Dr. Mark Eckel, Director, Mahseh Center

“I Can Do Bad All By Myself.”  Tyler Perry’s latest film title speaks for itself.  William Golding’s The Lord of the Flies declares what humans can become, comes from what humans are—inescapably, terribly, dangerous.  As Ralphie, the bespeckeled target of power gone mad, says, “I’m afraid of us.”  As the cold war strategist George F. Kennan would put it: “The fact of the matter is that there is a little bit of the totalitarian buried somewhere, way down deep, in each and every one of us.”[1] Often I tell my students, pointing out around me, “The problem is not out there,” then pointing to my chest, “The problem is in here!”

“No man’s really any good until he knows how bad he is, or might be.”  Father Brown knew what it was to be “inside a man.”[2] Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s “Ascent,” one of the autobiographical sections of Solzhenitsyn’s Gulag Archipelago, justly asserts that “the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between political parties—but right through every human heart.”[3] The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Lewis Stevenson demonstrates the titanic battle raging within humans: depravity triumphing over dignity.[4] How The Grinch Stole Christmas is Dr. Seuss’ classic tale about a hard-hearted creature whose life is obsessed with blotting out Christmas.  Charles Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol” reminds the softened soul that indeed Scrooge lives in us all.  Truth be told, we all have “bad hearts.”

But it’s Christmas!  We do not want to dwell on such things!  We would rather, with our culture, declare ourselves good simply because we believe in something.  Father James Martin, a Jesuit priest, exposes the siren call of consumerism for what it does and how we follow.  Describing what he considers to be the most awful marketing promotions

The winner of this year’s worst catch phrase is a tie: between Macy’s and Eddie Bauer.  Macy’s shopping bags say, “A million reasons to believe!”  In what?  What does Macy’s want us to believe in? That Jesus is the Son of God?  (Imagine that on a bag.)  Nearly as maddening was the cover of this year’s Eddie Bauer catalog, which proclaims “We believe.”  As with Macy’s, I was eager to find out just what Eddie Bauer believed in.  The Council of Chalcedon’s fifth-century declaration that Jesus was fully human and fully divine?  Not exactly.  Page three professed the retailer’s creed: “We believe in the world’s best down.”[5]

What is meant to be tongue-in-cheek condemnation of marketers is really a poke at us all.  Who “believes”?  We do!  Why do we “believe”?  Because down deep we think we’re doing good by giving.  However, the mandate of gifts on a holiday does not a heart change!

But it’s Christmas!  Can’t we rest in our goodness for one day out of the year?!  Back-story to our celebration on December 25^th is an oft forgotten character: Ahaz.[6] In his day, the world’s superpower was Assyria, modern day Iraq.  Ahaz was king of Judah.  Judah was a small nation state.  When a couple of northern neighbors rattled their swords, Ahaz went looking for allies.  Ahaz bet the farm on human partnership with Assyria’s dictator Tiglath-Pilesir III.  Neither Isaiah’s words of hope nor The Lord’s direct communication swayed Ahaz from his human-centered course.  Ahaz’ small heart—the Grinch had one too for a while—brought a frightening, foreboding, yet fulfilling prophecy to earth in Isaiah 7.

“The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.”

These words changed history.  But because Ahaz’ heart was proud, calloused, afraid, and shaken[7] he refused to give The True Sovereign his trust.  The Christmas Story begins with king Ahaz who has forsaken the true King.

But it’s Christmas!  Can’t we tell a positive story?  Why must we be reminded of our corrupt hearts?  Because it is our corrupt hearts that makes Christmas possible.  Without our need for a Savior, Christmas would simply retain its original intention—the pagan celebration of winter solstice.  The Grinch and Scrooge repeat what our hearts need.

Every year CBS runs the 1965 television classic “Charlie Brown’s Christmas.”  And every year people who watch, hear Linus reading the Christmas story from Luke 2; the result of Isaiah 7.  Tyler Perry’s movie is punctuated with preaching and ends with restoration.  The Grinch is changed by good-hearted Whovillians who wholeheartedly believe in Christmas.  Scrooge, confronting his past sins, falls on his knees in repentance.  So I offer a simple poem to remind us of The Scrooge in us all—the possibility of change, because “It’s Christmas!”

