Nice line by Sarah Palin

This from her speech to some of our troops in Kosovo, in response to a rather lame attempt at a joke by John Kerry (or is that redundant?):

Senator John Kerry makes this joke, I don’t know if you saw this, but he makes this joke saying, “Well, shoot, of all the governors in the nation to disappear, too bad it couldn’t have been that Governor from Alaska.”

Well, when he said it, you know, he looked quite frustrated, and he looked so sad, and I just wanted to reach out to the TV and say, “John Kerry, why the long face?”

(laughter, applause)

Now Gov. Palin is on to Germany to visit the wounded in our military hospitals there; in her time in Kosovo, she gave the troops at Camp Bondsteel a real morale boost, and also met with the Lithuanian Minister of Defense, Rasa Jukneviciene.

My only comfort in life and death

For a brief explanation of what I’m doing here, see the previous post. Mouse over the footnotes for the Scripture references. This is, in my book, as wonderful an opening as the famous Q & A 1 of the Westminster Shorter Catechism, even if not as well known; I may very well come back to this one tomorrow and write something about it, but I’m too tired tonight. And then again, maybe I’ll just let it speak for itself.

Heidelberg Catechism
Q & A 1
Q. What is your only comfort in life and in death?

A. That I am not my own,1
but belong—
body and soul,
in life and in death—2
to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.3

He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood,4
and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.5
He also watches over me in such a way6
that not a hair can fall from my head
without the will of my Father in heaven:7
in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.8

Because I belong to him,
Christ, by his Holy Spirit,
assures me of eternal life9
and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready
from now on to live for him.10

Explanatory note on Heidelblogging

Jared Wilson sparked a thought for me with his latest post, which quotes a section of the Westminster Confession. As a pastor ministering in the Presbyterian Church (USA), I am in some sense connected to the Westminster standards, and I do appreciate them a great deal—but though I serve a Presbyterian congregation, and though I was baptized in one (Northminster, in San Diego), my home ground within the church universal is the Dutch Reformed stream, and specifically the Reformed Church in America. As such, though I appreciate Westminster, it’s somewhat foreign to me; it’s the RCA’s doctrinal standards that I value most, and especially the one that (as it happens) the PC(USA) also affirms, the Heidelberg Catechism.

As such, I’ve decided I want to blog my way through the Heidelberg, question by question. I don’t know that I’ll get through all 129 questions and answers in 129 days—this isn’t a death march—but I expect I’ll post a Q&A most days. No doubt I’ll comment on some and not on others, and there will probably be more than a few times as well that I’ll quote one of the commentaries I have on the Heidelberg. (There are actually three on my shelves—Andrew Kuyvenhoven’s, the one Donald Bruggink edited, and the one by Zacharius Ursinus, who was one of the Heidelberg’s authors—which I suppose marks me out as the Reformed geek I am; the Kuyvenhoven was a gift from Hap back in college, which I suppose marks her out as perceptive.) One thing I haven’t figured out is how I want to handle the Scriptural footnotes; if I can find a way to include them that doesn’t look irritatingly intrusive to my eye, I will.

Reflection on the challenge of speaking the truth in love

As a pastor ministering within (though not of) the Presbyterian Church (USA), I am in some sense under the leadership of the Moderator of the most recent General Assembly, the Rev. Bruce Reyes-Chow (who has on occasion commented here, as I have on occasion returned the favor on one or another of his blogs, of which there are several; as a side note, I don’t know how Bruce keeps up with his life, given his schedule). As one would expect of an elected official in this denomination, Bruce is a lot more liberal than I am, but I like him a great deal, because he’s not a reflexive thinker; though I often disagree with his conclusions, he’s a careful and thoughtful observer, and I appreciate the thought he puts into reaching those conclusions—and his willingness to listen respectfully to those with whom he disagrees. Following him on Facebook, I have more than once had my own thinking sparked by the questions he poses for discussion.

Recently, for example, he asked

if speaking “the truth in love” in a way that ultimately causes a destruction of community and tears down the personhood of another can really be God’s Truth at all or are these things simply sometimes unavoidable realities to speaking “the truth in love”?

It’s a good question, not least because it forces us to face ourselves. It can be easy to justify hurtful words, to ourselves and to others, by saying that we were only speaking the truth in love, when in fact we weren’t motivated by love at all—and maybe weren’t speaking the truth, either, but just pushing our own agenda. We need to remember that when Ephesians talks about “speaking the truth in love,” it’s not talking about whatever we deem to be true on whatever subject, it’s talking about “the faith and the knowledge of the Son of God”; and we need to remember that if we cannot say something in love, out of a real desire to help and heal and bless the person to whom we speak, then we are not speaking truth.

