Much running around. But with it some understanding of things and greater familiarity with this great city. I will one day be ready to write about the city, that enthralling concept in life and Biblical theology.
All posts for the month August, 2010
Posted by unknowing on August 31, 2010
If you’d like to see where we live, or how to reach it in Alimentador from Portal 80, then click here. We are right between the numbers 4 and 5.
It’s the second to the last night for us in our old place—almost all packed, and I’m thinking it was wise of me to cut down the library to 200 or so for this move; Epstein is right, a good number for books is 300, though I doubt I’ll stick to it. Anyway, the neighbors are having a party (have been since about noon, apparently). Loud music after dark just so we remember why it is we want to leave—though running from loud neighbors in Bogota is a bit vain.
One thing you might consider, the taxi from the airport to us just got a whole lot cheaper than it used to be. I bet we can get there in less than 15 min. We have a spare room or two if you want to come and visit!
Posted by unknowing on August 26, 2010
So we are moving. We were hoping to have a contract by Tuesday, but maybe we’ll know if we can have on Thursday and get it Friday. That is just Colombia.
I think we’re going to enjoy our new surroundings, except that the view won’t be the same. We are hoping for less noise, a more reliable water heater, better administration, and a lot more things close. We have things close, and nice things close, but we will have more.
We will still have three bedrooms for all those visitors (in one year we have only had one of you ever visit, and that’s because we paid her way). We will be awfully close to the bus that connects us with the gateway to the rest of the city (I think that’s going to work out pretty well), and in a year or so, perhaps a connection to two of the gateways (hubs from which the big red buses depart for all the other hubs). We are feeling well connected to this place.
Might go down on the internet a few days because of this, though. Telmex apparently can take up to a week to getting around, and if they have to put in new wires, it will may be longer. So we will have to settle in and go for things and probably write.
I was writing the other day, having two arepas and two coffees all for the low price of 4800 COPs, which isn’t even $3, at old El Faro down near where they had the bomb recently. It went well, and I hope to persevere on that.
Reading? Orestes Brownson from the library, and he’s like Chesterton in such a way I think I might essay a speculative comparison. And all the assorted others from my own library I pick at slowly to make them last: Plato’s Symposium, Dawson on Christianity and Culture, Yeat’s marvelous prose, Boswell, Lewis, etc.
Studying? I have lived in repentance of having gone too fast last Sunday in my class and having overlooked something the significance of which still eludes me (the exchange of gegraptais which become eiretai—something is going on, but what?). So I’m going to just take the next two verses and work on relationships and implications. It has led me to remember how and why I identify myself nowadays: a Christian, a Protestant and a Baptist. I am not going to announce this in my lesson—though I don’t hide it—but I still don’t identify myself as Reformed and I am thinking I’m never likely to do it. It depends in what context, of course. There are people I would not hesitate to tell that I’m Reformed, but I don’t think what is usually meant by Reformed really is all that compatible with Baptist (interesting how it is Reformed Baptists who are backing off on the covenant of works, and I think there’s a logic to that). Reformed for people means connections with Geneva and I have the feeling that has to work out to paedobaptism and a more Presbyterian polity. I really think those who look askance within Reformed circles at Reformed Baptists have a point, though we have a whole lot in common. I am, anyway, a Baptist before I am reformed, and for me Protestant means everything Luther implies when he says Persuaded by Scripture and reason—marvelous, crucial statement.
It is interesting to think how easily I could explain it to a Reformed Baptist congregation. I was always, in fundamentalism, among people who considered themselves Calvinists without accepting definite atonement. Reformed Baptists would never consider that Calvinism (and perhaps the reason the term is used is that amyraldianism, with all its accuracy, doesn’t set things apart the way it is wanted; I know, they’ll argue that it really is Calvinism because it has most of the thing and is determinism, but remember I’m explaining to a Reformed Baptist congregation and they just don’t even think that way; whatever you think, I personally do not care for Calvin and have not read him or have interest in doing so except that I sometimes wonder if I’m not missing out on a good theologian, but I’m a determinist and what this world calls an infralapsarian, which in most places I’ve been is designated Calvinism, though infralapsarian is perhaps the more accurate term). Then explain that it’s something the same with the term Reformed when adopted in a Baptist context.
Obviously the term means the whole Reformation, but we don’t generally apply it to Lutherans, or mean it for Lutherans or even Anglicans, do we? In the same way, I wonder if it should be applied to Baptists, and I don’t really wonder. Protestant does me nicely.
