Posted on by bak5187

Angels, Sporks and the Sacred Thresholds of Life

“But Daddy, what if there are monsters?”

Our two oldest have been frequently asking this question. Almost always when encouraged to go on their own to another, usually unlit, room in the house to retrieve something of need.

It’s pretty fascinating how universal this fear of monsters is among kids. Certainly the result of a combination of learned behaviors and deeply embedded instincts. Instincts needed for our ancestors to survive in the wilderness. Much like a house cat’s reflex when it mistakes a cucumber for a snake out of the corner of its eye.

And it got me thinking about something in the Bible that I’ve struggled to understand and that also happens to be considered frightening at times… Angels.

Despite the sanitized depiction of them in renaissance artwork and Christian merchandise, they are described in an assortment of ways in the Bible, with some actually sounding fairly… well… frightening.

Yes, in Genesis Lot and Abraham are visited by angels that appeared just like humans. And the writer of Hebrews acknowledges Christians may unknowingly interact with them. But in other places we see them described as multi-winged creatures (Isaiah). Other descriptions are of some type of hybrid creature with the four faces of a human, eagle, lion and ox (Ezekiel). And others where it says they are covered in eyes (Revelation).

It reminds me of someone’s joke that they made a biblically accurate angel tree topper. This is nightmare fuel.

Throughout the Gospels, the accounts of people’s interactions with angels at both Jesus’ birth and his resurrection are consistently ones of fear and angels reassuring them to not be afraid.

It took me a while to realize how many passages describe angels far differently than the harmless porcelain cherubs that adorn many yards and curio cabinets. Once I did however, these passages started to make more sense.

And there may be no better time to explore this topic than the lead up to Easter, which features a story involving angels at the empty tomb.

WALL-E and the Spork

Roughly six years ago I wrote a post about WALL-E exemplifying a messianic figure in modern storytelling. The plot has many parallels with Jesus’ parable of the prodigal sons and similarly invites viewers to a different way of approaching life. To this day, that remains one of the most enjoyable posts to write.

Since then I’ve realized there’s far more gems that can be mined from this cinematic masterpiece. And one in particular that I think can help explain the role of angels.

There’s a short scene towards the beginning of the film that, up until recently, I wrote off as strictly comic relief. It’s the scene where he is sorting his treasures from the day and cannot figure out how to categorize the spork he found.

Unable to fit the spork neatly into either of his spoon and fork collections, WALL-E places it in the middle as a transition between the two. It is a simple scene. No words needed. It is a lighthearted way of depicting the consciousness that has miraculously developed in this trash-compacting robot.

Intentional or not, I think this little scene is a great distillation of the movie’s plot.

Fittingly the spork and WALL-E’s placement of it in this transitional space, represents the place WALL-E occupies within the movie. Sporks are uncanny and unique. They share some features of both forks and spoons but do not fit cleanly into either category.

WALL-E is a type of hybrid himself. A robot capable of human emotions. A hardworking trash collector who gazes at the stars. And as such he mediates the gap between humans and robots.

Just as WALL‑E recognizes the spork cannot belong exclusively in one category, Scripture often presents beings that occupy the space between worlds. The spork scene playfully mirrors the same tension that angels embody — creatures that bridge heaven and earth, matter and spirit, fear and reassurance.

Hybrids, Monsters and Mediators

Hybrids and monsters often play similar roles in stories. Fluffy, the large three-headed dog in Harry Potter, guards the door to the Sorcerer’s Stone. Alioth, the chaos monster from the TV show Loki, guards the End of Time from all other timelines. The Sphinx in Egyptian and Greek mythology guards locations of divinity. Even dragons (traditionally understood as mixtures of serpents, birds and cats), like Smaug from The Hobbit or Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty guard treasure, castles or princesses.

These creatures are often found in these transitional, or “liminal” areas.

Monsters like Alioth, Smaug and Maleficent serve as agents of chaos and destruction. Others like Fluffy and the Sphinx are more domesticated, serving as guardians. Gargoyles actually line the exterior of some churches to represent spiritual guardianship. And yet others can serve as helpful mediators and ambassadors.

The common thread for all of these however is where they are found. They are in these liminal spaces between where the protagonist in a story stands now and what’s next, for better or worse.

It’s this exact paradigm that causes children to fear monsters in dark rooms. What does happen next? “What if there are monsters?”

Angels as Mediators

After the fall in Genesis 3, cherubim are assigned the role of guarding the garden. The cherubim and seraphim were located within the temple in the Holy of Holies delineating the space where only God’s presence is located from the outer parts of the Temple. Angels move back and forth between heaven and earth by the ladder in Jacob’s dream.

And maybe most surprisingly is how often they met people in the wilderness, at their low points, when God would use these interactions to mold them for what comes after the wilderness. Jacob, Moses, Elijah, and yes, even Jesus too during his temptation in the wilderness were all ministered to by angels.

Angels are consistently used by God as messengers and ambassadors to encourage and support many who are lost in the wilderness of life.

So what do we make of this?

Union, Not Just Mediation

Angels are often encountered at the sacred thresholds of life. In those valleys and challenging seasons of life which present the “wilderness” situations where God can best mold us. And angels can help mediate heaven and earth for us in those seasons, even if we are unaware of their presence at that time.

But this pattern also points us to Jesus. Fully man yet fully God. A seemingly impossible combination. One that we Christians can spend a lifetime struggling to grasp. And I think that’s okay.

And as we prepare for Easter, we can be reminded, as the author of Hebrews points out, that Jesus was even greater than the angels. Where the angels help mediate heaven and earth, through Jesus’ incarnation, life, death and resurrection he will consummate the union of heaven and earth. For just as WALL-E’s sacrifice of himself yielded the restoration of earth in the movie, Jesus’s sacrifice on the cross provides the bridge between heaven and earth.

And so when we, kids and adults alike, get scared of the unknown, whether it be potential monsters, the hopelessness of a difficult season, or maybe even interaction with an angel, I think it’s a helpful reminder that God can be found in those places too.

And that by walking through sacred thresholds where heaven and earth meet, with the aid of angels and his Son, he often shapes us for what comes next, in both this age and the one to come.

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Radiator Springs and Other Forgotten Places

“Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.” Jeremiah 29:7

One of the least discussed plights facing our culture today has gone unnoticed – the neglect of place.

When the location where you live feels forgotten, all sorts of unfortunate issues arise. The people by extension likewise feel overlooked. The economic base fades. The third places (social settings beyond home and work/school) vanish. Hope disappears and despair fills the voids. Boarded-up buildings and despair often set the stage for the fiercest political movements of both the left and right.

Setting aside politics for a second, it’s important to note that this very dynamic is what J.D. Vance wrote in his bestseller Hillbilly Elegy. Despite its focus predominantly on the issues plaguing Middletown, Ohio, the implication was that his experiences in this one town were representative of the experiences of wide swaths of the population.

The shift of industry to other countries, while arguably being a net economic benefit to the country on the whole, left in its wake many towns with no more economic opportunity, and a host of issues gave rise. Issues that he and his family had to contend with and that many readers could relate to.

This book came out before Vance’s move to politics, and was actually well received early on by those on both sides of the political aisle for explaining the undercurrents that gave rise to Trump’s initial election.

But I think this exact issue can also be observed in communities that tend to vote for Democrats as well. It’s hard for me not to hear the voices of many in poor parts of cities and other urbanized areas that likewise feel unseen and experience many of the same hardships, even if they manifest in slightly different ways.

And I actually think there’s more held in common for this exact reason than many are willing to admit. That maybe these current political movements share a similar root cause of forgotten places.

Accidental Community Destruction

Domicide, the destruction of communities and homes is sometimes intentionally done. War, genocide, exile… It can be purposefully used as punishment.

But it doesn’t always take that form. The loss of home, whether deliberate or by accident still hurts. And it’s the latter, where sometimes other priorities outweighed that of preserving communities, that most often goes unnoticed.

