Romance etc

Looking into my introvert mirror I am forced to wonder where my cynicism towards love came from (I have been avoiding the topic). Out here on the internet I collected a clue: men act like realists whereas at heart they are hopeless romantics. Ladies, meanwhile, pretend to be romantics, but their inner instinct is realist to the core. (In other words, men love romantically, with all the ideals in place and all. Women love realistically and pragmatically.) Once I read this it became clear: there is the source of my cynicism, in so many words. I had already subconsciously suffered the truth of it, long time ago, though it never matured into active thoughts until, wandering on the internet, a kindred spirit brought it to life on his blog.

Emotions and hormones complicate women's realism for them, so realism is not always a straight, coldly calculated strategy on their part. They acquire the romantic's outward mannerisms and deportment. It's called bait, because like attracts like, therefore a man is drawn to a pseudo-romantic woman. No, really.

Romantic overtures are commonly regarded as such when they conform to the common rosy-colored feminist Hollywood format, whereas "it's the thought that counts" gestures far outweigh that other stage-managed circus.

Now see how this mind game plays out. A Kenyan girl, or a girl from anywhere, will stand up and declare "Kenyan/wherever men are not romantic at all! So unromantic." The emotions accompanying this announcement will nearly condense into tears. Remember it's a mind game, therefore the nearest Kenyan man who has always been far more romantic (think "affection" not "flowers") than the girl ever will be, he invests some kind of effort to conform to her plastic definition of romance, notwithstanding the fact that his ardent strength of feeling merely lacks any instrument strong or big enough to accurately measure it. But at the same time (remember, it's a mind game!) no man will openly confess to being a romantic, so, in order to preemptively save face so the boys don't rib him about it, they collectively imprudently surrender the label Romantic to the female party, who take it and run with it, and then at opportune times they jump up and lament in male hearing how unromantic Kenyans (or Africans, or humans, as the case may fit) are.

A man could be staring into a potential partner's gaze while hers is trained on his bottom line, real or potential. Her eyes are looking at you, but her mind's eye is guessing how many zeroes, give or take. But I half-joke. It's not commercial like that. Just concretely appreciating the depth of that article I read.

Feast of Tabernacles

Camp meeting week is always the most tiring week in the year for me. Very little sleep and so much work, and I mean physical exertion type of work behind the scenes to make everything tick. Still I love it. The whole day from dawn to midnight is a revelation. Maybe its the fellowship with believers. Maybe its the way everyone involved decides their daily bread can be put on hold for a whole week of worshiping GOD. It's amazing the unity that shared faith brings about, the sacrifices people are ready to make in faith are stunning. Then there's Bible study. Never a week passed by that I did not learn something new, or came off with my library enriched somewhat by the literature evangelist at hand. Singing in the choir is always uplifting. The company of my fellow church youths lend an air of comradeship to the occasion, and the selflessness that's evident everywhere is disarming - people looking out for ne another and helping out, sharing freely, without expectation of reward. I can accurately predict that come Saturday sunset I will be sad to return to the real world, because the end of camp meeting week saddens me. People do not live like that any more. But what am I saying, it's only Sunday! It begins! so much to look forward to. By GOD's grace I pray this one will be more than merely enjoyable, certainly the times are perilous, and the flesh is weak.

Looking back

Pretending to chase an enemy that fled,
I fled the fighting, fooled everybody,
and vanished into jungle foliage,
cutlass aloft, to hack away at
shrubs and snakes and
the imaginary enemy.

Soon I felt, the more I ran
the more I would have to run,
and for what? From what?

Looking back, the enemy is me;
The war is mine.

How to Warm the Bench

Life is full of ups and downs. A bit like football. Sometimes you’ll be on form and sometimes you’ll be in a slump. Injuries will come and heal. The coach will gain or lose confidence in you for reasons good and bad. As such, one’s skill set is not complete if all one knows is merely how to play the game perfectly. One must also be well acquainted with the skills of warming the bench, be it the substitutes bench or reserves bench or even Perennial Benchwarmers’ Bench.

I know what you must be thinking: “What could be so hard about just sitting there on the sidelines and watching the match? Fans do it all the time!” But for a player, it is not as simple as that.

 

A player on the bench is somewhat more invested in the outcome of a game than a fan. Even if their leg is broken and their foot is in a cast, they are itching to get on the pitch and make an impact. That is why, sometimes, in replays of scoring chances gone bad, you see the entire technical bench, including the coach, all subs and reserves plus the first aider, shooting to their feet to grasp their heads, their hands framing anguished facial expressions. But this is no way to warm the bench.