Posted by unknowing on August 25, 2010
This is probably going to get shot down (too open ended, too basic at times, too likely to stop certain students cold, and really too subjective for teachers to evaluate), but I’m trying to get it into the advanced progress test as part of the reading evaluation. I never know, though, what my boss is going to say so I gave it a shot. Here it is for you to see what sort of things I try to get away with.
Acquainted with the Night
by Robert Frost
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
O luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
How, or for what purpose, is Frost using the present perfect tense?
What action dominates A) the first verse, B) the second verse, C) the third?
A)_________________, B)__________________, C)___________________.
Would you say the setting is urban or rural? Why?
Find the superlative adjectives. What does Frost use them for, or what does he mean?
What is he unwilling to explain to the watchman?
What cause can you think of for an interrupted cry?
At what point does uncertainty enter the poem?
What if the clock is not a real clock but something else he sees? What could it be?
Does this interpretation help you understand the words “neither wrong nor right”? How, or why?
Consider how certain the first line of the poem is. Now go to the next to the last line: what has happened to certainty?
How would you say that first line has changed by the time it is used to close the poem?
Posted by unknowing on August 23, 2010
Remembering my own deep imperfections I would think and speak with charity of all who take upon them the worthy Name by which we Christians are called. But if I see aright, the cross of popular evangelicalism is not the cross of the New Testament. It is, rather, a new bright ornament upon the bosom of a self-assured and carnal Christianity whose hands are indeed the hands of Abel, but whose voice is the voice of Cain. The old cross slew men; the new cross entertains them. The old cross condemned; the new cross amuses. The old cross destroyed confidence in the flesh; the new cross encourages it. The old cross brought tears and blood; the new cross brings laughter. The flesh, smiling and confident, preaches and sings about the cross; before that cross it bows and toward that cross it points with carefully staged histrionics—but upon that cross it will not die, and the reproach of that cross it stubbornly refuses to bear.
—A. W. Tozer
Posted by unknowing on August 23, 2010
O HOLY, blessed, glorious Three,
Eternal witnesses that be
In heaven, One God in Trinity !
As here on Earth, when men withstood,
The Spirit, Water, and the Blood
Made my Lord’s Incarnation good :
So let the anti-types in me
Elected, bought, and seal’d for free,
Be own’d, sav’d, sainted by you Three !
Posted by unknowing on August 22, 2010
Jesus, my life ! how shall I truly love Thee?
O that Thy spirit would so strongly move me :
That Thou wert pleas’d to shed Thy grace so far
As to make man all pure love, flesh a star !
A star that would ne’er set, but ever rise,
So rise and run as to out-run these skies,
These narrow skies, narrow to me, that bar,
Sor bar me in that I am still at war,
At constant war with them. O come, and rend
Or bow the heavens ! Lord, bow them and descend.
And at Thy presence make these mountains flow,
These mountains of cold ice in me ! Thou art
Refining fire, O then refine my heart,
My foul, foul heart ! Thou art immortal heat ;
Heat motion gives ; then warm it, till it beat ;
So beat for Thee, till Thou in mercy hear ;
So hear, that Thou must open ; open to
A sinful wretch, a wretch that caus’d Thy woe ;
Thy woe. Who caus’d his weal ; so far his weal
That Thou forgott’st Thine own, for Thou didst seal
Mine with Thy blood, Thy blood which makes Thee mine,
Mine ever, ever ; and me ever Thine.
Posted by unknowing on August 22, 2010
O God, Thou knowest my foolishness,
and my sins are not hid from Thee.
Lord, Thou knowest all my desire,
and my groaning is not hid from Thee.
Let not them that trust in Thee,
O Lord God of hosts,
be ashamed for my cause;
let not those that seek Thee be confounded
O Lord God of Israel.
from Lancelot Andrewes’ Private Devotions.
This is an expression that runs deep, so deep it is remarkable in its humility. And it is humbling to be faced with such humility.
It comes at the end of the Confession section of his Wednesday prayers. I have found, after reading through these for years now, that his Wednesday prayers are still the ones that most make me pause. This section here is one of many, and I have found that not only do the expressions run deep: the source of his expressions runs deep.
Remarkable—and intriguing—is that what I have is a translation from the original Greek. What is remarkable is how much of the phrasing of Scripture is present in his text. How is it in the original? I don’t know how to put my finger on it exactly, but there is a seamlessness of diction and feeling that wells out of the most ancient sources of our religion and runs through this translation with such crystal purity, one is tempted to think the original really must have been a translation from the English that Newman ingeniously recovered.