That’s why I found it so fascinating that a kids’ movie would provide one of the best artistic expressions of this very phenomenon.

That scene in the movie Cars showed how the construction of the highway, while more efficient for travel than the prior road network, had essentially starved the little town of Radiator Springs of all traffic. The once lively and bustling town was now a withered shell of its former self.

Was anything done maliciously to hurt the residents of Radiator Springs? No, this was a cost that came with the construction of the highway. As is the case with most new technologies or societal changes, there are those who benefit and those who don’t. That’s not to say this is necessarily a zero-sum game. Nor is it always abundantly clear beforehand who the winners and losers will be.

But as is always the case, there’s no such thing as a free lunch.

How many towns feel the same today? We’re surrounded by many. For every success story like Bethlehem and Easton’s revivals over the past couple of decades (largely due to proximity to major highways and other cities), there are probably hundreds in Appalachia alone that are still dying. Why is that?

Modern Society’s Devaluing of Place

Modern society struggles with this in a few respects. Many ways that prior generations and cultures did not. Here are a few I’ve noticed.

Technology and prosperity have made it more possible than ever to travel, relocate, or simply choose to isolate. And so while past generations to some degree were “forced” to remain a part of their community, today it is far easier to choose one’s own path, which despite having some appealing and even good elements, also carries the risk of isolation. The end result though is that permanence and consistency are far less common today.

Second, success for many young adults is framed as leaving as opposed to staying. Leaving to go to college. Leaving to go to more urbanized areas where pay is typically better. When these students do not return to their hometowns we are depriving these smaller communities of those who could have been doctors, teachers, and active participants in their communities. Staying is rarely celebrated. It’s hard to see how all the shuffling we have done of young adults has not played some role in the social upheaval we observe.

And while I tend to lean libertarian myself, I have to admit that markets can be a source of instability for communities. Does that mean markets should be abandoned? I’m certainly not of that opinion. But we have to recognize the trade offs that come with them, and some of those trade offs can be the undermining of towns.

And while there are many more issues that could be listed, one more I think that’s worth noting is not necessarily an issue isolated to modern culture. It’s one that I believe has been fairly universal throughout human history. That class divisions very often coincide with locale and are so so difficult to overcome.

Lightning McQueen and Mater

It’s part of what makes Cars such a great story. The celebrity race car is forced to condescend and live alongside cars very different from himself. This is made most apparent through the character of Mater, a highbilly pickup truck who is from a completely different social setting. It is by Lightning McQueen’s active care for the town of Radiator Springs that he finds a far better life. And Radiator Springs is the place that facilitates the character development.

Having a stable community and home matters. And while Radiator Springs was able to be revived by Lightning McQueen’s mere presence, the model of using celebrities or being blessed by the proximity of major highways aren’t sustainable answers for the vast majority of our towns and cities.

That’s why the verse from Jeremiah is so moving. He’s directing a people who have just been taken into exile to care for the city they now live in. They aren’t in Jerusalem anymore. They have been scattered from their homeland by the Babylonians. And yet, Jeremiah encourages them to seek the prosperity of the city to which God has carried them.

So what does that mean for us? To seek the prosperity of the communities we live within will require making some sacrifices of time, money and effort to get connected. Possibly choosing to stay at a job longer and resisting the urge to optimize our personal resume and pay to allow deep roots to form. Choosing to be around other people who may be difficult to connect with instead of taking the “easier” route of isolating. And maybe deciding to take the longer trip on the backroads to pay a visit to those overlooked communities, both literally and figuratively.

For by doing this I think we can all follow a similar character arc to that of Lightning McQueen. A broadening of our perspective to see beyond our own personal endeavors and the potential blessing that can be brought to those around us. Hopefully similar revivals to the places we call home, much like we saw with Radiator Springs.

For they don’t revive by themselves. They are saved by those who stay, even when it’s difficult, and care for them.

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6 7: Two Ways of Living in the World

“Hey Dad! Hey Dad! 6 7!”

Accompanied by a juggling hand motion, Tristan was showing off the new meme he had learned at school.

For those adults who are completely unaware of what I’m referring to, kids just say the numbers “6 7” and typically laugh to themselves.

This phrase has gone viral among kids largely because it baffles the adults around them. “What does it mean?” “Is it something inappropriate?” “Why do they think this is so funny?” “It doesn’t make any sense!”

Fortunately, coworkers had forewarned me of this new fad that their older kids had been doing. We all knew it wasn’t anything nefarious. My coworkers were just perplexed by it.

What apparently started from a rap song and became widespread via an NBA player on social media had now spread far and wide. And I naively thought it would stay to the older grades.

Our son was recently gifted a car with the number 67 on it. Immediately Tristan remarks, “Dad, look it’s 6-7!”

The temperature hits 67 degrees on the thermostat. He collects 67 rings in his new Sonic game. Football score pops up and in all cases… you guessed it… “6 7.”

Does Tristan know the origin of this? Not at all. And the same can be said for probably 90% of the kids playing around with this. For them it’s the intrigue of it. It’s playful. It’s an inside joke. It’s nonsensical. And the frustration it causes for some parents and other adults in their lives is what makes it that much more appealing to them.

It got me thinking though how coincidental it is that the two numbers in this little joke happen to be two of the most interesting, and in some ways intriguing, numbers in the Bible. 6 and 7.

The Biblical Meanings of Numbers

There are many numbers in the Bible that seem to communicate more than just their numerical value. 3, 12, and 40 are a few of them.

3, a number of divinity or completion. Jesus rose on the third day. Jonah was in the belly of the fish for three days. The Trinity – Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Even the repetition of a word three times in ancient Hebrew and Greek languages meant something was the absolute form of the word. Consider the phrase Holy, Holy, Holy (Isaiah 6:3), which essentially means “the holiest” in our language today.

12, which refers to God’s people on earth. The 12 tribes of Israel. The 12 disciples. The 144,000 people referred to in Revelation (12 x 12 x 1,000). The 12 gates of the new Jerusalem.

And 40, a number that corresponds with trials and periods of refinement. The 40 days and nights of the flood. 40 years in the wilderness after the Exodus. Jesus’ 40 days of fasting. 40 days of Lent. 40 days from Jesus’ resurrection to his ascension.

Does ascribing symbolic or theological meaning to these numbers mean that they didn’t “literally” occur in that manner? Not at all. But I do think understanding the deeper underlying pattern of these numbers enriches how we interpret these passages.

So What About 6 and 7?

7 is used more widely. The number of days of creation. The number of trips around Jericho before the walls fell. The Sabbath day. Sabbatical years (every 7th). The year of Jubilee (after 49 years or 7 x 7). The seven feasts of Israel. And the seven churches and angels referred to in Revelation.

It can be seen as a number of divine perfection or completion. It shows up consistently throughout the Bible and its symbolism is more widely understood.

But 6… is probably most known for the number 666, the mark of the beast from Revelation. But it also makes some other interesting appearances throughout the Bible.

Goliath’s height is six cubits and a span and had a spearhead weight of 600 shekels. Nebuchadnezzar’s statue is 60 cubits high and 6 cubits wide in Babylon. Even King Solomon is referred to as receiving 666 talents of gold yearly.

The number 6 feels like it has a mystery to it that rivals today’s “6 7”. Is it just coincidental that all of these references to 6 would just occur without some connective meaning? Is it possible that there was some deeper truth God was trying to convey to us? A common thread that ties all of these references together?

There are a range of interpretations on the meaning of 666 and the number 6 more broadly. One theory posited is that the number was meant to signify the Roman Emperor Nero. The Hebrew letters also had numerical values associated with them. Add those up for the name Nero Caesar in Hebrew and you get 666. It could have been a coded way of referring to the emperor while being subjected to oppression.

But another theory that I personally find more convincing allows us to see the significance of 6 more broadly than just ascribing it to one man or empire. One that draws out the consistent pattern for all those aforementioned references.

