So I finally made it official--I am giving up the paper route effective December 24th. There are some things I miss about it, but when it comes right down to it, it makes me, well, tired. Lately I have been too tired to do things with friends and family, too tired to serve families the way I would like at work, and too tired to write. My body has been having a harder and harder time even fighting off illness lately. I doubt I could go much beyond December 24th even if I desired to.
That said, we have heard whispers lately of people saying things like, "I don't feel sorry for him. It is his choice to not make his wife work." Please allow me to clarify: while, like everyone else, I do have my off days where I just feel miserable I do not intend to seek pity for this lot I have chosen. If anything I like to talk about it to model for my many younger or maybe a little older but not yet married friends. Allow me to explain.
Children. They say it takes a village to raise a child. There is certainly some truth to that. A child does need many good influences in his or her life and less favorable influences need to be limited as much as is appropriate. This is why, for example, as it stands right now my daughter would not be able to fly 1200 miles away from us to spend time with her mother-in-law. They are allowed to see each other of course, but not under that type of circumstance because she is not a healthy part of the village according to the way we wish to raise our children. However, as important as those influences may be, we believe the primary responsibility for raising a child falls to that child's parents. I know a lot of people would read that and nod their head in agreement, maybe even quietly utter an, "amen," but then these same people would move on to drop their children off at daycare for 10-12 hours leaving maybe 2-4 hours to feed, bathe, and spend time with their younger children each day while they are awake. Do they really believe then that the parents have the primary responsibility for the child? Who is providing the foundational beliefs that that child is going to have for the rest of his or her life? Not mom and dad. Sure there are parents who are single parents by no fault of their own, but those are the exception not the rule.
Assuming that parents are meant to have the primary responsibility for raising a child, the next step is to figure out the roles. I could talk about Paul's writing and endure all of the "scholarly" arguments against the integrity of God's word, but I do not wish to write a full length book today so I will focus on another passage instead.
Genesis 3:17-19 -- To Adam he said, “Because you listened to your wife and ate fruit from the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You must not eat from it,’ “Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.”
Adam was commanded to provide the food from the earth. He was told to sweat. He was told to go out and work. While I am not opposed to giving women all of the rights and respect they are due there is one thing I have never been able to wrap my head around about feminist movements. God himself in giving the curse that shaped the world today thought "work" would be a fitting punishment for Adam. Work is a curse. So why DO women fight so hard to be able to compete with men for it? Sincerely, I don't understand.
As a totally unrelated side note, I find it amusing that Adam got rebuked for listening to his wife.
Genesis 3:16 -- To the woman he said, “I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.”
Women have been cursed with the pain of childbearing. I believe it is apparent that this manifests itself in many forms throughout a woman's life regardless of the actual number of children she does or does not have. First there is the menstrual cycle itself with all of its err...joys. That endures for several decades. Then, of course, there are the actual labor pains that first come to mind when you read that curse. Finally, as the woman grows old the curse enters another stage called menopause. I would propose that, given that broader description of how this curse applies it is not unreasonable to assume it can also include the emotional roller coaster that accompanies a large part of actually raising a child. Finally, God said the woman's desire would be for her husband. Some look at this sexually. I do not share that view. Look at the world around you and tell me if you think God cursed women to only feel lust for their own husbands. Not a chance. I believe the desire for the husband and the husband ruling over the wife indicate that the woman is depending on the husband to meet basic needs. She desires her husband's provision and subjects herself to him (to an extent that is clarified further mostly in the new testament) to ensure that he will continue to pass what he has produced on to her.
To finally bring this back around full circle to the reason I speak so openly about the difficulties of doing my paper route, my family had a time of need. We both believe that it is my responsibility to provide and my wife's responsibility is to use the provision to take care of the home and children. I fulfilled my duty. It can be done. We are in a world that tells you you cannot have a family without a dual income. I want to tell the young men and women out there that the world lies.
Broken Thinker
I have to admit, lately it seems like my thinker is broken.
I am not talking about writer's block nor am I talking about a few moments of absent-mindedness. I am talking about being on my paper route in shorts and a tee-shirt, sweating buckets, and thinking to myself, "boy it sure is hot for January. I wish we would get some snow already." Just in case anyone is reading this out of context, it is currently August and I am in the northern hemisphere. It is pretty much the worst part of summer.