One must sit still. Unfortunately, equanimity is a forgotten art in this fast-paced, melodramatic twenty-first century. In order to warm the bench, it is best to position one’s center of gravity precisely perpendicularly above one’s sitting base, and limit movement to the turning of one’s head as the ball traverses from the opponent’s half to one’s own half and back.

It will help to have teammates alongside you on the bench who are of such a peaceful disposition, and to keep commentary at an austere minimum.

Resist the urge to abandon the bench and run to the corner flag to celebrate goals with on-field teammates. This will defeat the purpose of warming the bench entirely.

With any luck, if by the end of the match you have not been subbed in for tactical reasons, you will have successfully warmed the bench by quite a few degrees. Just sit still.
___

PS: Of course metallic benches are colder at the outset but more agreeable to conducting heat from the body into themselves, as such they get warmer, faster, but are just as quick to lose that heat. Wooden and plastic benches, on the other hand, will present greatest resistance to all attempts at bench-warming. But once they get warm they’ll take a great deal longer to cool down again. A bit like women.

The Complete Revolution

Talk of revolution has become a hot topic worldwide. You can hear it in the disaffected speeches of prophets of doom, conspiracy theorists and assorted opposition figures.

In fact, every political party's manifesto is revolutionary in tone and intent. "Vote for us and we will reinvent the wheel, everything will be perfect!" It seems to get us every time, even after the evidence repeatedly confirms that the joy of victory does not far outlive the celebrations, and whatever improvements follow are quickly taken for granted.

Generally the revolutionary's rhetoric promises heaven on earth. "If we uproot this order of things we will establish utopia." Catchphrases like "liberty, equality, fraternity," (or "human rights" of late), inflame the hearts of many. Rabble-rousers at the head of revolutions get people to believe that fighting for peace and tearing down for progress are logically sound ideas. Only one thing these people choose to overlook: their highfalutin ideals have been tried before. There is nothing new under the sun.

Our minds lack the capacity to appreciate what a complete revolution would look like. That must be why we are willing to lend a listening ear every pretender who promises paradise. We are so accustomed to difficulty and hardship that anyone who promises marginal improvements in health, happiness or life expectancy seems like a Godsend. Therefore marketers get away with peddling perishables as the solution to eternal bliss.

But the only complete revolution is one in which everything is perfect: there are no bad people, no bad outcomes, no "unforeseen circumstances"... we can not even picture it! A world in which everyone has everything they need, loves everybody else, nobody is hustling to make profits or take advantage of another, all can spend their time doing whatever it is they really want to do. Inconceivable! In which there are no dangers to defend against and nothing to be afraid of, thus, no padlocks, no fences (literal or social),  no CCTV,  no weapons, no prisons, no police, no armies, because there is no need for all these things. No deaths, no funerals, no tears, no pain. We have never seen such a thing, and can not begin to understand it, because nearly everything we have known our whole lives would be missing.

Yet GOD has promised just such a total revolution of this sin-wrecked existence we live in.

Revelation 21

{21:1} And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea. 
{21:2} And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 
{21:3} And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God [is] with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, [and be] their God. 
{21:4} And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. 
{21:5} And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And he said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful. 
{21:6} And he said unto me, It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely. 
{21:7} He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son.

{21:8} But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death.

Football Parables

Before I got swallowed into the belly of the World Cup mania, I was concerned about reports of strikes in Brazil. Certain citizens were unhappy about the cost of hosting a World Cup while the state of healthcare and education were neglected. Promises of infrastructure and other community benefit couldn't mollify these discontents, and they seemed to be justified come D-Day. Eventually, after many protester-police face-offs, when the teargas cleared, the World Cup kicked off.

World Cup protest grafitti by Paul Ito. Image from rt.com

Come the semi-final and Brazil's national team was thrashed 7-1 by Germany. There were people crying in the stadium as it happened. I felt bad for Brazil as well, especially in the light of the protests that preceded the tournament. Probably the protestors had been shamed into quieting down their consciences and supporting their home country. They would certainly lose out on social infrastructure, but they could gain some national pride - if they won. The World Cup trophy could be some sort of consolation for all their troubles. But all the consolation they got was a consolation goal in the semi-final.

