God Is in My Head?

Science, as it turns out, has an answer for everything. Apparently science has come so far that we are now able to diagnose men and women of the past with very specific neurological problems which caused them to see, hear, and therefore believe and say certain things pertaining to the spiritual life. All that to say, Moses and Paul were epileptics. So is R.C. Sproul for that matter.

Michael Persinger, a neuroscientist at Laurentian University in Ontario, believes he has strong evidence that proves the existence of a “god-spot”. This god-spot is responsible for all of the religious experiences anyone has ever experienced in world history. So strong is his evidence, Persinger claims that religious leaders of the past were men and women suffering from epilepsy. Their brains were jogged in such a way that they saw or heard “God”.

What strikes me here is that existential religious experience has never been a strong thread in my life yet I consider faith in Jesus Christ as the single most important aspect of my life. I suppose there was a time in college in which my spiritual consciousness was all in a flutter. During this time I earnestly prayed to hear the actual physical voice of God. I believed in seeing demons and demonic activity and even once thought I heard a demon flying about over my head as I stood and prayed for revival on our campus. These experiences, however, never proved to really pull me closer to God or be more devout in my piety. They were simply experiences. I have no doubt at this moment that those experiences were almost completely generated by my own mind. For example, the flying demon turned out to be a bird making a strange noise that I had never heard. Boy, that was embarrassing to admit when the experience was later reproduced in broad daylight on a tennis court with about five friends, whom I had regaled with my brush with evil. Pure evil…bird.

My faith brings me under the influence of an objective set of truths, the canon of Scripture, which govern my life – including my experiences. If I were to have a vision, it would have to be subjected to the Scripture to see if it lined up with that objective standard. If it did not, then I would write it off as a bad slice of pizza. If it did indeed line up with objective truth, then my confidence would still be in the Scripture and not the experience itself.

I’ve always been a little skeptical about subjective (or mystical, as my seminary brethren like to call it) religious experience. I just finished reading Same Kind of Different as Me for a missiology class. As a story, the book is very strong and contains nuggets of wisdom and palpable and reproducible examples of Christian love and community. As a work of theology, it’s just weak. My wife takes issue with this because as she says, “It wasn’t meant to be a work of theology.” Granted. But everything we say, do, or retell has theological implications. It says something about what we believe about God. And in this postmodern age, people would rather follow experience than good, old-fashioned hermeneutics and exegesis. It’s just not uncommon to hear someone say, “I know what the Bible says, but this is what I know happened to me.” In cases like these, I’m all for the god-spot. It really would explain why so many people say so many nutty things about their own personal experiences. Of the three main characters in the book, two are represented as being driven more by their religious experience than by there objective knowledge of Scripture. And religious experience doesn’t make a thing true.

The thing that urks me about the god-spot is that the science on it is shaky. It doesn’t explain every human experience. It cannot claim that just because this one effect is produced using magnetic fields on the brain that simulate epilepsy, that it is a necessary conclusion that all religious leaders of the past who claim some sort of supernatural encounter are epileptic. That is a simplistic deduction that at best seems premature. Also, if that is indeed the case, does it mean that all human experience can be basically divided into several large categories of experience? By that I mean that religious messages are consistent within just a few basic belief systems. These belief systems are diverse and global and encompass the vast majority of earthly inhabitants. Are our brains so similar that each religious experience can basically find a theological home. Or does it prove that our religious experiences are brain-triggered along with a basic presupposition about God? In other words, if the brain produces religious experience is it something within our human physiology or is it something within our human psychology that makes them similar.

Following this train of thought would make it simply astounding that the major belief systems have any unity at all. I know that some would say you only need to look at Christianity to find that there really is no unity. Even within this set of dogma there is much difference in interpretation and even experience. But the differences in Christianity are largely due to differences in interpretation of Scripture texts. If the god-spot can account for the myriad of different cultures and backgrounds that experience such homogeneous religious phenomena, then it really is something isn’t it? It would be impossible to believe that it would happen at chance.

Also, I don’t like the trend in science that says if it is true of one person then it must be categorically true of all persons. This is not exactly the case behind the science of the god-spot as this study is aimed at understanding the generic brain and its most basic functions. However, to say that this tiny glimpse into brain function explains the revelations of men like Moses and Paul as epileptic episodes is simply to large a gap for me to jump. It would sure take a lot of faith to do so.