I had also been feeling very depressed and unmotivated lately. It seems to be a problem that runs in the men in my family. Usually it happens in the winter when there is less sunlight and less vitamin D, so it was quite unusual for me to be dealing with this in the middle of the summer. There are a number of reasons that I can think of, such as still working on starting work in my "new" position at my day job and being uncomfortable there. But there is a much more significant reason that took me a little time to grasp.
Within my church recently I can think of at least three elementary school-age or younger children who had the Holy Spirit move in them and who accepted Jesus as Savior and Lord. I cannot think of anything that would make Lucifer and the fallen angels angrier, and so we are about due for an attack. Our church should be coming under attack and I, being accountable for the well-being of one of the recently sealed, should be expecting it too.
It was an empowering realization. Once I knew what was really keeping me down I knew just what scripture I would dwell on to overcome it. Matthew 16:18, which reads in part, "...on this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." (NKJV).
It was an interesting verse to use in such a defensive manner since the verse clearly implies that we are the ones on the offense. It is the gates of hell. Gates are not used for offense. They are used for holing up and protecting yourself. Han Solo would probably like this verse as it seems that the best defense really is a good offense.
Now let's hope my thinker gets back up to par in the very near future. I do not prefer the confusion that I have been feeling recently.
In other, very much related news while we were taking the offensive and reciting the ten commandments with my daughter recently we just happened to be in McDonalds. A McDonalds employee stopped and listened to her name them. She named all ten except when it came to number five she said, "There is no more number five I broke it." I explained to her that when she breaks number five by not listening to her mommy then Jesus puts it back together and that is called forgiveness. The McDonalds employee disappeared and came back a couple minutes later with ice cream for both of our children. How very nice.
I am not talking about writer's block nor am I talking about a few moments of absent-mindedness. I am talking about being on my paper route in shorts and a tee-shirt, sweating buckets, and thinking to myself, "boy it sure is hot for January. I wish we would get some snow already." Just in case anyone is reading this out of context, it is currently August and I am in the northern hemisphere. It is pretty much the worst part of summer.
I had also been feeling very depressed and unmotivated lately. It seems to be a problem that runs in the men in my family. Usually it happens in the winter when there is less sunlight and less vitamin D, so it was quite unusual for me to be dealing with this in the middle of the summer. There are a number of reasons that I can think of, such as still working on starting work in my "new" position at my day job and being uncomfortable there. But there is a much more significant reason that took me a little time to grasp.
Within my church recently I can think of at least three elementary school-age or younger children who had the Holy Spirit move in them and who accepted Jesus as Savior and Lord. I cannot think of anything that would make Lucifer and the fallen angels angrier, and so we are about due for an attack. Our church should be coming under attack and I, being accountable for the well-being of one of the recently sealed, should be expecting it too.
It was an empowering realization. Once I knew what was really keeping me down I knew just what scripture I would dwell on to overcome it. Matthew 16:18, which reads in part, "...on this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." (NKJV).
It was an interesting verse to use in such a defensive manner since the verse clearly implies that we are the ones on the offense. It is the gates of hell. Gates are not used for offense. They are used for holing up and protecting yourself. Han Solo would probably like this verse as it seems that the best defense really is a good offense.
Now let's hope my thinker gets back up to par in the very near future. I do not prefer the confusion that I have been feeling recently.
In other, very much related news while we were taking the offensive and reciting the ten commandments with my daughter recently we just happened to be in McDonalds. A McDonalds employee stopped and listened to her name them. She named all ten except when it came to number five she said, "There is no more number five I broke it." I explained to her that when she breaks number five by not listening to her mommy then Jesus puts it back together and that is called forgiveness. The McDonalds employee disappeared and came back a couple minutes later with ice cream for both of our children. How very nice.
Discernment
The last few days I have been lost in thought about ages of discernment. It is a very important topic to those of us who have children and want to raise them up in a Christian household. For me in particular it was on the forefront of my thoughts because my three year old (more than half way to four) asked a little over a week ago how she could get Jesus to live in her heart. Fortunately we had just had a Sunday School lesson about Jesus rebuking his disciples when they tried to stop the children from approaching him so I gave her the completely serious, not dumbed down answer. And then she did it.