Scripture informs,

Hearts are deformed,

Until Christ, the heart storms,

Salvation performed.

The faithful are warmed,

By hearts conformed,

When The Spirit reforms,

My life is transformed.

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[1] John Lewis Gaddis, The Cold War: A New History. (Penquin, 2006): 46.

[2] G. K. Chesterton, “The Secret of Father Brown,” The Collected Works of G. K. Chesterton (Ignatius, 2002): 219.

[3] Alexander Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago: 1918-1956. (Harper Classics, 2002): 312.

[4] Many other voices would concur with the general concern that humans are corruptible: “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allen Poe, “The Lifted Veil” by George Eliot, “Rappaccini’s Daughter” by Nathaniel Hawthorne and “The Man That Corrupted Hanleyburg” by Mark Twain.

[5] James Martin, “Merry Marketing,” Wall Street Journal Online 17 December 2009. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703757404574592752896254832.html?mod=djemEditorialPage

[6] Read chapters 7 and 8 in Isaiah.

[7] Isaiah “proud,” 9:9; “calloused,” 6:10; “lose heart,” 7:4; “shaken,” 7:2 (NIV).

Dr. Mark Eckel, Director, Mahseh Center

Still-beating hearts and walled-off living victims were the subjects of Edgar Allen Poe’s macabre tales.[1] Poe was my favorite writer in junior high.   I mentioned this once while speaking at a conference.  A well-meaning soul sought to explain The Gospel to me on a comment card, not believing that someone could be a Christian and love Poe at the same time.  There is a reason why humans are drawn to the classic suspense genre.  But it was not until I was an adult that I understood the reason for Poe’s strong attraction.  What draws us toward the unknown?  What is it that stirs our hearts to mystery?  And why ponder Poe at Christmas?

“Can you keep a secret?” is the question of mystery.  The English word has given us the process of initiation.  A secretive ceremony honors the first-time participant.  In our culture the word “mystery” has come to ask the question, “How will this crime be solved?”  TV dramas inevitably answer the query in an hour’s timeslot.  But once the case is cracked there is no more mystery.  While detective stories may baffle us, eluding our understanding for a time, the narrative has a conclusion.  The older word “mysterium” better explains the original intent of the term.  Mysterium marks the location, physical or otherwise, where something obscure takes place.[2] The opening line of the old radio show says it best: “You are now entering the inner sanctum.”

Friday the 13^th seems to present a mysterium problem for emergency room doctors.  Atul Gawande recounts his thoughts about the event in his award winning book Complications: A Surgeon’s Notes on an Imperfect Science.[3] Gawande states that there is no immediate explanation for the excess number of ER visits on a day marked by superstition.  While a committed natural science researcher, neither he nor other doctors could explain the abnormal increase in hospital needs on that fateful calendar day.  The evidence, however, did not seem to suggest a supernatural answer: it was nothing more than a fluke.  But, unable to catch a break or keep the patients straight on one such Friday, Gawande began to wonder why that day presented more problems than others.  A nurse explains, “It’s a full moon Friday the 13^th.”  Gawande narrates, “I was about to say that, actually, the studies show no connection.  But my pager went off before I could get the words out of my mouth.  I had a new trauma case coming in.”[4]

P. D. James, the famed British detective novelist, was asked why her specific craft so engages our minds and imagination.  Because her books are often tied first to a homicide, James responds

Murder is the unique crime, the only one for which we can make no reparation, and has always been greeted with a mixture of repugnance, horror, fear, and fascination.  We are particularly intrigued by the motives which cause a man or woman to step across the invisible line which separates a murderer from the rest of humanity.”[5]

“I had murdered them all myself.”[6] Father Brown perhaps comes closest to true, biblical mystery.  While a crime may have been solved, the good padre still wondered after the human penchant toward sin.  Sherlock Holmes fans are used to deductive reasoning: a scientific analysis, assessing problems from the outside, in.  Father Brown became the murderer because he was a murderer.  Chesterton’s sleuth, a Catholic priest, saw people as they were, from the inside, out.  The mystery of our own nature continues: “The heart is hopelessly dark and deceitful, a puzzle that no one can figure out.”[7]

Flannery O’Connor believed that Southern authors were both “grotesque” and “Christ-haunted.”