To read more about the god-spot, see this article posted at NPR.

For more resources on the topic see this article at Science & Spirit.

Something for a Sunday Morning

There are a lot of things I wouldn’t add to a Sunday morning worship service. But this guy has a serious shot.

Eat This Book

I am pleased to recommend a book to you. The Complete John Ploughman is a combined addition of Charles Spurgeon’s John Ploughman’s Talk and John Ploughman’s Pictures. In the book, Spurgeon demonstrates he’s not just a great orator, but a fabulous word smith in the vernacular. He kind of puts it on the bottom shelf for you while he gets all up in your grill, ya know?

In the preface, Spurgeon writes, “In John Ploughman’s Talk, I have tried to talk for ploughmen and common people. Hence refined taste and dainty words have been discarded for strong old proverbial expressions and homely phrases.” The topics are by subject and deal primarily with the vices of everyday living. I have found this book a helpful companion in personal holiness and childrearing as the word pictures are so vivid that simple minds are able to grasp weighty concepts with ease. There’s also a variety of whimsical pictures throughout. And for preaching it is a veritable treasure trove of sermon illustrations.

Here’s a snippet from the chapter “You may bend the sapling, but not the tree.”

Ladder, and pole, and cord will be of no use to straighten the bent tree; it should have been looked after much earlier. Train trees when they are saplings and young lads before the down comes on their chins. Begin early to teach, for children begin early to sin. Catch them young and you may hope to keep them. What is learned young is learned for life. What we hear at the first we remember to the last. The bent twig grows up a crooked tree.

When a boy is rebellious, conquer him, and do it well the first time, that there may be no need to do it again. A child’s first lesson should be obedience, and after that you may teach it what you please: yet the young mind must not be laced too tight, or you may hurt its growth and hinder its strength. They say a daft nurse makes a wise child, but I do not believe it: nobody needs so much common sense as a mother or a governess. It does not do to be always thwarting; and yet remember if you give a child his will and a whelp his fill, both will surely turn out ill. A child’s back must be made to bend, but it must not be broken. He must be ruled, but not with a rod of iron. His spirit must be conquered, but not crushed.

Who Said It?

This semester I had to read a book on Darwinism for Introduction to Christian Philosophy. I find new areas of study quite interesting, if not a little frustrating, and thought I would bring you two quotes by experts associated with the field. See if you can tell me who said it!

“Why does the public find the case for Darwinism unconvincing? Fundamentalism aside, the claim that the Darwinian mechanism of chance variation and natural selection can generate the full range of biological diversity strikes people as an unwarranted extrapolation from the limited changes that mechanism is known to effect in practice.”

The second may not be as easy.

“Nature may almost be said to have guarded against the frequent discovery of her transitional or linking forms.”

Why Her?

One more thing about Carrie Prejean and I’m done.

Am I glad she stood for her “convictions” about marriage? Absolutely.

Do I think she got a raw deal largely driven by hypocrisy? Of course.

Should she be the new face of traditional marriage advocates or conservatives or Christians? No.

I had my doubts about all of this when you couldn’t watch the news or google her name and find decent, modest pictures of Ms. Prejean. With all the new developments (smear tactics though they be), it just looks silly for a girl like her to stand up and talk about Christian convictions with everything out there. First it was the endless parade of her in her very tiny bikini, then it was breast augmentation, now it’s pictures that are not all that wholesome. She explains it like this, “I am a Christian, and I am a model. Models pose for pictures, including lingerie and swimwear photos.” Really?

This is a difficult pill to swallow because what it basically means is that her profession trumps her Christianity. This is exactly the kind of thinking and speaking that makes Christianity look so lifeless to those who would question it in the first place. And she is still showing up on Christian programming as some sort of culture warrior.

Maybe I’m behind the times, but I personally think Ms. Prejean should reevaluate her “convictions” a little more carefully.

Quiet Morning with Coffee

I’m enjoying a quiet morning in one of Frankfort’s little treasures. The Kentucky Coffeetree is a quaint place to sit and drink a tall latte while studying or reading. When I have the time (i.e. when school is out) I love to come here and relax in the morning. It’s open early and plenty of folks come to get a quiet start to their day. I’m being treated  to Frank Sinatra over the speakers and walls lined with books. It’s all a little too good.