It took me a little while to wrap my head around it. Could a three year old really have the discernment to know what she was doing? Did she know enough about the world and about Jesus to make that choice? Does she need exposure to other lifestyles to even realize she was making a choice? And if she could make that choice at that age what does that mean for everyone else who...? God revealed three very important truths to me. One should have been obvious to me, another maybe a little less so, and the third one is a very painful, inconvenient truth.
First of all, yes, a young child can receive Jesus. He said so right in the passages we studied in the Sunday School lesson. In fact, Jesus said that heaven belongs to those little children. Let's not forget that when Jesus walked the Earth as God-Man a teenage person was a married adult so the people the disciples were shooing away were not the "enlightened" high school students we might think of today. They may well have been quite close to my daughter's age. Also the Holy Spirit leads a man to the Son who leads him to the Father so why couldn't the Holy Spirit act in my child's life when He chooses to act. Was I trying to claim to be able to limit God?
Second, a three year old surely can know enough about Jesus to make the decision to follow Him, and the rest of the world doesn't matter. The Word doesn't say teach your child apologetics and let her decide for herself. Nor does it say exposure your child to all the junk the world has to offer and tell her which way you think she should take. Proverbs 22:6 says, "Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it." That's it. Teach them about Jesus (the Way). Nothing more. The rest of that, the part about needing to know more about the world, that is my liberal arts education shining through. Besides, who, upon praying for their own salvation, knows everything there is to know about God or about the world? Who knows all of these things at death even? No one. Am I qualified to say that a certain quantity of knowledge is required then you can be saved but not before? No, definitely not. My child has been raised with Jesus and has accepted her seal. She is raised this way and when she was older she will still follow this path.
Finally, who goes to heaven? Heaven is for all people who have accepted Jesus as there Lord and Savior. These are precisely the requirements, no more and no less. Jesus is the only way to heaven. But what happened to the age of discernment that is frequently discussed? I have been told, by a catholic, that the age of discernment is at 12(ish) when you are able to go through the catechism. I have been told by a Methodist that the age of discernment happens when you reach a certain level of intillectual capacity so that a toddler can go to heaven. An adult with a severe disability might never reach this age of discernment and also be sealed for heaven. The Lord revealed a problem with this. We are trying to create more than one way to Heaven. We are all born in sin. Handicapped adults who have not received Jesus do not go to heaven. Even more tragicaly in my mind, young children who have not accepted Jesus do not go to heaven. These groups may not be able to verbally say they receive Him, but we still need to witness to them. They are still capable of praying even if they cannot speak, and even if their thoughts are truly muddled the Holy Spirit can still move in them and guide them to Jesus. I guess the important point here is start witnessing to your children the moment they are born. This isn't just "preach the gospel always; when necessary use words." In fact the more I learn the more I realize that is a horrible man-made proverb. Use words.
Now the next question I have to wrestle with even though I know the answer: Should we actually be telling children about Jesus *before* they are born? I believe abortion is unconditionally murder. I also believe what makes a human human is the soul, so is there a soul that needs saved in an unborn baby? And here we get to some of the depths that I prefer not to think about so here I stop.
It took me a little while to wrap my head around it. Could a three year old really have the discernment to know what she was doing? Did she know enough about the world and about Jesus to make that choice? Does she need exposure to other lifestyles to even realize she was making a choice? And if she could make that choice at that age what does that mean for everyone else who...? God revealed three very important truths to me. One should have been obvious to me, another maybe a little less so, and the third one is a very painful, inconvenient truth.
First of all, yes, a young child can receive Jesus. He said so right in the passages we studied in the Sunday School lesson. In fact, Jesus said that heaven belongs to those little children. Let's not forget that when Jesus walked the Earth as God-Man a teenage person was a married adult so the people the disciples were shooing away were not the "enlightened" high school students we might think of today. They may well have been quite close to my daughter's age. Also the Holy Spirit leads a man to the Son who leads him to the Father so why couldn't the Holy Spirit act in my child's life when He chooses to act. Was I trying to claim to be able to limit God?
