There are two things I have been mulling over lately regarding prayer. These are not related to each other except by the fact that they both deal with prayer.

First, to whom should we pray? We have been praying with Isaiah most nights before he goes to bed, and in teaching such a small child how to pray I admit that there is a definite “cuteness” in hearing him say “Dear Jesus” as he copies what we say. I have recently changed the wording to “Our Father” or similar. Certainly Jesus is a member of the godhead, but we do not have any examples in the New Testament that direct us to pray to Christ. Yes, we are to pray in the name of Christ: “Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son.” (John 14:13). But even the model prayer Christ provides for us begins with “Our Father.” Is there any reason or example that dictates why we so often pray to Christ instead of the Father? This is not to minimize Christ or his power, but rather to ask ourselves if we are truly following the examples we have been given.

The second thought I have been tossing around is related to what we should pray for, specifically when dealing with the preaching or teaching of the Word. I often hear requests such as this: “Lord, please speak through the man of God this evening” or “Please use this preacher to speak to us this morning.” The request is that God speak to us through the teacher or preacher. This may be nit-picky, but I think it reflects a profound misunderstanding of how God speaks to his children today.

I do not want this to become a cessationism versus continuationism debate, but it is important to note that God spoke often in the early church through dreams, visions, and signs, and that he does not do so today. (That is not to say he cannot, but rather that he does not do so commonly). Today, he speaks to us solely through his Word.

This is important, because I believe a misunderstanding here can launch Christians into some very dangerous waters. We are blessed beyond measure today by having such easy access to countless translations of God’s written word. And we know that this book is utterly and completely sufficient for teaching a Christian how to be “competent, equipped for every good work.” (2 Timothy 3:17). This Bible is the foundation for Christianity. Without it we would know little of Christ and nothing of the redeeming work he accomplished on the cross. We would know nothing of God’s grace in selecting us for salvation. We would know nothing of the God who spoke the worlds into existence. This Bible contains all objective earthly knowledge about God; there are no other sources for this knowledge! (While nature certainly points to God, it does not tell us directly that he loves us, nor does it provide insight into the detailed workings of his plan, as the canon does.)

If we ask God to “speak to us through a man,” are we asking for the best thing? Are we even asking for something God will do?

Perhaps this is hyper-sensitivity, but carried to a logical conclusion, if we ask God to speak to us through a man, it seems we run the risk of hearing the man, not God. And as soon as I begin depending on a man to tell me what God says, I have started down a dangerous path. We need teachers, but we need those teachers to teach the Bible, because it is through the Bible that God has chosen to speak.

First, an update: today I spoke with the “risk manager” for the construction group that is working behind our house. I recently posted that I had snapped some pictures of a group of brigands (ooh, that sounds serious) that had vandalized some of the construction equipment recently. This risk manager had left a message for me yesterday, having found my phone number on the back of the pictures I printed and delivered to one of workers last week. This gentleman was very appreciative, thanking me multiple times for keeping an eye out. He even offered to send us a gift certificate! I declined, and we talked for a bit longer. I was impressed with the man, as he was so sincere in his gratitude and in his efforts to contact me and show this gratitude. I do not know if the man is a Christian, but he was certainly more gracious than most folks.

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I enjoy reading, and do a lot of it. I enjoy writing, but do not do very much of it, unless you count the emails I send on a daily basis at work. I have the automatic spell checker turned on both at home and at work, and try to proof read almost every email before it is sent to catch the non-spelling errors I often make. I do try very hard to insure that my sentences are clear but not too simple, and that I am using as few words as possible to convey what I am trying to communicate. I am sure I fail miserably much of the time, but I do try to learn from the mistakes I discover.

I despise spelling errors. And I really, really dislike grammar errors. I am sure I make a lot of both types of errors (my sister is undoubtedly laughing about my inability to spell “hooray/hurray” consistently, and a recent gaffe in which I completed a video with “parking lot” as a single word instead of two). And I am sure you will not have to search long to find sentences ending with prepositions.

I mention all of this as an introduction to one of the most substantial problems I have with the King James Version of the Bible: inconsistent pronoun usage when referencing God. And lest you think I am attacking “The Word of God,” don’t get your culottes in a twist; put down your Welches and repeat three times to yourself: “he is talking about a translation, not God’s inspired word.”

