tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35007416752402498122024-02-07T19:08:49.358-08:00Johnny's BlogJohnny is a <a href="http://www.regent.edu/acad/undergrad/academics/degree/psychology/">Psychology degree</a> student at Regent University.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger28125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-55152092559719822062011-03-18T10:37:00.000-07:002011-03-18T10:38:00.921-07:00My blog has moved!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> 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mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin-top:0in; mso-para-margin-right:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt; mso-para-margin-left:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--><span style="font-size: 1pt; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"></span><span style="font-size: 1pt;"></span><p class="MsoNormal">I loved my time at Regent, but now that I am an alumnus I have moved my blog to my own server:</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.johnnyweixler.com/">www.johnnyweixler.com</a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Thanks!</p>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-63140860903364818602010-07-27T07:15:00.001-07:002010-07-27T07:15:52.200-07:00Romania 2010—Thanks.<span xmlns=''><p>To my friends and family who have supported me with your time, money, and prayers on my expedition to Romania this summer: THANK YOU. From the bottom of my heart.<br /></p><p>I forgot to bring the charger for my camera, unfortunately, but I'll try to supplement my report with a few photos I collected from others along the way.<br /></p><p>On the way to Romania I had connection in Amsterdam for 6 hours. Naturally, I met up with Leslie—a dear friend who works at a church in the heart of the city. We had a nice lunch together and we visited the top of the a large library in Amsterdam from where we could see most of the city. <br /></p><p>In Romania, I stayed for a day by myself in Bucharest and then I met up with Lucian, a young man who is a dear friend and an inspiration for me. The example of his life journey has been a key factor in understanding the Lord's calling for my life. Lucian traveled to Bucharest to try to get a tourist visa to the States to visit myself and some other friends. Unfortunately, the US embassy did not award him a visa due to his lack of strong ties to his country, but it nonetheless was a nice few days exploring the capitol city together, along with a mutual friend who met up with us.<br /></p><p>After a few days we took a train back to the apartment where he stays in the north-eastern Romanian city Piatra Neamt. PN is a lovely city tucked in a small mountain range, a bit bigger than our local Appalachians. I was able to visit Luci's work, visit some friends and their families, see Irina, and bring greetings (as is the Romanian tradition) to Luci's church. I played in a soccer tournament outreach (which I brought back a trophy from), made tacos for all the people at the office where Luci works (they had never had Mexican food!), and took a cable car over the city and into the mountains (twice, actually). I spent a lot of time praying and cooking with Luci, being able to appreciate his responsibility at work, and discussing our understanding of God—all of which were encouraging for both of us. One day, Luci and I went with Irina and another friend to a state-run orphanage just outside the city. We played some games with the kids, sang some songs, and I was privileged to be the speaker. After asking each kid a little about themselves and what they want to do with their lives, I shared a short lesson on David and Goliath, emphasizing the idea that, although there will be trials no matter what their life goals, the Lord can give them the strength to overcome the mightiest of obstacles. Our group had great rapport with the kids, and I ask you to pray for Irina and the others as they minister there once a week.<br /></p><p>After the very nice visit with Luci and other friends, I headed up to Suceava to meet with the MWB for summer camp! I stayed in a hostel like I did in Bucharest (for those that don't know, a hostel is like a pension house with rooms full of bunk beds. It is much cheaper than renting a room at a hotel, and the lack of privacy doesn't bother me). I say that merely to mention that a) the hostel owner was Sarah Palin's tour guide in part of Romania, and b) since it was the 4<sup>th</sup> of July, I found it interesting that I ended up talking world politics with a young man from England and a young man from France who were also staying at the hostel. <span style='font-family:Wingdings'>J</span>. Thankfully, I didn't have to make any Declarations and we all got along quite nicely! Later in the trip I stayed in the same hostel and weeded the owner lady's garden in exchange for soup and sarmale—a trade I would make every day if I could.<br /></p><p>Anyways, on the 5<sup>th</sup> I met up with the MWB team. I was impressed by the level of energy and organization on the part of the volunteers, who mostly came from the local Baptist church. We drove about 100km out to the camp situated not far from the medieval Voroneti monastery, nestled gently in the mountains. Somewhere around 115 kids came to the camp—ages ranging from 5 to about 23 (which made it especially interesting for the game director.) I was assigned to co-lead a group of older boys, which included my sponsorship kid, Costel! <br /></p><p>Camp consisted of games, group devotions, camp meetings, hikes up the mountains, soccer, creating and performing skits, excellent traditional Romanian meals, a sweet zipline and rockwall, and endless kids' songs (which I now know by heart in Romanian.) <span style='font-family:Wingdings'>J</span>. Apart from normal group-leader responsibilities (serving meals, keeping order at camp meetings, etc), I spent a lot time getting to know all the kids, teaching them UNO and Mennonite Sword-fighting, and exchanging English and Romanian vocabulary. I even got to use the little bit of sign-language I learned when I was a kid with a deaf boy (although I could only use the alphabet, because Romanian sign-language is a different, of course). Later in the week a couple of Dutch volunteers came and we did an international night, during which I shared the seven pounds of American candy I had brought, some images of American national parks (for a guessing game), and the traditional American manly cheer/chant ("OOH OOH OOH") which I heard the rest of the camp whenever I did something in front of the group. <span style='font-family:Wingdings'>J</span>.<br /></p><p>For Costel's birthday, I gave him his gifts, got to hear more of his life story, and we even got a little time to read together (I brought him the Chronicles of Narnia in Romanian). It was so important for me to be able to make this connection with him. I don't think either of us will forget this summer!