Second, a three year old surely can know enough about Jesus to make the decision to follow Him, and the rest of the world doesn't matter. The Word doesn't say teach your child apologetics and let her decide for herself. Nor does it say exposure your child to all the junk the world has to offer and tell her which way you think she should take. Proverbs 22:6 says, "Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it." That's it. Teach them about Jesus (the Way). Nothing more. The rest of that, the part about needing to know more about the world, that is my liberal arts education shining through. Besides, who, upon praying for their own salvation, knows everything there is to know about God or about the world? Who knows all of these things at death even? No one. Am I qualified to say that a certain quantity of knowledge is required then you can be saved but not before? No, definitely not. My child has been raised with Jesus and has accepted her seal. She is raised this way and when she was older she will still follow this path.
Finally, who goes to heaven? Heaven is for all people who have accepted Jesus as there Lord and Savior. These are precisely the requirements, no more and no less. Jesus is the only way to heaven. But what happened to the age of discernment that is frequently discussed? I have been told, by a catholic, that the age of discernment is at 12(ish) when you are able to go through the catechism. I have been told by a Methodist that the age of discernment happens when you reach a certain level of intillectual capacity so that a toddler can go to heaven. An adult with a severe disability might never reach this age of discernment and also be sealed for heaven. The Lord revealed a problem with this. We are trying to create more than one way to Heaven. We are all born in sin. Handicapped adults who have not received Jesus do not go to heaven. Even more tragicaly in my mind, young children who have not accepted Jesus do not go to heaven. These groups may not be able to verbally say they receive Him, but we still need to witness to them. They are still capable of praying even if they cannot speak, and even if their thoughts are truly muddled the Holy Spirit can still move in them and guide them to Jesus. I guess the important point here is start witnessing to your children the moment they are born. This isn't just "preach the gospel always; when necessary use words." In fact the more I learn the more I realize that is a horrible man-made proverb. Use words.
Now the next question I have to wrestle with even though I know the answer: Should we actually be telling children about Jesus *before* they are born? I believe abortion is unconditionally murder. I also believe what makes a human human is the soul, so is there a soul that needs saved in an unborn baby? And here we get to some of the depths that I prefer not to think about so here I stop.
Walk This Way
This morning I found myself pondering the sidewalk beneath my feet. Actually at the time there was no sidewalk beneath my feet because I was taking the direct route. What drew my attention to it was a lady who was out for a jog. She reached a place where she could have run around a corner along the road or she could have followed the sidewalk as it turned an ran straight away from the road only to return to it on the other side of the corner after traveling nearly twice as far. The jogger chose to follow the sidewalk.
This got me thinking about how arbitrary the sidewalk can be, and yet people still tend to follow it like it was a cattle chute. Maybe the jogger knew how far she was running and wanted to cover a specific distance or maybe she did not want to go through the grass for fear of twisting an ankle. Fine. But when I am walking around throwing papers at porches does it really matter if I walk where the side walk is? Suppose I walk three feet to the right, or perhaps two feet and eight and one quarter inches to the left? I might have to go around the occasional porch, but otherwise I think I will be alright.
I once stuck to the sidewalk religiously. I figured people may not want me to walk through their yards in the early morning hours. I have since concluded that I can safely assume the ground is where I am supposed to walk unless there is a "Keep Off the Grass" sign up. I now take the direct route pretty much everywhere.
It is a good thing, too. If I stuck to the sidewalk I would be stuck walking past a window every morning where there is a larger gentleman who always walks around with his lights on and curtains open completely naked. When it is dark at three or four in the morning it is hard not to look where there is light and movement. If I don't stick to the sidewalk I can completely avoid that house. Thankfully he is not a subscriber.
So if the placement of the sidewalk is so arbitrary then that means it could also have been placed differently. Perhaps a sidewalk was built over a colony of the little ants that pinch people, destroying the colony. Now maybe thanks to that sidewalk a child who is playing in that yard won't get those ants crawling all over him and start squirming and walk into traffic while he is distracted with the itching and the pinching. Sidewalks save lives! On the other hand maybe that same sidewalk was built over a seedling of a hybrid plant that we have never seen before, and maybe the nectar of that plant was going to be the cure for cancer, AIDS, or even liberalism. Sure that sidewalk saved that kid's life, but how many people has it condemned.
