Interesting article over at the NYT called Christ among the Partisans.

Check it out.

Christine and I are leaving for Rome this afternoon. We could use your prayers! And we're praying for you.

If I have time, and if I think of it, I'll put something up at allthine.blogspot.com

Love in Christ,
Rhonda

In the words of Home Land's washed-out anti-hero Lewis Miner, it's confession time, Catamounts.
My spiritual life has been pretty much in the mud lately, and it's not the first time I've been in this mud. To borrow what is perhaps a more apt metaphor, it's more like the vomit that a dog keeps coming back to. Which brings us to part (a symptom, if you will) of the problem: I don't thirst for the milk of the word. This morning was the first time in almost a month that I'd sat down, read a passage from the Bible, and wrote down my thoughts on it. While hanging out at the BSU in the days leading up to Sarah and Joe's wedding, I remember this one afternoon that we were hanging out and we decided to read out loud some passages from Isaiah. It would strike me as bizarre, alien, that reading the Bible was something that these people did of their own initiative, while hanging around, had I not remembered that I used to do the same thing back in high school. I fell asleep there on the floor, thinking how this was not so bad.
I guess some of it is hubris. After so many years of exposure to the Bible, I know it reasonably well--I know the gist of most books, where to find familiar key passages like Philippians 2:1-9 and what their content is...I'm particularly acquainted with the "flow" of Job, the gospels, the book of Romans...I've memorized I Peter. The result of all this knowledge is that when I think of reading the Bible, I find myself thinking, "Why bother? I already know what it's going to say."
Are the red flags going up now? Good.
This isn't the attitude a person should be taking toward the Bible; I know it. Did God not put this thing together? Are there not all kinds of intricacies here, hidden connections and all kinds of insights one might have overlooked on past reads, stuff the Spirit will reveal that He didn't reveal last time you cracked open the book? In most translations, the book is over a thousand pages. It doesn't take a Johnny to know that you will never ever in your lifetime become intimately acquainted with every last detail of a book of that size--I mean, that's just common sense. I guess, you know, I come to the Bible looking to learn something new, like you might go to a movie or read a book and have a new story presented to you, but I'm familiar enough with the Bible that I see the plot twists coming. Do I come to the Bible looking for entertainment?
Maybe. I mean, I love the Old Testament for its stories, even if I know them already. One of my favorite passages in the bible is Judges 3, Ehud's assassination mission against fat King Eglon, who is so fat that the sword disappears into the folds of his gut when he's stabbed with it. I enjoy imagining the miracles, the sheer crap-your-pants awesomeness of the things God does, parting seas and calling down fire. And then contrast the stories of the Old Testament with Paul's dry didacticism. Paul's letters don't have a "plot." Nothing ever happens in them, whereas when Jesus wants to teach something, He uses parables, characters we can relate to, real-life situations and logical progressions of events. I've never really fallen into the camp that thinks the commands in Paul's letters are meant to be taken simply as the fallible and culturally-shaped writings of a human being, but I can certainly see why people would want to. Certain passages in his writings, I come away from them with a reluctant, mildly grudging sense of "yeah, I guess so." And when Paul says to be imitators of him as he's an imitator of Christ, I used to think: "Paul, you arrogant blowhard! Are you so attached to your hierarchy of holiness that you can't bear your readers to go straight to the source for their pattern of obedience?" Not so much anymore, but that's just an example of the difficulties I've had with Paul.
And in general, to come back to the "entertainment" issue that I briefly digressed from just now, I guess it's that I come to the Bible looking for something new. Doesn't necessarily mean some new flashbang cool thing to tickle my enjoyment, it could be a new truth to learn or bringing to light a new shortcoming of mine to let God work on and help me overcome, but in all cases we're talking something new I hope to get from it. But it seems that a lot of the time...I dunno, God just wants me to come to the table without that craving for novelty, read, listen, spend time hearing Him like Mary listened at Jesus' feet (Luke 10:39), and it's less about something new (though there's a place for that in studying the Bible) and so often more about being reminded of things I've already learned but aren't immediately in mind.