What is orthopathy? This is orthopathy; Andrewes’ expression is right feeling. And the great virtue of Andrewes’ is how close he weds it, how he connects is back to that supreme expression of English language orthopathy, the King James Version, a version not only wedded to our literary culture and crucial to it, it is a work lives very close to the genius of our language (that is at least what I take Richard Mitchell to mean when he says it is one of God’s three gifts to the English language).
What is language for? Correct expression, you might say. There is a distinction between feeling and expression, but there should be no division. These are like the two natures of Christ, and should be joined forever without confusion, without change, inseparable and indivisible.
In much of this little book, I think this distinction without division holds.
My Barfield buddy JS Allen put up something that made me think of this neglected essay (I wrote it a while back and never posted it because I didn’t think there was a lot of shared appreciation for the KJV among my readers). It can look a bit narcissistic to link to something linking back to me, but . . . well, don’t look at it that way. The way he compares the NIV and the KJV is very good, and all of it goes around in the end to Dandelionend, which is not a bad place to start.
“In dreams begins responsibility” — William Butler Yeats
Posted by unknowing on August 21, 2010
I feel that that inaccessible and ever present dome, the sovereignty of God, is shining hard and coming closer over me these days, but in a strange way, bringing all my life to concentrate on a point. That point has to do with a little book. The book contains the poetry and exclamations of Theresa of Avila, who knew in this life a taste of rapture and the length of misery, and whose love was concentrated beyond the world. Perhaps I am caught between this taste, this consciousness of misery and the joy of C. S. Lewis in this created order.
Circumstances force me to hold and handle the ideas. Here I am waiting, in a life that seems characterized by nothing so much as a long holding pattern.
I was evaluated by my director recently. He’s hard to satisfy, understands the theory and practice of an EFL classroom in a way I think I never will, and has the wholesome effect of making me feel like a complete failure. If I am making progress, it is gradual, and because of it I feel, in this, on hold.
But that’s not all. On top of this is the general, light but steady pressure of not having a career. It comes from without, mostly; I don’t believe God put me in this life to have a career, but there are those who think otherwise (no doubt the modern notion that we are what we do, rather than the true notion that we are what we love; people who do not always mean well enough to get their ideas straight before they inflict them on others). Because it is hard to accept unquestioned one’s own interpretation of things—self doubt being part of my temperament and a good part of my academic training—from time to time this pressure which of old steered me and more recently has been sometimes altogether pointed and direct has not always encountered the inner determination of resistance it deserves.
Here I am waiting, also, for a situation that I have no part in, and which has ground to impasse, to reach a resolution for more to happen between me and the church. A hard one to wait on, that one.
And all of it has the power of draining some of the color from the world, to introduce a greater effort and a greater weariness on all. And so that comforting and great protective dome is seen in its inexorability. I know it grinds my unrefined ideas, it teaches me I haven’t learned to wait, and while I read Theresa points me to an understanding I would not otherwise have had. And I am almost ready to be glad.
You do not delight enough in your Father’s world until you wake up every morning in heaven—or something close says Thomas Traherne. I’m dying of not dying—says Theresa, full of longing for one thing which she knows is all the joy of life. All my fresh springs are in thee—says the psalmist of Zion. And how do you coordinate these things?
I am learning here to struggle. I have been learning it all of my life, to struggle out of my weakness. And I would be something strong. Nor do I regret, out of all my memories of life, the precious difficulties that have strengthened me though at the time I had to wonder and they made me think, put things together yet more carefully. For over me is an inaccessible and ever present dome which contains my universe, which shapes it to my size, and which I know is gradually expanding.
Posted by unknowing on August 20, 2010
Luke 4:5 And the devil, taking him up into an high mountain, shewed unto him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time.
What was it that appeared to him
of all the splendor, wealth and power
of all the kingdoms of the world
time’s Babel and the devil’s tower?
was what the devil lacked. Had he
not seen the splendor of the court
of God? To show preposterously
the mud and brick of Babylon
of Egypt, Greece, all humankind
to one who knew . . . the devil’s not
that dumb but rather blind.
It must be he did not believe
what Jesus quoted him before;
the word came without power—
in his deafness—so he must ignore
the truth and say, “This man is just
another man susceptible
to all the splendor, wealth and power
of the leopard and the bear,
the lion and the awful beast
with crushing feet and crushing teeth—
the lust of empire in one moment’s time . . .”