I think the key is found in the purpose of the sixth day of Creation, when man was created and our responsibilities were given. And maybe the best way to illustrate this is by considering a circle.

Remnants and Remainders

As we approach Pi Day (3/14) in a couple of months, which just so happens to be Tristan’s birthday too, math nerds celebrate this incredible phenomenon with circles. That the constant pi (π) used to calculate the circumference from a circle’s radius is constant and yet cannot be reduced to a definable fraction.

Most people in their childhood memorized the constant pi (π) to two decimal places – 3.14. Some strived to memorize many more decimal places than that. But no one can come close to memorizing the number of decimal places computers have calculated this value to.

By the end of last year computers had measured to 314 trillion decimal places. And yet, no repeating pattern has been found that would allow us to state a definitive number. Amazing!

For routine calculations we simplify this number, trimming off the extra decimal places to make it “close enough” for our purposes.

Funny enough the circumference of a circle is pretty close to 6 times the radius (2πr). The actual length however is 6 times the radius plus some remainder or remnant that we can’t calculate exactly and almost certainly never will.

Similarly, 6 in the Bible seems to correspond with man’s own dominion and that which we can control. It is calculable, predictable, rational, and replicable.

6 times the radius may get us close to the correct answer but we would still be discarding or ignoring the remnants and remainders needed to arrive at the actual answer.

This pattern extends beyond geometry too. Throughout many cultures and eras, man’s tendency to veer towards total control comes at the cost of those remnants and remainders that aren’t easily understood or are inconvenient.

Man’s dominion can turn into domination or totalitarianism. That was the error of Nero of Rome. The error of King Nebuchadnezzar in Babylon. The error of Goliath and the Amalekites. And even of King Solomon during the later chapters of his reign in Israel. We don’t have to think long to come up with modern versions of this exact impulse for control.

God called us to rule over the world and subdue it. But that was all to be done within the context of God’s ultimate rule over everything. The use of 6 in Biblical storytelling seems to emphasize the absence of Day 7, the day of God’s rest or, in other words, the day the God actually establishes his reign over his created cosmos.

666 (6 repeated three times) is the manifestation of the worst of man’s pride and the authoritarian actions that result. That is something we should all be on guard for in our hearts. The dismissal of the remnant and remainder. The exclusion of God, who can also be found in the margins, in the inexplicable, the irrational, and even the playful.

So whenever I hear “6 7” it reminds me to be intentional about leaving room for those things that can’t be measured or forced by our own efforts. Love, play, rest, and even relationships with inconvenient people because God has set an example in all of these.

And first and foremost making room for a god who calls us to lean not on our own strength and understanding, but on His. Even when it doesn’t completely make sense.

And maybe a similar humility spills over into how we parent.

“6 7”

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Wrestling with the Age of the Earth Question

The other day Tristan, my oldest (6-year-old) son, asked an excellent question.

“Dad, is Earth 2,025 years old?”

Kids have an innate gift for asking such seemingly simple yet profoundly difficult questions. Ones we adults don’t even think to ask and are often challenged to answer.

His intuition is natural. Why wouldn’t it be 2,025 years old? All of our calendars say as much.

Put on the spot, I don’t think I did a great job articulating my response. I obviously answered no, but the very apparent follow up questions were difficult to address. If you asked Tristan, he would likely say he had no idea what I was trying to say. It probably resembled something similar to this conversation between Calvin and his father…

Many Christians, like myself, will continue to wrestle through this dichotomy that has been handed to us. First, that the scientific consensus largely holds the belief in a very old Earth – billions of years old. And second, that if one were to take a very strict literal interpretation of the Bible, that Adam and Eve (and therefore we assume Earth) were created roughly 6,000 years ago.

This topic ignited theological, political, and cultural arguments in the early 20th century, due to the growing adoption of this new evolutionary theory, and the associated old Earth cosmology. It might seem trivial but, at its core, that fight was over whether the world was crafted with intentionality or simply the result of natural selection and randomness. Was the creative process top down or bottom up? Was there meaning and purpose to existence or not?

Those discussions have slowly faded over the past several generations. I suspect many in the church have gone quiet on this issue to avoid the discomfort, opting to ignore the topic instead of fiercely debating it.

And while ignoring this uncomfortable topic is certainly a strategy, I don’t think it’s the best one. I don’t know if my kids will let me plead ignorance. And for my own sake, I want to give this some thought.

If the assumption is that God created everything from nothing within literal days prior to his creation of Adam and Eve, these conflicting understandings of the age of our planet would seem to be irreconcilable. Hence the fierce debate.

And this has often led to two oppositional approaches for those who choose not to simply avoid altogether. You can dismiss or selectively choose scientific findings to uphold this particular form of literal reading of Genesis. Or you can diminish or discard the Bible, or at the very least the Old Testament, for the sake of adopting the currently prevailing scientific view.

But is it possible that there is a third way of approaching this question?

Both kids and adults alike are fascinated and unsettled by this question. I’m no exception. I want to try to understand it well enough to translate to my son another potential viewpoint. One that allows us to engage with both worldviews because I don’t think they need to be considered mutually exclusive. Is it possible to hold the Bible in highest regard while also giving credence to what we believe to be valid scientific findings?

Some may accuse me of mental gymnastics on this. So be it. But I wanted to share honestly how I have tried to grapple with this question. Not that I have all the answers or that my opinions won’t change with time.

But I’m viewing this post as an attempt at describing this third way, an approach that can be described as a functional or theological reading of Genesis 1 rather than a material one. That this passage isn’t concerned with God creating matter. It’s narrating how he creates an ordered world from disorder.

Is Earth 2,025 years old?

The immediate answer to Tristan’s question is undoubtedly the easiest to answer. No, it isn’t 2,025 years old. But it’s the very obvious follow-up questions that make this challenging.

If Earth isn’t 2,025 years old, then how old is it? And why do we state the year as 2025? Why not 1? Why not 4,540,000?

Again the easiest answer to give is to say for many centuries the year 1 from which all our calendars are measured, has traditionally corresponded with Jesus’ birth. I think many people are aware of that. Whether you have faith in Jesus or not, we have been handed this method of telling time by our ancestors who did.

For me, that raised some questions of my own. When did we decide to retroactively ascribe this date though? The way we number years today can feel so natural that it’s easy to assume it has always been that way.

A little researching made me aware that the AD system was introduced in 525 AD by a Christian monk named Dionysius Exiguus. His goal was not to create a universal calendar, but simply to calculate the date of Jesus’ crucifixion. To do so, he proposed counting years forward from what he believed to be the year of Jesus’ birth, labeling it Anno Domini—“in the year of our Lord.”

This system was not immediately adopted though. For centuries, people continued to date years based on local rulers, reigns of emperors, or significant political events. It wasn’t until the 8th and 9th centuries that AD dating became common in Europe. Even then, it took many more centuries to become the global standard we use today.

Modern historians also believe Dionysius was likely off by several years in estimating Jesus’ birth, meaning our calendar is also slightly misaligned with the event it references.

In other words, the year “2025” is not a measurement of Earth’s age, nor even a precise measurement of how long it has been since Jesus was born. It is a culturally inherited reference point, chosen for religious reasons, that was slowly standardized over time.

We have always measured time, but not all cultures have measured it the same way or for the same reasons.

In the ancient world, years were often counted according to the reign of a ruler. “In the third year of King so-and-so…” “Ten years after the great flood…” “Five years after the founding of the city…”

The Jewish calendar dates years from what is traditionally understood as the creation of the world, placing the current year at roughly 5,700+ years, which is very close to the 6,000 years many modern Christians state. This number is derived from genealogies and narratives in Scripture. Interestingly, it also falls within the broad era generally associated with the rise of the earliest cities in ancient Mesopotamia.

The Islamic calendar begins in 622 AD, marking the Hijra, Muhammad’s migration from Mecca to Medina..