Prayer. I'll just come right out and say it, I suck at prayer. I'm irresponsible, undisciplined, scattershot. I've tried to pray without ceasing before, but the result was that 1) I gave up and 2) I just sort of pray at random throughout the day now, "whenever I feel like it." I don't have particular times of the day that I've set aside to pray for specific things. I don't even have particular things I pray for. When I say, "I'll pray for you about x", I usually mean "I will say at least one prayer for you at some point in the future," which point usually turns out to be immediately after I finish talking to the person so that I won't forget to. I have difficulty caring about other people's prayer requests, in part because they're so rarely about the plight of the unsaved (which is often on my mind these days, even if I never really do anything about it), and in part because I'm selfish (more on that later, perhaps). I've thought sometimes along the same lines as the difficulties and questions recently expressed here on this blog, but I'll be honest, for me it's not a matter of not understanding why we should or thinking that prayer doesn't make sense: it's mostly just a matter of I am a lazy bum.
Worship is another, perhaps related, problem. I don't quite know how to express this one; I guess I'll start with worship CD's, like how people play them in their cars. It seems like the same kind of thing as the Bible reading, in some respect...I don't have personal difficulty with worshipping on Sunday mornings at church, but outside of that context it's a different story. I don't propose to know the motivations of people who listen to worship CD's, who may simply love God and enjoy listening and singing along to music about His glory while they go driving, but I mean, if I were to play popular worship CD's while driving around, it would be because I would have this feeling like I ought to be filling up my life with more Christian things to do or as if it were some sort of "thing that's better for me to do" like a duty or out of some need to feel like I'm a good person who's growing in the spiritual discipline of listening to worhship CD's in the car. And the worship songs rub me the wrong way, I'm not really certain in what ways...so I'll try to articulate my misgivings or whatever you want to call them.
A lot of the worship songs on those CD's seem to be extremely conscious in the lyrics of the fact that they're worship songs. For example, from the song "Prince of Peace," on the "guys' part" of the chorus: "I will sing to and worship the King who is worthy...I will bow down before Him." I remember more than once, in different groups of fellowshipping believers, people requesting that the guys get to sing the recitation of God's titles and the girls getting to declare the fact that they're worshipping and adoring God, on account of the girls "having the more awesome part." And in the song "You Are Worthy of My Praise," the emphasis on the activity of worship itself is overwhelming. There is not a line in that song whose focus is not on the activity of the singer himself as a worshipping being. There is no mention of the activity of God whatsoever, of the redemptive work of Christ or of the the traits like glory or lovingkindness that make God worthy of our worship. And the song "Heart of Worship" seems to mix in equal measure a focus on God Himself and the speaker's endeavors to worship Him in a right and sincere way. Which is not an unimportant concern, don't get me wrong--but should it be a key theme of a worship song? I don't know...and though the speaker claims that "It's all about You, Jesus," it seems to be also be very much about the speaker's spiritual poverty and his declaration that he's going to worship his God anyway. I find it hard to "mean" songs like this...when I sing songs about "giving God my all" or suchlike, it just reminds me about my shortcomings and how I don't, can't give God my all, how the promise I sing is a lie. If I sing lyrics like that in a corporate worship setting such as a church service, I'm left with the choice of A) not sing the line and cut myself off from participating in worship with the rest of the body, B) sing the line and feel crappy about adding a falsehood to my list of imperfections keeping me from giving God my all, or C) derive a perverse sort of joy from sacrificing my own (I believe legitimate) misgivings in order to maintain this cheap, ostensible unity with the believers around me.
I'm realizing now that I've spent rather a lot of time on this, and I have some things to do today, so I should probably end here and go do some stuff. But there's my attempt to get at the mess inside my soul and get it out in the open, and needless to say it's a very messy attempt, but I know stuff like prayer and worship and reading the Bible is part of the Christian life (pretty foundational in fact), and I'm just trying to figure out what's at the root of my aversion to it. I dunno if I'm really looking for your thoughts or advice or things you think would help me with all this, feel free to leave 'em, but I really just felt like I had to share all that with...well...with you guys. Thanks for listening.