To my point: what gives sport the right to have such momentous consequences? "Sport" is supposed to be fun, entertainment. In my head it has connotations like "jest," and associations with "play." But it goes and becomes so costly, so tragic for the losers that you wonder. With millions of dollars spent for a gold trophy at stake, it looks like the sibling of gambling. Then it begins to make sense that the risk-reward prospects find willing takers.

I'm speaking from experience as well. My own Sunday League adventures in the district league featured a 4-0 loss just last week. We put in so much, all teams in the league, but the winner takes all. Cruel.

I would be remiss to neglect the massive profits to be reaped in the commercial side of the World Cup. Official sponsors market their products through such events. "Buy our product and pay for the World Cup!" (Not exactly in those terms of course.) But from the perspective of the average Brazilian citizen, the carnival roared into town and moved out with their school, road and hospital.

What could have been

Elsewhere I wrote at length about how much I enjoyed John Milton's books, Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained, with riders forewarning how the English used in it is simply ancient. So you can imagine my disappointment when I heard that plans were shelved to make a Paradise Lost movie. They said the visual effects required to film that one were going to push up its cost and make it unprofitable. (Funny, that never stopped 'Avatar'.)

Profit was the motive, which assurance failing, rendered the whole enterprise useless in the producers' eyes. But what a wonderful chance for evangelism was thus lost! How about if they had lost a few million dollars ad gained the kingdom of heaven a few million souls? Then they'd have had treasure in heaven.

Nevertheless, it was going to be made in Hollywood, and big-name movie stars had been cited in leading roles. At this, two alternative scenarios cross my mind.

FIRST. If I have learned anything from watching Hollywood adaptations of Christian narratives, I wouldn't trust Hollywood with such sensitive foundational doctrines as the origin of sin, the war in heaven, the creation of the world, the temptation and fall of man. Judging by one enthused critic who declared that it was going to be a cross between Lord of the Rings and 300, sublime spiritual subtleties would be sacrificed in favor of a haze of dramatic special effects, battle scenes, cinematic acrobatics. Out with Milton's incisive wit, cue arrogant quips, for the trailer. Any number of unbiblical teachings would have made their way into the movie. (Look at the recent Noah movie for comparison.) For example, early on, "Paradise Lost the movie" assumed a "sympathy for the devil" shade in critic's opinions. Therefore the very real possibility is that Hollywood's Paradise Lost, if it ever came to fruition, would have been, like so many movies out of Hollywood, a disguised ode to Satan.

OTHERWISE, it could be that Hollywood took a real good look at Paradise Lost and realized that no amount of ingenuity could transform it to anything other than the powerful evangelism tool it had the potential to become. Even if it had been heavily adulterated into a gore-fest, it would have forced them to address the great spiritual WHY of the fighting, even superficially. It would have excited curiosity-relevant-unto-salvation in its viewers. For all its faults, Paradise Lost (the book) paints a vivid picture of the love, righteousness and truth of GOD contrasted with the pride, wickedness and lies of Satan. However we (should) all know that Hollywood is not about the kingdom of heaven. So, because a kingdom divided against itself can not stand, Hollywood scrapped Paradise Lost movie altogether.

These thoughts above are what I think. Otherwise the nearest I've come to a scripturally sound audio-visual reconstruction of events culminating in the fall of man was Cosmic Conflict by Amazing Facts. The visual effects, script, and acting fall far short of Hollywood capacity, but they did their best and shared what light they have. And it's real bright light, I tell you!

Escoffier on Modernity and the Embarrassment of Christians

My online wanderings led me to a article on Dalrock's blog, to which reader Escoffier submitted the comment that follows below. (I am not the first to post this comment as a standalone blogpost, just sharing with whosoever happens upon it here.) In short, it is an exposition of the paradox of embracing both labels "modern" and "Christian", and the compromises it leads many unwary into making. Enjoy! Learn!

***

I want to add a supplementary / alternative reason to explain this embarrassment over the text of the Bible. It’s been touched on but not really fleshed out.

That is, that these nominal Christians under discussion are all moderns first and Christians second (if second). Worse, they don’t even know they are moderns, or what it means to be a modern, or what modernity is.

Modernity, to say the least, conflicts with the Bible. It was designed to, on purpose. Yet it has been so successful in taking over nearly all conscious and sub-conscious thought that hardly anyone any more recognizes it for what it is. That includes most contemporary Christians, to whom “modernity” is simply synonymous with “reality” or even “morality.”