We find that the writer has made alive some experience which we are not accustomed to observe every day . . . If the writer believes that our life is and will remain essentially mysterious, if he looks upon us as beings existing in a created order to whose laws we freely respond, then what he sees on the surface will be of interest to him only as he can go through it into an experience of mystery itself. . . . Such a writer will be interested in what we don’t understand rather than in what we do.[8]

O’Connor exactly represents the New Testament word for “mystery.”  The secret thoughts and plans of God, formerly hidden, are now revealed.  In no way is the mystery diminished.  We still wonder at God-perpetrated events.  So called “mystery religions” kept mysterious, teachings they did not wish to fall into unworthy hands.  The group controlled the available knowledge requiring all to become initiates.  Christian “mystery,” on the contrary, is freely proclaimed to the world.[9] The “Christ hymn” of 1 Timothy 3:16 clearly announced belief in Jesus’ life as being both historical and revelational.  Jesus came in flesh, was vindicated by the resurrection, and ascended into heaven.  His work was broadcast, believed, and became doxology.  “This Christian life is a great mystery, far exceeding our understanding, but some things are clear enough.”[10]

Christ’s person and work is why I have a fascination with Poe.  What is so attractive about mystery?  How am I at once repelled by and attracted to what I find baffling?  My answer?  The unknown makes knowing the known possible.  I crave “mystery.”  I am fascinated by what I do not understand which makes what I do know, that much more wonderful.  Herein is the wonder of Christmas—the mystery of God becoming man.

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[1] “The Tell-tale Heart” and “The Cask of Amontillado” are two of Poe’s short stories mentioned here.

[2] John Ayto. 1990. Dictionary of Word Origins. (Arcade): 359.

[3] Atul Gawande. 2002.  Complications: A Surgeon’s Notes on an Imperfect Science (Picador).

[4] Ibid., 114.

[5] http://www.amazon.com/Talking-About-Detective-Fiction-James

[6] G. K. Chesterton, “The Secret of Father Brown,” The Collected Works of G. K. Chesterton (Ignatius, 1986): 217.

[7] Jeremiah 17:9, The Message.

[8] Flannery O’Connor. 1997. Mystery and Manners. (Farrar, Strauss, and Giroux): 40-42, emphasis mine.

[9] See Glenn W. Barker, “Mystery,” International Standard Bible Encyclopedia, Vol. 3 (Revised, Eerdmans, 1986): 451-55; W. L. Liefeld, “Mystery,” Zondervan Pictorial Encyclopedic Dictionary of the Bible, Vol. 4 (Zondervan, 1976): 332.

[10] 1 Timothy 3:16, The Message, emphasis mine.

Dr. Mark Eckel, Director, Mahseh Center

Myths, falsehoods, and exaggerations crowd the covers of greeting cards every December.  Here are a few.  “Xmas” is not eliminating Christ from Christmas: “X” is the first letter of Christ in Greek.  “Santa Claus” is actually based on a person in Church history whose name was Saint Nicholas.  Jesus was most assuredly not born on December 25^th.  Mary did not ride on a donkey.  The “inn” was not Motel 6 but rather reference to someone’s home.  A “stable” or “barn” is a modern explanation of a cave.  “Manger” was a feeding trough for cattle probably hewn out of the cave’s rock floor.  “Three Magi” seems to be based solely on the number of gifts given celebrating Jesus’ birth.  These and other fictions about Christmas arise from extra-biblical sources such as Christmas carols.  This is for sure: “All was calm, all was bright” it was not.

Jesus’ birth story[1] reads more like a reality detective show.  He was born, as we would say, “out of wedlock.”  “Unplanned pregnancy” is putting it mildly.  In addition to the stigma of supposed premarital sex, Mary gave birth while she was literally “on the road.”  The first witnesses of “Christmas” were from the lowest rung of society—shepherds.  Scholars who should have been following the events did not seem to care.  Yet, astrological signs made pagan sorcerers caravan hundreds of miles to follow a star.  Angels could not help themselves but exclaim.  And then the bad guys show up and things get really interesting.