In I John 4:4 in the KJV reads as follows:

Ye are of God, little children, and have overcome them: because greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world.

This is one example of the KJV’s use of impersonal pronouns to reference God or the Holy Spirit. Mind you, I do understand that God is genderless. And I do not pretend to be a Greek scholar. But it seems as if the most consistent translation would read “greater is it that is in you…” or “greater is he who is in you…” (depending on the most correct gender translation). I have harder time talking about “the God that is in me,” and think I would more accurately talk about “the God who is in me.”

And to compound my irritation with this, we sang the song this past Sunday that is based on the KJV version of this verse. I confess that I sang it “Greater is he who is in me” even though everyone else in the building was signing it as it was shown.

Do not misunderstand: this is not a life-or-death deal. But why do so many insist on sticking to something that is at best incorrect based on any grammar rules from the past 100 years, and at worst a subliminal foundation for basic “impersonalization” of God?

Tim Challies has some humbling, thought-provoking, and potentially life-changing words today, if I am willing to act on them.

Hmmm, not sure I understand this one:

Tonight we all took a walk out behind the house where the county is doing some major digging and working as they put in an improved wetlands area. There are huge piles of dirt and a lot of big trucks, so it is a perfect place for kids to climb and get themselves muddy.

While we were there investigating the work that is being done, I kept my eye on four boys in their early teens. They were just looking around like we were, except that they were also trying to find some cans of disgarded marking spray paint that still had paint in them. I heard them talking about a can as they passed us on their bikes a short while later.

We started back to the house, passing a storage container, ATV, and “Honey Pot” that had been set up by the workers. The four boys I had been watching were poking around to see what they could find. We walked on by, and I saw them gather in a corner near the porta-potty, and decided to head back when I heard the paint can shaking.

By the time I made it around to them, the were jumping and yanking on the ATV, and I was ready. I shouted “hey, guys!” in a friendly manner, and as they all turned, I snapped a picture. “I just want to be sure the police have a good picture in case anything ends up missing or painted.”

“We didn’t paint anything,” one of them said. I looked to the side and saw fresh orange marking paint where they had just been. “I’m sure you didn’t, but you know, just in case. Hey,” I asked, “what’s with this fresh orange paint on the side of the outhouse?”

“Outhouse? What’s that?” one asked.

“Right here,” I said, pointing. They all came toward me to see what I was pointing at. I snapped another picture and bid them goodbye.

And the part that just cracks me up is thinking about all four of those boys, who “didn’t paint anything,” lying awake tonight wondering what that crazy man with the camera is going to do with those pictures. And how they can get out of any trouble they may end up in the middle of.

Our police officer neighbor suggested I bring a couple of prints to the site boss tomorrow. I do not know that they can do anything about it, since I did not actually catch them in the act, but it sure was obvious to me.

I look forward to Tuesdays. On this day each week, I get to spend anywhere from two to three hours in the car as I drive across the river and through the city to work, rather than getting to work from home. I despise traffic, and drive a vehicle with a manual transmission. But on this one day, I get to listen to one or two messages from Pastor Patrick Abendroth of Omaha Bible Church.

Pastor Abendroth has confidence in his preaching, but is nothing if not humble. He is consistently careful to properly apply passages in context, both culturally and textually. He is one of the most effective expositional preachers I have ever heard.

Today I listened to “What makes the Gospel Glorious” and was filled to overflowing yet again. Here are some quotes that stood out to me:

• We don’t see grace as glorious because we don’t see ourselves as sinners; utterly and completely devoid of any merit whatsoever, to please God in any way, shape, or form.
• …the key to rightly praising Jesus Christ and exalting the cross and exalting what he has done for us and praising him; the key to that is understanding what you’ve been saved from. It’s no wonder we’re mumbling about the gospel. It’s no wonder we’re half-in, half-out in some sort of lackadaisical way, calling what we give to him praise, even though it’s pretty shameful, because we think somehow we’re good enough to earn grace, which is contradiction of terms.
• [an aside on Ephesians 2:1-3] Throughout history, every corruption of the gospel, every perversion of the gospel, has started here. It started by not seeing this. Somehow it’s something other than spiritually dead, and that leads us to somehow it’s something other than just the cross; perhaps it’s the cross and something else.