That said, there’s another reality to bear in mind here as well: speaking the truth in love does not, unfortunately, guarantee that the person to whom we speak will be willing to hear and accept the truth, or to accept that love can come in the form of a truth that they do not want to hear. Sometimes, people refuse to accept a community that challenges them where they do not want to be challenged—but a community that depends on the avoidance of uncomfortable truths is no true community, for the real openness and authenticity that true community requires cannot exist under those conditions. We must always do our best to speak the truth in such a way that those to whom we speak can hear and accept it as truth, but we cannot allow our responsibility to speak the truth to be held hostage to the willingness of others to do so.

As to the tearing down of personhood, I think we need to draw a distinction here between our real personhood—who we are as God intended us to be—and our perceived personhood—who we understand ourselves to be. Because of our sin, the two are not the same, and indeed are never completely the same no matter how much we may grow in Christ. I think it’s safe to say that real truth spoken in real love never tears down real personhood, but when Hebrews tells us that “the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart,” it’s equally safe to say that real truth spoken in real love will at times cut to the division of our real self and who we only think we are. One of the necessary aspects of speaking truth to each other in love is helping each other see and accept the distinction between the two—that aspects of our lives that we consider to be part of our personhood reallyaren’t, and in fact are inimical to our true personhood. Again, though, that can be a very hard thing to accept, and some people refuse to do so; but we can’t let their reaction be the measure of the value of our actions.

Taken all in all, I think the key here is the distinction between that which is real and that which isn’t. The truth of God spoken in the love of God will never destroy that which is real and of value, but will only nurture it; it will, however, most assuredly and effectively destroy falsecommunity and false personhood, because clearing the ground of counterfeits is essential if the real and the true are to grow and flourish in their place. But how do we know if we are really speaking the truth of God in the love of God? Or if someone else claims to be doing so and we don’t want to hear it, how do we know if the community or the sense of our own personhood which we’re defending are real? All we can do is examine our hearts, and let the Spirit of God examine us, and let him lead us into the truth—even if, especially if, it isn’t what we want to hear.

 

To the list of Letterman’s sexist cruelties, add another

Sarah Palin may have driven David Letterman to something of an apology, and she may have elected to accept his apology, but it doesn’t look like any of that changed his fundamental attitude much. In the middle of his (utterly predictable) Top 10 on “Mark Sanford’s Excuses,” the late-night host uncorked this beauty:

4. If you met my wife you’d be fleeing the country too.

Now, as far as I’m concerned, whatever mockery anyone wants to give Mark Sanford, he has it coming. I think Robert Stacy McCain’s (apparently fairly serious) suggestion that he deserves a case of .38-caliber lead poisoning is over the top, but within the confines of the law, whatever anybody can bring down on this man’s head is fine by me.

But his wife? This is a woman who has been betrayed at the deepest possible level by the one person on earth who was most responsible to be on her side, and has been dealt unfathomable public humiliation by that man for the sake of his own selfishness and gratification—she doesn’t deserve this . . . this . . . I’m trying to think of a word that pastors are supposed to use that’s bad enough to describe this, and I’m not coming up with one. What, by all that is holy, gave Letterman and his writers the idea that it’s acceptable, let alone funny, to beat a woman when she’s down like that? What are we going to get next, a crack about the joy of clubbing baby seals?

Once again, if Letterman weren’t such a narcissistic solipsist, he’d be ashamed of himself. What a poor excuse for a human being.

H. L. Mencken, Grover Cleveland, Sarah Palin, Barack Obama . . . and leadership

Of all the blogs I’ve ever run across, I think Heaven Better Have Lightsabers has to have the most fun name. Fortunately, Hurley’s blog doesn’t waste its title. Today, he (?) has a post up called “H. L. Mencken on Leadership” which is a commentary on an extended quotation from a Mencken piece on Grover Cleveland, including these selections:

There was never any string tied to old Grover. He got into politics, not by knuckling to politicians, but by scorning and defying them, and when he found himself opposed in what he conceived to be sound and honest courses, not only by politicians but by the sovereign people, he treated them to a massive dose of the same medicine.

*****

No President since Lincoln, not even the melancholy Hoover, has been more bitterly hated, or by more people.