Thank God for these little undeserved pleasures. He truly is remarkable, even in coffee and ambiance.

When the Great Ones Go

My pastor, Dr. Hershael York, had to bid his father farewell this past Sunday. Wallace York, a lifelong missionary and pastor, went to be with the Lord after a battle with a strange set of medical ailments. As I understand it, this was his first stay in a hospital. As I write this, Dr. York’s mother-in-law also hangs in the balance of life and death. The Executive Pastor of our church and a dear friend is visiting with his mother in Tennessee as she is being prepped to make a move to a University Hosptial in Virginia for surgery on two tumors.

My heart goes out to my friends who are suffering and mourning right now. And my hope lay in Christ, which is where they find their strength and comfort too. Death, as Dr. York puts it, is only a promotion. There is hope in the hurting and joy in the pain. Christ is coming to finally and ultimately defeat even this most horrible enemy.

There is a hymn that is perfect for the occasion of death. I’ve included the text for your reading and edification.

Abide with Me

Abide with me: fast falls the eventide;
the darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide:
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
change and decay in all around I see;
O thou who changest not, abide with me.

I need thy presence every passing hour;
what but thy grace can foil the tempter's pow'r?
Who like thyself my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me.

I fear no foe, with thee at hand bless:
ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death's sting? where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if thou abide with me.

Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes;
shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies:
heav'n's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee:
in life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

Pointless Ponderings

I was reading some poetry tonight and this one strikes me. It kind of reminds me of dating. And makes me a little upset that I ever did such a thing as date.

Dear, though the night is gone
It’s dream still haunts us today,
That brought us to a room
Cavernous, lofty as
A railway terminus,
And crowded in the gloom
Were beds, and we in one
In a far corner lay.

Our whisper woke no clocks,
We kissed and I was glad
At everything you did,
Indifferent to those
Who sat with hostile eyes
In pairs on every bed,
Arms around each other’s neck,
Inert and vaguely sad.

O but what worm of guilt
Or what malignant doubt
Am I the victim of,
That you then, unabashed,
Did what I never wished,
Confessed another love;
And I, submissive, felt
Unwanted and went out?

-W.H. Auden

Shanna Moakler’s Hypocrisy

Remember when Shanna Moakler twittered that beauty pageants weren’t supposed to be a place to push personal agendas? Check out this cool picture.

Former beauty queens Tamiko Nash, Shanna Moakler and Raquel Beezley protest Proposition 8

Yeah, that’s Shanna there in the middle. Who, exactly, got blasted for voicing their opinions? Was it you, Shanna?

Real Naked Women Are Just Bad Porn

When I was formulating a worldview of sex and sexuality – thinking about women and how to relate to them – I had a lot of help from Playboy. Starting very young, I was exposed to the explicit images of pornography from friends of mine whose fathers dabbled in the dark side of sex. This is an odd thing to think, but you have to remember that this was before the advent of the internet when explicit images of women were sought and bought quite purposefully and intentionally. That is to say it shouldn’t have been that easy to come by. But it was.

I don’t remember a lot of images that have passed before my eyes. I will have trouble detailing the particulars of what my coworkers were wearing today. I can’t even recall what color the bridesmaids wore in the wedding I officiated this past Saturday. But I don’t think I will ever forget the image of my first centerfold. I know what color the woman’s hair was, the sheet, the pose, the whole thing. She was holding a book and if the book had had a title, I probably would have been able to tell you that too. And I wasn’t even in middle school. The power of the pornographic image is unmistakable.

In this age, it has become almost accepted that men (and women, too) will look at pornography. My job as a pastor is to tell you that looking at pornographic images is bad. But most people don’t feel bad when they look at pornography. Most people look at pornography because it feels good. It is an entirely solitary way to experience what God meant for us to experience together. Sex and sexuality, from a Christian perspective, is never something experienced alone. The loneliness of the man and the Lord declaring something “not good” tells us that he was lacking something to complete the experience of humanity. That he needed more than just a sexual partner is absolutely true. But it is also absolutely true that he needed a sexual partner. Sex, as it turns out, isn’t a solo flight.