From the beginning, Jesus encountered threats against His life.  The Palace enlisted the aid of foreign intellectuals to locate the baby.  When outsiders outwitted the king, he dispatched shock troops to find and kill The Child.  Warnings came through dreams.  The family narrowly escapes to a foreign country.  Ancient prophecies are fulfilled.  Joseph—the silent-type, male-hero who literally does not utter a word—is the action figure responsible for Jesus’ safety.  From a human perspective, God’s entrance into the world could not have been more mismanaged, or more exciting.  But with The Infant came infanticide.

In a world of 24-7 news coverage, we are used to genocide.  We sit, reclining comfortably, watching the horrors on our television screens.  And then we change the channel.  Were we to live under the authority of megalomaniac despots, we would better understand Jesus’ birth.  William Barclay gives us a thumbnail sketch of the tyrant-at-the-time:

Herod was a master in the art of assassination.  He had no sooner come to the throne than he began by annihilating the Sanhedrin, the supreme court of the Jews.  Later he had slaughtered three hundred court officers out of hand.  Later he had murdered his wife Mariamne, and her mother Alexandra, this eldest son Antipater, and two other sons, Alexander and Aristobulus.  And in the hour of his death he had arranged for the slaughter of the notable men of Jerusalem.[2]

“Better to be Herod’s pig than his son” has become an apt proverb.[3] To target crown-claimers is one thing; to kill babies is another altogether.  Genocide was perpetrated against defenseless innocents in Herod’s attempt to kill The One of whom ancient prophecies foretold.  Death and destruction were part of Jesus’ birth.

Attacks on Jesus did not begin in Matthew.  As “the ruler of this world”[4] Satan has shed blood repeatedly over the millennia to wipe out the Messianic Line.  Since Cain gave Steinbeck the storyline for East of Eden, “the ancient serpent” has attacked relentlessly.[5] The unnamed Egyptian pharaoh’s death sentence was stopped dead by two named Egyptian midwives.[6] Starvation and death forces a Hebrew woman to include foreigners into her family, only to open Messiah’s genealogy to Gentiles.[7] Inept planning by Haman is undermined through palace intrigue by Esther, a “closet” Jewess.   Follow the pattern through the ages and we discover murderous plots and purges against God’s chosen people who would bear and bless Messiah.[8] Evil intentions never catch Heaven unaware.[9] Unfortunately, extermination practices against The Child means that children will always suffer.[10]

Jolted to remember that the entrance of God-in-flesh is the central chapter in the supernatural battle, we must begin in Genesis 3.  The whole of The First Testament anticipates His coming.  Matthew and Luke take up the narrated story; something akin to Law and Order or The Closer. Blameless people die.  Evil seems to triumph.  But then, the tables are turned.  An authority figure appears.  The bad guys lose.  1 John 3:8 is a verse that summarizes it all: “The reason The Son of God appeared was to destroy the devil’s work.”  The Slaughter of The Innocents will never adorn the front of a Christmas card: but it should.

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[1] Read Matthew 1-2 and Luke 1-2.

[2] William Barclay.  1958. The Gospel of Matthew, Vol 1. (Reprint, Westminster): 28.

[3] There is no indication that the statement was actually made; but all indications of Herod’s dispatching those who threatened his throne makes the comment bristle with truth.  See Craig S. Keener’s historical connections in A Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew (Eerdmans, 1999): 110-12.

[4] John 12:31; 14:30; 16:11; 1 John 5:19.

[5] Genesis 4 marks both the first anticipation of The Child (“I have brought forth a man!” says Eve) and the first attempt to snuff out The Messianic lineage when Abel is killed.  Seth is literally “the substitute” bearing the beacon of hope through “the new Adam” Enoch.  [See Kenneth A. Mathews, Genesis 1-11:26 (Eerdmans, 1996): 290-91.]  As for “the ancient serpent” read Revelation 12.

[6] Shifra and Pu’a are given more credence, more authority in biblical history than the dictator of a superpower.  By refusing to name Egypt’s king, the writer strips him of his authority.  The power shifts from the throne room to the nursery.  As to whether or not the two women were Egyptian or Hebrew see Everett Fox The Five Books of Moses (Reprint, Shocken, 1995): 259.

[7] Read the book of Ruth.

[8] “Then the dragon was enraged at the woman and went off to make war against the rest of her offspring—those who obey God’s commandments and hold to the testimony of Jesus” (Rev 12:17).

[9] God will use the evil of men to praise Himself (Psalm 76:10).  Read Genesis 45:4-11 and 50:20.

