To Catch A Lion

   The lion will lie down with the lamb.

                  Isaiah 11:6

 

   I read Elizabeth a picture book one night about Noah and his ark. We spent most of the reading pointing out the animals and asking her what they were. “Zebra. Giraffe. Tiger.” And so on. Then we came to the lion.

   Elizabeth got the lion right. But then she said, “Let’s get a lion, Daddy.”

   “Get a lion?”

   “Let’s catch one.”

   “Where?”

   “Down in the trees.”

   I suppose a little one at age four might think such a thing possible. But since we live in Kansas City, Missouri, I strongly doubted we could just walk down into the trees and nab one by the scruff of the neck and lead him home. Nonetheless, this conversation sounded too good to drop, so I asked, “How are we going to catch a lion, honey?”
   She thought about it, and then said, “With a catching thing.”

   I held back my guffaws and queried further, “What’s a ‘catching thing’?”

   “You know, you catch things with it.”

   Ah, that made sense. Jeanette, seated next to me on the bed working on her computer, turned to us and said, “She means a net.”

   I said to Elizabeth, “Do you mean a net?”

   “No, a catching thing.”

   “What does it look like?”

   I expected some descriptive thought. But she shook her head, “You just catch things with it, Daddy, that’s all.”
   “Okay,” I finally said, “but what will we do with a lion if we catch one?”

   “We’ll bring it home. It’ll be like Zoe and Pickles and Frodo.” Zoe is our enormous half-black-lab/half chow horse dog. Pickles and Frodo are cats.

   “So you mean it will be a pet?”

   “Right.”

   “Won’t you be afraid of it?”

   “No, I’ll pet it, Daddy. Like I do Zoe.”

   Ah, that should be fun. “So what will we feed it?”
   Again, deep thought. Then: “We’ll feed it lion food.”
   “What’s lion food?”

   “You know, like cat food and dog food, except for lions.”

   This was getting curiouser and curiouser. “And where will we get this lion food?”

   “Oh, Daddy, you know. Wal-Mart, where we get everything.”

   Actually, come to think of it, I would be willing to bet Wal-Mart had a whole aisle dedicated to lion food, lion litter, lion chew toys, all of it.

   Elizabeth said, “We could feed it the hamster.”

   “The hamster?”

   “It would just be a snack. But I bet lions like hamsters.”

   “Why do you think that?”

   “Frodo an Pickles are always tying to eat him, so I think a lion would, too.”

   I decided this charade had gone on long enough. “Honey,” I said, “we can’t go catch a lion. They don’t live here.”

   “Then let’s go where they live.”
   “Where’s that?”

   “Oh, Daddy, sometimes you are not very smart. They live at the zoo.”

   Ah, yes, how could I have forgotten? 

The Six-Pound Cheeseburger

The Six-Pound Cheeseburger

 My nine-year old son, Gardner, rifled through his new Ripley’s Believe It or Not book I’d bought him at Borders with one of my 30% off coupons they send me every other day. In the last two months, I’ve bought enough books to last me through the Chelsea Clinton Administration.

 I was driving the van toward somewhere, don’t remember where.

 He said, “Hey, Dad, listen to this one!”

 “Go ahead.”

 He read a story about some restaurant in Pennsylvania that specializes in the biggest cheeseburger on earth. “Look at this,” Gardner said, pointing to the picture of this luscious burger ladled with mushrooms, onions, peppers, and melted cheese. “It says it weighs six pounds,” Gardner said. “And it says no one has ever been able to eat one. Never. Not once.” 

I nodded, rather amazed. “Six pounds is a big burger.”

 Gardner looked over at me. “But I bet you could eat it, Dad!”

 I gazed at him, incredulous. “What?”

 “You could. You can eat anything. You should go there. If you eat the whole thing, they don’t make you pay for it.”

 What a deal! I should fly out this afternoon. Get a limo right to the place. I mean, this involves big money.

 I had to ask, “What makes you think I could eat that thing?”

 “You eat everything, Dad. I’ve seen you. Mom makes spaghetti or that rice and sausage stuff we all love. You eat like eight plates of it.”

 “I do not.”

 “Four.”

 “Gardner, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten more than two or three.”

 “Yeah, but the plates are piled like a foot high.”

 I drove along, a little astonished at these revelations. “Gardner, do you think I’m fat?”

 There was a long silence. “Will you kill me if I tell you?”

 I laughed. “I guess that’s my answer.”

 “It’s okay, Dad. At school we’re supposed to respect everyone, even fat people.”

 How glad in that moment I was for the multicultural emphasis these days. I guess I didn’t realize they also had a multi-fat-ural element there too. “So you think I’m fat?”

 He frowned and looked worried. “There are lots of fatter people. All kinds. Some with behinds so big they can’t even fit in a regular chair.”