Rhonda, that's terrific.

I do have a prayer request (couplet?) that seems particularly suited for such a pilgrimage:

Jacob is here in a way that is very real to us now. Johanna and I have prayed -- and do pray -- that the Spirit rest on him all his days, and that he share in the anointing of the Christ (indeed, becoming a "little christ" himself). We would be very glad if you shared this prayer with us.

Also, I have been keenly aware for several years now that I am going to be a fatherless (but thankfully not Fatherless) father to my son. My strong desire is that I do so in such a manner as that Him of whom I am a shadow as father is glorified in my fathering (and the sign that I have succeeded will be, of course, that Jesus is glorified in the Spirit through this). I have been trying (and praying) earnestly to sort out my own handicaps and deficiencies -- especially as this matter relates to my spiritual condition. I would very much like for you to offer this prayer on your pilgrimage as well.

Thanks, Rhonda.

My sister and I are going to Rome next week. We are pilgrimaging there for the feast of Pentecost, along with millions from around the world. In a time-honored pilgrimaging tradition, I have the following question:

Does anyone have any special prayer requests, for you or for another, that we can take on pilgrimage with us?

Send me an email or post it here, and it will be done. I'll provide my email address through my profile. Prayers will be particularly offered up to the Holy Spirit, considering the feast day.

Rhonda

P.S. Jacob Alton Burbridge -- http://jacob.burbridge.googlepages.com

So, I've been seriously thinking (and praying) about the whole prayer thing off and on for about 5 years (as opposed to prior trivial attention)-- since I was a sophomore at St. John's. I, for one, wasn't raised in an Evangelical church (nor in any church). We didn't do "daily quiet times" and we didn't listen to Christian music. I did have an LP of Michael Jackson's Thriller and a single of Beat It as well as an array of Sesame Street recordings and such. We did go to church(es). The Good News was good news to us.

Early on, I was plagued by great anguish and remose for the people in certain situations (the specifics are neither here nor there right now). Whenever I heard about someone suffering due to ____________ it brought me a terrible sense of woe, sympathy, anger, or some combination of those (and other) emotions. Sometimes I prayed for them, sometimes I didn't think of it. I will say that the anguish of it sometimes was so profoud as to resemble even existential angst (whug... disconnect this statement from pop sentiments and read it at face value -- a la Pascal).
Around sophomore year at St. John's I started asking the question, "What good is prayer?" More specifically, I formulated it into this epigrammatic couplet:

Let's look at it in a particular: Let's say I become aware that someone is suffering from an emotional upheaval after a divorce. Let's further assume that I want the person to have relief from the stress (either externally, internally, or both). If it is a good thing for God to ease her pain, why does it matter if I pray for her? Will she not be comforted by Him whether I do or not, since it is good? If it is not good, ought I not to pray for it (for the obvious reasons)?
One result: My prayer doesn't matter. Regarding a given matter, I should either specifically not pray about it (if it is Not Good) or else my prayer is irrelevant (if it is Good).

I'll point out for the sake of complete disclosure (lest any get caught in this snare) that I have some underlying assumptions in this scenario that are important:

God always does what is Good.
God  only  does what is Good.

Obviously, the safe bet is just never to pray. Then you won't be praying for the Bad thing ever, and the Good things will always happen. Hopefully you are as uncomfortable with this conclusion as I was. First and foremost, Jesus instructed us to pray. Not only to pray, but to pray for stuff. Big, Famous Example: "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. ..." Almost all of that prayer is petition (some parts are proclaimation). It's not all "pious" prayer either: "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done" certainly is, but "Give us this day our daily bread" isn't particularly (ok, so it's "us" ... a group prayer) nor are the "forgive us" and "lead us" (etc.) portions. Of course, that's just prayer for me.

But Paul goes on for a bit about praying for those in positions of authority, and other people write that blah blah etc. (I'm sure you can find all the fun examples you want all over the bible and the web, and lots of fun counter-examples, and counter-counter-examples, if you are particularly inclined to be either well-versed or contentious).