The traditional Chinese calendar cycles through repeating eras tied to lunar and solar patterns, emphasizing harmony, cycles, and renewal rather than a single linear starting point.

Modern science uses yet another framework entirely. Methods like radiometric dating, astronomy, and geology allow scientists to estimate the age of Earth at approximately 4.54 billion years. This number is not tied to human events at all, but to physical processes measurable in rocks, stars, and atomic decay.

Even the French Revolutionaries in the late 18th century wanted to start over from year 1 on their calendar and break from the AD system. They wanted their movement to no longer be associated with the Christian story. They wanted to write their own.

Throughout human history the reference point used for timekeeping means more than just a number. Calendars do not tell us how old the world is. They tell us what a culture considers important enough to measure time from. They tell us what story we are living within.

Timekeeping has throughout human history been functional and relational, not absolute.

Earth was Established When?

Very often you will drive by a restaurant or company that notes the date of their establishment. Sometimes it’s to indicate the amount of experience they have. For others it seems to be to indicate their newness. For others it seems just to be a sense of pride, a reminder of when or where they started.

But what do they mean by establishment?

Is it the date the building was built? Not necessarily. Some companies retrofit existing buildings and some don’t use buildings at all. Some even move to new locations or demolish and rebuild new buildings while maintaining the same establishment date.

Is it the date of birth of its founder? Is it the date a chef came up with their first recipe, the owner got their degree, or the furniture within was built? The answer to all of these are obviously “no.”

It is very clear that this establishment date marks the initiation or creation of something, not in a material sense, but in a functional sense.

The combination of employees, services, values, culture, history, and yes to some degree, the material components like buildings, furniture, and material assets, aligning together to serve a particular function.

It is this date, when doors are open to treat patrons to a new culinary experience, product or service, that marks its beginning. Where the sum has become greater than its parts. When the creative process has hit the pivotal moment where it can be shared with others.

So what is the Earth’s establishment date?

What does “Create” mean in Genesis?

The term “create” used in Genesis 1 is בָּרָא (baraʾ). The intended meaning of this word is better understood not as creating something from nothing as many posit, but as creating something functional from the disparate raw materials. This creative role is more like a CEO establishing a company or a sculptor creating a moving piece of artwork from a block of marble.

Unfortunately, by trying to find congruence between the modern materialist view of the universe’s beginnings, many Christians have flattened the text, treating it like it’s a scientific order of processes instead an ancient work of literature that is borrowing and differentiating from the polytheistic worldviews of their neighbors at the time.

Very quickly in the text one would see that God has made light before he makes the stars in the sky, which doesn’t map cleanly onto our modern understandings of how this works scientifically. If Genesis 1 were an instruction manual for making the world, it appears some steps are out of order.

But that’s not the purpose of this text. As John Walton, a biblical scholar and author of The Lost World of Genesis One observes, the seven days of creation are better understood as follows:

Days 1-3 God creates functions by dividing or separating. Day 1 establishes time by separating light from dark. Day 2 establishes weather via the separation of waters above and below. And Day 3 establishes agriculture with the separation of land from the sea.

Days 4-6 God creates functionaries by filling these spaces. Day 4 provides the stars and moon. Day 5 provides the birds of the sky and fish of the sea. Day 6 provides the animals, including man, on the land.

And Day 7, God rests. He abides in his newly made temple (Earth), essentially taking his place in the control room of his newly established corporation. Earth now serves its intended function. Order was established from chaos.

In this ancient cosmology, the world manifest itself in the cycles and patterns of life: sunrises and sunsets, seasons, and the ritualistic patterns of animal migrations and habits. And, contrary to the beliefs of their neighboring cultures, God was not the sun, moon, animals, skies or seas but transcends all of them.

The text beautifully and succinctly describes how a world with very clear structure and function was designed intentionally and not just the result of randomness, much in the same way a corporation or restaurant does not just accidentally emerge from nothing.

So How Would I Answer Now?

If given a second chance at this question, here’s how I would try to answer:

No, Tristan the world isn’t 2,025 years old. It has existed for billions of years. But God slowly formed it into the type of place where people could start building, farming, caring for animals, and being creative themselves in a similar way to how God is creative. God was taking his time to make a world where both he and us could reside.

The 2,025 years reminds us of when Jesus was born. And with each passing year when that number changes we’ll be reminded again of Jesus.

I will continue to wrestle through this and suspect I will never have a completely confident answer in this lifetime. And that’s okay. If anything I hope it leads me to more awe and humility.

I think there’s a reason this topic has historically been absent from the church’s creeds. It’s important but not the most central aspect of the Christian faith. And I think there’s room within the Church for some varying interpretations.

But I’m glad that I have a son who will challenge me to think deeply about this and maybe find more appreciation for the seemingly mundane parts of life I’ve taken for granted. Something even as simple as the year on the calendar.

For it reminds us of what our culture has historically recognized as most foundational. The life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It’s a story we can live in too and be reminded of with each passing year.

That is, of course, if we see it as more than just a number.

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Voldemort and the Pharisees – Mirrors to Ourselves

The Mirror of Erised scenes in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone have always captivated me. Not only for what they reveal about Harry, but for what they reveal about us.

With mirrors we can see ourselves visually. But the Mirror of Erised, which plays an integral role in the first book of the series, shows the person their deepest desire. For Ron Weasley, he saw himself as Quidditch Captain and holding the house cup. But for Harry, he saw himself reunited with his parents who were killed when he was an infant.

It’s not too surprising that an orphaned boy would wish for a fix to these absent relationships. In contrast Ron’s deepest desires seem so trivial. But they paint a picture of the wide spectrum of human experience, pain and want. This mirror reflects back an even rawer depiction of who we truly are.

The Mirror of Erised

When Dumbledore found that Harry had discovered the mirror and was spending much time staring into it, he said, “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.”

Quite a fitting quote from a man who the reader later finds out also suffered significant losses within his own family.

But the scene that I find most compelling surrounding this mirror is the one towards the end of the book when Dumbledore explains how Harry, and not Voldemort, was able to retrieve the Sorcerer’s Stone from it.

“Only one who wanted to find the Stone — find it, but not use it — would be able to get it, otherwise they’d just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. But not Harry. Harry, who wanted to find the Stone to stop Voldemort from getting it — who wanted it, but not for himself — was able to get it out of the mirror.”

The Sorcerer’s Stone could provide the ability to prevent aging, via the Elixir of Life and could turn any metal to gold. The stone symbolized the human hunger for immortality and wealth. Setting aside the irrationality of how the magic works, the central premise of this story appears to be getting us to question the unchecked pursuit of wealth and power. The dangers of desiring or longing for control.

This same longing for control, the desire to master life through our own effort, shows up not only in fantasy stories but in the Bible as well.

This dynamic, while not nearly as explicit, seems to undergird much of the Gospels. Very often a stark contrast is drawn between the Pharisees and Jesus, and rightly so, for Jesus is often both directly and implicitly challenging them. Jesus levies his sharpest critiques toward the Pharisees more than any other demographic, even the Roman centurions. I think it’s for this reason that many Christians today, also tend to use the term Pharisee in a derogatory and accusatory manner.

But is it possible that by making the Pharisees out to be solely antagonists and so alien from ourselves, we rob these stories of their power? It would be like only seeing the elements of Harry in ourselves and not seeing how we also might have traces of Voldemort’s motives within ourselves, which is a scary proposition.

Similarly, the Pharisees might be the group that many Christians most closely resemble, and I don’t mean that in a condescending manner. I believe the Pharisees can serve as an excellent mirror to understanding much of ourselves.

The Pharisees lived in difficult circumstances. Under Roman occupation, the Jewish people were a shell of their former selves. It had been several centuries since the last prophet from the Old Testament, Malachi, had prophesied and it felt as though God had turned his face from them and was silent despite their suffering. They had already gone through the exile to Babylon, rebuilt the temple, but now they were hardly in control of their own destinies. It would be understandable if they felt God had forsaken them. Outwardly it certainly appeared that way.