<br /></p><p>All of my experiences at camp were incredible. I wish I could tell you what it meant to me to be able to spend time with Costel, to be endlessly sincere and sweet, to sing at the top of my lungs during song time, to speak Romanian, to just be gentle and play with kids, to be in the mountains and have time to pray, to have the stillness to listen to the Spirit, to worship like a child in the midst of worshipping children, to get 30 hand-made birthday cards from kids who can't speak my language, to rest and breathe deeply, to share Jesus' love with kids and teenagers alike, to remember what it is like to let every ambition fade into the background and just soak in the joy of belonging to Jesus. I sincerely mean these words, and I sincerely wish I could convey my gratitude for this gift that you all have made possible. May Jesus bless each of you with a special sense of his presence.</p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-84064069735773178402010-04-29T09:22:00.001-07:002010-04-29T09:22:55.112-07:00A Diamond in the Dark<span xmlns=''><p>If I defend my belief in Jesus, the reason that I follow him, it is not as a man who defends his nation simply because he was born to it, knowing not whether its leaders are corrupt or correct. Nor is it a defense like that of a man who defends his institution because he has vested interest in its success.<br /></p><p>No, I defend the hope I have found in Jesus as if it were a glowing diamond which I found deep in a dark mine, just when I thought there might not be a world above. It is a precious gem of hope that I love first, as its beauty has captured me, and I believe second, merely because I cannot look away.<br /></p><p>I only hope that my face may reflect its mysterious light. And if it should come to pass that we reach the surface, that day breaks, that light itself indeed has a source deeper than my own fabrication—then I am certain that I would give anything to becoming a child of the light.<br /></p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-89797726984083066462010-04-12T10:58:00.001-07:002010-04-12T10:58:40.456-07:00<span xmlns=''/>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-50109581230856048252010-01-05T17:07:00.001-08:002010-01-05T17:24:09.647-08:00The Torch versus The Sun<span xmlns=""><p>"Which do you suppose is greater," the Egyptian asked his French friend, "the torch or the sun?"<br /></p><p>The two men sat at an outdoor café across the street from the warm Mediterranean Sea. They had become friends many years before when they both had attended a semester at Oxford University. The Frenchman was on a business trip in Cairo and hired a coach to Alexandria to visit his old friend for the weekend.<br /></p><p>"Alas," replied the Frenchman, after pondering the curious question for a few moments, "I think the torch is greater."<br /></p><p>Both men were just at the crest of their senior years. The Egyptian carried a few more pounds than his wife preferred, but he cleverly hid it under his loose fitting galabaya. His skin was more weathered than his European friend's, but his eyes still shown with his characteristic wit. The Frenchman, a slimmer figure, had thinning gray hair, round spectacles, and sported a scholarly, leather-elbowed suit coat despite the humidity.<br /></p><p>"Because?" Asked the Egyptian with a slight smile.<br /></p><p>The Frenchman paused for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to play along with what he knew was an invitation to a philosophical joust. "Well," he said, resigning himself to the game, "I am aware that the sun is vastly brighter and more comprehensive in its ability to give light to the earth. However, its power is confined, limited to shine for only part of the day. It is the torch that is versatile. When the sun, it all of its greatness, goes down, it is the torch that lights the way of men. It is by the light of the torch that toil can continue through the darkest of human hours and progress can be made in spite of natural cycles. Thus, it is the torch that frees man from his slavery to planetary rotations."<br /></p><p>"Well said," mused the Egyptian. "When the earth turns its back on the sun, we do indeed need torches to light our way. I must point out, though, that the sun is not useless at night. On the contrary, the sun fills the earth with its warmth which, although somewhat less noticeable during the night, quietly sustains the earth and its life throughout its period of darkness. And it does not leave the earth in <em>utter</em> darkness; it reminds the earth of its presence by reflecting its light off the moon. Perhaps the sun knows that man needs both darkness and light in turn. Whatever the case, the significance of the brightness of the sun as compared to the torch cannot be lightly brushed aside. The limited capacity of the torch can lead to perceptual errors that become clear by the overwhelming light of the daytime sun. Details hidden by the flickering of the flames are revealed by the sun's steady radiance. The torch only allows one to see a short distance ahead, but the sun, in its glory, allows man to see infinitely further, to plan routes and understand terrains."<br /></p><p>The conversation paused as a young Arab waiter appeared with two glasses of mint tea, fresh mint leaves, and a tall water pipe for the two to share. The Frenchman stirred his tea and took a few sips, but his friend could see, through puffs of shisha smoke, that he was thinking hard on his next reply. The Egyptian grinned, he always enjoyed rather strange, playfully intellectual discussions and missed his years in university.<br /></p><p>"Ok," The Frenchman replied at last, setting down his tea and leaning back in his chair, "Of course I cannot debate the immense ability of the sun to illuminate and clarify during the day. And yet, even during the day the sun has a limitation. Man does not spend all of his time outdoors. And although it is true that many buildings have enough windows to allow the sunlight to flood their interiors, some do not. Basements, for instance, or impenetrable fortresses, or deep inner rooms. Consider caves, for that matter. It seems that it is a matter of control. The torch can be actively used and controlled by man, he can use it to light dark places when they need to be light, and he can darken them when they need to be dark. He can explore the crevices and caverns where the sun's light never reaches. The sun cannot be built upon, added to, brightened, dimmed, or changed. It has no potential for increased utilization. Indeed, man cannot even perceive its center, but only its reaches. It is hard to look upon and harder still to understand. It is the torch that can be understood, manipulated, and controlled."