*****

He came from an excellent family, but his youth had been a hard one, and his cultural advantages were not of the best.

*****

He banged along like a locomotive. If man or devil got upon the track, then so much the worse for man or devil.

*****

Any man thus obsessed by a concept of duty is bound to seek support for it somewhere outside himself. He must rest it on something which seems to him to be higher than mere private inclination or advantage.

*****

He was not averse to popularity, but he put it far below the approval of conscience.

*****

It is not likely that we shall see his like again, at least in the present age. The Presidency is now closed to the kind of character that he had so abundantly. It is going, in these days, to more politic and pliant men. They get it by yielding prudently, by changing their minds at the right instant, by keeping silent when speech is dangerous. Frankness and courage are luxuries confined to the more comic varieties of runners-up at national conventions.

Hurley comments,

From my opinion it’s perfectly applicable to replace the ‘he/him/his’ with she and her, president with governor, and Grover Cleveland with Sarah Palin. I don’t know what the Governor wants in the future, but she doesn’t seem like the sort of lady who is going to let a hoard of ignorant tools define her as a person.

I have to agree, and to add that the last selection he cites is a dead ringer for Barack Obama (and, for that matter, for Joe Biden, definitely among “the more comic varieties of runners-up”). I am reminded in all this of a famous line about President Cleveland, from the speech in which he was nominated for what would be his second term (his third convention, since Benjamin Harrison held the office between Cleveland’s two terms), which I have often thought applies to Gov. Palin:

They love him for the enemies he has made.

Will the blood of martyrs water a new tree of liberty in Iran?

We may only hope and pray so, because a river of blood is flowing in the streets of Tehran that could water a whole forest. The Anchoress has a good roundup, as usual—check it out, and follow the links. The Iranian regime has literally declared war on the opposition, sending the militia out to beat women to death, murder unarmed protestors with axes, and throw people off bridges. An Iranian woman told CNN,

This was exactly a massacre. You should stop this. You should help the people of Iran who demand freedom. . . .

In the previous days they are killing students with axes, they put the axe through the heart of young men, and it’s so devastating I don’t know how to describe it.

This is horrific, this is genocide, this is a massacre, this is Hitler. And you people should stop it. It’s time to act.

Another Iranian writes,

I am writing to beg for your attention and assistance in any way possible. An innocent, peaceful, historic momentum, unprecedented in recent history, has come alive in our world that is being brutally put down with violence, lies, and dirty politics for power and riches. You, no matter where you are, have been inflicted by the evil nature of this current going round in our globe.

My brothers and sisters, come together in any way you can. Join the arms of our innocent people whose blood is being shed for peace and human rights which you may be blessed with elsewhere. Our hands are stretched out, reaching out for your support from outside. We are confronting a formidable power as ancient and infectious as hatred, tyranny, intolerance, prejudice and racism. We need your help. . . .

We as a nation are pleading desperately to the world that we MUST not recognize this regime legitimate. We need to use all our strength and unity to pressure it to leave the office before our voice is shut down.

In response to such impassioned pleas, our president boldly decided that since the mullahs hadn’t accepted his invitation to the weenie roast, he’d rescind the invitation.

. . . !

Of course, as Mark Steyn notes, Barack Obama does have a timing problem:

he chose as a matter of policy to legitimize the Iranian regime at the very moment they chose to delegitimize themselves—first, by stealing the election to an unprecedented degree and, then, by killing people who objected to them doing so.

That’s awfully bad timing, and one sympathizes, as one would if Nixon had gone to China a week before Tiananmen Square. But the fact is it’s happened and adjusting to that reality makes more sense than banking on being able to re-legitimize Khamenei and Ahmadinejad.

What really strikes me about this whole bloody, evil vortex—the swirling firestorm of the nihilistic will to power clashing with the desire of a people to be free, a mad dream of some Islamic Nietzsche—is that people are being murdered, shot off rooftops, for shouting “God is great!” (“Allahu akbar!”). A regime ostensibly founded on religion—but more accurately, on the religio-tribal identity that is Shi’ism—has had its true power-mad heart exposed; it’s starting to look like its own religion is turning against it, and like the mullahs will sacrifice even Islam for the sake of power. Perhaps that’s just a fanciful thought, but it’s how things look to me.