Instead of giving up, they doubled down on trying to live in perfect obedience to God’s laws, seemingly in hope that their righteousness would lead to God’s favor. That favor, one could imagine, would look very different than the circumstances they found themselves within.

In much the same way, we can dwell on our own failings and think that is the cause of God’s seeming disfavor. But this type of thinking often spirals into treating God like a vending machine who will give us what we want if we simply put the figurative quarter in by acting rightly. That if we get our house in order, our circumstances would be guaranteed to improve.

Dumbledore warned that people dwell on these deepest desires and forget to live. In many ways, the Pharisees’ desire for better circumstances by influencing God’s hand via their “perfect” behavior, missed the point altogether.

Life, wealth, autonomy, and the realization of dreams in and of themselves are not bad things. They are good things but cannot be the ultimate thing.

As Jesus says in his Sermon on the Mount, “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” He is addressing our anxieties, worries, and stress about worldly things. Jesus too found himself living under Roman oppression, and was ultimately killed by it. And yet, he said to aim higher, seek God’s kingdom, not in a bartering way to obtain his gifts, but out of selflessness and then, and only then, can you truly live, often despite the outward appearance of life’s circumstances.

If you’re like me, I like to exhaust the limits of my abilities before relinquishing control. It’s hard for me to do that. And I often find myself trying to appease God to be deserving of his favor. But that’s more like the way of the Pharisees, and dare I say Voldemort, still trying to exert control albeit in a more covert way.

No amount of time spent in front of that mirror would have ever brought Harry’s parents back. The mirror can reflect our deepest longings, which are often a void left from our deepest wounds and scars. And we can spend much of our lives dwelling on those, to no avail, and missing the point of life in the process.

Jesus offered a different way. He said suffering and pain was inevitable. But he invited all of us into relationship with him and to have life abundantly. That abundance isn’t often found in money, extended lifetimes, or even necessarily the righting of past wrongs. I would say it’s not even primarily about living forever in heaven, as some Christians often reduce it to.

No, it’s something fuller. Something richer. At its core, that abundance is an abundance of relationships, something that is made starkly evident in the Harry Potter books, and I think is quite evident in the Gospels.

Perhaps real life begins when we step away from the mirror and our attempts to control how our deepest longings will manifest themselves and instead seek first relationship with God and with one another.

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Literally False, Metaphorically True

Two brothers who have made their rounds on podcasts these past several years are Bret and Eric Weinstein, members of the self-named “Intellectual Dark Web.”

The “IDW” (for short) consisted of several counter cultural thinkers (many from academia) who were resisting anti-liberal movements underway on college campuses and within the zeitgeist of western societies more broadly. Their commonly shared beliefs over the preservation of Enlightenment values (with an emphasis on free speech) allowed them to have frank conversations about their conflicting views on a whole host of, what to them seemed to be, secondary issues. Conversations that were often drawing large crowds and filling arenas and theaters and millions of views online.

One of the fascinating developments within this group however is the struggle with how religion is to be handled. Some like Jordan Peterson tried to emphasize its integral role in Western thought. Others like Sam Harris denigrated it as nothing more than a social contagion worth exorcising completely. And then there were a wide range of views in between.

For Eric Weinstein, an avowed atheist as he indicates in his tweet, the notion that these truths we believe to be self-evident – our equality before God as individuals and certain unalienable rights – apparently do not appear to be as evident to the citizenry today as it was to our Founding Fathers and their contemporaries.

Some of these staunch atheists realize that – much like a man sawing off the branch he is sitting on – society appears to be secularizing to the point that maybe we’re detaching from the very root of what gives us our values. As Eric says, these words are “load bearing.”

Cue Eric’s brother Bret, a former evolutionary biology professor, who had this engaging conversation with Jonathan Pageau, an Orthodox Christian and artist.

The contrast of their worldviews becomes very apparent in the final 30 minutes of the conversation. Bret frames religion in the following way: “Literally false, metaphorically true.” The crux of his point is that a religion like Christianity is not accurate in its truth claims about origins, history, science, etc. however, it’s a useful fiction for affording us the values and reigning in the bad behaviors of individuals so as to allow civilization to foster.

He goes on to use the analogy of a tennis player who is told to swing through the ball. In Bret’s opinion, what the racket does following its contact with the ball has no bearing on the ball’s flight path. And yet, coaches often use this as a teaching tool to get a proper swing. “Literally false, but metaphorically true.”

A similar story he uses in other conversations is of a native island tribe who believes in a tsunami god. They pass down stories through the generations of how the tide receding into the ocean is the tsunami god preparing to attack their island. This story affords people who never experienced a tsunami within their lifetime to have the ability to respond appropriately (finding high ground) when the situation eventually arises. In essence, from an evolutionary perspective, the religion, while not conveying a “literally” true explanation of what is occurring, provides benefits for the continuation of entire people groups.

But Bret goes further with his tennis analogy and concludes that if the tennis player starts losing the game, their coaches must find some new teaching tool with which to correct the player’s technique. A teaching method different than the “swing through the ball” advice given by coaches of the past. This is consistent with the more alarmist position he takes regarding the state of western culture more broadly. It also seems to fit his worldview that places an emphasis on change and evolution. In his opinion, the religions of old are inadequate to respond to the challenges of today and therefore a new answer to today’s problems must be found.

Jonathan however takes his analogy and flips it on its head. Is the tennis player possibly losing the game because his coaches started telling him it doesn’t matter if he follows through? Is his abandonment of what worked before what caused him to fall behind in the first place? Is he more likely to succeed if he continues to follow the advice of past generations that has gotten them through trials before?

Maybe the best recent nonreligious example of Bret’s “literally false metaphorically true” theory is public health during COVID. Framed as charitably as possible, we could say that for the sake of encouraging people to make the “right” decisions for collective health of society, some of the literal truthfulness of the public health officials’ claims was abandoned. Inconvenient truths that would have been counter productive for their urgent goals were omitted. To achieve expediency, they were willing to sacrifice honesty about the scientific conclusions (or lack thereof) at the time.

The origin of the virus. The efficacy of the vaccines. Two weeks to stop the spread. Risks to different age groups and demographics. That’s just a few that immediately come to mind. Each of those errors eroded trust. Whether it was malevolence or purely ignorance, it wreaked havoc on the credibility of the public health profession.

So what lessons can be learned from this?

As a parent and as a youth group leader at our church, Bret’s words prompt me to think through what it is I want to pass along to those who come after me. I’m confident that at the very least what Christ’s life and death has afforded to those within the Church is metaphorically true. That if you live as if it’s true (like swinging through with a tennis racket) and not just living for the here and now (YOLO) but for things of eternal value, you wind up producing the best results in the here and now as well.

Maybe nothing can serve as a better example of that is Jesus. He was willing to lay down his own life in pursuit of something of far greater value. We can debate whether or not he accomplished through his crucifixion the eternal salvation of those who trust in him in the life to come. But we cannot deny the incredible power of that act, which has rippled through history and impacted society considerably even if it is only metaphorically true. Even avowed atheists like the Weinstein brothers concede as much.

But then we need to take another step and question the “literally false” part that has the potential to undermine long-term trust, much like public health did in the past few years. As a parent I would not like to hand down to my kids and to the young children something that omits inconvenient truths or outright includes lies just to get a result in the immediate. I want to hand them the best map for navigating life I can, which admittedly will never be perfect.

But maybe that’s where being honest about areas of doubt or exposing kids to the diversity of views on topics that even the church has had debates over throughout history would keep the next generation from questioning the trustworthiness of adults in the long run.