  But this is the key to understanding salvation; it’s understanding sin… Dead means more than sick. Dead means dead (spiritually dead here..). Dead means more than dying. Dead means more than in danger of dying. By the way, this therefore means that the salvation of the gospel analogy that says: “God throws you the life-preserver, and all you need to do is reach out and grab the life preserver” that’s been so famous shows absolute and complete biblical ignorance. Dead people don’t grab life-preservers. You’re at the bottom of the ocean. You’re fish food, and they’re eating your innards, and you’re swollen, right? That’s the right idea. And God has to go down there and give you a new heart, and make you alive, because you’re dead. So let’s be clear… it’s not that you’re sick. Sinners are dead spiritually… Dead means the total humbling of the sinner before God.

I had about an hour in the car alone today, and was able to listen to and concentrate on an album I have come to love. One song in particular, called “The Glory of the Cross,” has continued to awe me every time I hear it. Here is the first verse and the chorus. If you read it slowly, and comprehend the words, perhaps you will feel the immense impact:

What wisdom once devised the plan
Where all our sin and pride
Was placed upon the perfect Lamb
Who suffered, bled, and died?
The wisdom of a Sovereign God
Whose greatness will be shown
When those who crucified Your Son
Rejoice around Your throne

And, oh, the glory of the cross
That You would send Your Son for us
I gladly count my life as loss
That I might come to know
The glory of, the glory of the cross

The next verse is just as powerful, and plainly states that the righteousness that was revealed at the cross “proved to all [that God's] justice has been met.” This one sentence encompasses incredible Biblical truth that I think many Christians completely miss: Salvation is not a gift that results in God accepting our sinfulness! The death of Christ on the cross did not enable God to ignore our wickedness or give us a “pass” or “bye” on our rebellion. For him to do that would require that he set aside his holiness, which, could he do it, would cost him his deity. Our sin is an offense beyond comprehension; so great that it requires our eternal separation from God to accomplish his justice against it. But God meted out his righteous judgment on Christ, in our stead, in totality, and thereby accomplished that justice. And he did this according to the counsel of his will, not based on any innate virtue or goodness we think we have. Wow. Were we to understand this more, we would surely be more grateful than we are.

You can read the rest of the lyrics here, or listen to the beginning of the song: The Glory of the Cross

Five points of Reformed Baptist churches: How does your church measure up?

Human pixel show: I can’t even imagine the planning, practice, and effort that it would take to do something like this.

Extinguish your fire: Not much else can be said.

What a concept: Sounds kind of like “The Game.”

Tami’s Aunt Sharon was in Seattle this past weekend with Uncle Boyd, their three children and spouses, and a host of grandchildren as they prepared for a cruise to Alaska with some friends. They arrived almost a week early to enjoy a bit of Seattle, and invited all of us up for a few days before their departure. I took a couple of days off of work, and we made a long weekend of it.

We were scheduled to meet them all on Friday afternoon, but decided to drive half of the three hour trip on Thursday. We spent the night in Olympia, and it was neat for the kids to see the capital buildings. We did not sleep all that well Thursday night, and discovered Friday morning that the stationary side of the sliding glass door in our third-floor room was pulled away from the wall by about a foot behind the curtain. So all night the trucks going by on the street right outside the room really were louder than they should have been! We are just very thankful that Isaiah did not find the opening, as the railings on the patio were more than wide enough for him to climb through had he made it that far.

We checked in to the hotel in Seattle around noon on Friday, and walked down the hill about ten blocks to meet the family at a restaurant on the pier. From there we walked to the Aquarium, where we got to see a squid, the kids got to touch starfish, and we watched the jellyfish swim around. From there we walked back to Pike Street Market, watched the fish throwers, got ice cream at Rocky Mountain Chocolates, and took the bus back to the hotel. It was Subway for dinner, and then a much-needed night’s sleep.