 I wondered if he had pictures.

 “But I don’t know if they could eat this cheeseburger like you could,” he added.

 “Why not?”

 “Cause I don’t know whether they’re fat from eating too much, or fat from a gland problem. We learned that, too.”

 Hmmmm. So all us fatties could be divided into two groups. People who eat too much. And people with gland problems. Naturally, a gland problem was better, because it meant your fatness was not really your fault, in contrast to people like me who were fat because of our own lack of self-control, lust for food, and sheer gluttony.

 “So which group am I in?”

 He nodded, his eyes big. “I don’t think yours is a gland problem, Dad. I mean, I’m not a doctor, but people with gland problems, well –“

 “Well, what?”

 “Well, they don’t look healthy. Their skin is kind of –“

 “Splotchy? Rash-y? Crusty?”

 “Yeah, kind of.”

 “And my skin isn’t that way?”

 He looked me over. “A little. But not that much.”

 I considered right then whether to just crash my car into an overpass, or wait till I had my final giant cheeseburger or sixth plate of Mom’s spaghetti.

 “So my problem is sheer gluttony?”

 “What’s gluttony?”

 “That’s a person who eats and eats and eats, and keeps on eating, and really never stops hardly at all, except to sleep, or go to the bathroom.”

 He nodded thoughtfully. “Well, you eat a lot. But not that much, I don’t think.”

 “Thanks, Gardner. You have certainly refreshed me today.”

 “But that’s not why I really think you’re fat.”

 Should I ask him the question? Should I take this all the way till I slid into total depression and suicidal feelings? Or should I just end this now, and believe the best somehow, despite these august truths?

 I couldn’t resist. “Why?”

 “I’ve seen you eat. Every night at dinner.”

 “And you think I could eat a six-pound cheeseburger, just like that?”

 “Sure.”

 “Do you know how much a Big Mac has on it, meat-wise?”

 He crinkled his brow. “A couple of pounds?”

 “In that case, how many Big Macs would fit into a six-pound cheeseburger?”

 He thought again. Hard. Steam came out of his ears. “A hundred?”

 He never was that good at math. Deep down, I wanted to slap him, just slap him. But I had to be patient, to wait on God for the great truth that had to come out of this somewhere. After all, I was the mature one here, wasn’t I? Wasn’t I?

 “Actually, a Big Mac has about a quarter pound of meat in it. So how many quarter pounds would fit into a six pound burger?”

 He shook his head. “We haven’t learned fractions yet.”

 Naturally. “Okay, let’s say there are four Big Macs in a one-pound cheeseburger. How many would be in a six-pound cheeseburger?”

 He snapped his fingers. “That’s six times four, right?”

 “Right.”

 “Twenty-four.”

 “Very good.”

 He smiled. “I’m good at math.”

 As I have confirmed.

 “Great. So have you ever seen me eat twenty-four Big Macs?”

 “No way.”

 “But you think I could still eat this six-pound burger?”

 “Yeah, but Dad, if you ate twenty-four Big Macs, you’d have to pay for all of them. That would be like a hundred dollars. But if you eat the six-pound burger, you’d get it for free. That’s why I think you could eat it.”

 When we got home, I would put him in the bathtub and make him stay underwater for a couple of hours.

 “So you’re not only saying I’m fat, but I’m also cheap?”

 He thought about it again. “If I tell you, you won’t kill me, will you?”

 I thought about it. “If you say it out loud, I’m going to stop the car, let you off here, go up fifty yards, turn around, and run you down at a hundred miles an hour.”

 He nodded. “Guess I won’t answer that one then.”

 “Good idea.”

Taking the Leap

            Many times in life I have switched jobs or even gotten laid off and had to go find something new with little financial security. But undoubtedly the biggest “leap” for me was going fulltime freelance as a writer. I had one big contract for a book series, but beyond that I had little to no assurance that the money would be there when I needed it. Yet, it seemed God kept saying, “Go for it.”

            I hated my job in a machinery company as a Customer Service Manager. All I heard every day were complaints, arguments, curses, and chew-outs galore. My job was to calm such people and get them what they needed, but it was often hard going.  I longed to write fulltime, because I loved it. Writing for me was like breathing: it simply flowed. My dream was writing novels and nonfiction that would grace the bestseller lists. But even if that never happened, all of it was simple, raw, mind-exploding fun.

            When the time came in 1993 to make the jump, I remember my dad, who was president of the company I worked for, calling me into his office. After some chitchat, he said, “You realize if you do this, you’ll never be able to come back here to work again.” 

            I nodded.

            “And your benefits will run out pretty quickly, if you stick to this for a long time. You’ll be paying for them all out of pocket.” 

            “Right.”

            “And you have two kids for whom you, as a single parent, must provide all the care.” 