So I started asking people about it. The most common answer I got was that God wants us to pray so that we become better people. More specifically (when pressed) it was that "God wants us to pray so that we become better people and He will do all Good things (and only them) regardless of whether we pray or not, so we might as well get in on the free blessings of participating in what he's doing."

This is a false position. God wishes that in our prayers we have mercy upon others, and that we represent our desires to Him. He acts on our expressed desires. He grows us in His time and matures our desires, and inclines our hearts ever more towards the welfare of others. Children need to be children for a time, before they are men and women.

There were two or three comments in some of the previous posts that I'd like to comment on (in chronological order):

From Nate

There was also advice for what to do if one was trying one's best and still not "feeling the presence of God". Start listening to those impulses, those inner thoughts--learn to pay attention to how God may be leading you.

Well: I think it's bull.

It isn't false, but it is a somewhat poor articulation of something true. It also has lots of abuses, in part (but just part) because of its poor articulation. Be wary, though -- you are throwing out the baby with the bathwater.

Pray about something enough and you get to call whatever you decide "the direction of God". If it doesn't turn out, you can always say you were wrong--it's only God when it's right, after all.

Again, when this happens it is an abuse of something good. This phenomenon is the result of too much zeal with too little discernment (which is a gift from God). It is folly at best and sin at worst. Nonetheless, an idea ought never to be judged by its abuses -- this is a terrible folly too.

I believe abstractly in the merit of prayer,

Abstractly, what do you believe is the merit of prayer? Is that belief so abstract as to be abstract and not practical? If so, then it is not even an abstract belief -- it is merely an accepted proposition.

but I almost never find that the prayer my fellow Christians talk about to be even potentially legitimate.

Ack! By what criteria is a prayer found to be legitimate? By what authority do you do so? (Sincere questions ... not intended to convey an accusing tone). Tread lightly! You seem to me to stand on shaky ground. I'm saying this as a caution from one who loves you. Perhaps this stand would be better taken regarding the prayers of your fellow Christians: "Jesus, I'm so wretched that I do not even understand the prayers of my brothers. Please help me!" as you consider others better than yourself. The only prayers of such sort that seems as though they might be my business are prayers against God (that is, prayers for evil) or prayers to some other god. If either of these is coming from my brother then I'm obliged to help him in particulars because he's apparently in terrible shape (either dead or deathly ill).

Instead, I find constant evidence that the institution of prayer (and, Lord, we won't even touch miracles) is primarily a vehicle for superstition. Even at its best, the language of the church tends to be imprecise and amorphous, ...

P.S. This post is deliberately more provocative than precise--at this point I'd rather interest someone enough to reply than be particularly accurate on any one of these issues I've so brazenly bandied about. I hope my dear readers will understand this and accord me corresponding charity.

You are complaining about something you are attributing largely to imprecise rhetoric ... and using imprecise rhetoric to do so. Is this wise?

From Rhonda

There is something more objective about learning prayer from the outside, rather than the inside – and when we have such teachers as Christ, Scripture, and the Church, then we will be guarded against subjectivity, emotionalism, relativism, superstition

True dat. (Double true.) I enjoy writing out my prayers (I do it somewhat sporadically right now, but I'm trying to increase my discipline. Sometimes it's just a freeflow organica, sometimes it's more studied. I like to take a central theme from some trusted prayer (from the Bible or some famous person (I like John Donne) and write variations on a theme. I pray them as I sculpt them. Sometimes afterwards too. I heart words.

From Matt

I find myself dividing everying into two categories: Son-oriented and Father-oriented, and I think that as long as Birthday-Wish prayers are Father-oriented (i.e. acknowledging that all good gifts come from God and giving thanks to Him) they are good.

I would point out that there's a third party ;) But, among the three, there's a general "funnelling" upwards. For an individual believer, this makes for a "trek to maturity" in one's prayer life, I think:

Spirit => Son => Father

Sometimes this path can be taken again and again from any number of starting points, inducing maturity in a wide variety of areas.