What happened in that moment’s time?
A flash of insight, what it meant
that strange, distorted meaning
and all the awfulness it lent
a vision conjured not of dreams
but an unresting adversary
who sought to call and not to call,
to picture in obscurity
not kingdoms but his blinding pride,
who thought he held and offered
a lie more splendid than the truth.
How little must have suffered
in a moment that could never last
of that obscure deceit our Lord.
One moment-long it all held fast
and then it vanished in a word.
Posted by unknowing on August 19, 2010
I don’t know if you know about modality in English verbs, but those of us who start to teach English start to cease believing in the future tense. The future, tense, as you will already know, is formed by using the auxiliary “will.” But upon examination, “will” is found to resemble awfully that class of verbs we use to express modality: possibility, ability, obligation, etc.
Then you start to teach the uses of the present and present continuous, which we like to use to express the future (My flight departs tomorrow; I’m going to travel to Aruba), you really begin to question the future tense. Could it better be classified as modality?
The thing is slippery. No doubt the concept of the future exists, and perhaps the English future tense is on the whole an aspect of modality, but when you think of explaining it as such, you run into complications.
It probably has to do with the uncertainty the future brings up. If you “will” to do something, you’re really saying you have the desire and have so decided. But what if you’re talking about another agent? Take the arrival of a plane: when ought it to arrive, or should it, or will it? If you say the plane will arrive on time, you’re really making a statement about what you believe.That’s no way to explain something to basic English students.
The future is that way, it’s uncertain. The plane will arrive on time, for example, is more certain than The plane should arrive on time, or even The plane ought to arrive on time. But is it as certain as, The plane arrives at 11:30—with the present tense?
You probably noticed the modal use of “will” in the first paragraph: as you will already know. Try to classify that as a future tense! Perhaps somebody will classify it as a sort of anticipation by the writer of the occasion of the reading; but haven’t you ever heard it spoken? You probably have, and it was meant as a present (it is an amplification, but not an uncommon one, of As you know). It could be a present meaning of the future tense, the way we have a future meaning of the present tense. But what if you classify it as a modality of belief on the speaker’s part? I’m sure you know, or, I believe you are informed that . . . It works, and it makes more sense. The speaker is checking, or doing it for rhetorical effect, or buying time to think with circumlocutions. But the speaker is not saying that the knowledge will come subsequently.
We substitute “will” for the more exact “do” in the situation above—we certainly never say As you do already know, though it does seem logical under the circumstances—because “will” has a modal function and “do” does not. I am certain of it. And the suspicion that is growing, is that it never really ceases to have it.
Posted by unknowing on August 18, 2010
Muero porque no muero —Theresa of Avila
There are two sorts of impatience. One is the impatience of the shallow with the ways of deep spirituality, the other is the impatience of the spiritual for the end, for something even better. And the relationship between them is that one ought to give way to the other. An impatience of quantity ought to give way to one of quality. We need to be slow and deep because true spirituality requires time.
Time for what? time to approach our prayers, time to study Scripture, time for meditation and reflection. Our age is all against it because the religion of prosperity must receive its dues in time; it has a devouring impatience of quantity.
When I was young I used to play by candle light. My father would go to the capital and returned bearing gifts, and at one point it was a steady supply of large, interesting candles. The reason for his choice was the not infrequent power failures. For those times each of us now had his own personal candle.
What we would also do would be to rise before five, light our candles at the stove and then go play by candle light. Much singed hair, I remember, and the smell of it, but I also have the mixture in my memory of the pleasure, the secret delight and the light of a candle.
When I began to work overnight during my last months in the USA, I was growing rapidly in my understanding of poetry. I was done with seminary and moving toward more freedom of investigation and perhaps of inquiry. I worked four ten-hour shifts with the result that I entered into the long life of the night, especially on my days off. I occupied myself very naturally with reading, writing, music and as well began to draw.
The writing of stories and poetry, the moments of communion with God, the varied reading from my not inconsiderable library and the creative discovery not only of poetry but also some of the rudiments of drawing, in the night, with the regular going out for walks, all came together in a golden way, like the flame of a candle in the darkness: a taste of a better life to come.
Our age, in its structure of living, it its ways and turnings is against this sort of life, though the age is disorganized enough to permit it at random. And this sort of candle life cannot be sustained merely by itself. It requires a purpose, a society into which it contributes and from which it draws sustenance. And my question is, is this function within the purposes of the church?