<br /></p><p>The Egyptian passed the long slender hose from the water pipe to the Frenchman, scratched his head, and began his reply. "You are right," he offered, "in your assertion that the torch is more easily controlled than the sun. It is better understood and its center can truly be seen—especially after is has been doused in water. But, is control always such a good thing? The sun may never have been used to go spelunking, true, but then neither has it been used for felony. Never has the sun been used to burn down the house of a disliked neighbor or to light an enemy's crops ablaze and cause widespread suffering. No, mischief is the domain of the torch as it is indeed subject to the control of the men who carry it."<br /></p><p>"You are missing one thing," interjected the European, "although the torch may be used for mischief, it is important for something very core to mankind: food. It is the torch, as well as other forms of controlled fire, that are used to cook and to cleanse."<br /></p><p>"Ah," returned the Egyptian, "again you are very right, except that it is the sun which feeds the plants, which in turn not only provide us and the animals with food, but also with the very oxygen that sustains us. It is the sun that maintains the life cycle, stimulates growth, and simultaneously holds our solar system in an astonishingly delicate balance."<br /></p><p>"Alas!" Chuckled the Frenchman, "The sun is very great, but the torch is very necessary. Perhaps, then, we should both concede that each have their place and work together to both sustain life and facilitate progress."<br /></p><p>The Egyptian smiled and nodded his head slightly, "Indeed. It is unavoidable."<br /></p><p>"So then what was the point of the game this time?" Asked the Frenchman, knowing his friend quite well.<br /></p><p>"Just this," replied the Egyptian, "We must never forget the sun or trust too much in our torches. For when the morning light floods the earth, torches become pale and their light nearly invisible. The light of the sun is sure, while that of the torch casts as many shadows as illuminations. And, in the end, it is only by the light of the sun that we can make torches at all. The torch depends on the sun. Without the sun, the torch is bound go out, and life itself will disappear with it."<br /></p><p><em>Inspired by Isaiah 50:10-11<br /></em></p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-48850885874148433882009-11-14T17:03:00.001-08:002009-11-14T17:03:02.655-08:00Mortality<span xmlns=''><p>What a silly species we are. So aware of our existence, so feeling, so conscious—and yet so unsure of our own origin. We explore the heavens and exploit the earth; we analyze, organize, and dissect the most complex bodies in nature and we in turn create immensely intricate technologies; we evolve and adapt and resolve and improve—and yet, we don't know where we came from, or what it's all for.<br /></p><p>We speculate, though. We form theories and defend them with bullets and bulletins. We rally others to our side. We ignore our ignorance and bury our questions in material pursuits. We assume arrogant airs and put our trust in our towers of intellect. We fill our heads with philosophy, psychology, and self-help formulas. We take up causes and lose ourselves in the effort. We take pills to soothe our fragmented and painfully incoherent worldviews.<br /></p><p>But whenever we stop to listen, we become slowly aware of a ringing in our ears. It's the ring of our loneliness, the depth of our emptiness, and it is harmonized by the groaning of the earth; the whole world shaking with the knowledge of its own brokenness.<br /></p><p>But it's a frightening sound, because we, who have the conquered the earth, have no answer for our condition, no knowledge of who we are. So we turn our iPods up, take more pills, watch more television, and work more hours. We express our opinions louder, longer, and with more violence. We pretend we know who we are and we pay anyone and anything who promises to intoxicate our minds with quiet. But it never lasts long and peace proves elusive.<br /></p><p>We have built for ourselves a magnificent world—especially in the West. But our great structure, our fantastic edifice, our invincible society is afloat on these unanswered questions. And, I'm afraid, sooner or later the nausea gets to all of us. Mortality just doesn't seem like enough, and the dull ache for more weighs our bodies down.<br /></p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-14200279442379099672009-10-04T15:30:00.001-07:002009-10-04T15:30:51.816-07:00A Most Peculiar Dream<span xmlns=''><p>I wasn't fully him. I wasn't fully not him. It was a shared-body sort of dream. Half-first person, half-movie.<br /></p><p>I was a native American Indian living simply with my family somewhere in the west. White people came. Cowboys. They were more powerful; they made us feel inferior in some odd sort of way. We tried to be friends, but they were tricky underneath their condescension.<br /></p><p>They killed my people. They took our land. I barely escaped.<br /></p><p>For a while, I wandered through the wilderness, full of rage. Rage against this new white machine, this unspeakably arrogant power invading our lives. I spent some time trying to get revenge, to kill cowboys who enslaved Indians.<br /></p><p>There were nice cowboys too, though. One village I came across was full of Indians and cowboys living together in peace and friendship. I even met a few cowboys—nice ones. Not condescending, not tricky; ones that didn't treat me as a poor savage. We became friends.<br /></p><p>I walked back to my village where there were a few survivors enslaved by the cowboys. It was night. The cowboys were rounding them up for some reason. I slipped in.<br /></p><p>I cleared my throat, held out my gun upside down, set it down, and said that it was time to be friends. The cowboys lost it; they started screaming and pointing their guns at me.<br /></p><p>Then I woke up. </p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-86433688368746029542009-09-25T15:04:00.001-07:002009-09-25T15:04:44.356-07:00I love my bank.<span xmlns=''><p>Those people are awesome.<br /></p><p>Props to Lebanon Valley Farmers Bank Fulton.<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p>Mmhm.</p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-10190425682923197062009-09-08T23:15:00.001-07:002009-09-08T23:17:47.385-07:00Liar.<span xmlns=""><p>Somewhere in the middle,<br /></p><p>Between the laugher and crier,<br /></p><p>There's a man with open hand,<br /></p><p><strong>That man is a liar.<br /></strong></p><p><br /> </p><p>He sits with the seeds between his teeth,<br /></p><p>His teeth are made of Braille.<br /></p><p>He sips the seeds of tangleweeds,<br /></p><p><strong>And sends the innocent to jail.<br /></strong></p><p><br /> </p><p>[I'm not a poet like Jesse or Teddi, but occasionally I like to write a bit of semi-nonsensical free-thought pieces. Normally it's just for my own sake, but my dad thought this one was fun so I decided to post it. <3].