Jacob Alton Burbridge
http://jacob.burbridge.googlepages.com

"What this amounted to was that the Christian life in its best form starts to sound like it's mainly an emotional experience--the kind of spiritually orgasmic elation that everyone should want and strive for."

Above quote from Nate.

(Confession: I'm not concise. I'm working on it, so cut me some slack. ;) )

This quote sparked a lot of thinking and reflection about the role emotions play in the faith of Christians. Sometimes, from my personal life experience and observation of others living out their faith, when a believer is feeling "down and out" the recourse is to, for example, listen to some uplifting music. (This could be your run of the mill CCM stuff or something more beautiful and classical.) The point is that whatever music you might listen to at that time is meant to lift your down and out feelings, relieve them and replace them with a better sense of joy or happiness or peace or contentment. Why? Because it just sucks to feel depressed.[note] Or there may be other more serious reasons like the potential for depressed feelings to lead to doubt and despair that might harden one's heart against their Creator, lead to sin, etc. But I'm also aware that it doesn't seem that many people actually enjoy being depressed, hence, our recoil from negative emotions. (Sir, I like your notes, mind if I use them? ;)) [hide] But isn't this - the music or whatever vehicle you and I may use to pull ourselves out of our dark emotions - just a crutch? And if so, is it an unhealthy crutch? Or does it have its place? I'm not one to say we should dwell in our misery, but sometimes the misery is there for a reason... a character shaping, God-teaching, refining moment. Just think of Job or David or Paul or Peter. It seems that God really does teach us a lot in the "valleys" of life. Is there a better approach to our negative emotions than avoidance or trying to rid ourselves of them immediately?

I see this also as a rampant pattern - and at times, a problem - in present day Christendom, and I must say, specifically in Protestant circles. The "this" is the seeking of or reliance upon or glorying in an emotional high, which Nate also brought up in the quote above. So here is a second question. What is the role of emotions in Christianity and faith?

I believe that emotions are part of our makeup, and as such, are from God, given by God. Thus, I believe emotions can be a very good thing, and we don't need to Stoicize ourselves and isolate ourselves from our emotions. I also know, however, that we are fallen, and as such, are hearts are deceitful above all things, and that sometimes our emotions can lead us into serious medical and life threatening conditions - such as clinical depression. So what is the proper role of emotions, how are they redeemed, or how do they intersect with our faith in a meaningful way and not one which merely propogates a shallow Christian life reliant on emotions and emotional experiences? (Feel free to also comment if you have witnessed other problems that a reliance on emotional experiences may cause; I'm not making an exhaustive list or case necessarily for why this is a problem, though that is my position.)

A Johnnie once asked me (actually, she might have been a prospective at the time) whether I was a fundamentalist. I told her I didn't know, but that she could ask me what I believed and I would tell her. Then she could decide what she wanted to call me. I found out that in her opinion I was one, though she still didn't give me a precise definition. (She only asked me one question: "Do you think God is a man?" I said that God isn't a man, but that there is a man who is God. I told her that God, the Father, is one who is imminently masculine beside anything else. I also distinguished between masculine and male (and feminine and female, in parallel).)

There's a fairly famous quote that goes "In necessariis unitas, in dubiis libertas, in omnibus caritas" (Rupertus Meldenius). It means

In necessary things unity, in uncertain things liberty, in all things charity.

It seems like a pretty good idea. Obviously, it's almost meaningless when used as anything other than a guide for one's self (as an exterior policy, for example, it clearly plays the role of a response that begs a question). [note] "Begging the question" does not mean "prompts us to ask a question," by the way; it means "responds to the question in a way that assumes an answer to the question." [hide]

I've read up a bit on "Fundamentalism" since I was asked about it. I don't really care what it is for my own sake, but if I get asked again, maybe I'll be able to talk about it with the asker in a way that is more beneficial for him.