What else will connect with the spiritual vitality we need and which the religion of prosperity denies? Still, I am not sure the fostering of such society is in the purposes of the church, but such society has to be very close to a church because there really does not appear to me any other place to give the ideas it needs the kind of shelter and nourishment these require.
Which is the point at which our present spiritual impatience swims into view. That is something the church can and ought to resist, spreading by means of doctrine, instruction and application the ideas that form the basis of a life that values deeper spirituality and along with that, or for that same reason, deeper life in general. It is part of its paradoxical mission that the sort of spiritual impatience it fosters has a way of filling all of life, but at the same time opens the door of expectation for something better, more complete.*
*Dawson examines the change from the monasticism of withdrawal and contemplation to the rise of the mendicant orders, friars active in the world in service and preaching. What was it in Western Civilization that cause this? He points to the thinking of Augustine, the contrast between the city of man and the city of God. The principle at the heart of the first is the love of self, that at the heart of the second is love of God. And this spiritual principle working itself out in the world while always looking beyond it is what transformed the spiritual benefit of withdrawal and contemplation into an active force in human society.
Posted by unknowing on August 17, 2010
I wanted to write a review of Carnage and Culture, but couldn’t quite make the thing work. So let me be brief.
1 I value the work as an anti-sentimental tonic. It is hard headed, it is focused on answering its questions. It is an example to me and a rebuke, and for that it is valuable.
2 It is a long work, and the effect is due to his thoroughness. Hanson examines his history carefully and, I think, convincingly. No doubt the book has its critics, but these critics no doubt have a job that requires a lot of research. The buildings of Hanson’s arguments are well made.
3 It spans a lot of history and is valuable just for the places to which it takes you, the customs and manners and views and concerns on display. He puts things together well, and the result is interesting.
His thesis is that ideas win wars, that culture is what has made the West the power that it is, even on the battlefield. Each battle highlights a different idea, but all of them work together to show the superiority, when it comes to war, of Western Civilization. An audacious thesis in this age.
I read it in a Spanish translation. Very good translation: I can recommend it. You can get one now at a discounted price at the Bogota Book Fair.
Posted by unknowing on August 16, 2010
One day Alfred Lord Rabbit made an observation to which one of his snide pals made this characteristically sarcastic remark, “Aren’t you glad you spoke out, Alfred?”
“Best thing I ever did, Bunk!” replied Alfred Lord Rabbit, flippantly. And that’s when things really became strange, because all of a sudden Brevarious P. Unk came back with:
“Oh Lord Rabbit, are you saying that I’m the antichrist? Please repent and remember what the Bible says in the book of Jude. [Here follows the entire Gospel of Jude which I will not reproduce for fear of copyright infringement] Your use of exclamation points makes me need to ask if in anything I have ever offended you. If so, please point it out to me with chapter and verse and a citation from somebody Reformed. And if not, then repent of having called me the antichrist. I hold no ill will toward you and just want to see you reach your full rabbit potential. Because you are my brother in Christ, I will continue to browbeat you in this illogical manner with all the urgency and hysteria that I get out of reading the Bible while pretending I’m your mom and John Calvin rolled into one. Shucks, just the other day I was painting a vignette of my life in the style of Norman Rockwell and it gave me no end of blessing to see how straight and true little old untrained me appeared when bravely confronting some intellectual Goliath that at that moment was brought my way by God to try and show me how plucky I really am.”
Space control to Major Tom—thought Lord Rabbit—here am I flying in a tin can/far above the world. Planet earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do . . . have I denied my historic separatist position? This is the way the world ends/this is the way the world ends/this is the way the world ends/not with a bang but a whimper.
When Alfred Lord Rabbit went home and told his wife, who was toasting cheese as the custom is among the Welsh, it suddenly all made sense to her. This, in turn, saved her a lot of time as she did not have to read the unendurably endless threads which had developed on Remonstrans in strange kinship to the Internet Roach Motel where the tunnels and (I almost said warrens)(well, why not? its the right word, though its coincidental) warrens end without coming to any conclusion (much like the Transcendental Arrangement inhabited by The Raven and the Janitor Angelicus] wait -]?, no! =). As a result, she baked a pie in honor of Brevarious P. Unk which along with some fresh roasted coffee was duly consumed by the three main personages herein mentioned and which contained four and twenty blackbirds of the more eatable variety, the symbolism of which entirely eluded everybody.
Posted by unknowing on August 14, 2010
The cloakroom pegs are empty now,
And locked the classroom door,
The hollow desks are lined with dust,
And slow across the floor
A sunbeam creeps between the chairs
Till the sun shines no more.