[10] Frederick Dale Bruner. 2004. Matthew: A Commentary, Vol. 1. (Revised, Eerdmans): 68.

Dr. Mark Eckel, Director, Mahseh Center

“It’s wasted on a generation of spoiled idiots.”  Comedian Louis C K believes this is the response of many who live in an amazing world.  “New York to L.A. takes 5 hours.  It used to take 30 years.  By the time you got to California you were with a whole new group of people.”  Complaints about air travel?  “You hear people say (in a whiny voice), ‘I had to wait 20 minutes to board the plane.’  Oh, really?  You’re sitting in a chair in the sky!  You are flying through the air!”  Is your cell phone too slow?  “It’s going to space!  Can you give it a second?!”  Watching You Tube videos of C K’s stand-up or late-night-talk-show appearances reminds us that we expect too much and are too little thankful.[1]

Michael Douglas plays such an ingrate in The Game. Douglas’ character Nicholas Van Orton has everything; but like Scrooge, he appreciates nothing.  He lives in opulence yet has cut himself off from every relationship that matters.  Sean Penn plays Douglas’ brother who gives him an interactive game experience for his birthday.  Initially unimpressed, Douglas goes along unaware that he is being drawn into series of debacles that will overturn his life.   The viewer is given the same “ride.”  We are dragged through a world impossible to predict.   Crisis upon catastrophe is piled high.  Every fright is replaced by another horror.  Just when we think the character can take no more, the tension is ratcheted up another notch.  Our initial revulsion of Nicholas Van Orton is upended at the end as we see him broken, uttering the phrase “thank you” for the first time.  And then, if we are sensitive to the story, we no longer see actors, but ourselves.

How often do we belly ache about the slightest of grievances?  Did another driver cut us off on the highway?  Was someone inconsiderate in the check-out line?  Did a person not meet our slightest expectation?  What small inconvenience has intruded upon our lives today?  Has a light bulb gone out?  Has the printer run out of ink?  Did we get a paper cut?  Were we let down because the product was out of stock?  Was our latte not made to our liking?  Are we a generation of whiners?  Are we ever pleased about anything without qualifying complaint?  Can we stop focusing on the smallest of maladjustments from our day to consider our ingratitude?  Have we become Scrooge?

“He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things he has not, but rejoices for those which he has,” is wisdom ascribed to the Greek philosopher Epictetus.  “Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues but the parent of all others,” says the Roman historian Cicero.  Seneca, Cicero’s contemporary, adds, “He who receives benefit with gratitude repays the first installment on his debt.”  And Dietrich Bonhoeffer—a man who could make this claim based on how he lived—wrote, “In an ordinary life we hardly realize that we receive a great deal more than we give, and that it is only with gratitude that life becomes rich.”[2]

To be thankful is to acknowledge someone outside of ourselves.  What we need is confession, the essence of the word for “thankfulness” in Hebrew.  We tend to think of going to confession to ask forgiveness for sin or giving a confession of guilt before a court of law.  But The First Testament term emphasizes a declaration of God’s greatness.  Exaltation, praise, or glorification remembering God and His works is a confession.[3] Our confession is to be made among the nations and in large assemblies of people, with song.[4] Confessional praise was to be wholehearted with a right mind continually.[5] Indeed Jesus came from Judah’s line, whose name means “to confess.”[6]

G. C. Berkouwer takes gratitude to its ultimate level: “The essence of Christian theology is grace, the essence of Christian ethics is gratitude.”  Doing right is proper confessional reaction.  Doing right is based on remembering we live before Another.  Doing right is a small response to a large endowment.  2 Corinthians 9:15 summarizes what should be our singular feedback, “Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!”  R. C. Sproul answers, “Once we have received this grace of eternal life in Jesus Christ, we should be willing to crawl over broken glass to honor and praise Him for that grace.”[7]

Ethics courses should be built on confessional praise thereby reminding us all we have come from Someone else.  Louis C K is correct: we should take nothing for granted.  Our first thought should be, “How providentially fortunate I am to be living now, enjoying the goodness of this life.”  This is what George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart) discovers in It’s a Wonderful Life.  When we think our impact is insignificant we should think of Frank Capra’s classic tale.   Let us take stock of our lives.  Stop whining.  Celebrate the large blessings over the small evils.  Content ourselves with what we have, not what we want.  May we find ourselves at the end of the tale in the lives of Nicholas Van Orton and Ebenezer Scrooge.  And may we thank Christ that we even have the opportunity.