Yet porn, in its alluring way, has offered us just this – solo sex. It comes in any flavor, with anybody, doing anything imaginable, and mostly for free and without the pesky involvement of something I like to call “other people”. The effect on sex and sexuality is devastating. Naomi Wolf, a feminist critic I’m told, makes this comment. “The onslaught  of porn is responsible for deadening male libido in relation to real women…. For most of human history, erotic images have been reflections of, or celebrations of, or substitutes for, real naked women. For the first time in human history, the images’ power and allure have supplanted that of real naked women. Today, real naked women are just bad porn.”

Who Said It?

“How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it? There has never been a greater deed; and whoever is born after us — for the sake of this deed he will belong to a higher history than all history hitherto.”

Come on, people! I want answers!

Hollywood a Good Model…of Junior High

A pageant queen is asked a question. She gives her response and all hell breaks loose. Give me a break.

You know it’s a pretty simple concept to grasp. There are two sides to the issue of homosexual marriage. Some people think it’s a right dandy idea, others not so much. Both groups hold passionate views about the issue. When someone expresses those views openly, especially in the context of a beauty pageant (of all things!), keep the Junior High bickering down.

This is a serious issue that deserves serious, calculated, intelligent debate. The vitriol coming out of Hollywood over the last couple of days is past amateur. Only a postmodern culture like ours could advance an issue into policy through intimidation and name-calling. The screaming and “twittering” has reached a fever pitch over a young woman giving her opinion (of which she was asked). It is interesting that this young woman won a competition that qualified her for this event and was promoted by the very folks who are now distancing themselves from her. The Miss Califronia USA title is apparently also a platform that would limit the free speech of its spokesperson. Shanna Moekler, one of California’s state pageant directors twittered, “The MISS CALIFORNIA USA title is NOT supposed to be used to push your own agenda, that is NOT what pageants are about.” Notice the catch-22 here for Carrie Prejean. Win a pageant along with the opportunity to compete on a national level as well as be the face for a state organization. When you go to compete at the next level, you are asked a personal question and asked for your opinion. If you give that opinion you are suddenly using your platform to promote your own personal agenda. Wow. I guess everything needs to be fake in order for it to be a real pageant. When the real world creeps into some people’s lives, it is simply more than they can bear.

What would the fall-out be if Ms. Prejean had said, “I believe that anyone, regardless of gender, should be allowed to enter into the covenant of marriage. This includes homosexuals and anybody else that wants to get married.” Would that have been pushing an agenda? The answer is, “Probably not.” Why? Because the outcry would have been insignificant, and therefore the answer would have been deemed acceptable speech. Very postmodern of the Miss USA folks isn’t it? Right and wrong is simply tested by what you can get away with. Clearly, they aren’t letting Ms. Prejean get away with this one.

Look, I know I’m a Christian and a supporter of marriage as defined in the bible, but that’s not the point. Arguing a subject as difficult and nuanced as homosexual marriage requires a higher degree of maturity than was evidenced by Perez Hilton and others within Hollywood. All the name-calling and character assassination taking place reminds me of a Junior High playground and not the forum in which a concert of ideas are discussed and debated by thinking adults.

Oh, by the way, I originally was going to blog that I thought FOX News was making too much out of this. Glad I held my tongue for a whole day.

King David and the Magic Psalter

The Songs of Ascent are fifteen Psalms. The meaning of ascent is much debated. Here is the most imaginative explanation brought to you courtesy of the Talmud.

“When King David was digging the Shitin [a stream that ran beneath the Holy Temple, into which the wine libations were poured], the water of the depths arose and threatened to flood the world. David said, ‘Is there someone who knows whether it is permitted to write [G‑d's] name on an earthenware shard and we will throw it into the depths and it will subside?’ . . . Ahitophel responded, ‘It is permitted.’ [David] wrote the name on earthenware and threw it into the depths. The depths receded 16,000 cubits. When he saw that it receded greatly, he said, ‘The higher the depths, the moister is the ground [which benefits agriculture].’ He said the fifteen [songs of] ascents, and the depths rose 15,000 cubits.”

Man, that King David sure knew how to make the Psalter work for him, huh?

Homeschool Stereotype? Susan Bauer Says it Better

You should go here if you want to read a really smart person write about why they homeschool.

The Stereotype Deserved: Homeschool in the Public Square

One thought came blasting into my mind as I surveyed the massive crowd. “The stereotype is deserved.”