Who did their hair before this glass?
Who scratched ‘Elaine loves Jill’
One drowsy summer sewing-class
With scissors on the sill?
Who practised this piano
Whose notes are now so still?
Ah, notices are taken down,
And scorebooks stowed away,
And seniors grow tomorrow
From the juniors today,
And even swimming groups can fade,
Games mistresses turn grey.
Posted by unknowing on August 14, 2010
I have class on Thursdays at 11:30 AM on the corner of 7th and 70th. The bomb exploded at 5:30 AM on the block of 7th and 67th. I thought it was thunder when I heard it from my apartment. Then at my 7 AM class my student informed me about the event. We learned soon afterward that the president beat the mayor to the scene and the explanation was that the mayor had to ask his mom what he should do first (the mayor is held in very low esteem). We expect the mayor (on the advice of him mother, presumably) to enact expensive, annoying and futile measures. We expect considerably more from the president.
So I had class on 3rd and 54th at 11 AM instead. Hardly talked about the bomb. Talked about how my student got out of jail thanks to a smart lawyer and an imprisoned journalist.
Security has been relaxing: with less bomb sniffing dogs and one getting into shopping centers without having security check any bags one is carrying. I expect that’s going to change.
One 50 kilo bomb ruined the car it was in, smashed a lot of glass, sealed off a good area of an important street and managed to injure 9 people. The explosion also sounded over the radio as the station targeted was broadcasting, but it was awfully early in the morning. Before my 11 AM class, I walked around as close as I could get to it, but there really wasn’t twisted wreckage to see, just shattered windows and some blackened buildings. Once again, the inept communists (I’m guessing its the FARC) show how they are willing to destroy the world for the sake of improving humanity, and exactly how competent they are. They managed to get 50 kilos of explosives into a car and blow it up in a city of 9 million people without causing a single death.
The government has decided not to offer a reward for information—I’m guessing that decision was taken at the national level, not the local level. And life goes on.
Posted by unknowing on August 12, 2010
The official statements of any institution are usually the last thing on my reading list unless I’m looking for trouble. Too boring and too fake, or too silly, like a resolution (forgive my persistent lack of formality on this point, but they’re just ridiculous most of the time and pointless, unless one is looking for trouble). So I was not aware of Central Seminary’s ETHOS STATEMENT ON FUNDAMENTALISM & EVANGELICALISM.
Since I don’t watch TV but still have the modern habit of entertainment, I keep an eye on the sap flowing from some of the trees and found that It’s Official: Central Baptist Theological Seminary Refutes Its Historic Separatistic Position.
Refutes seems like the wrong word, but then I don’t think the chap meant to put Refines.
Yay!–I thought–perhaps a tussle will emerge. Well, for reasons that are pretty obvious what is shouted in some corners of North Dakota isn’t heard a lot of places elsewhere. I saw and somewhat partook in some of the online response to the non-merger of the school from which I graduated (not the mother of my soul because there’s one true mother of MY soul: Northland International University, formerly, and in my day, Northland Baptist Bible College, may she rest in peace). But lost in all that was this:
Because of these differences, we do not believe that complete cooperation with conservative evangelicalism is desirable. Nevertheless, we find that we have much more in common with conservative evangelicals (who are slightly to our Left) than we do with hyper-Fundamentalists (who are considerably to our Right), or even with revivalistic Fundamentalists (who are often in our back yard). In conservative evangelicals we find allies who are willing to challenge not only the compromise of the gospel on the Left, but also the pragmatic approach to Christianity that typifies so many evangelicals and Fundamentalists. For this reason, we believe that careful, limited forms of fellowship are possible.
I hope the part about the Right works out.
Posted by unknowing on August 11, 2010
The world often forgets the truth below displayed, and I feel it is part of my solemn duty to post a regular reminder:
Posted by unknowing on August 9, 2010
Posted by unknowing on August 7, 2010
One of the chaps I was in school with reflecting on the effects of living in another country. He’s not the only one who says these things, I was just hearing them from another place the other day. This concern with proficiency in one’s own language is real. And there are only two responses that one can have to it: give up or struggle on, both of which have their own peculiar effects on the person’s character and personality.
The whole thing is baffling sometimes, and you never quite escape the feeling that you’re losing, and like David in Chile, that you ought to apologize beforehand because you know there’s something crucial you’re going to miss because you’re not really a part of the place in which you find yourself.
Posted by unknowing on August 7, 2010