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[1] Many thanks to my nephew Luke who hunted down the You Tube video for his uncle!  Excerpts in this paragraph can be found at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOtEQB-9tvk.

[2] The quotes noted here are attributed to these historical figures, accessed in various references.  In this case, the statements are taken from Robert A. Emmons’ book Thanks: How Practicing Gratitude Can Make You Happier (Houghton-Mifflin, 2008), p. 15.

[3] Psalm 89:5; cf. Psalms 105, 106, 145.

[4] 2 Samuel 22:50; Psalm 35:18; 28:7 and 109:30.

[5] Psalm 86:12; 119:7; 30:12

[6] Ralph H. Alexander.  1980.  yada.  Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament. (Moody): 1:364-66.

[7] R. C. Sproul.  2009. Romans: The Righteous Shall Live By Faith. (Crossway): 203.

Dr. Mark Eckel, Director, Mahseh Center

Androcles, a young Roman slave, sought escape in the wilderness from his unhappy life.  Finding respite in a cave, he found himself face to face with a lion.  The beast was anxious only for the removal of a thorn from his paw.  Upon its extraction by Androcles, the lion submitted to the man, caring for him.  After being captured as a runaway some time later, Androcles was sentenced to death-by-mauling within the coliseum.  However, the lion let loose upon Androcles was one and the same who had benefited from the slave’s earlier kindness.  Instead of attacking the defenseless man, the lion lay at his feet, whereupon both were released by an astounded Roman governor.[1]

Aesop’s “Androcles and the Lion” prompts reflection on Thanksgiving.  What should be our response to external grace?  To whom do we say “thank you”?  How does thankfulness change us?  John Wilson’s review of Alexander McCall Smith’s latest novel The Lost Art of Gratitude suggests

McCall Smith . . . has created a fictional microworld to highlight aspects of the ungraspable Real . . . of our common life . . . the reader-savors the pleasures of food and companionship, the wonder of a child, the haunting presence of Brother Fox . . . And all this moves [the heroine] to immense gratitude, which the book itself unashamedly urges on us as well.[2]

Scott Cairns’ “Thanksgiving Poem” sparks our collective awakening to thanks which produces “widespread and pervasive . . . giddy gratitude I recognize.”[3] Peggy Noonan, America’s essayist-laureate, recounts the gratitude of

A friend who emigrated from Nicaragua 21 years ago and lives now in New York knew right away what she was thankful for: her still-new country. “I’m mainly grateful that I could raise my son in freedom. I could vote for the first time in my life. I could express my opinions without being shot on the spot, jailed, or exiled like my grandfather. I could sleep through the night without fearing for my life. I could work and buy food without rationing.”[4]

Roger Scruton reminds us that Americans in 2006 were far and away the largest private contributors to charities worldwide.  He warns, however, that when government programs take over meeting the needs of people that “gifts are replaced by rights, so is gratitude replaced by claims. And claims breed resentment.”[5]

Not beholden to governments, we are beholden to each other.  Thankfulness is the recognition that our fullness comes from caring people outside ourselves.  W. H. Auden wrote a multi-section poem “A Thanksgiving for Habitat” which connected his physical home with personal friends.  Each room, each event, each remembrance is directly linked to anticipation of renewing human bonds.  My favorite, tear-stained stanzas include

Easy at first, the language of friendship

Is, as we soon discover,

Very difficult to speak well, a tongue

With no cognates, no resemblance

To the galimatias [gibberish] of nursery and bedroom,

Court rhyme or shepherd’s prose,

And, unless often spoken, soon goes rusty

Distance and duties divide us,

But absence will not seem an evil

If it make our re-meeting

A real occasion.  Come when you can:

Your room will be ready.[6]

“The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed I have a beautiful inheritance.”[7] God’s goodness to us is our ultimate change agent.  Ecclesiastes compares “life as a gift of God” with those who only see things “under the sun.”  The refrain which runs throughout the book[8] establishes the baseline barometer for human purpose.  Solomon calls to his readers for a shift of mindset.[9] For believers in The Personal Eternal Triune Creator, mindset shift is first upward, then inward, then outward.