For deconstruction of faith so often happens on the basis or interpretations of topics like Genesis, debates over the church’s stance on social issues, and literary criticism of the Old Testament, all which fall outside the purview of the creeds of the church historically. Maybe it’s worth reflecting on what is and is not included within those commonly shared belief statements. For should one’s entire faith hinge on an interpretation of difficult to read books like Genesis or Revelation? Not that these aren’t profound books of the Bible, but distilling their messages into simple prescriptions or belief statements is impossible.

That being said, I struggle with Bret’s proposition about finding a new answer to today’s challenges. I haven’t seen to date a better alternative to the Christian worldview or something that I could fabricate that better explains who we are, our purpose in life, and how best to live it out. I’m more in the camp of Jonathan asking Bret why we have to abandon what has worked before. Have prior generations not faced difficulty and hardship? It seems intrinsic to the human experience.

I’ll put my trust in the man that was willing to die for others and the power that comes from his name. The downstream effects through western society from his life, death and professed resurrection are apparent. And as we all watch as we saw off the branch we sit on, I’ll continue to suggest that we take a break from cutting and give greater credence to the trunk and roots that hold us up. This worldview and the values it affords aren’t as self-evident as it used to be. And maybe this gives us an opportunity to appreciate it all the more.

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The Cute and Absurd

Chris Pratt in his viral MTV awards acceptance speech from a few years ago outlined nine rules he wanted to share specifically with his young audience. But it was Rule No. 4 that illustrated the framework for his overarching message.

“When giving a dog medicine, put the medicine in a little piece of hamburger and they won’t even know they’re eating medicine.”

Mixed in with some crude potty humor and lots of laughs from the audience were a few surprising heartfelt rules. Rule No. 2 was “You have a soul. Be careful with it.” Rule No. 6 was “God is real. God loves you. God wants the best for you. Believe that, I do.” And Rule No. 8 was just as blunt, “Learn to pray. It’s easy, and it’s so good for your soul.”

Many news articles latched onto and promoted his non-religious rules like how to keep your poop from stinking up the bathroom at a party (“the hamburger”) and as a result unintentionally promoted what Chris intended to be “the medicine” in his message. What an incredibly witty and cleverly constructed award acceptance speech.

This hamburger-medicine approach has been used often, especially with youth. The theory is that if you can cake a moral message in enough entertainment and comedy, you can make it palatable. That no one would willfully choose to accept the medicine on its own.

It’s the model for many church youth groups. The model for Disney movies. The model for children’s stories and TV shows. And it’s a model many parents use with their own kids. Even I instinctively resort to humor often to soften my kids up and make them more open to lessons I try to pass on to them.

But I stumbled upon an interesting quote by the late pastor, professor, and writer Dallas Willard who has had me pondering when this approach may go too far.

He states that today much of our art can be summed up in two words: “cute and absurd.” And the more I’ve pondered it, the more I think he’s correct. We should be cautious of when the pendulum swings too far.

So much of modern TV shows, movies, and books, not just for children, depend on the cute and absurd for almost the entirety of their content in a way that historical storytelling hasn’t required. Is there a historical equivalent of “The Emoji Movie” or “Trolls?” Were kids in past generations reading books inundated with pictures of simply cute or silly things? Did past stories include similar sidekick characters that now seem to be used principally for comic relief and merchandising?

If you cover that medicine in too much hamburger, does it lose its effectiveness? Or maybe by fixating on the hamburger too much, we forget to include the medicine in the first place?

I think Chris Pratt gave a succinct and distilled picture of what this can look like. He could have given nine funny rules for life that would have been discussed in the next news cycle and moved on with his life. But he was willing to put himself out there and add a few doses of some important truths that he wished to impart to others. I can only applaud him for that. If anything, it showed that someone with those values could still find a place in Hollywood and maybe give others confidence to be themselves in environments that seem bereft of people with similar beliefs.

I think it serves as a reminder that seriousness and levity don’t have to be mutually exclusive. The proper mix of both might be the best recipe for us getting the medicine we need.

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Louis C.K. and the Dog

The comedian Louis C.K. told a story during one of his appearances on CONAN about the time his dog ate so much chocolate and the difficulty of trying to save her life. I’ve watched my fair share of comedy bits on YouTube over the years, but this one in particular stuck with me. I think that’s because there’s a deeper lesson that can be derived from it.

Follow me on this quick aside before revisiting the Louis C.K. bit.

There was a debate on the Unbelievable podcast between Ben Shapiro and Alex O’Connor (also known as Cosmic Skeptic) regarding the topic of whether or not religion is good for society. If you’re interested, here it is for reference.

The podcast really does a nice job fostering constructive dialogue between people of opposing worldviews. And I thought this was surprisingly quite a cordial and engaging debate.

But my biggest takeaway from their discussion wasn’t so much on the main question being explored in the debate, but on one of the deeper philosophical questions that arose from the dialogue regarding what we claim we can and cannot know.

Ben Shapiro at several points says that his religious worldview (Judaism) does not require him to give proof of God’s existence and that he concedes there’s “a whole realm” of things he does not know. He proposes however that Alex O’Connor’s naturalistic atheism worldview does require a proof of the negative if he is going to say that everything can be explained away by naturalistic cause and effect and that there definitively is no god.

In essence, O’Connor holds a worldview that everything can be reduced to mechanical, physical, and chemical processes, like mere atoms bouncing off one another. Meaning or the sense of free will to many materialist atheists like O’Connor are illusions. They may be considered helpful illusions, but they are illusions nonetheless.

Ben Shapiro refers to his own line of argumentation as a “giant escape hatch.” That basically he can point to the transcendent, state that he believes it exists, and then just lean on the fact that he is fine with the notion that he does not, and cannot, know everything. This might seem like a slight of hand debate method or, as O’Connor calls it, an “appeal to mystery”. But, this actually demonstrates succinctly the biggest divide between many religious and naturalistic atheist-types.

O’Connor fundamentally holds the view that although he does not currently have an explanation for everything, that in theory, with enough time, we could have an explanation for everything. So often these conversations descend into the stereotypical “God of the gaps” debate that has mired many of these conversations in the past. Religious apologists poke holes in scientific discoveries to try and leave a gap for God, and the atheistic types keep trying to make arguments in a manner to close said gaps. But those arguments often fail to miss the very practical implications that these disparate worldviews have for the individual, which I think is far more important to tease out.

In Louis C.K.’s story, he had knowledge about the dog’s situation that his dog was completely unaware of. One might say, Louis had more information, more capability, and more agency to resolve the dog’s conundrum than the dog itself. And even after saving the dog’s life by getting it to consume the hydrogen peroxide to vomit the chocolate and prevent death from occurring, the dog had no real appreciation or understanding of what it was that its owner had done for it. Louis’ approach, albeit unorthodox and comical, was not truly understood by the dog.

The biggest difference between the traditional religious worldviews and many of the modern atheistic types, is this consideration for other beings with greater agency than ourselves. If we were to consider ourselves as the dog in Louis’ story, is it possible that we’re largely unaware of what might be going on above us? Many of us like to think God would be just like any other person and not operating on a completely different plane of wisdom, knowledge, agency, and capability than any one of us has. So would it be better to view the concept of God through the analogy of a dog’s experience of its owner?

Some naturalistic atheistic types might acknowledge some sense of agency within humans, something that seems to undermine their own worldview, but certainly give no credence to something potentially above us. And yet, recent cultural shifts have more and more of these types of thinkers realizing that their positions are not as iron-clad as they previously thought.

Terms like spirits, egregores, and swarms are coming up more frequently in conversations, even with esteemed cognitive scientists. Much like the function of a beehive, deep thinkers are starting to appreciate that there are clearly immaterial forces at work between and among whole groups of people that cannot be traced to a physical, mechanical, or chemical process. For some of these thinkers the admission that there is matter and “memes” or “information” is the closest they will allow themselves to get to entertaining this phenomenon.

Is it possible that there might be something above us with a type of agency that we can only understand or recognize in part? Something immaterial that causes whole groups of people to move and act in apparent unison? The materialist worldview certainly doesn’t offer explanations for it.