That might be a little extreme, but you will find I rather enjoy applying the butterfly effect to many things.
I would be interested sometime to sit and watch a corner like the one I described earlier just to tally how many people follow the road, how many follow the sidewalk, and how many really take the direct route straight through the grass. It is fascinating how people always walk on the cement rather than the strip of grass right beside it where the grass grows and the ground feels much more comfortable. It is almost like religion--you grow up walking on the Muslim sidewalk it is hard to get off. If you grow up walking on the Christian sidewalk it is hard to get off, and on and on. That would actually be rather encouraging if only more people were bringing their children up to be born-again, Bible-believing Christians. So now we have established that sidewalks are a cult. Once you join you almost always stay, and when you see someone just gleefully walking straight across the grass you probably look down you sidewalk-cult nose at him and wonder what is wrong with him. I am that guy you are looking at and when you reach our destination a quarter hour after I get there maybe I can explain it to you.
As the sun came up this morning I wondered one last wonder about the sidewalk: Why do they have to be made of a material that reflects every bit of sunlight directly into my eyes?
This got me thinking about how arbitrary the sidewalk can be, and yet people still tend to follow it like it was a cattle chute. Maybe the jogger knew how far she was running and wanted to cover a specific distance or maybe she did not want to go through the grass for fear of twisting an ankle. Fine. But when I am walking around throwing papers at porches does it really matter if I walk where the side walk is? Suppose I walk three feet to the right, or perhaps two feet and eight and one quarter inches to the left? I might have to go around the occasional porch, but otherwise I think I will be alright.
I once stuck to the sidewalk religiously. I figured people may not want me to walk through their yards in the early morning hours. I have since concluded that I can safely assume the ground is where I am supposed to walk unless there is a "Keep Off the Grass" sign up. I now take the direct route pretty much everywhere.
It is a good thing, too. If I stuck to the sidewalk I would be stuck walking past a window every morning where there is a larger gentleman who always walks around with his lights on and curtains open completely naked. When it is dark at three or four in the morning it is hard not to look where there is light and movement. If I don't stick to the sidewalk I can completely avoid that house. Thankfully he is not a subscriber.
So if the placement of the sidewalk is so arbitrary then that means it could also have been placed differently. Perhaps a sidewalk was built over a colony of the little ants that pinch people, destroying the colony. Now maybe thanks to that sidewalk a child who is playing in that yard won't get those ants crawling all over him and start squirming and walk into traffic while he is distracted with the itching and the pinching. Sidewalks save lives! On the other hand maybe that same sidewalk was built over a seedling of a hybrid plant that we have never seen before, and maybe the nectar of that plant was going to be the cure for cancer, AIDS, or even liberalism. Sure that sidewalk saved that kid's life, but how many people has it condemned.
That might be a little extreme, but you will find I rather enjoy applying the butterfly effect to many things.
I would be interested sometime to sit and watch a corner like the one I described earlier just to tally how many people follow the road, how many follow the sidewalk, and how many really take the direct route straight through the grass. It is fascinating how people always walk on the cement rather than the strip of grass right beside it where the grass grows and the ground feels much more comfortable. It is almost like religion--you grow up walking on the Muslim sidewalk it is hard to get off. If you grow up walking on the Christian sidewalk it is hard to get off, and on and on. That would actually be rather encouraging if only more people were bringing their children up to be born-again, Bible-believing Christians. So now we have established that sidewalks are a cult. Once you join you almost always stay, and when you see someone just gleefully walking straight across the grass you probably look down you sidewalk-cult nose at him and wonder what is wrong with him. I am that guy you are looking at and when you reach our destination a quarter hour after I get there maybe I can explain it to you.
As the sun came up this morning I wondered one last wonder about the sidewalk: Why do they have to be made of a material that reflects every bit of sunlight directly into my eyes?
Day Job
I am identifying myself as a paperboy, but it is really not my day job.
