Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters

This second book in Riordan’s Percy Jackson series is not quite the book the first one was, but do seconds often meet up to firsts? The humor seemed a little more forced than the last book, or maybe we are just getting used to his style, and therefore, it it not as funny. Still, there are plenty of fun monsters to battle, another quest to attempt—sort of, a few twists and turns, and a god who finally appears to be on Percy’s side. The book got better as it went along, and the new characters (Tyson, Hermes, Polyphemus)  were a welcome addition to the cast. Riordan added a love-to-hate character as well: Tantalus. Not sure if we will see him again, but the grasping the burger at the end was a priceless addition to the story. The writing is certainly not White or Wilder or even Andrew Clements, but the story is fun and clean, and one gets to learn a little mythology along the way. We are looking forward to starting Curse of the Titans tomorrow night due to the cliff hanger at the end. To Riordan’s credit: didn’t see that one coming!

How Splendid Are Your Surroundings?

What made Scrubb look so Dingy was the splendor of their surroundings.

When compared to the court in Narnia, Scrubb and Jill looked downright horrible. What do your surroundings look like? No, here’s a better question: What do you surround yourself with? Do you surround yourself with splendor? Or do you surround yourself with the ordinary?

I hope you realize that you can make yourself appear better off than you are if you surround yourself with the ordinary—the world. Someone will always come along to whom you will compare favorably. 

But we are not called to that. We are called to surround ourselves with the splendor of another world. When we do, this world, ourselves even, will dim in comparison. Pride will be humbled. That which we thought worthy will pale to true worth. Excitement in the temporary will give way to joy and longing for the eternal. 

How do we surround ourselves with the splendor of another world? In the same way that Jill and Eustace could not get to Narnia without Aslan’s assistance in The Silver Chair, so too, we cannot surround ourselves with the splendor of the kingdom without God’s assistance. They thought it strange the way Aslan got them there. Strange too how we arrive! It requires a relationship with the Almighty. It requires time. It requires letting the Spirit blow us where He wills not trudging along where we will. 

And when we do that? Well, then this world will begin to appear dingy, less tempting. It will feel less like home.

The Shack: Style and Semantics

I have finished listening to The Shack. The recording included an author’s explanation of how the book came about as well as a “friendly” interview (I have also just finished listening to an “unfriendly” interview.) Young answered my concerns about the quality of writing: basically self-published.

As stated in an earlier post, I struggle to comment on the book because I can’t remember the points I wanted to discuss, and I can’t go back and check what I thought I heard (actually, I don’t want to spend time rewinding and hunting, but I could). All that to say, I know some of Young’s theology is suspect, but I also know that he does some other things well. I have thought about commenting on other’s reviews, but you can read those yourself if you are interested.

I do want to comment on one argument in the “unfriendly” interview mentioned above. While Young did fail to answer some of the interviewer’s questions, they also wrangled over semantics. One might say, “We’ll just define your terms and move on.” The problem occurs when someone uses a term differently than how everyone else does. If the majority of Christians use a term one way, and someone else uses the same term differently, confusion can occur. 

When Bultman says he believes in the resurrection, someone might say, “So what’s the big deal?” The big deal is that Bultman does not believe in the same resurrection as most Christians. He believes in a spiritual resurrection. Bultman’s resurrection leaves Jesus in the grave. I can’t reconcile that with 1 Corinthians 15:12-19. 

So we must use care in using our terms, and if we use a term differently than it is normally used, we must define it to avoid confusion at best and accusations of heresy at worst. Young has left himself open to that charge.

The Fractal Garden

Theology aside, the concept of a fractal garden as created by Young’s Holy Spirit character in The Shack fascinates me. I have always loved mathematics. The endless complexities of this world and the amazing order that accompanies these complexities excite my inquisitive mind. Think about pi: a number that never repeats and never ends yet describes such a simple concept. And those paradoxes abound. (By the way, did you know that the string of numbers in my birthday appears 3 times in the first 200,000,000 digits of pi? To find how often your phone number or birthday or some other random string of numbers appear, go here. Keep reading down that page if you are a fan of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.)

And so Mackenzie sees “the mess” from his perspective, but if he could take on a different perspective, he would see a fractal. As a wish-I-had-time-to-garden gardener, I would love to play with plant placement having read this, as I’ve always put the tomatoes with the tomatoes and the peppers with the peppers. Aren’t things supposed to have order from my perspective?

I am reminded of how little we actually see of what God is up to in life. Often I see a dark mass in front of me, but if I could see everything, I would see that that dark mass is only a tiny black thread in a tremendous mosaic of color and form and meaning. 