That’s what Ben Shapiro seems to point to. And it’s something Alex O’Connor seems reluctant to consider.

Louis C.K.’s dog, left to its own devices, would likely have died from the consumption of all that chocolate but for the bizarre (from the dog’s perspective), yet caring actions of its owner.

We need to ask ourselves whether we’re willing to admit our own limits in understanding, wisdom and knowledge and in humility ask to receive those things from above.

Shapiro might call it an escape hatch. O’Connor would call it an appeal to mystery. I would call it trust, the bedrock of any relationship, whether it be a dog and its owner or man and his maker.

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Self-Control and How to Teach It

“You had one job to do!”

That’s the quote that comes to mind whenever I read this particular verse in Paul’s letter to Titus. It’s a simple verse, but one that causes me to chuckle a bit every time I read it.

“Likewise, urge the younger men to be self-controlled.”

Titus 2:6

HA, Ha, ha…? Wait, what exactly is it that makes this humorous? In fact, it doesn’t seem funny at all.

Well, the humor isn’t exactly evident within the verse itself. But it emerges once the preceding verses are considered.

“But as for you, teach what is consistent with sound doctrine. Tell the older men to be temperate, serious, prudent, and sound in faith, in love, and in endurance.

Likewise, tell the older women to be reverent in behavior, not to be slanderers or slaves to drink; they are to teach what is good, so that they may encourage the young women to love their husbands, to love their children, to be self-controlled, chaste, good managers of the household, kind, being submissive to their husbands, so that the word of God may not be discredited. Likewise urge young men to be self-controlled.”

Titus 2:1-6

Paul’s letter seems to indicate that while older men and women and younger women are capable of bearing a lengthy list of responsibilities, younger men are to be entrusted with but one.

You have one job to do. Self-control.

Boy, does it hurt to hear that. Does Paul really think that little of guys like myself? Is Paul correct that young men are uniquely susceptible to this one particular error? Is it fair? Is it true?

Men Uniquely Challenged in Self-Control

Having taught a Sunday school class for middle-school-aged boys, I was always shocked how well all the girls stayed in their seats, while the boys ravaged the room like animals. How the girls raised their hands politely while the boys constantly tried to talk over one another. How the girls listened to directions while the boys were tempted constantly to act on every impulse. Personal experience seems to indicate clear differences and that’s why I find this at least a little humorous.

But one can look at trends in our society more broadly and see a dark side to this. Consider the relative struggles for boys in public schools as compared to girls and the admission trends going into college. Or even the overrepresentation of men in prison as well. Sure some may say these disparities are entirely or mostly socially constructed. That it’s only because we raise boys differently than girls that these different outcomes arise.

But maybe Paul’s point shows that this same pattern of behavior is observed across cultures and across times. That something written a couple millennia ago can still have relevance today. For biology really doesn’t change nearly as quickly as our cultures and circumstances do, right?

Why Resist Temptation at All?

So what’s the big deal about self control? Whether it’s food, alcohol, sex, or drugs – just to name a few – our body is prone to these prompts to indulge our most basic cravings. The marketing industry has boomed over the past century or so capitalizing on these subconscious desires. Video games are designed around them. Streaming services do their best to keep you glued to the TV. I’m sure Cheez-Its have a few tricks up their sleeves to make themselves so darn irresistible . And one might ask, why should we even attempt to curb these desires?

As adults many of us have learned that overindulgence or addiction to any of these can be detrimental to our health. There’s a reason we know we shouldn’t let kids eat whatever snacks they want whenever they want or let an addict have unfettered access to their substance of choice. We understand the need for AA and dieting programs.

That even though a person thinks they need to cave to that craving to be fulfilled, there’s a very strong argument to be made that giving in to everything their body longs for is detrimental to their health at the very least the long run and oftentimes the short term as well.

Self-control is the skill that helps us regulate these cravings. Yet we aren’t exactly born with it. In fact, we humans seem quite unique as compared to the animal kingdom in our ability not just to learn how to regulate ourselves but to actually export that restraint to our kids and by domesticating other animals. It is an amazing feat when we can train our dog to sit idly by staring at the juicy steak on the kitchen table and not give in to their innermost desires. If not for our training they would be devouring it like a wild animal.

But how do we best control ourselves and help teach others like our kids how to manage their impulses? And how should it be approached in communities like our schools and churches?

The 3 Typical Approaches to Self-Control

The first is an approach of absolute prohibition or abstinence. Often this is done out of a heightened sense of caution and a belief that it is most effective to establish a consistent and firm boundary that is never to be crossed than possibly concede any ground, especially with kids, by attempting nuance. No alcohol. No candy. No video games. And scare the kids with horror stories of STDs and teenage pregnancies to discourage any sexual deviance. Maybe even threaten that you will show them the door for disobedience. Don’t give them an inch or they’ll take a mile.

The method employed to establish this type of self-control doesn’t really matter as long as the end result occurs. No indulging in these actions whatsoever. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

The second approach is on the opposite end of the spectrum, and is something I think is beginning to occur with more regularity. It’s the habit of choosing to indulge in whatever craving may arise instead of resisting it. That any inhibition to acting on our desires is not living as our “authentic self.” If you want sex, seek it out with whoever through hook-ups or do it privately through porn. Eat as much as you want of whatever you want. Or the constant and steady increase in the prevalence of recreational drugs and alcohol. Why should we limit our desires? “Eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die.”

And the third approach is what I associate with the commonly stated phrase “everything in moderation.” It can be viewed as a middle road option as compared to the first two approaches. That generally speaking, everything is permissible, but you don’t want too much or too little of any given thing.

Yet I don’t think any of these three approaches cut it. At least when teaching middle-school-aged boys none of these worked. The more I’ve pondered these questions as to how and why we are to control ourselves and the verse that prompted them, the more I’ve realized how this challenge to self-control serves as a microcosm of what God wants most for us in this life.

A Biblical Approach to Self-Control

And this exact issue is present in the opening chapters of the Bible.

Now the Lord God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and there he put the man he had formed. The Lord God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground—trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food. In the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

A river watering the garden flowed from Eden; from there it was separated into four headwaters. The name of the first is the Pishon; it winds through the entire land of Havilah, where there is gold. (The gold of that land is good; aromatic resin[and onyx are also there.) The name of the second river is the Gihon; it winds through the entire land of Cush. The name of the third river is the Tigris; it runs along the east side of Ashur. And the fourth river is the Euphrates.

The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. And the Lord God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.”

Genesis 2:8-17

From the very beginning God supplies man with multiple trees with fruit that were good for eating but puts one restriction in place. You must not eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil.

Let us consider the three approaches mentioned before and see if this qualifies as any of those. God prohibits the consumption of the fruit from one tree in particular, but not all the others. He doesn’t allow them to indulge in whatever they want to consume. So maybe there’s an element of moderation involved, but he doesn’t necessarily limit how much they eat from the other trees. Hmmm… what’s going on here? Well in the next chapter it gets more interesting.

“Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?”

The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die.’”

“You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.”

Genesis 3:1-7

While it’s common in modern interpretations to view the serpent as Satan in this passage, it wasn’t initially interpreted that way prior to the introduction of the concept of demons that from my understanding emerged not too long before the events documented in the New Testament. Simply read, early Jewish readers could have interpreted the serpent as the most earthly of all the creatures God had made. It slithered along the ground and in a cosmology that had a heaven and earth dichotomy, the serpent was therefore furthest from the heavens and most earthly or beast-like of all the animals. It had no self-restraint. What it longed for, it acquired.

You can see how in his first question to Eve, he distorts God’s command. “Did God really say ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden?‘” The answer of course is no. God did not say that. In fact, he said it was permissible to eat of any, including the tree of life, with the exception of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. The serpent insinuates something that God did not in fact say. God did not prohibit them eating from the trees. God does not take the first approach with these earthly desires by prohibiting them in their entirety.