It’s important to remember, though, that if Springsteen’s right and “freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose,” then Ahmadinejad and the mullahs are still the freest ones in this whole fight. They’re free to do anything, because if they lose this battle, nothing else matters; they and their supporters literally have no other options but victory or death. The leaders of the opposition can always go into exile, but the likes of Ahmadinejad and Khamenei have nowhere else to go. As such, Spengler is right: this is an extremely complex and dangerous situation, and it’s impossible to predict what will happen next. As he points out, the real wildcard in all this is Israel; the Netanyahu government had best be considering their next move verycarefully, because the consequences, for good or ill, could be beyond reckoning.

Still, in all this, Robert Kaplan is right to say that there is great reason for hope—and that this is all happening as a consequence of our intervention in Iraq (which is why, incidentally, his fellow Atlantic contributor Jeffrey Goldberg was wrong to portray that intervention as a mistake; it was, rather, a calculated risk):

It is crucial that we reflect on an original goal of regime change in Iraq. Anyone who supported the war must have known that toppling Saddam Hussein, a Sunni Arab—whether it resulted in stable democracy, benign dictatorship or sheer chaos—would strengthen the Shiite hand in the region. This was not seen as necessarily bad. The Sept. 11 terrorists had emanated from the rebellious sub-states of the sclerotic Sunni dictatorships of Egypt and Saudi Arabia, whose arrogance and aversion to reform had to be allayed by readjusting the regional balance of power in favor of Shiite Iran. It was hoped that Iran would undergo its own upheaval were Iraq to change. Had the occupation of Iraq been carried out in a more competent manner, this scenario might have unfolded faster and more transparently. Nevertheless, it is happening. And not only is Iran in the throes of democratic upheaval, but Egypt and Saudi Arabia have both been quietly reforming apace.

 

On Barack Obama’s (mis)handling of Iran

The president is to be commended for giving HuffPo’s Nico Pitney the high sign before yesterday’s press conference so that Pitney would be primed to pass along this question from an Iranian dissident:

Under which conditions would you accept the election of Ahmadinejad? And if you do accept it without any significant changes in the conditions there, isn’t that a betrayal of—of what the demonstrators there are working to achieve?

As Paul Mirengoff points out, Pitney is also to be commended for hitting the president with that question:

What a terrific question—a query that not one in a thousand American journalists could be expected to match—and kudos to Pitney for selecting it. The question elegantly but pointedly (1) refutes the suggestion of Obama’s apologists that the president helps the protesters by remaining above the fray while (2) reminding Obama that he cannot really remain above the fray in any event because he must eventually accept the election of Ahmadinejad by dealing with him as planned or reject that fraudulently reached outcome by changing his course.

However, as Mirengoff continues, the president is not to be commended for his response to that question:

The president could only bob and weave. He responded that the U.S. did not have observers on the ground and therefore could not know whether the election was legitimate. But the U.S. knows that the candidates were pre-screened by the regime, making the election inherently illegitimate.

He responded further that it is up to the Iranian people, not the U.S., to view the election as legitimate or not. But a portion, and probably very large portion, of the Iranian people has already decided that the election is not legitimate; yet the “result” will stand and Ahmadinejad will serve another term. Thus, the ball is now in the Obama administration’s court to treat the election as legitimate, by dealing with Ahmadinejad even as he represses his own people, or to demur.

The question thus stands unanswered by Obama, though it answers itself: if Obama treats Ahmadinejad as the legitimate leader of Iran in the absence of significant changes in conditions there, that would indeed constitute a betrayal of what the demonstrators are working to achieve.

It doesn’t help that even as he finally offered a strong statement against the mullahs’ treatment of Iranian protestors, he still wanted to have them over for hot dogs (and negotiate with their terrorists).

This is the most unrealistic sort of political “realism” imaginable. Michael Rubin lays out the reasons why:

1. The command and control over any military nuclear program would be in the hands of the Office of the Supreme Leader and the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, the same groups who are now facing down the Iranian people. In other words, we share a common adversary with the Iranian people. We need to recognize that. The problem has never been the Iranian people—they indeed are far more moderate than their government. We should do nothing to antagonize them (which is why all the talk among some realists of outreach to the Mujahedin a-Khalq or playing an ethnic strategy is wrong, hamfisted, and counterproductive). We need to focus on how to counter and neutralize our common adversary.

2. Realism is about maximizing U.S. interests. Preserving an enemy regime is not realism. It is simply stupid. We should not be throwing a lifeline to the Islamic Republic, the fall of which would enable Iran to emerge as a force for moderation in the region, and allow the Iranian people to take their rightful place among nations.