The long and short of it seems to be that "Fundamentalism" was originally a movement (sort of grass-roots, with no clear conception or birth, but with a rather brief "period of nascence") designed to articulate exactly which things are the necessary things. I guess it should be obvious that if there are things that are necessary for a person to believe in order to be a son of God, then those things are the fundamental things of the faith. [note] Really, in abstract, I am just restating the definition of "fundamental" to be "those things are fundamental to a system that are necessary for the system to be itself." Or, if you prefer a more Lucretian flavor (as I often do), "those things are fundamental to a system that, when removed or changed, change the essense of the system." You can read more about it in tens of thousands of articles all over the web, and in books galore. [hide]

To my knowledge, I've never heard the word used without acknowledgement of its derisive connotations (when opponents speak of it, they are deriding; when proponents speak of it, they are specifically embracing the derision). Maybe some people do, but I don't think I've ever heard it. [note] This is probably because of people using words in such silly ways that they have to say things like, "this is generally the case -- and I mean 'generally' in it's literal sense." (I've heard a number of people say things like that on the radio and in various conversations lately ...) [hide]

Inasmuch as I would like to be one who employs a motto such as the one above for myself -- on disputable matters, to let my brother stand or fall before his own master (and he will stand, for God is able to make him stand); on indisputable matters, to correct my brother (for his own sake and for the sakes of others) and to preach the good news to the dead -- I guess I am a fundamentalist. But I also haven't really met any Christians who aren't fundamentalists (as described above). Every Christian I've met has some beliefs about what is necessary to believe in order to be a Christian (though they may not phrase it that way); and whoever does not have such a belief is not a Christian (here, my "fundamentalism" shows through). That is, if someone were to tell me "there is no belief essential to Christianity, including this one" then I would ask him, "Is it necessary to believe that there is a God?" And if he replies "there is no belief essential to Christianity, including this one," then I would know that he is someone to whom I was sent to tell the good news of Jesus.

At that point, "fundamentalist" just means "someone who believes something," and then there are different kinds of fundamentalist, which then just becomes the same thing as the other division that already existed (Baptist, Catholic, Moravian, Orthodox, ... etc.) and "fundamentalist" stops meaning anything.

It seems that some people have said that "fundamentalist" means a particular set of beliefs (that is, the beliefs of the people in power in the groups calling themselves Fundamentalists (notice the capital F here instead of lowercase). But then it really is a denomination, and no longer has any connection to the word "fundamentalist" in its own sense [note] Just as the "Methodist" church isn't the only one methodical and isn't even particularly so anymore, and the Catholic church isn't quite catholic anymore (inasmuch as there are non-Catholic christians since Vatican II (do I have that right?).[hide]

Anyway, just some thoughts on Fundamentalism and fundamentalism since I've mulled it over from time to time over the past few years (and it came up).

P.S. I suppose I should disclaim that I intended no offense to Fundamentalists, fundamentalists, Augustine, that one Johnnie, Methodists, methodists, Catholics, catholics, the Orthodox, the orthodox, historians, Paul, people who use words weirdly, platonists, lucretians, Christians, non-Christians, Jesus, or that one group I apparently left out who's representative is a little miffed at having been left out of this list. I'll rely on your good grace to believe me =)

Okay, so my working definition of 'fundamentalist' might be wrong. Read this from catholica.pontifications.net:

http://catholica.pontifications.net/?p=1672

A good many of us are lumped in this category. You may find this amusing. Or not. ;-)

I agree with you, Rhonda, that the same thing is happening in singing-worship and in recitative prayer. I don't often experience a song or hymn (or somebody else's prayer) 'becoming my prayer' - Although I have experienced it, and I understand that it's valid. (My own prayers tend to be more like answers to the question: "If you had the Omnipotent God of the Universe here before you, and you could say one thing to Him, what would it be?")

As a matter of fact, my own church sometimes does repeat-after-me prayers, but mostly as a sort of cherry on top of the main service. I think that we feel like saying a prayer that you didn't make up yourself is like sending a letter you didn't write yourself (a form letter). There are times when it's appropriate (doing taxes, applying for a job) but it's impersonal. When we do it we feel like we're in the waiting room filling out forms (after all such prayers are formal) when we want to speak to the Doctor personally.