Marie and I were at the Midwest Homeschool Convention this past week. I’ve never had so much culture shock in my life – and I’ve been to a Neil Diamond concert! All the sights and sounds of homeschool moms and dads (mostly moms) bustling around punctuated ever so often by a baby’s cry, were the constant soundtrack to the three days we spent among them. We listened to lectures, surfed a veritable sea of curriculum, and tried to keep each other sane through the process.

We took the plunge into this unknown culture simply because we are opting in. The culture of homeschooling is now our culture. Or it will be in 139 days. Connor, our oldest son currently enrolled in a Christian school which we adore, will become an official homeschooler in the fall. And Marie and I, being the diligent parents we are, decided that we had best be gettin’ some edu-macation if we were to get the ball rolling in the right direction. Boy did it roll!

I was struck by two things. First, homeschooling is eaten up with Christianity and a Christian worldview. This particular conference is organized under a Christian statement of faith, but the materials we scoured were by and large based in a solidly biblical Christianity. Secondly, homeschool parents are fiercely small government in their politics. Now this doesn’t define many homeschoolers I’m sure, but it sure is consistent. The conclusion I came to was that I wasn’t against either of those things. In fact, I cannot imagine our home without Christ and a devotion to bringing our children up to love him and serve him. Nor can I imagine a world in which I cannot decide what is best for my child and implement a system of child-rearing based on those convictions. So at heart, I’m already a homeschool dad.

Now I don’t have a beard, we didn’t name our children after minor prophets, and Marie certainly does not wear denim in any form that resembles a dress, but that stereotype is so cliche. In fact, the more into the conference we got, the less we noticed the clothing around us and the more we noticed the dispositions and attitudes of our newfound contemporaries. The culture of family was all around. Children and parents were largely inseparable. Politeness and service came before getting our way and being first. It was downright pleasant. That’s when I started to realize that the stereotype is completely deserved. Except I wasn’t thinking of homeschoolers.

Since these folk tend to swim against the current of popular politics and culture a bit, it is easy to poke fun. After all, it is much more enjoyable to stay within the mainstream of society, blending in to the scenery and pointing out the differences of others. But looking like everyone else is easy and standing up for convictions is noble. It dawns on me that maybe homeschoolers aren’t the ones who easily fall into a stereotype. Maybe it’s the rest of popular culture. Maybe it’s all those people who have bought into the notion of a two-income family where mom and dad ship the kids off to be raised by their peers and their teachers and their youth pastor. Maybe it’s all those folks who think that lifestyle is the best way to educate their children – from manners, to work ethic, to relationships, ad infinitum.

What I observed at the Midwest Homeschool Convention was refreshing. And I found my own stereotypes vanishing as I observed those around me. I went in thinking I was very different. I came out realizing how very similar I am. Christ, at the center of it all, has a way of doing that.

Of Bobs and Buns

Marie and I are in Cincinnati at the Midwest Homeschool Convention. We have been in the check-in line at the Millennium Hotel for the past 30 minutes and are probably 1/4 way up to the front. I’m amazed at how many people are here. If there weren’t so many denim skirts, hair buns, and children named after prophets, I would think we’re at Disney World. I just hope the ride at the end of this line is worth it.

Reformation Station 300 Challenge

Welcome to the 300 Challenge!

I am on a quest to get 300 unique hits on my blog in a single day.

This goal must be accomplished by May 1.

Hit my blog once a day until then and tell a friend to do the same. Together we can be the change we want to see in the world!

Visit the REWARD page and make a suggestion as to what the reward should be for those who helped me realize my dream.

Sparing the Rod: Children and Church Discipline

Children are a gift from the Lord – a reward. Church membership is a privilege – a responsibility. Church discipline is for all believers – a requirement.

What happens when we are required to hold our rewards responsible?

Anybody care to take a guess where this is going? Comments invited.

More. Later.

Out of Africa

I traveled to South Africa last summer for ten days and returned home just after my youngest son’s second birthday. When our team landed in Atlanta, we still had one more leg of the trip to go – a short flight to Louisville. But there in the terminal holding a Sports Illustrated with a montage cover of the Lakers and the Celtics, I got the notion that maybe I shouldn’t be on that last flight that would take me all the way back to Kentucky. You see, I grew up only an hour and a half from the Atlanta airport and my parents still live in my hometown. My wife and kids were visiting in Alabama and were going to be coming to stay with my folks on their way back through to Kentucky that very night. It seemed to me a good idea that I ditch the plane in favor of a quick ride home from my Mom or Dad and surprise Marie and the boys with an early reunion. What a plan! I made the call.