To acknowledge life as a gift of God, one’s whole focus and concentration must be moved from ourselves to One outside ourselves.  Disciples of Jesus as Lord bow the knee to their Sovereign Savior both in response to Who He is as well as what He has done.  Appreciation is born out in worship.[10] Our love for God through others[11] brings joy in our God-given lives.  “Androcles and The Lion” teaches the lesson: Thanksgiving in this life begins by looking up, changing within,[12] and giving out.[13]

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[1] My retelling of the old tale is from James Baldwin’s retelling found in William Bennett’s The Book of Virtues (Simon and Schuster, 1993): 118-19.

[2] http://www.christianitytoday.com/bc/2009/novdec/gratitude.html?start=1

[3] Scott Cairns, “Thanksgiving Poem-for Franz Wright,” retrieved at http://www.christianitytoday.com/bc/2009/novdec/thanksgivingpoem.html

[4] Peggy Noonan, “Still Here After a Rough Year,” 20 November 09 Wall Street Journal Online. http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704204304574546093616349588.html?mod=djemEditorialPage

[5] http://www.ttf.org/index/journal/detail/the-importance-of-gratitude/

[6] W.H. Auden. 1972, 2007. W. H. Auden: Selected Poems. “IX  For Friends Only (For John and Teckla Clark)” in Auden’s multi-part poem “Thanksgiving for a Habitat” (Reprint, Vintage, Random House): 280

[7] Psalm 16:6 (ESV).

[8] 2:24-26; 3:13-14; 5:18-20; 8:15; 9:9.

[9] “Mindset” is defined as a pattern of thinking established through habitual practice of a philosophy.

[10] “Worship” is the total response of the total person to our Lord Jesus.  “In all things He shall receive the preeminence” (Colossians 1:18) who has “reconciled all things to Himself” (1:20) that we should do “all things in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (3:17).

[11] Mark 12:30-31.

[12] I.e., 2 Kings 23:24-25.

[13] Gratitude signals acknowledgement that I am responsible to someone else.  Christians practice thanks through prayer (Psalm 75:1) in all things (Ephesians 5:20). Cf. Acts 2:42-47; 4:32-36; 2 Thessalonians 2:15-17.

Dr. Mark Eckel, Director, Mahseh Center

“Studying and Teaching the Bible” was one of my course titles as an education professor at Moody Bible Institute.  Instruction of a text began by committing one hour of time to show students 30 minutes of commercials.  In order to speak in our current culture, the point was to find clues about how others spoke to an audience.  Students watched for certain ideas: mottos, catch-phrases, key concepts.  But my interest always settled on what is called “the bridge.”  Each commercial uses something in culture to communicate their idea which sometimes has precious little to do with their product.

“The bridge” I most remember was from a Southwest Airlines commercial during football season; I fell off the couch, I laughed so hard.  There was a line outside a movie theatre for tickets.  A man dropped some money, stooping over to pick it up.  The woman just behind him sees his stance, instantly becoming a quarterback, hands ready to receive the snap.  In a very loud voice she begins to call out signals, “Two, Thirty-two!  Two, Thirty-two!  Hut! Hut!”  The scene ends with the woman’s contorted face mid-shout while the dumbfounded gentleman wonders what in the world is going on.  Abruptly the audience is now shown a simple picture of Southwest Airlines with the voiceover which says, “Want to get away?”  Southwest Airlines has some of the best commercials because they speak to their audience where they are, about their interests, at a certain time.

“Our word is our bond” is essential for commercial growth connecting interests to truth.  Firms must “deliver” on goods and services or they are out of business.  Companies that cater to deception do not last very long.  “The word” would spread quickly about poor service or inaccurate advertising.    Truth in business rests on verbal guarantees.

“Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”  Germany celebrated the classic Ronald Reagan verbal broadside this month 20 years after the Berlin Wall fell.  President Reagan brought his common speaking approach that he learned through barnstorming for General Electric to The White House.  Confrontation with enemies was wrapped in absolute language.  As the architect of the infamous line, speech writer Anthony Dolan reminds us

Reagan spoke formally and repeatedly of deploying against criminal regimes the one weapon they fear more than military or economic sanction: the publicly-spoken truth about their moral absurdity, their ontological weakness. This was the sort of moral confrontation, as countless dissidents and resisters have noted, that makes these regimes conciliatory, precisely because it heartens those whom they fear most-their own oppressed people. Reagan’s understanding that rhetorical confrontation causes geopolitical conciliation led in no small part to the wall’s collapse 20 years ago today.[1]

“Trust but verify,” another Reagan phrase, turns on its head our contemporary love of sincerity.  Politicians who hope that dictators will change through conciliatory speech are laughed at behind dictatorial doors.  Unfortunately, commitment to a “religion” or life-view in western culture is premised upon sincerity.  Sincere people are anxious to believe in something.  But sincerity is not the basis for business or production, verification or accountability, truth or falsehood.  It makes no difference if I believe something or not.  What matters is if the something in which I believe is all together historically reliable, factually authentic, universally authoritative, and personally transforming.  Sincerity is nothing more than my opinion.

“And God said” is the plain spoken, repetitious phrase[2] in Genesis 1 which marks the inception of authoritative speech, true Truth, material origins, and the supremacy of The Word.  Genesis-unlike every other creation story-says the physical world is a result of God’s speech.  “It is a divine word of command that brings into existence what it expresses.”[3] Psalm 33:9 simply says, “He spoke and it was done.”  God’s will was a decision expressed creatively through His creation.  While The Creation Account begins by verifying what we see, what we see is based on what God says.

“Words matter.”[4] Words are first shaped by our thinking.[5] Words then shape the way we think.[6] Words are necessary to interpret what we see.[7] Words express our interpretation of the world.[8] Words counteract the drive toward the visual alone.  Words are pregnant with meaning.  Words trump image.  Word will always interpret our visual world.  “And God said” made “and there was.”

“An instrument of power”[9] is the word in the hands of an advertiser.  So I would end my lesson via commercials with my students.  The Church is susceptible to the abuse of language through “bumper sticker theology”: flotsam and jetsam awash on the shores of our Christian thinking from the wreckage of theological ships long ago lost at sea.  What we desperately need is a community within which to interpret words.[10] Further, we must recommit to the lost art of Scripture’s public reading.[11] We should, with Hebraic thinkers, “eat history”[12] so as to know God’s power through His words.  Apart from words, we are left outside the authority of “and God said” only able to say “in my opinion.”

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[1]http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704795604574522163362062796.html?mod=djemEditorialPage

[2] Genesis 1:3, 6, 9, 11, 14, 20, 24, 26, 28, 29.

[3] Gordon Wenham. 1987. Word Biblical Commentary: Genesis 1-15. (Nelson): 18.

[4] An internet search on the phrase suggests while our culture may abjure meaning, speech has power.

[5] What we believe drives our understanding.

[6] Benjamin Lee Whorf first made this hypothesis about language.

[7] Bruce K. Waltke. 2007. An Old Testament Theology. (Eerdmans): 63.

[8] Some would have us believe that Genesis is simply one nation’s construction of reality based on language.  “Signification” believes the sign bears relation to what it signifies.  “You can believe in God even if He doesn’t exist.”  Yet, the key to understanding Genesis is that the word emanates from the God who speaks.  We do not intuit interpretation.  God gives His interpretation by His authority.  God’s word is reliable whether we believe it or not.

[9] Josef Pieper. 1992. Abuse of Language-Abuse of Power. (Reprint, Ignatius): 23.  Pieper was concerned, “For the general public is being reduced to a state where people not only are unable to find out about the truth but also become unable even to search for the truth because they are satisfied with deception and trickery that have determined their convictions, satisfied with a fictitious reality created by design through the abuse of language” (34-35).

[10] Waltke, 13-14.  While I recoil at some of Kathleen Norris’ doctrinal definitions in Amazing Grace her explanation of monastic Scriptural interpretation is a lesson to all (Reprint, Riverhead, 1999): 253-56.

[11] http://www.challies.com/archives/sponsored/this-weeks-sponsor-unleashing-the-word

[12] Every Christian should read Marvin R. Wilson’s Our Father Abraham: Jewish Roots of the Christian Faith (Eerdmans, 1989) from whence comes this reminder of what Hebrews practice at seder, commemorating the Passover event of Exodus (chapter 12).