</p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-73521958843947026622009-08-16T14:36:00.001-07:002009-08-16T14:36:25.246-07:00Teaching<span xmlns=''><p>Teaching here in Alexandria, Egypt has been a blast. At first, it took me a long time to create my lesson plans, but now I have the hang of it a bit better. I teach two classes—one pre-intermediate class and one upper intermediate class. I have great students in both classes and they seem to be making quite a bit of progress.<br /></p><p>In general, I don't teach any grammar explicitly, unless my students really want a boiled-down rule. Rather, I search for ways to teach grammar implicitly through highlighted dialogues. The students internalize the grammar more quickly and accurately when it is contextualized.<br /></p><p>I also try to make my lessons engaging and relevant for my students. We do a lot of laughing in class. <span style='font-family:Wingdings'>J</span>. I also enjoy learning about my students' life goals and incorporating them into later lessons. We learn about English in a way that is relevant to the students' lives and dreams.<br /></p><p>All said, teaching English here in Egypt has been an enlightening and rewarding experience. I only hope that I am able to get a job so that I can teach here beginning with the 2010-2011 school year.</p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-47733275988605374462009-08-16T14:28:00.001-07:002009-08-16T14:28:56.950-07:00Egypt<span xmlns=''><p>Living in Egypt has been a fascinating experience. Although I have done my share of traveling, Egypt has one of the most different cultures I have ever had the privilege to experience. Like any culture, it has its ups and downs—but the friendliness of the people is enough to warm anyone's heart.<br /></p><p>I know that when I go home I will want to share the experience with everyone, but I'm not sure that I'll really be able to explain it. Egypt is getting into my skin, like an addiction. Its paradoxes are becoming commonplace, almost natural. As I approach my last couple weeks here, I wonder what it is going to feel like at home. I'm afraid everything will feel stale, too orderly and rigid, lifelessly lofty.<br /></p><p>On the other hand, I'm ready to live a home with air conditioning. It hasn't been too bad here, but I've never particularly enjoyed waking up sweaty. <span style='font-family:Wingdings'>J</span><br /> </p><p>All in all, I am really enjoying the Egyptian culture. I hope to have more opportunities to learn more about it in the future.</p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-84122707385706012182009-02-05T12:28:00.000-08:002009-02-05T13:51:45.124-08:00Simple Authenticity: A Discussion of Leo Tolstoy’s "The Death of Ivan Ilyich"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF7NQ9tA6A-oJrktzSsRRaB-Knl1t3SWwW123xWXOkaTG2Rx2r6zNAjUmY7cOA9vABpU9eZAOz5oEzGcuNuDpYi5xJbRJI_legKfaC040v8O2mnedckVMbzZacSEejiwe8FKruALLqLH6d/s1600-h/deathofivanilyich.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF7NQ9tA6A-oJrktzSsRRaB-Knl1t3SWwW123xWXOkaTG2Rx2r6zNAjUmY7cOA9vABpU9eZAOz5oEzGcuNuDpYi5xJbRJI_legKfaC040v8O2mnedckVMbzZacSEejiwe8FKruALLqLH6d/s320/deathofivanilyich.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299415095312819554" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"> Tolstoy’s (1886/2004) brilliant novella, The Death of Ivan Ilyich, is an incisive exposé of the in-authenticity and meaninglessness of the more pretentious classes of society. Although it would be inaccurate to describe the story as adventurous, Tolstoy’s ability to draw his audience into the psyche of his characters is as capturing as it is didactic. Tolstoy leads the reader with great care through the intimate thoughts and feelings of Ivan Ilyich as he faces his impending death. When Tolstoy brings the story to a poetic end, the reader is left with an implicit challenge to explore the meaning of life.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"> The effectiveness of Tolstoy’s challenge lies not in explicit ideological comments, however, but in his character comparisons. Specifically, he draws a sharp contrast between the dying aristocrat Ivan Ilyich, along with all of his friends and family, and the mild-mannered peasant, Gerasim, who becomes Ivan’s sole comfort in his final days. Feeling isolated and depressed, Ivan struggles to justify the meaninglessness of his life, but at long last he realizes “all that for which he had lived…[was] a terrible and huge deception” (Tolstoy, 1886/2004, p. 299). </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >He reluctantly admits to himself that he spent his entire life blindly following the superficial codes of his culture and seeking selfish pleasures, so long as they were not stigmatized by his peers. When death approaches, however, Ivan is faced with the not-so-superficial reality of his own mortality. None of the formalities or correctness that he dedicated his life to can save him;</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> it is only in the kindly, simple face of his butler’s assistant, Gerasim, that he finds any comfort.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Gerasim, in stark contrast to the milieu of superficial characters in the novella, represents simplicity, unselfishness, and authenticity. While he is something of a caricature in the story because of the infrequent appearances, it is easy to sense Tolstoy’s idealization of the peasant lifestyle through his description of Gerasim. He lovingly describes him as “a clean, fresh peasant lad, grown stout on town food and always cheerful and bright” and having “the joy of life that beamed from his face” (Tolstoy, 1886/2004, p. 283); he even praises the fresh, down-to-earth scent of Gerasim’s boots. In caring for Ivan, Gerasim manages the delicate balance of showing him both sympathy and honesty, treating his condition with gentleness and realism. Clearly, Gerasim is as special to Tolstoy as he is to Ivan in the novella. He represents a life lived for more than superficial pleasantry and propriety.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: arial;">Discussion<br /></div> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />The morals presented in Tolstoy’s novella are timeless. They are reminiscent of Socrates’ belief that individuals should concern themselves with truth and the welfare of their souls rather than materialism, social reputation, etc (see Weiss, 1998, p. 24). </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >And, they remain applicable today in our postmodern culture that frequently substitutes social acceptance and romanticized self-images for truth and authenticity.</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> It would be well for all of us to realize, like Ivan Ilyich did, that “though his life had not been what it should have been, this could still be rectified” (Tolstoy, 1886/2004, p. 301).