There’s a particular strand of modernity that’s particularly relevant here, namely historicism, and specifically rational historicism (as opposed to radical or irrational historicism). This is the idea of “progress.” “Progress” is cooked into the original conception of modernity, but it came to take on a different meaning much later. Originally, it more or less just meant “We can improve the material condition of man on earth; human beings have a lot more power than either the Bible or classical philosophy will admit.”

Rational historicism takes this idea much further and posits a unidirectional progress, which is worked out through impersonal forces (the so-called historical dialectic) over which man may be an unwitting instrument, but which he didn’t design, doesn’t direct, and can’t control. “History” is nonetheless rational, moving “forward” (with occasional, necessary steps back) to ever-“better” states and eventually to an end state in which all dialectical conflicts are resolved, all moral and political problems solved, and final wisdom achieved (if not necessarily accessible to all). In pop-culture terms, the Star Trek universe is basically the cartoon version of this end state.

Nearly everyone today believes in this “arc” at least in a simplified way. The present is believed to be inherently more enlightened that the past. We Don’t Do That Anymore Because We Know Better. And the future will be inevitably more enlightened than the present.

The source of this impression is ultimately perverted or corrupted or mistaken philosophy, but one does not need to have studied philosophy at all to have been affected, even “convinced.” The astounding success of modern natural science and its offspring, technology, serves to “prove” to such people that “progress” is real and that the present is superior to the past. Technological progress is assumed to be coeval with moral and political progress.

But it is never explained why this should be so. Actually, certain modern philosophers did try to make such a case, but they hardly proved it and their case is open to serious theoretical difficulties which have been pointed out by other philosophers. However, that whole dialogue may as well never have happened as far as the average modern person is concerned. He is simply unaware of it and takes on faith that the present is morally superior to the past.

This, then, is a significant source of the embarrassment. The modern Christian (modern first, Christian second) is embarrassed by the evident conflicts between his nominal faith and his actual, if unconscious, modernity. Modernity trumps. So the offending Scriptures have to be dealt with one way or another. There are many possible ways: insist that it doesn’t say what it seems to say, come up with Rube Goldberg interpretations to square it with modernity, call it “metaphoric,” say that it was right for that time but not our time, and so on. The latter is a kind of “Living Constitution” framework for the Bible. It assumes that God has left to us the task of “updating” Scripture as the “times change.” The changing of the times is held to be the true constant, and really the true God, but only implicitly.

Of Touchlines and Final Whistles

I've got many other failings, but I LOVE football.

I mostly watch football so that I can play better football. (Subsequently this ongoing World Cup should leave me ten times better.) Thinking about football is the thing that once made me stare so dreamily at the horizon that my nearby friend thought I was fantasizing about some girl, and asked who that girl was. I laughed the question off as my thoughts soared back to football heaven. 

The opportunity to play football is what justifies my patience with a coach who always strives to humiliate me. My love for football is bigger than my hatred of his behavior, so I play football no matter. I respect the guy, I love my team mates, I prefer the left wing, we are unbeaten five games into the district league... What's to cry for?

But - there's always a but. There's got to be a limit to my love for football. There's a time for everything. Priorities change. One day I'll have to hang up my boots for good (instead of buying ever more pairs!) and that day, as I can already foresee, will be an extremely sad day for me, whether it's tomorrow or many decades hence. But even before that, in the immediate short term, I am heavily invested in football playing in terms of time and resources; and I can't help but wonder... is this thing destroying or helping me? But my favorite practice shorts have the word "Believe" stitched into the embroidery, so I do just that.

The one thing I am anxious for my soccer playing not to destroy is my walk with God. For it would be better to enter into life without a soccer career, than having a soccer career to be cast into hell. These thoughts have occasioned many struggles of conscience so far. Pending their resolution, I prefer the left wing despite being right-footed. And I don't appreciate the final whistle, since I can never seem to have enough of running around the opposing right back and making his outpost an ever-turbulent succession of breathless doldrums.

Dear Readers

I struggle to see to it that this "Life and Times" blog is neither a slough of despond nor a jeremiad of unending lamentations. But what material does the world give me? Ridiculous miscarriages of justice multiply left and right. Bright notes of optimism turn out to be hype and hot air. The world is ending. Will this blog be that place that anaesthetizes readers with distractions? It would be like watching cartoons while the house burns down around me.