And we spend so much time in this modern world filling out forms, sending people words that we didn't make up ourselves. It feels un-genuine. The point of having forms like that is to make each letter the same so that the secretary can deal with a great number of them more easily. The point is to spare the secretary the burden of keeping track of so many individual personal relationships. Jesus is not such a secretary. We want an individual personal relationship with Jesus.

I guess we didn't know the theory behind it - That such things are merely to teach us how to pray, rather than to be our whole prayer life. That's better - It's like reading a book on how to address the Doctor as opposed to filling out a form and mailing it to the Doctor. We didn't know the theory before we decided to feel that way about it. Thank you for teaching me about it, Rhonda. I guess we're also scared that some other people won't understand the theory either, and the recitative prayers will turn into magic words for them. There are such dangers in all practices, though.

As for the Birthday-Wish prayers, it brings up an interesting thought that I've been mulling over for probably 2 or 3 years. Here it is:

God the Father created the world, and all the riches in it. Everything you could wish for for your birthday, He made. He made it, and He gave it to Adam (and you by birthright) to rule over, protect, and enjoy. He did this because He loves you. He wants you to enjoy these good things, and He is pleased by your prayers asking Him for them. Doesn't he know how to give good gifts?

Jesus Christ came because the world is broken, irrevocably so. It needs to be destroyed, and in the end it will be. He had to be destroyed to save me from being destroyed. He asks us to put our treasure in heaven, and tells us that it's very hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. From a Christ and sacrifice point of view, it's good to be poor. The less worldly goods you have, the more focussed you can be on spiritual things.

It's funny that there should be two sides to this. I think I would say it this way:

Praying for material riches to distract oneself from the Gospel and numb the pain of death: Bad.
Praying for material riches to enjoy them as a blessing from God: Good.
Praying (and working) to become materially poor out of bitterness and hatred for the world God made: Bad.
Praying (and working) to become materially poor in order to put your treasure in Heaven and to be more like Jesus Christ: Good.

I find myself dividing everying into two categories: Son-oriented and Father-oriented, and I think that as long as Birthday-Wish prayers are Father-oriented (i.e. acknowledging that all good gifts come from God and giving thanks to Him) they are good.

Thoughts anyone?

(Sorry to go on so long. I thought this was better as a post than in the comments section.)

"Isaac prayed to the Lord on behalf of his wife, because she was barren. The Lord answered his prayer, and his wife Rebekah became pregnant." Genesis 25:21

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."
Philippians 4:6


I agree with your dis-ease towards all the questions like "Are you making Jesus #1 in your life" and crud like that. They seem to be well intentioned, but that doesn't mean they are pointed in the right direction. Mostly for me they make me question my justification more than worry about sanctification.

However, I have found that prayer is a very important part of my life. It seems to be that things happen in the opposite direction that you mentioned, Nate. Although I have prayed and asked God to act, as Isaac did way back when; usually it happens that in prayer I've been told to do things I didn't want to do, but when I did them God's work has been done.

This was posted at SJC Alumni. I didn't see it until today:

Tom Juskevich
Posted on 4/4/2006 by webmaster

After a 22-month struggle with brain cancer, Tom Juskevich (A03) passed away on March 15th, 2006. A first rate lover of wisdom and staunch advocate of the St. John’s program, Tom strove to live his life according to his principles, his love of life and his ardent passion for the few individuals who held the highest place in his heart. Tom was a Jack Kent Cook Scholar who was also accomplished in the art of Tai Chi Chuan and Wind Fist Kung Fu. He was an achingly serious person, yet had also earned nicknames like “Birdman” and “The Dude.” Those who knew him well recognized him as a man whose future was bright, whose heart was pure-intentioned and whose mind was strong. Throughout his illness he continued to read, to write, to love, to laugh, to work and to travel with his long time partner, Kate Benson (A02). A “sending off” party is being held in his honor on April 8th at their home in Baltimore. Please call Kate for details. 410-245-9783.

