Augustine and the Unjust Rule

City of God, in my estimation, is one of the most important books of all time. No hyperbole.

One section, which I found to be particularly fascinating, is copied herein:

Justice being taken away, then, what are kingdoms but great robberies? For what are robberies themselves, but little kingdoms? The band itself is made up of men; it is ruled by the authority of a prince, it is knit together by the pact of the confederacy; the booty is divided by the law agreed on. If, by the admittance of abandoned men, this evil increases to such a degree that it holds places, fixes abodes, takes possession of cities, and subdues peoples, it assumes the more plainly the name of a kingdom, because the reality is now manifestly conferred on it, not by the removal of covetousness, but by the addition of impunity. Indeed, that was an apt and true reply which was given to Alexander the Great by a pirate who had been seized. For when that king had asked the man what he meant by keeping hostile possession of the sea, he answered with bold pride, What you mean by seizing the whole earth; but because I do it with a petty ship, I am called a robber, while you who does it with a great fleet are styled emperor.

Aside from the thoughts about our own republic this reading stirred up, it made me to wonder this: is just basis the lone savior of all true goodness? I don't say "just" as in "only," but just as in "fair and right." Indeed, true goodness can come from redemption, but even that must have a just basis.

Good thinking, Augustine. You're a saint.

A Separate Peace, Hope, and Love

I read John Knowles's A Separate Peace at the beginning of this Christmas break and was blown away.  I know it's easy to get caught up in liking books that you're supposed to like, but there's an idea that Knowles presents in this book that shook me up.  I'll explain:

For those unfamiliar with the story, two boys are in the summer term at a prep school while WWII is going on.  The war affects every part of their lives, but both get caught up in the idea that the war doesn't really exist.  They both admit that it does and live in the presence of it, but they're too busy focusing on their own lives to focus on it.

Today is Christmas.  God does the biggest humbling ever and steps down to be a part of us.  The Holy Spirit continues this constant presence, and the Incarnation becomes an eternal thing.  And we live in the presence of it.

But I pretend it's not true.  It doesn't help me in any way to act like this, and I don't really want to deny it.  Still, this fact is the one thing my flesh cries out against so strongly.  Maybe rightly so - God's coming to us is unashamedly merciful, and I want justice.  But mostly, I just seek out sin somehow.  I don't know what the deal is.  But Saint Paul knows what I'm talking about.

It doesn't depend on me though.  Tidings of comfort and joy can still be sung, and should be sung, and I'm grateful for it.  Hopefully, I'll be able to more often live in the reality of it.

Merry Christmas!

Be At Peace

The sermon at church this morning was alright.  I was down at Josh's, and visiting his home church is always an experience.  The message was based on the benediction part of 1 Thessalonians 5.

After feeling uncomfortable while the pastor discussed practical ways in which the church could encourage him and other leaders, he talked about helping the feeble-minded (reading a great passage out of Pilgrim's Progress) and being at peace with the brethren.  Man, I got hit hard then.

I thought of all the Christians I don't like for stupid reasons.  Like I assume their motivation for actions isn't good.  Or some of the stuff they do isn't my style.  But that's not satisfactory, and certainly not Biblical.  Constantly, I forget the fact that others are made in God's image.  And I'm worse on Christians, because they should know better.

But I should be at peace with them.  Of course they're different.  I'm not Christ, or even Everyman, so why should all of them be what I think I should be.  Unique image-bearers.  Why shouldn't people be proud of the things they're good at, even if they're not things I care much about?  No matter what, I should be at peace with these folks, and ideally, I'll be loving them.

Good and Right

I note that when my heart turns to vice, I create a disconnect in my mind between good and right.  This should not be so.

At what point did I stop asking, "Is this right?"  When did I replace it with, "Is this what I feel is good?"  There should be no difference between good and right in actions, and yet, when my standard is my feelings, good could be anything.  And so my morals disappear with my exasperation and my worry.  Both of which are based in my pride.

I think, though, that there is some small difference between doing good and doing right.  I can do good to another by offering them a social gospel.  I can feed the poor.  I can make my friends feel better.  But unless I am offering Christ, I am not doing right.  And really, my good is no good.

Recently, I've been forgetting that God is in all things, that the Spirit is always ready to lead.  Instead, I do what I want because it's not wrong in and of itself.  But then again, eating a fruit isn't wrong in and of itself.  But God wasn't directing Adam and Eve toward the forbidden fruit.  And He's not directing me to my selfish desires.  I really want to be observing and caring and seeking and sacrificing, but I forget that my deepest desires have nothing to do with me at all.

Engagement

Amy and I are engaged.

Sacraments

Sacraments are outward signs of inward grace, instituted by Christ for our sanctification (Catechismus concil. Trident., n. 4, ex St. Augustine, "De Catechizandis rudibus").

That's how I feel about it.

James Dean, James Dean, I know just what you mean.

Man, people are hurting.  How come I always miss that point?

I'll admit that I'm pretty spiteful.  Whenever people say stuff to me that I don't like, I usually respond properly where they can see and then think of clever and cutting responses the next time they speak.  And I never say those things.  Partly because I've cooled off by the time we talk again, partly because I know I shouldn't say stuff like that, and partly because I'm afraid.  But my motivation isn't really what I'm talking about.  I'm pretty familiar with my motivations.  What I have to think about is the other person's.

It's trite to say that "you don't know what there going through right now."  It's not even close to being the main reason we should value people.  But it's generally true.  People do have bad days.  Sometimes they coincide with ours.  I just forget that other people have pasts, too.  I always figure everything revolves around me, so that past is less consequential.  Stupid.  But the guys I mock in my head and the faces I'd like to spit on live in a fallen world too.  They don't need my pithy slashes.