Saturday found us at the Seattle Zoo outside downtown. We saw leopards, monkeys, lions, hippos, and just about any other animal you would expect to find at the zoo. Dinner was a fine meal at Spaghetti Factory, and we walked back to the hotel for another night’s sleep.

One rather memorable incident occurred as we prepared to check out Sunday morning. We were waiting for the elevator on the 24th floor with Isaiah, Timothy, and our luggage when the doors popped open and Lindsey jumped out with three of her cousins (second cousins?). She began jabbering madly about wanting to go up to the pool on the 28th floor with the girls, and Tami and I tried to decipher her noise. Meanwhile, Isaiah did what we had all been doing for the past few days when the elevator doors opened: he walked on.

We saw him when the doors were about half-way closed. Tami was too slow to get her hand in the door to stop it, and I was too slow to mash the call button to open the doors again. Our 20 month old son was on one of six elevators, alone, at checkout time, on the 24th of 28 floors in one of the larger hotels in Seattle. Stunned silence for two seconds. The elevator was headed up, so I bolted around the hallway and up the stairs to 25 — no one. Back to the stairs and up to 26. No one. Back to the stairs, up to 28, no one. Mild panic moved to frustration and anger. I found a housekeeper on 28 and quickly explained that my son was on an elevator and we needed to find him. I ran back down to 27, then 26. On my way back to the stairs after checking the hallway on 26, I found an open room and pushed quickly past the startled housekeeper to the phone. I dialed the desk and asked them to contact security to help find Isaiah.

During my frantic running, Tami had hopped on the next elevator and
headed up as well. She made it to 28 and found the same housekeeper I
had encountered, and told him the same story I had (though with the
touch only a panic-stricken mother can muster). She jumped back on the
elevator and headed back down to 24 where Timothy and Lindsey were with the three girls and our luggage.

I then ran back out of the room from which I had called the desk, and down the stairs to 24, praying that the Lord would protect Isaiah, and pushing worst-case thoughts from my mind. Tami was there and I told her to take the elevator to the lobby and check at the desk. I ran back to the stairwell, knowing that although 24 floors is a lot of stairs to run, it would probably be faster to run them than to wait for an elevator that would stop at a half dozen floors on the way to the lobby. Two steps at a time, swinging around the landings, making myself unbelievably dizzy. 24 floors to the lobby. And about two whole minutes behind Tami.

On the lobby level, I ran to the desk and asked the man behind the counter if he had heard any updates about the missing child. “Missing child?” he asked. Great. The lady I had pushed in front of overheard and mentioned that the boy’s mother had just picked him up from her. She and her daughter had been on 26 waiting for the elevator. When the door opened, they saw a cute, curly-haired little boy with a blanket over one shoulder and a stuffed dog in the other hand, all alone. He was happy as could be until he realized this woman was not Mommy, and began crying. He cried the whole way down to the lobby until he saw Tami, just before I got there. I overheard another woman talking to her grown daughter about seeing the little boy in the elevator, and the daughter was almost in tears imagining the feelings of the boy’s mother.

I took the elevator back to 24, hugged Isaiah, and promptly strapped him into the stroller, where he remained until we strapped him into the truck after checkout.

We said our goodbye’s and thank you’s as Tami’s family headed off to board the ship. We stopped for breakfast lunch at a local cafe (Tami noticed we were the only ones with children during the entire hour we were there), and headed over to the Pacific Science Center, already tired. We played with a harmonograph (I just have to build one of those!), visited the dinosaurs, and watched folks play in a really cool water fountain that must have been 200 feet across. Back to the truck, on the road headed south –oops, stop at KFC for lunch! Home by 8:30p and asleep shortly thereafter.

It was not a relaxing getaway by any stretch, but we did have a good time.

Jesse Gardner (of PlasticMind fame) officially completed his ordination into the ministry this past Saturday. Congratulations, Jesse!

I am now officially running on MT4 Beta. I had hoped to get a new template completed before this, but time has not allowed it yet. I have a lot to learn about the template structure for this major Movable Type update, but since the readership on this blog is generally about one more than zero I should be fine.

This also represents the death of the URL blog.thenorwoodhome.com, at least for now.

Look for new pictures here soon!