</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-family: arial;"><br />Reference<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial;">Tolstoy, L. (2004). The death of Ivan Ilyich. (L. Maude & A. Maude, Trans.). In The great short works of Leo Tolstoy (pp. 245-302). New York: Perennial. (Original work published in 1886).<br /><br />Weiss, R. (1998). Socrates dissatisfied: An analysis of Plato's crito. New York: Oxford University Press US.<br /></div>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-80230716861438195642008-08-29T10:47:00.000-07:002008-08-29T10:48:28.432-07:00Deep EndGreatness is knowing the right moment to go off the deep end and having the courage to do it.Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-8033658199265501782008-02-23T16:16:00.000-08:002008-02-23T16:46:39.694-08:00Taking it All In<a href="http://www.blogger.com/photo.php?pid=665177&op=1&view=all&subj=8816269397&aid=-1&oid=8816269397&id=665645745"><img onload="adjustImage(this)" class="img_loading" src="http://photos-b.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sf2p/v195/113/55/665645745/n665645745_665177_8473.jpg" /></a><div style="font-style: italic;" class="caption style1"><span style="font-size:85%;">Cipi (far left) is an excellent soccer player, just in love with life. Daniel and Vasile (middle two) I knew from an orphanage before they went to FCI. Vasile always whistles these old Romanian folk tunes while doing chores with me. Andrei (right) cut my hair while I was there.</span></div><br />My dear Kenyan friend, Samuel, always scolds me when I leave the country without explaining what I am doing, so I told him I'd write a bit about what I am doing this trip, and I tagged some of you in my note for various reasons so that you'd at least know what my departure/return dates are. :)<br /><div class="clear_none"><br /><br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/photo.php?pid=665137&op=1&view=all&subj=8816269397&aid=-1&oid=8816269397&id=665645745"><img src="http://photos-b.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sf2p/v195/113/55/665645745/a665645745_665137_4309.jpg" /></a></div><div class="caption style2"><em>Playing soccer against the village kids--we always win by a long shot.</em></div><br />I leave for Romania on Thursday. I have a lot to get done. A lot. More than I think I can physically accomplish. As my dear brother would say, 'whatev.' I would say that I trust God to help me get through it, but I'm just not sure that's how things work. I mean, it is my trust in God that gets me through each day as I learn to find him in my daily tasks. At the same time, it is I and not God who decided to take on all the things I have taken on. And truthfully, I love living on the edge, and I'll do it for a while yet while I am young and my body can. Getting away from the chaos to visit Romania will be refreshing, though. It gives me time to clear my mind, breathe a little more deeply, see the world from a less superficial perspective.<br /><div class="clear_right"><br />Friday morning I'll have breakfast with Leslie in the Amsterdam airport. Friday night I'm going to stay with Pastor Nicu and his family--he very nicely is picking me up from the airport so that I can avoid the hassle of busing into the city. Sunday I am going to meet my aunt whom I've never met before.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/photo.php?pid=665171&op=1&view=all&subj=8816269397&aid=-1&oid=8816269397&id=665645745"><img onload="adjustImage(this)" class="img_loading" src="http://photos-d.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v200/113/55/665645745/n665645745_665171_4277.jpg" /></a></div><div class="style2 caption"><em>Fundatia Crestina Ioan (The Christian John Foundation, a two-year boarding/trade school for disadvantaged boys/young men to learn carving and carpentry).</em></div><br />From then on I'll be at the trade school where I normally go, just getting into the lives of the young people and sharing the love of Jesus with them. I do everything they do from morning 'til evening: get up early, do chores, learn to carve, play soccer, do more chores, watch soccer, and do devotionals. I also try to break up the monotony of their routine by taking group outings to the Cofetaria (pastry place), perhaps ice skating if it is cold enough, having hot chocolate parties, getting out the boxing gloves, etc.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/photo.php?pid=665170&op=1&view=all&subj=8816269397&aid=-1&oid=8816269397&id=665645745"><img src="http://photos-c.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sf2p/v195/113/55/665645745/a665645745_665170_1745.jpg" /></a><div class="style2 caption"><em>Timotei at the vise grip.</em></div><br /><div class="photo photo_left"><div class="photo_img"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/photo.php?pid=665169&op=1&view=all&subj=8816269397&aid=-1&oid=8816269397&id=665645745"><img src="http://photos-b.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sf2p/v195/113/55/665645745/a665645745_665169_3202.jpg" /></a></div><div class="style2 caption"><em>Another Andrei--my boxing partner. Quite a bit skinnier than me, but a bit stronger. I think he's going to try to beat me this trip. :)</em></div><br /></div><div class="clear_left">I show the boys, as their peer, the love and hope of Jesus. They show me what it means to live presently, and to really be alive.<br /><br />Thursday the 6th I am going to meet my sponsorship child. I'm very excited about that, but I'm not sure that I'll get to take pictures due to unfortunate Romanian laws.<br /><br />Then I'll be back at the school until the 12th, and I'll come home the 13th to catch up missed days of school and get back into the old grind.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/photo.php?pid=665174&op=1&view=all&subj=8816269397&aid=-1&oid=8816269397&id=665645745"><img onload="adjustImage(this)" class="img_loading" src="http://photos-c.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v200/113/55/665645745/n665645745_665174_2264.jpg" /></a></div><div class="style2 caption"><em>Hot drinks are simply my thing--and hot chocolate/card game parties soon became a popular evening pastime.</em></div><br />So, anyways, I'm very excited to go, and I'm working very hard to get things done and ready to leave. I'd very much appreciate your prayers, not only for me as I go, but especially for all the friends and new people I'm going to connect with along the way.<br /><div class="clear_none"><br />With love.