 

Bullet dodged

Obviously the big political news of the day was the bizarre story of South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford’s attempt at a secret jaunt to Buenos Aires (over Father’s Day, no less!) to tryst with his mistress—news that was especially painful coming so soon after the revelation of Senator (R-NV) John Ensign’s extramarital affair (a revelation that came only when the husband he’d cuckolded tried to extort money from him). Aside from saying that the GOP will be better off when neither of these two men represent it in any significant way, the only comment I trust myself to offer is this: I am deeply grateful that the speculation last summer that Sanford might be John McCain’s running mate did not bear fruit. Whether it was Sen. McCain’s instincts or A. B. Culvahouse’s vetting, it’s a very good thing that the old maverick went another way; for all the attempts to convince people that Sarah Palin hurt the ticket, if Sanford had been on it, this would all have blown up and the campaign would have been over before the convention.

Oh, and one other thing: the worst sort of hypocrite is the sort who uses their hypocrisy for personal gain, and the worst type of those would have to be those who use it to gain political power. There but for the grace of God go I, I know, but I pray that my soul is never so twisted that I can really comprehend how a man can leave his wife to raise his children while he jets off to another country to have sex with another woman. I know, I am a man, nothing human is alien to me—but I don’t really understand that, and I don’t want to understand that. That’s not the treason of Judas, but it’s not too far short of it, and Judas looks too uncomfortably familiar to me as it is.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord! O Lord, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my pleas for mercy!
If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, O Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared.

—Psalm 130:1-4 (ESV)

I found myself, upon reading this psalm (along with Psalms 131 and 134) to my older girls this evening, explaining to them the whole concept of the fear of the Lord. It’s rather a difficult one, especially for an eight-year-old and a five-year-old, since obviously I don’t want them to go around terrified of God—and yet, they need to understand this. I need to understand this. I’m sure there are many who could do a much better job than I did, but here (more or less) is what I told them.

  • Awe. A couple years ago at Thanksgiving, we took a trip through Arches, Canyonlands, Bryce Canyon, and the Grand Canyon. The kids absolutely loved it. I reminded them of how they’d felt looking out across those great canyons—including the element of fear of what would happen if they fell in. In the same way, only far, far more so, God is great and glorious and beautiful—and not safe.
  • Holiness. Our God is a consuming fire, as Deuteronomy and Hebrews tell us; if we as we are, unholy, impure, and frail, were to enter his presence, we would burn like moths in a flame. There’s a reason Isaiah was terrified at even just a vision of the holiness of God: it’s more than we can bear.
  • Wrath. Along with this goes the wrath of God against sin, which is the mainspring of his judgment on sin, which we have richly earned for the waywardness of our hearts—even the best of us. God is the one who cannot and will not tolerate sin, and the judge of all the earth; we should feel in our bones the truth that we deserve only his judgment.
  • Discipline. To be sure, you might well say that those who are in Christ have been given instead his grace, and that is true; and yet, our sin still deserves his wrath, and just because we have received grace does not mean we’ve been given a “get out of punishment free” card. Rather the contrary: “The Lord disciplines the one he loves.” As Hebrews notes, discipline is painful rather than pleasant, even though it brings good fruit.
  • The untamed God. We cannot control God; we cannot make him do what we want, or keep him from doing what we do not want, and we cannot ensure that he will only ask us to do what we want to do and feel comfortable doing. As Mr. Beaver says of Aslan, God is good, but he isn’t safe—and there is nothing less safe than surrendering control to him that he may call us and lead us where and as he will. (Not that our control is ever anything more than an illusion anyway, but it’s an illusion to which we cling desperately for all that.) We fear what he may do to us, and where he may take us; we fear the loss of all we’ve ever known and wanted—and quite reasonably so, for God may indeed require all that of us and more, even to the point of asking us to lay down our lives in his service. Of course, he promises to give us a far better life in exchange, but that’s an unknown quantity, and we fear the unknown.

As we are, we could not bear the full presence of God; we could not even survive a glimpse of his face. In Jesus Christ, he has made a way for us to enter his presence, he has opened a way for us through the veil—but he is still the Lord of the Universe and the Creator of all that is, his glory is still a light to blast our eyes out the backs of our skulls and his holiness is still a fire that would burn us beyond even the memory of ash; if he has made it safe for us to come to him, it’s not because he himself is safe or because we are somehow worthy to stand in his presence, but rather because he paid the price in himself for us to do so.

Even with all that Christ has done for us, it remains true that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom—because the beginning of wisdom is not to take God lightly, or to take his grace for granted.