God is a God of order. But He is also the God who knows the order in what we perceive as random, chaotic, hopeless. And so the fractal garden delights me because it reminds me of His character and the fact that He controls the chaos and mess in my life.

The Fastest 18 I’ve Ever Played

I don’t do it often. No time. Too many competing joys, family and school and teaching. I actually can’t remember when I last did it. But with the school year approaching, I thought, “It’s now or who knows when.” So last night, I started Par for the Course by Ray Blackston. I finished it this morning—250 pages in less time than it takes to play 18. Now, I read all the time, just never big gulps like this. My usual intake includes a sip here, a sip there. So I splurged.

Blackston is not your Pulitzer Prize winner, and since he is in the Christian market, will probably not show up on the NY Times bestseller list. But he is funny. And that is why I read it. I have read his four others and enjoyed them all for the same reasons: light hearted, funny, and with just enough theology thrown in to make you think—nothing over the top, no bashing, often subtle. As is often the case in writing, the second half of the book lacked the style of the first (do authors and editors just get tired?). But I was not reading for literary genius. I was reading to be entertained. And I was.

Set in South Carolina, Par for the Course is a romantic comedy about Chris (driving range instructor) and Molly (political correspondent) and their long distance relationship. Chris, living in Charleston has to deal with feminists, arsonists, and alligators as he seeks to win Molly’s affections. While the political jabs are aimed at both parties, the left gets the more direct shots as might be expected from the author. Being a once avid golfer and now a wish-I-was-an-avid golfer, I felt comfortable with the golf theme and enjoyed the nostalgia of my high school days of daily golf. 

A fun read and worth the few hours I spent on it. Looking forward to his next book.

The Shack—so far, so bad.

I have heard much praise for The Shack. I have heard nothing about its contents, surprisingly, other than it is the “Pilgrim’s Progress for our day.” Interested, and seeing it for $5.99 on i-tunes, and having some money still on my account from a Christmas present (yes, I shop selectively), and having 25 minutes of commute time each day, I thought, “Why not.”

Being two hours into the eight hour recording, I have to say I am underwhelmed. The writing is clichéd and sloppy throughout. The characters seem to do contradictory things to they way they are described. Granted, I am listening, not reading, so going back and checking details is not an option, but this inconsistency has happened too often. The characters and their actions, for me, anyway, are not overly believable. 

The story itself is intriguing. I am curious how Mack gets out of his depression, which I am assuming he will since it is the “Pilgrim’s Progress for our day.” I have almost stopped listening a couple of times, but I do want to give it a fair shake. Patience is running thin, though.

On a brighter side, I have started Par For the Course. I have little expectations for this except humor and relationships. I sprinted through 150 pages last night and can’t wait to read the rest. I will comment on it soon. A delightful read so far.

Offering belief in suffering

Kumalo said, 

…so in my suffering I can believe.

How? In the face of what he had suffered: a child condemned to death, a sister forsaking hope for sin, starvation among his people, how could he believe?

Kindness and love can pay for suffering.

The body of Christ rose up and held his hand, supported his frail body and disturbed mind—with kindness. The body of Christ did what God designed it to do. They accepted their pastor and his family’s failures and allowed him to grieve. And they loved him in the process. What about me and you? Are we being the body of Christ today? Can kindness and love guide our actions? Or are we angry? Are we self-absorbed? Can we forsake our agenda for someone in need? 

And I come to believe that he [Jesus] suffered, not to save us from suffering, but to teach us how to bear suffering. For he knew that there is no life without suffering. 

The friend offers these words to Kumalo. They bring him joy for he knows that his friend understands that suffering is not to be shunned, not to be explained away, not to be trivialized. He knows his friend will not encourage him to just put a smile on his face and pretend all is OK for the sake of others. Kumalo knows he can suffer—and still be loved.

And he gave some as…pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of service, to the building up of the body of Christ. Ephesians 4:11-12

Make no mistake. The body of Christ in Ndotsheni would not have acted this way unless Kumalo had taught them how. The actions of the community upon his return testifies to his Godly pastoring. And so the charge is laid at our feet, those of us who have children, employees, congregants. If God has placed someone under your care, are you equipping them to be the body of Christ? We must not disciple for selfish reasons, but we must disciple in a way that those whom we are seeking to equip understand the truths of suffering and kindness. If not us, someone will need them.

Why else do we live?