<br /><br />Johnny<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/photo.php?pid=665176&op=1&view=all&subj=8816269397&aid=-1&oid=8816269397&id=665645745"><img onload="adjustImage(this)" class="img_loading" src="http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sf2p/v195/113/55/665645745/n665645745_665176_1085.jpg" /></a></div><div style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);" id="reader_tags_8816269397" class="tagged"></div>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-91004901067861941062008-02-05T12:17:00.001-08:002008-02-06T13:33:55.568-08:00Theism.Deism.Love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOxUMw9IJaKaTsBy9tAoooBNkaFZo0UNdfMuFOul_eph19-RWgY4Ey6iJLyHltLtS5lEA2hCcvAYN1_ozgMw34k-aeqbpdhldG13kI_5NMaE0uardDPMXwhdqp9DN0rzf7Zkec8S4Xri4c/s1600-h/IMG_0165small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOxUMw9IJaKaTsBy9tAoooBNkaFZo0UNdfMuFOul_eph19-RWgY4Ey6iJLyHltLtS5lEA2hCcvAYN1_ozgMw34k-aeqbpdhldG13kI_5NMaE0uardDPMXwhdqp9DN0rzf7Zkec8S4Xri4c/s320/IMG_0165small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163983583720066258" border="0" /></a><br /><span xmlns=""><p><strong>Everyone</strong> needs a quiet place to reflect and soak in the good and evil, the ups and downs, the successes and tragedies that constitute the human experience. For me, at the end of long, stressful school+work days, I periodically seek stillness in the quiet of my lime-walled, black-furnished, fake-wood-floored office. I warm my hands with chamomile, my body with the aroma of a cucumber-melon candle, and my soul with rest of <em>simply being</em>.<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p>I try to avoid over-thinking everything, and I am occasionally successful, but sometimes I grow tense from the disconnect between what I believe and what I know. I am often troubled by my own struggle between being a theist, and a deist. How much, how often, and why does God interfere with the natural world—or how is the natural world his intervention? I have a range of thoughts, I try to consider both science and experience, but in all honesty, I would rather just live and explore the concept than form any solid conclusion at 19 years old.<br /></p><p>Nonetheless, I do have this one thought: deism does mean that, though I follow the way of love, in this life, I am still subject to the turnings of the natural world, and there is no guarantee that my ventures will not end in utter failure. Now, perhaps I believe in some sort of balance (i.e., God's will may be sovereign, and his followers' lives may be held protected in the sense that his plan will prevail—but again, that's where I throw my hands and surrender to the fact that I simply don't know how God works.) Does this mean that we should balance living in love and living in 'worldly practicality'? I don't think so. What I've been realizing is that I don't love <em><strong>so that</strong>.</em> Jesus didn't teach us to love <em>so that.</em> We don't love <em>so that</em> people will 'come to Christ,' or <em>so that</em> we will lead successful lives, or <em>so that</em> we will win in the end, or <em>so that </em><strong>anything</strong>. NO! We love because we are obedient to God's ultimate command that we should love [Matthew 22:37-40]. We believe that, because God said so, <strong>LOVE</strong> is the goal, <strong>LOVE</strong> is the meaning to be found in life, <strong>LOVE</strong> is nature of the kingdom of God. [Of course, our definition of love is always too narrow or too wide, but we're always learning, and genuineness begins in hearts of <strong>humility and obedience</strong>.]<br /></p><p>Does love guarantee success? <em>OF COURSE!</em><strong> LOVE IS SUCCESS!</strong></p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-90502793766849094752007-12-15T15:07:00.001-08:002007-12-15T15:07:05.324-08:00Shooting Stars<span xmlns=''><p>Last night was frustrating. It's finals time, and I couldn't focus for my life. I was distracted early in the evening, and I couldn't shake it for the rest of the night. Finally, near midnight, I left my work/school office and went home.<br /></p><p>Angry as hell, I went out for a hard run. I never run. Well, maybe three times a year.<br /></p><p>I ran maybe three miles, and then I sprinted as far as possibly could until I couldn't feel my legs or breathe. I was praying the whole time. Hard.<br /></p><p>I climbed on top of two hay bales in some farmer's field, and poured my heart out to the Lord.<br /></p><p>It's been a dark couple of months. I've wrestled to surrender my cynicism. I want so badly to return to my childlike walk with Jesus. So badly. I'd give anything. I wish I could feel again, I wish I could hope, I wish I could be settled in his love.<br /></p><p>But I wasn't. The Lord developed my cynicism. I idolized reality. It was terrible.<br /></p><p>And then, and then there were three shooting stars, and I was released. I grinned at the tackiness of the exchange, and I was filled with the Spirit's hope again. And oh, my friend, that I could express what I have learned. In joy, in hardship, in success, in failure, in hopefulness, and in cynicism, there is only meaning in Jesus.<br /></p><p>Before I am an intellectual, I belong to you. Before I am a musician, I belong to you. Before I am a cynic, I belong to you. Before I am anything that makes up my being, I am your child.<br /></p><p>Fill me with your solemn understanding, your corrective cynicism, and your childlike meekness, that I may follow you with all of my being, surrendered, and trusting.</p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-90898952377811557842007-09-26T08:45:00.001-07:002007-09-26T08:45:41.011-07:00The Child-Like Mandate<span xmlns=''><p><em>"I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." –</em>Matthew 18:3-4<br /></p><p><em>"Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it."—</em>Mark 10:14-15<br /></p><p><strong>Jesus did not emphasize many statements as a prerequisite for entering the kingdom of God—we would be wise to take it seriously.</strong> I am often curious why so little attention is afforded this 'Child-Like Mandate.' The expositions on these passages, and their parallels, that I have heard seem to 'explain them away' more than look for Christ's heart in them. Usually, the passage is reduced to an analogy about faith (<em>children believe their parents without question, so we should believe God without question</em>.)<br /></p><p>Mm, maybe that's an alright point, but I think it misses the heart of the issue. In fact, it sort of suggests blind acceptance of Christ's ways which contradicts the biblical concept of honesty—which includes intellectual honesty. <br /></p><p>I could point to the child-like qualities that <em>I </em>think Jesus was referring to, but I think that I would miss the point as well. (Although I think it is worthy of note that the one character trait Jesus pointed out in the children was humility.) I think Jesus was pointing to the nature of children as a whole—except their nature—their purity, meekness, love, quickness to forgive, and their faith. Of course, even many children do not reflect child-like traits as they seek to become older, tougher, etc—but most of us, nonetheless, have a general picture of the true nature of childhood.