By day I am a Southern Baptist who has grown increasingly unapologetic when it comes to apologetics. Having just checked on the definition of apologetics on dictionary.com, I realize that apologetics is not quite the right word as I have gradually become somewhat aggressive. Apparently apologetics is concerned with the defense of Christianity. Yeah, I will probably post some of that here, too. My blog, my opinions, but if anyone really wants a good debate and is willing to keep it civil I will see you in the comments section.
Delivering the paper is not my second job. After I am a servant to Jesus I am a servant to my wife. I have to be because otherwise she gets her whip out. Actually we believe in a traiditional family structure so she pretty well does anything I ask within reason, but in return I am bound to love her like Christ loved the church. I could write pages upon pages about the dynamics of that, but the short version is that a traditional male-dominated household is not necessarily mysogynistic. They certainly can be, but not if they are done the way the Word teaches.
Delivering the paper is not my third job. After I serve Jesus and my wife I am accountable for the well being of two much smaller people. Their eyes are always on me. I don't need my PSP in front of me for my preschool age daughter to walk up to me and say, "Daddy you press the square, the triangle, the circle, and don't forget the X." I am actually somewhat proud of her ability to remember the buttons on the PSP, but I am even more proud that I can make a sign for each and she can recite nine out of the ten commandments, in order, perfectly almost every time. She somehow always tries to skip the ninth one. My son is even smaller yet. He is usually well behaved and when he isn't he throws the cutest little tantrums. I'll never tell him that though or I might be stuck with those tantrums.
Delivering the paper is not even my fourth job. Delivering the paper is way down near the bottom of the list, but I identify myself as a paperboy here because it is a job that gives me time to think about things like this. Walking around town at 3:00 in the morning with no one but the newspapers to keep you company is something we should all try at least once in our lives. Lately I have not even been turning the car radio on. I have been spending that time talking with God or with the voices in my head. The quiet allows one to ruminate on a deeper level than is possible any other time of the day. Sometimes it is a little bit scary, but more often it is entertaining or even useful. Most of it leaves me with the feeling later that I should have been writing stuff down. Another word for think is muse and so this shall be the place for the musings of the paperboy.
By day I am a Southern Baptist who has grown increasingly unapologetic when it comes to apologetics. Having just checked on the definition of apologetics on dictionary.com, I realize that apologetics is not quite the right word as I have gradually become somewhat aggressive. Apparently apologetics is concerned with the defense of Christianity. Yeah, I will probably post some of that here, too. My blog, my opinions, but if anyone really wants a good debate and is willing to keep it civil I will see you in the comments section.
Delivering the paper is not my second job. After I am a servant to Jesus I am a servant to my wife. I have to be because otherwise she gets her whip out. Actually we believe in a traiditional family structure so she pretty well does anything I ask within reason, but in return I am bound to love her like Christ loved the church. I could write pages upon pages about the dynamics of that, but the short version is that a traditional male-dominated household is not necessarily mysogynistic. They certainly can be, but not if they are done the way the Word teaches.
Delivering the paper is not my third job. After I serve Jesus and my wife I am accountable for the well being of two much smaller people. Their eyes are always on me. I don't need my PSP in front of me for my preschool age daughter to walk up to me and say, "Daddy you press the square, the triangle, the circle, and don't forget the X." I am actually somewhat proud of her ability to remember the buttons on the PSP, but I am even more proud that I can make a sign for each and she can recite nine out of the ten commandments, in order, perfectly almost every time. She somehow always tries to skip the ninth one. My son is even smaller yet. He is usually well behaved and when he isn't he throws the cutest little tantrums. I'll never tell him that though or I might be stuck with those tantrums.
Delivering the paper is not even my fourth job. Delivering the paper is way down near the bottom of the list, but I identify myself as a paperboy here because it is a job that gives me time to think about things like this. Walking around town at 3:00 in the morning with no one but the newspapers to keep you company is something we should all try at least once in our lives. Lately I have not even been turning the car radio on. I have been spending that time talking with God or with the voices in my head. The quiet allows one to ruminate on a deeper level than is possible any other time of the day. Sometimes it is a little bit scary, but more often it is entertaining or even useful. Most of it leaves me with the feeling later that I should have been writing stuff down. Another word for think is muse and so this shall be the place for the musings of the paperboy.
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