley, but it is nevertheless true. All of us are. None of us knows what the next five minutes holds, nevermind the next five years or five decades. And none of us sees what invisible hands direct all that happens, even if we know Whose hands are there. The wiper blade stayed together, and we found the help we needed. We certainly enjoyed divine assistance and protection.
But if the wiper blade had flown apart, and we had been stranded for a time, or worse if in my blindness I had driven off the road or into another vehicle, or another vehicle had plowed into us, those invisible hands would have been no less present. Not only do we not see those hands, not only do we not see the future, we also do not see the purposes and plans that direct that future. And these are thoughts that sober me, but also make me grateful for what those hands have provided so far.
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