<br /></p><p><strong>Shame on us if we grow so enamored with our own 'understanding,' 'success,' and 'confidence' that we neglect the <em>mandate</em> to become as children.</strong></p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-3151015688055646152007-09-08T14:23:00.001-07:002007-09-08T14:23:12.799-07:00The Un-Owned Soul.<span xmlns=''><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Owned. That describes most of us. All of us.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Cultural analysts point to the current trend to trade in civil freedoms in the name of national security, but that's what has been happening on a social level for decades. We've traded our liberty to think as individuals in exchange for the safety of conformity. In fact, we've been doing it for so long that we're beginning to lose touch with reality. That's the first sign of insanity, and certainly absurdity.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>We have forgotten the reality that we are flesh and blood, and we live on a material earth, that exists now, and existed before the twenty-first century. It is real. Our ability to act and choose is real. The fact that we are alive is real. We are a part of history. <strong>We can choose to do whatever we wish with our lives.<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>But we've forgotten that fact. Instead we bow as idolaters before our <strong>Golden Culture</strong>. Culture is not real—it is <strong>manmade</strong>. It doesn't exist, it is an idea, an idea that is subject to our approval, <em>not the other way around</em>. We are as described by the prophet Isaiah: <span style='color:#333333'>He feeds on ashes, a deluded heart misleads him; he cannot save himself, or say, <strong>"Is not this thing in my right hand a lie?"</strong> (Isaiah 44:20, New International Version).<br /></span></span></p><p><span style='color:#333333; font-size:12pt'>Sometimes the best medicine is to find a lonely field to sit silently in, feel the dirt with your fingers, imagine the people that walked on it before you, and realize that you are bound to the earth, and the earth is yours. Your life is your own. God gave it to you.<strong> This is your one chance to be the <em>image</em><br /> <em>of God</em>. </strong>Don't let presumptuous cultural mores dictate who are and what you do.<br /></span></p><p><span style='color:#333333; font-size:12pt'>Think. Examine. Live.<br /></span></p><p><span style='color:#333333; font-size:12pt'>Remember, you are responsible first to God, and then to the authorities he sets up—and culture is not one of them. <strong>(Romans 12).</strong></span></p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-25425450352234345982007-08-14T05:08:00.000-07:002007-08-14T05:27:54.467-07:00SamsonI'm in Holland with the boys from the band in which I play bass guitar. We are staying with a missionary-friend we have known for many years.<br /><br />The other day we were having a conversation about Samson. In my mind, he is one of the most controversial of Israel's judges. Honestly, it is hard for me to find any redemption in his story. God gives him a great gift, he uses it to purue his own desires and get revenge on those who have angered him, he lives lustfully, repeatedly engaging in commitments with the enemies of the people of God, and in the end he displays a great lack of common sense which leads to capture and demise.<br /><br />Of course, one could argue, we are all imperfect, and God used Samson despite himself to slay a few thousand Philistines--to which I can only offer a sarcastic 'yay.'<br /><br />So he slayed a few thousand enemies. David's strong men accomplished mightier things. I don't think the point of this story is that God uses imperfect people despite themselves. Although it is true that we are all imperfect, I think there is a difference between a leader who is after the heart of God and, well, Samson.<br /><br />No, I think a more important point to be drawn from Samson's story is that power without maturity, a gift without a right heart, is very nigh useless.<br /><br />Many powerful people are proud and protective of their power, but that was never the example of Jesus. Jesus used his power to empower others. <strong>In fact, Jesus used his power to empower worldly people. </strong>He layed his power down to be a servant, to lift others up, to set an example, to be inclusive, <strong>to strengthen the weak.</strong> In fact, he said that if the strong wish to follow him, they must become weak.<br /><br />We all have gifts. At one place or another, we are all 'powerful' people. The question is whether we will use our power like Jesus, for others, or like Samson, for ourselves. <em>Samson could have changed the world. Jesus did.</em>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-77375858935994696052007-08-01T05:44:00.000-07:002007-08-01T06:12:38.848-07:00Gum Wrappers and Hope for RomaniaThe last couple days my friend Rik from Belgium and I have been playing soccer with some Romanian kids we met here in Baia Mare. Two days ago we gave them some gum during a break and they immediately threw their wrappers on the ground. Rik and I playfully scolded them. <div><div></div><br /><div>"This isn't America!" They replied.</div><div></div><br /><div>"Oh?" I said, "And who's going to change Romania?"</div><div></div><br /><div>"Basescu!" They laughed. (Basescu is the president.)</div><div></div><br /><div>"You have to be the change." I smiled. (Of course, all that was in Romanian.)</div><div></div><br /><div>Anyways, yesterday we all took a piece of gum during a break again. Without a word, they collected their wrappers and handed them to the oldest to throw away.</div><br />While gum wrappers may not be a big deal, what I learned from this funny little anecdote is that their is hope for Romania in its children. Let's do all that we can to encourage them to be that hope.<br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093718444474599986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixeMiHhilUAVO_U74eg_6GHeUO2cUqjMcsX0XM7qAubLWcYxUeF0eNXwpOQWKn9ixacnCsWgzE1hGEbnxNDi7V0L6m91mZVDg4j8CwJXmdKPpYSZ2qBDkFDDkD1ZdgxiNpl6zxD2IfvQ5D/s320/P7280191.JPG" border="0" /></div></div>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-13158319168968722162007-07-23T08:56:00.000-07:002007-07-23T09:11:53.276-07:00ÎnvaţEveryday I study and converse with an assorted group of 34 other persons also studying Romanian, representing 15 or 16 different countries. My mornings are spent soaking my brain with grammar lessons--which are never given in english. During the afternoon I listen to lectures in Romanian, throw pottery at a little Romanian pottery shop, go out into Romanian villages, or play soccer to get some exercise. In the evenings I usually watch Romanian films, do my Romanian homework, and then either go out with some fellow students or complete some personal writing.