When Eve explains the warning God gave for eating from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, the serpent responds, “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Here the serpent is taking the second approach, stating that by actually choosing to consume that which was pleasing to her eye, she would have everything that she could desire. That God, by placing this restriction in place, was holding out on them.

And yet, when she and Adam eat from the fruit, they are immediately filled with shame over their nakedness and wind up outside the garden and unable to enjoy the fruits of the tree of life that God had given them.

John Milton in his book “Paradise Lost” quotes Satan as saying the following, “Better to reign in hell, than to serve in heaven.” This quote, while short, encapsulates the stark difference between these two approaches to life. In many ways, making our desires subservient to the desires of God is an act of service. Similar to the child who chooses to obey their parent even when it goes against their own wishes, our self-control to follow the commands of our God is an act of faith, of love, and of trust.

We could have our own way. We could, as John Milton puts it, reign in hell. But can hell deliver what only heaven provides in both this age and the next?

If the serpent depicted in Genesis 3 and Milton’s version of Satan are correct, God is holding out on us. And it would be incumbent upon us to seek our own pleasure and fulfillment in whatever way we deem appropriate. But is this true? He gave Adam and Eve access to an abundance of trees including the tree of life for their enjoyment. He gives the gift of sex to be enjoyed within the confines of marriage. He turned the water into wine. And he has given us the Lord’s Supper and promises a wedding feast when we will be rejoined with him.

He doesn’t offer absolute prohibitions to most of our longings. He discourages us from the self-affliction of unbridled indulgence. And he doesn’t simply offer moderation as the best road.

He makes all of these natural longings that much more beautiful and fulfilling when they are placed in their proper context. And that is what self-control is about. Trusting God that these longings, when pursued in the right place and the right time, can help us encounter and appreciate God more than ever before. That we are choosing to trust and serve him in the process. And that all the inner turmoil of keeping ourselves in check will all be worth it in the end.

That’s a lesson not just for young men to learn. I think we all need it, myself most certainly included.

Posted on by bak5187 · 6 Comments

Interstellar, Easter, and the Necessity of Sacrifice

“Newton’s Third Law: The only way humans have figured out how to move forward is to leave something behind.”

If you watch a movie enough times and with a close eye you will often hone in on these little Easter eggs that point to the crux of the story. The same is certainly true of Interstellar, and this little quip from TARS the sarcastic robot who accompanies Cooper, the main protagonist played by Matthew McConaughey.

It’s a witty line. One that pokes fun at Newtonian laws of motions while responding to Cooper’s statement that TARS would have to be ejected from the ship in order to have a chance to arrive at their final destination given their fuel shortage. In many ways it seems like a simple matter of comic relief, a role the character TARS is well suited to fill throughout the film. But within this quote is the little nugget of truth that drives this entire film, and I would argue, much of our lives.

While Interstellar appears at first glance to be a sci-fi story of intergalactic space travel and exploration, in a similar genre of storytelling like Star Wars or Star Trek, the viewer quickly sees Christopher Nolan’s work is unlike most sci-fi films. Personally, I think this is the most beautiful film I’ve ever seen, and I think I can say almost none of that is explicitly due to the intergalactic theme. I’ve watched it close to ten times at this point, and each time this film moves me in new and different ways. The space theme seems like a quite fitting overlay for what, at its heart, is ultimately a story about the most important relationships we have in life.

As director Christopher Nolan states in the following video regarding the making of the film’s soundtrack, “it was really important that the music not pay any attention to the genre of the movie.” And so his initial creative prompt to composer Hans Zimmer simply consisted of dialogue between Cooper and his daughter Murph and a few ideas behind the film. He wanted Hans to feel free to compose without being overly restricted.

As Hans Zimmer states, the music he composed as a result of Nolan’s direction was ultimately “about what it feels like to be a father and what it feels like to have a son.” And my goodness, their process resulted in an absolute masterpiece of a score!

This movie is at its core, a story about the relationship between a father and his daughter and the cost of sacrifice. The sacrifice of leaving his family behind to try and save humanity, including his children, from the impending decay and death of earth. A sacrifice that Cooper made knowing it would pull them apart. And a sacrifice that Cooper would have to grapple with the cost of.

Yet, this theme is quite possibly made most apparent when juxtaposed against the closest character we get in the movie to an antagonist: Matt Damon’s Dr. Mann. Dr. Mann lures Cooper and his crew to his planet, falsely stating that it would be suitable for life, and conspires to take out the entire crew, all in an attempt to save himself by escaping on their ship.

Sacrifices are always made. Things are left behind in order to move forward. There are costs to progress. And on the one hand you have Dr. Mann who is willing to sacrifice others to save himself. And on the other you have Cooper who shows a willingness to sacrifice himself for the sake of others. I would venture a guess that all viewers share a sense of admiration for one and contempt for the other.

Sacrifice in its essence is neither good nor bad. However, sacrifice itself is unavoidable. It’s this theme that TARS so wonderfully summarizes in such a short quote. That in order to get anywhere, something is inevitably given up.

Many today look back on older faiths and mythologies with a sense of superiority to the explicit references to sacrifice and conclude it’s all outdated. In reality, they just had a clearer understanding of how the world functions at a fundamental level. Sacrifices to the gods for good harvests, fertility, success in war, you name it. Many of the ancient mythologies can be seen as an attempt by people to appease and sway the very fabric of reality.

They offered things of value up to try and get other things of value in return from their gods. Their crops. Their livestock. Even their children. Even though many of these forms of explicit sacrifice no longer have a place in our modern society, we still have it, and still in some very egregious forms.

Although certainly less horrific than child sacrifice, we still see the scapegoating of individuals and groups. Many who subscribe to a dog-eat-dog mentality, justify their own ascent in society at the expense of others. Political compromises are formed that aid certain groups and hurt others. Even the seemingly mundane investment of our time and energy into our jobs is a sacrifice to receive compensation. Sacrifice is intertwined with all the most important and consequential decisions in our lives. And it still makes it’s way into the stories we tell ourselves.

All of the greatest stories told include this element of sacrifice within it. And its greatest and most beautiful form is found in self-sacrifice. That’s why a flawed character like Cooper is still far more admirable than Dr. Mann. Add maybe that’s why the story of Easter is the most profound of human history.

Jesus, in the leadup to his crucifixion says to his disciples, “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15:13). His ministry had only been underway for three years. He was only in his 30s at the time of his death. He was garnering a large following, healing many, and restoring the outcasts of society. There’s never a good time to die, but this was a true case of the good dying young.

Those few days between his death and resurrection had to have been utterly discouraging for his followers. Others had made sacrifices when the resulting outcome was clear. But here, it appeared to be the end of a movement in shame, tragedy, and pain. What could possibly be gained from his crucifixion?

And yet, that self-sacrifice made by Jesus – even when he had been tempted to save himself in a way similar to that which Mr. Mann refers – has given life to multitudes. He has propelled his disciples to lead better lives than they would have otherwise. And in his resurrection and ascension we are given a hope that was never there before.

In Interstellar, the twist at the end reveals that love is the only thing that is able to transcend space and time. Quite profound, but even this love shared between Cooper and Murph was the fruit of many sacrifices of time, care, attention, and effort on the part of both of them throughout her childhood while they were still together. Even this twist can’t escape the necessity of sacrifice.

However, I think Nolan’s conclusion is quite fitting. Love, the willing of the good for others, really can change the world. That love has a way of disproportionately providing good in excess of the sacrifices made. That even in occasions of apparent and real loss, that love can take us further than we ever imagined.

It’s evident in Cooper and Murph. It’s evident in all the most impactful movies and stories we enjoy. And it’s evident in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. And every Easter we get the chance to admire that cost he was willing to pay to provide us with life in the midst of decay and destruction in our lives on Earth. There’s no greater love than that.