It would be unfair to describe my relationship with prayer as love/hate. It's been pretty much hate/hate for most of my life.

I was raised in an Evangelical church where one of the principle foci of life was the question: "Are you yet alive in Christ?" Our church espoused the idea that the idea of Christianity was to live a life that was dynamically filled with the presence of Jesus (the more precise might say the Holy Spirit). Prayer and daily devotions and quiet time with God were the prescriptions for life, and "worship" was touted as one of the highest goods.

What this amounted to was that the Christian life in its best form starts to sound like it's mainly an emotional experience--the kind of spiritually orgasmic elation that everyone should want and strive for. "Are you doing all you can to follow Christ?" "Are you really making Christ #1?"

There was also advice for what to do if one was trying one's best and still not "feeling the presence of God". Start listening to those impulses, those inner thoughts--learn to pay attention to how God may be leading you.

Well: I think it's bull.

Most of what I was taught in regard to worship and in regard to prayer was a way of relabeling separate experiences. Rename meditation interaction with God, rename the joy of singing worship, rename the benefits of spending time in quiet and study "being renewed by the Holy Spirit". Pray about something enough and you get to call whatever you decide "the direction of God". If it doesn't turn out, you can always say you were wrong--it's only God when it's right, after all.

I believe abstractly in the merit of prayer, but I almost never find that the prayer my fellow Christians talk about to be even potentially legitimate. Instead, I find constant evidence that the institution of prayer (and, Lord, we won't even touch miracles) is primarily a vehicle for superstition. Even at its best, the language of the church tends to be imprecise and amorphous, so that those with more trenchant understanding can understand its correctness but so that the masses can have their delusions reinforced. Because, after all, we can't have division in the church.

P.S. This post is deliberately more provocative than precise--at this point I'd rather interest someone enough to reply than be particularly accurate on any one of these issues I've so brazenly bandied about. I hope my dear readers will understand this and accord me corresponding charity.

so I was just thinking that if a post really gets you thinking, you might consider keeping the topic of discussion going on in the main page rather than in the comments thread.... but that's just my opinion, do others have a preference?

No shy posters, now! After all, we're a bunch of Johnnies... so don't be reticent to post. (And yes ladies and gents, you now have a former on-the-quiet-side Johnnie telling the other Johnnies that they're not "talking" enough... I find it ironic...)

Oh yea, and feel free to join at any time, and continue to post little or long bios at any time.

Hey. I'm Sir Robert. Here's a brief bio (because all the cool kids are doing it):

According to family lore, I was born in A.D. 1976. I was born again in 198x (A.D. 1). I became a son of a mother for the first time the first time, and a son of a father for the second time the second time. Twenty years later (two years ago) I began to find out (for the first time) what "father" means; I have become a better son for it, and I hope to be a better father for it. In two(ish) weeks, I will find out for the first time (for the second time) what "father" means; I hope to become a better son for it. I hope my son only has to learn what a father is once. I hope I am a good enough father that he will be a better son than I am.

Those were when I was born; I will never die.

One conversation in the comments on a post a few back reminded me of a question of a similar nature that piqued my own curiosity a little while ago.

What did Jesus mean when He said:

So when you see standing in the holy place 'the abomination that causes desolation,' spoken of through the prophet Daniel—let the reader understand— then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains.

(Boldness mine)

This oddity is recorded in Matthew 24:15-16 and Mark 13:14

My question is, "What reader?" Isn't Jesus speaking privately to Peter, James, John, and Andrew? Mark 13:3-5

Is this like a little parenthetical aside by the author? If Jesus actually spoke those words, was He referring to the reader of the Book of Daniel? Was He referring to me myself, the reader of the Gospels of Matthew and Mark?

And what is meant by 'understand'? I would think it's assumed that if you're saying (or writing) something to somebody then you want them to understand. Why say it?

I'm in the "Unity not Uniformity" camp.

It is tough, however, when I am talking to someone that I consider my brother, who doesn't consider me christian at all.

Thoughts?