Three and a half hours and a Waffle House meal later, I was sitting in my parent’s living room listening to them tell me how scruffy I looked. I was indeed scruffy. I had shaved my head for the trip and it had about twelve days worth of growth on it, as did my gotee – which had undergone some sort of metamorphosis and now went by the name Larry. My cheeks were as full of hair as they ever could be and I was extremely puffy from the lack of sleep I endured on the trip and the grueling 18 + hour plane ride back to the States. Scruffy.

My family did indeed come rumbling in later that evening with Marie explaining why they were so late and asking if anyone had heard from me. After all, I was supposed to be back in Frankfort by now and she hadn’t been able to get me on my cell phone. From my hiding place in the foyer I surveyed the gifts lying on the dining room table which I had purchased for them in Kruger National Park and waited for the moment to spring out and land the knock-out punch surprise. No one expected me to be there.

My mom and sister ushered Marie and the boys into the dining room and began to show them all the gifts that had come from Africa for them. They played it perfect – like it was all very normal that the gifts should be there. Marie was the first to balk at this, questioning with some urgency where these things had come from. My mother said, “They came today,” with a cool that would have made Johnny Depp jealous. Not satisfied, Marie kept pressing about the gifts. So I casually stepped around the corner and said, “I brought them.”

Mayhem.

Marie was elated and probably screamed that little woman scream that sounds more like an EEK! than a scream. Connor ran around the table and bear-hugged me and immediately wanted to be held. Charles…well Charles didn’t do anything. He was standing on the dining room table staring in wild amazement at this scruffy man who had just stepped into his life. After I kissed Marie and broke free from Connor I made my move for Charles. He would have none of that. He immediately sought refuge from the stranger in my mother’s arms and began to cry that nervous don’t-take-me-away cry. I decided I did look a little different from the last time he saw me and being as young as he was, it wasn’t too unbelievable that he had some reservations as to who I really might be. I decided I would leave him in his doubt except to say, “Charles. It’s daddy.” Nope. Unbelief.

We caught up and everyone listened as I regaled them with wild stories of lions and cheetahs, elephants and zebras, leopards and water buffalo, and Soto people who sang and danced their way to the offering plate. Everyone was glad to be together. Charles had even started to play a little, that is until I would try to reach from him. Then he would immediately retreat, so unsure and scared.

As the evening wore on and everyone around him was just so accepting of this strange man, Charles’ nerves wore a little thin and he started letting his displeasure with the whole situation be known by acting out a little. At first it was slightly ignoring instructions. Pretty soon it was full-blown in-your-face disobedience. When he told Marie NO! I decided it had gone far enough and I said in my best Daddy voice, “Charles, no. We do not correct Mommy. Come here.”

I scooped him up in my arms and carried him to the sitting room near the front door and away from everyone else. Charles was in full panic mode at this point but I was undeterred. I took him away and I sat him firmly on my lap and explained to him his sin. Then I disciplined him.

When I sat him back up to face me, he had tears in his eyes but there was something else there too. Recognition. I explained to him again his sin and he gently placed his hand on my arm, looked me in the eyes and said softly, “DaDa.”

He didn’t know his Father until his Father brought him into line and showed him his boundaries and reminded him of authority. His Father was at first unrecognizable. Even with all the presents, the gifts, the stuff, he couldn’t see it. Then discipline brought his Father back to his little mind. He knew then that the hand that had scolded him was the hand that cared for him. From that moment on, he was safe and assured in his Father’s presence and confident of his Father’s love.

April & the Time for Weblogging

If Hershael York can win a Baptist Bloggers tournament with three posts a year, then surely it is time for me to add the obligatory yearly post.

I logged on for the first time in maybe seven months tonight and saw that I have two drafts saved and waiting for me to finish. One is a continuation of the Benefits of Church Discipline series. The other has to do with church discipline and children. Hmmmm. I think I shall take a look at that one.

More to come.

Maybe…