I have been beyond impressed by Cry, The Beloved Country. While I enjoyed Things Fall Apart, Achebe does not write with the same passion as Paton. The richness of the plot in Cry, the language, the pace, the emotion all make this a most enjoyable summer read. At the same time, I have been listening to the much recommended The Shack. No comparison. The difference between the writing and theology in Cry compared to Shack is like the difference between a seminary class and a VBS. (I am only two hours into the eight hour recording, and I plan on posting about it soon.)

On to what moved me today:

Kumalo has returned from another journey to see his son’s girlfriend with the intention of taking her back to Ndotsheni. It has been a hard week, and Kumalo has been at the mercy and care of others many times. He seeks to impose again on the woman with which he and his sister are staying. 

…I do not like to trouble you mother.

—You would like to bring her here, umfundisi?

—Indeed, that would be a great kindness.

—I will take her, said Mrs. Lithebe. She can sleep in the room where we eat. But I have no bed for her.

—That would not matter. It is better for her to sleep on the floor of a decent house, than to…

—Indeed, indeed.

—Mother, I am grateful. Indeed you are a mother to me.

—Why else do we live? she said.

And I stopped reading, and for a few moments could go no further. 

Why else do we live?

Why do I live? For myself? Often—too often. Mrs. Lithebe chose to serve. She chose to take in another when she had no room. Another who could not pay. Another for who knows how long—until the umfundisi left Johannesburg and returned to his parish. until the trial for his son, the murderer, concluded. 

And I must take my eyes off myself. I must open my eyes to the needs around me, starting with my wife and children. I am too important to myself. And I have not been called by God to be important. I have been called to serve. Why else do I live?

The power of love

I must confess that I was not looking forward to reading Cry, The Beloved Country. After reading Things Fall Apart, which I particularly enjoyed, I didn’t know if Paton’s could live up to Achebe’s. Seven chapters in, I am impressed. Paton does  great job of capturing the emotion of Kumalo’s first visit to Johannesburg. At the end of chapter seven, Kumalo is talking to a fellow priest, Msimangu. They are discussing Kumalo’s brother:

Because the white man has power, we too want power, he said. But when a black man gets power, when he gets money, he is a great man if he is not corrupted. I have seen if often. He seeks power and money to put right what is wrong, and when he gets them, why, he enjoys the power and the money. Now he can gratify his lusts, now he can arrange ways to get white man’s liquor, he can speak to thousands and hear them clap their hands. Some of us think when we have power, we shall revenge ourselves on the white man who has had power, and because our desire is corrupt, we are corrupted, and the power has no heart in it.…Yes that is right about power, he said. But there is only one thing that has power completely, and that is love. Because when a man loves, he seeks no power, and therefore he has power.

And to this Jesus would give a hearty amen.

You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great men exercise authority over them. It is not so among you, but whoever wishes to become great among you shall be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you shall be your slave; just as the Son of man did not come to be served to to serve and give His life a ransom for many.

And

A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another.

Who had more power than Christ? Who willingly gave up that power? Who now has more power than Christ? Through love we gain power. Through sacrifice we grow strong. Why? When we seek power, power enslaves us. Power, not us, becomes the master. When we freely give it up, the enticement, the lure, the enslaving power of power is broken, and we are strong. When we are not after power, we will not be tempted to take short cuts to retain it; we will not be tempted to put someone else down who threatens our hold on it; we will not be tempted to manipulate to get more of it. And just in case you’re not convinced, the great theologian Huey Lewis has this to say,

It don’t take money, and it don’t take fame

You don’t need no credit card to ride this train

It’s tougher than diamonds and stronger than steel

You won’t feel nothing until you feel

The power of love.

The Conscience in Us All: Part II

In Things Fall Apart, after Okonkwo has been banished from the tribe for seven years after inadvertently killing someone, a friend of Okonkwo’s reflects,

Why should a man suffer so grievously for an offense he had committed inadvertently? But although he thought for a long time he found no answer. He was merely led into greater complexities. He remembered his wife’s twin children, whom he had thrown away. What crime had they committed? The Earth had decreed that they were an offense to the land and must be destroyed.

The tribe has tradition and rules and beliefs, yet here is a man who questions those beliefs, but he is afraid to not follow through with the killing of his own children out of fear of the consequences for himself and his tribe. His conscience tells him the truth. His culture screams louder. 

My culture screams as well—but not just in tradition. It literally makes noise: radio, TV, ipod, 24 hour news. We are bombarded by the noise which drowns so many other things. What is God trying to say that I just can’t hear? What is God trying to tell you that you just haven’t unplugged long enough to listen to?