<br /><br />Essentially, I eat, drink, and breathe Romanian. It's excellent.<br /><br />The multi-cultured table conversations have been enormously enlightening. I wouldn't trade this experience for the world. It is stretching me in many ways.<br /><br />So, despite many setbacks, my heart steadfastly trusts that his love will win in the end.<br /><br />Amen.Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-31316570263096186732007-07-10T06:17:00.000-07:002007-07-10T06:28:36.666-07:00The road is as home to me as my sheets.<br /><br />I’m in Amsterdam at the moment, visiting my lovely musician friend Leslie for a few days. Friday I leave to study Romanian in northern Romania for three weeks. Then I’ll return to Amsterdam to meet up with the boys from the band I play in. Perhaps we’ll write an album while we’re here, but we won’t be playing any shows since we lost our vocalist.<br /><br />I love my friends at home, I have a wonderful family, but traveling has become an addiction for me. It is nourishment for my bones.<br /><br />The Lord has me close to his heart. Close enough that its beating occasionally succeeds in drowning out noise of my cynical thoughts. That’s necessary now. He holds on to me, and I love him, and he is giving me his eyes.<br /><br />Brilliant.<br /><br />The traveling has been smooth thus far. Leslie stays with a lovely family with three small, energetic children. Although I’ve not met him yet, there is a young man staying here from Britain, and apparently he is a soccer player, so I’m excited to do some skill building!Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-12141757882137000642007-06-09T10:38:00.000-07:002007-06-09T11:03:57.561-07:00SoulfulJazz music. Sometimes I find life very frustrating, other times it is quite friendly--but it is always difficult to understand. Solomon said that with wisdom comes much sorrow. Sorrow, because there is always another side, and you can never know. Sorrow, because people live in tragic filth because of their ignorance. Sorrow, because the world is content to live in its self-defined structures without regarding the fact they built them.<br /><br />So, jazz music. Jazz music understands the turmoil of life and takes it in without offering an answer. Answers only become stale. Except Jesus. But Jesus isn't really an answer, although we treat him like one. No, he was a son. A son of the most high God.<br /><br />He's kind of like jazz music. He took life in. He saw people. He loved them. He helped them. He didn't always fix them, but he pointed them toward a cure for their meaninglessness: love. Not that love was a new idea, but he defined it in a different way. He defined it by undefining it, and just living it.<br /><br />As for our precious cultural and religious institutions, I can only quote the prophet Isaiah, "He feeds on ashes, a deluded heart misleads him; he cannot save himself, or say, 'Is not this thing in my right hand a lie?'"<br /><br />We have idolized our ways of doing things, but we have too much to lose to rock the boat. Sorry, sorry excuse for rational beings.Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-7531717989581884592007-05-06T10:10:00.001-07:002007-05-06T10:10:27.231-07:00Mmhm.<span xmlns=''><p>Honestly, sometimes I struggle with the nihilism in my own soul. Epistemology is a waste of time, but it's frustrating to ponder the absurdity of our lives. Solomon wrote extensively on the subject. Of course, there is recognizable beauty in life, and we should pursue it, but we must be careful not to take ourselves too seriously, because the truth is we don't know the answers. I don't know the answers. I only know Jesus. And I know him by faith, his faith in me as much as my faith in him. He held on to me when I could no longer hold on to him, and so I've devoted myself to him.<br /></p><p>But that doesn't mean I understand. It only means that I trust.<br /></p><p>It is true that the traditional foundations of our faith are under question. A lot of Christians seem to be concerned. I don't think I have the energy to be concerned. After all, we serve a God who has said that he values honesty. We shouldn't avoid the reality of our own ignorance, we should face it, as genuine human beings. If God is really God, he certainly is capable of defending and continuing his faith.<br /></p><p>Really though, I'm glad our esteemed institutions are toppling. I think it's hilarious. They have become ironically arrogant anyways. Jesus didn't teach superiority, he taught meekness. If anything, I think we are returning to faith. God is humbling the world—Christians and non-christians alike. It's like the tower of Babel. We thought we could accomplish anything, that we had become like gods, but now we can't even decide if we exist.<br /></p><p>Let's return to the simplicity of Christ's message. There is only hope in faith and in love.<br /></p><p>p.s. Aaron is home from the hospital, doing very well. I have been reading 'Three' by Ted Dekker to him, and taking him out on his wheelchair so he can smoke cigarettes in the nice weather.</p></span>Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3500741675240249812.post-14341797588034682222007-04-22T18:18:00.000-07:002007-04-22T18:31:17.300-07:00A time for mourning.On Sunday, four of my friends from the youth ministry I work at were in a car accident. The driver died, the passenger almost died, and the two in the back were fine.<br /><br />I spoke at the driver's funeral on Friday. At least two hundred teenagers took off school to attend. I've been visiting the passenger in the hospital every day.<br /><br />It's been real hard for everyone, of course. Nonetheless, I am seeing Jesus' love show up everywhere in this situation. It's been an excellent opportunity for me to love on the boy who was in the passenger seat. He broke two vertebrae in his neck, lost half of his left-index finger, broke his ankle, bruised his lung, and has plenty of stitches, but he is alive. I sit with him, read to him, bring his family food--it's been a real relational time, and although it has made my already busy life nearly impossible, I can't convince myself that there is anything better to do than go show that boy Christ's love. He does after all have a long road ahead of him.<br /><br />Here's my plug for Regent: being an online student, I have been able to take my computer to the hospital many times this week. When Aaron (the kid) fell asleep, I'd type away, and when he woke up, I would talk to him. I love the flexibility of learning online, even though I sometimes wish I had more interaction with other intellectuals.<br /><br />Oh yeah, it's been quite a week. The Lord gives me strength, of this I have zero doubt. Even when my legs give way, I don't fall. His plan is for me to be able right now, and so I am.Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08366428677365218173noreply@blogger.com3