I gave this post its title because it reminds me of "Rebel Without A Cause."  So misunderstood and treated so badly.

What's the deal?  I wish I connected with Christ more so I could start acting like Him.

Really

I was talking to Josh about how funny it is when people who are really good at something spend all their time doing other stuff that they don't even seem to enjoy.  I don't know if this disease is accompanied by an image problem or just a desire to do something different, but it's just strange.  All the people we've observed that do this aren't as easy to be around as when they're doing what they really care about.

And then there's people like us who don't really know what we care about.  We just like God really well and the stuff we've always liked and new experiences.  No idea what that's going to look like in the future.  Hopefully we can do something useful.  Or just be prepared to do something that's good.

I was thinking about all the cultural stuff that you have to do if you're a missionary.  Speak differently.  Eat differently.  Drink differently.  Express yourself differently.  I think that's part of sanctification, but I think a bigger thing than doing new stuff is giving up old stuff.  The new's coming.  Does it have any room?  And what do people like Josh and Andrew and me do when we don't even understand the old stuff, let alone know how to give it up?  I didn't realize I cared so much about politcal theory until it was smashed in Rwanda.  I didn't realize I cared so much about having personal space until I had to share a small room with two other guys in Long Dorm, one of whom wanted all the space.  It's strange.

So what do I care about?

Really.

Discomfort

I accompanied Amy and her family this weekend to one of those parties where nobody but the host knows everybody else.  Most of the guests were somehow connected with the British Commonwealth, and we were the only Americans there.  We were told by the host when we arrived, "Yeah, just grab a drink and start meeting some people."  And then we were left alone.  So we started meeting people.  I spent most of the time talking to an Indian family about how the first-down lines move on American football games.  It was uncomfortable at first, but I liked it.

I wonder how much of maturity begins in discomfort.  "Growing pains," right?  Right.  You've got to suffer through that first back-packing trip to really know what to expect and love the next time.  You've got to drive around some streets you don't know to get the map in your head.  I wonder how our relationship with God parallels that.  Evangelism, sure.  You don't really get it until you've done it.  But what about the experiential relationship?  Confession?  Humility?  Maybe everything that's really good is an acquired taste.  Maybe that meat that God feeds us has to be chewed up a million times before we get the hang of not having milk.  Maybe we should glory in our discomfort, as it's a part of sanctification, too.

Empty It

Not a whole lot of worthwhile stuff in the heart.  I've gotta admit that whatever Adam and Eve screwed up, I've always been willing to take it to a new level.  Let me explain why I always seem like I love vice:

I don't love vice.  But I love what I think I must look like when I'm running my hands through my hair and being the picture of cool misery.  I just think I'd fit right in with Edward Hopper's classic painting The Nighthawks.  Alienation.  It's probably a reaction against loneliness.  I pretend I love being alone and get so caught up in it that I stop feeling so lonely and stick with a smooth low.  One of the sadder reactions against discomfort.  It's not drugs, but it's basically shooting up cool.

One of the better moments of my time in Rwanda was when I went to a junky little dive and met this Rwandan guy with a French name that I can't remember.  He was lonely and drinking to fight it.  He stated openly that he had AIDS.  And a kid who didn't have AIDS.  And people just left him there to suffer and try to save himself from his pain.  And I gave him my email address and walked away because I couldn't do more since I couldn't understand him well enough to find him again.  I wonder what a ministry to the lonely looks like.  Probably like every other ministry but more obviously loving.  Everybody just wants it - love.  We all feel marooned and pretend we want something else.  No wonder those are the only commandments - loving God and loving people.  It's the only thing worth offering.  Without it, everything else we've got's meaningless, right Paul?  Right.

I said, "You are gods..."

I said, "You are gods; you are all sons of the Most High.

However, you will die like men and fall like any other ruler."

-Psalm 82:6

Mix meditating on that verse, considering eternity, the splendor and terror of humanity, and the idea of the Unified Church standing over time, and it's no wonder my thoughts have been running to the mythical.  Ragnarok.  Elysian Fields.  Celtic Otherworlds.  Shinto folklore.  Humans are bigger than those characters.  Each quisling is more a Judas; each friend is more a Beowulf.  Each action has eternal significance.  Sons of the Most High.

However, you will die like men and fall.

We may be used to affect eternity, but we don't hold it in the balance.  Each of us may act as Atlas, but even he had to kneel on Something firmer.

Funny - this state of humanity.  Our actions are unworthy of us as gods.  Beyond deplorable, we are unworthy of our mighty tasks.  Paradox, baby.  You know you know.

Ragnarok

I'm a big fan of Natural Law Theory - the idea that there is this deeper truth that everything is pointing towards and that everyone thinks in terms of despite their ascribed beliefs.  One of my favorite examples of that is the old Viking apocalypse myth of Ragnarok.

The story goes that, at the end of the age, Odin and Thor and Loki and all the gods come together for this big fight, most of the great ones dying, and after that, through a series of natural disasters, the earth drowns in a great flood.  It is saved by the remaining gods who hold everything together, and it comes out new and clean and unblemished.  And the new age begins.

See a few parallels?  I'm thinking this natural law, the one "written on our hearts" ought to direct us pretty directly to the truth found in the Word, and it seems like the old sea wolves came up with a pretty decent version of the end/beginning.  Not to mention baptism, redemption, and history.

In an infinitesimally smaller way, this blog is the result of a minor apocalypse - the end of my Rwanda blog.  Enjoy it.