            “Correct.” 

            He gazed at me steadily. “What will you do when the contracts dry up?” 
            I sucked down a gulp of air, thinking quickly. “I’ll type faster.” 

            “I’m serious, Mark.” My father was always pretty serious.

            “Dad, I have to try this. If it all caves in two years from now, then God’ll lead me to something else.” 

            “What else?” 

            “I don’t know. God knows.” 

            He stared deeply into my eyes. “You really believe that, don’t you?” 

            “Absolutely.” 

            He shook his head. “You certainly have greater faith than me.” 

            “I’m not competing with you, Dad.” 

            He twiddled on the edge of his desk a moment, then said, “Okay, then Godspeed. Good luck, type fast, and don’t give up. And don’t come bawling to me if things get tight.”

            “No bawling. Just a quick ten-thousand dollar loan is all I’ll need.” 

            “I may not have it, you know.”

            “Then I’ll hit up Mom.” 

            Finally, he laughed. I needed some lightness in the midst of all this tension. “Dad, I know what I’m doing. I know this business just like you know yours. If I thought I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t even attempt it. But I feel like I have to try. I’m forty-three years old. Not much time left to reach for the stars. How old were you when you started this company?” 

            He thought about it. “Fifty.” 

            “Okay, I have seven years on you. Worst comes to worst, I’ll sell the kids.” 

            He smiled. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor about this.” 

            “I’m dead serious.” 

            “Who will you sell the kids to?” 

            “You, of course. You think they’re precious gems, angels, worth millions.” 
            He really laughed. “We’ll have to negotiate that one. But okay. Go to it. Sock away as much as you can for the lean times. And remember to pray for me to have the same kind of faith as you when it comes to the crunch.” 

            “I will.”   

            I walked out of the company that had given me security, health benefits, a 401K, a life insurance policy and pretty much all I needed financially for nine years. But now I threw all that away to do writing the way I wanted. 

            It was truly scary. But like the verse promises, God was with me. I’ve been doing it ever since and God has always provided. It seems at times I had to go into the fire, too. I’ve had lean years, years lean as burned turkey. My publisher killed the multi-book contract I mentioned earlier with two books to go, books and money I counted on. For awhile, nothing appeared on the horizon, and at times as I stumbled around my apartment with my hands on my head, crying, “What am I going to do?”, the desperation went deep. But God was there at that time also. He opened up new doors. I would, in time, get the greatest contracts of my life, I would remarry, have two more kids, and felt the “adventure” God led me on like a great thrill ride. I never knew what was coming next. But always, always, always, God led the way, comforted me in tough times, spoke words of assurance and guidance when I felt lost, and in general kept me afloat.

            I have found God takes very seriously every promise he has made in scripture. If you cite it, he will back it up with action. Divine, supernatural action. 

            That for me is great comfort and hope.  What about you? 

&            &            &

            The verse I come to when such momentous decisions come into my life is Psalm 32:8, a song King David wrote after his sin with Bathsheba. After he confesses his sin, God tells him, “I will instruct you and teach you in the way which you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you”(Psalm 32:8).

            What tremendous words. God takes on the role of personal tutor and mentor for each of us. He promises not only to be with us in troubling times, but to offer us counsel and guidance from the One who knows all, sees all, and understands always what is best for all concerned. Do you know anyone in this world like that? To have someone inside you at that level, is it not a wonder? Yet, that’s the essence of the Christian life, isn’t it? To have a real relationship with a God who takes our lives so seriously he wants to be involved with us at the most intimate levels? 

            I love Jesus’ statement in John 14:23: “If anyone loves me, he will keep my words; and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our abode with him.” I meet too many Christians who think this indwelling presence of God is just so hum-drum, not really spectacular at all, nothing really to run home and rave about. I suspect their real problem is that they’ve never related to him at that level and thus have never experienced the magnificence of having the God of creation, the Lord of lords and King of kings right down home inside their hearts. But those who have know the precious reality of that presence and would not exchange it for anything in this world. 

            The day my father died of a heart attack while playing tennis in Florida on a vacation, my mother called me with the terrible news. I had been praying that Dad, since he was sixty-seven and had heart problems, would be granted ten more years of life. It was not to be. I stood there, the phone in my hand, fighting the tears, fighting the disappointment, fighting the horror of what had happened. Afterwards, I walked around the house wailing and crying out, “Why? Why? WHY?”

            It seemed the voice in my heart spoke very gently. “Mark, I know how you loved your dad. But it was his time. His heart was worn out. But I can assure you, you are not alone in this.” 

            I knew I wasn’t. That didn’t make it easier. But family, friends, business associates, and the Comforter himself were all with me in those days following. When I had to tell my two daughters that afternoon, I could barely stammer out the words. They were equally distraught, but we all prayed together and peace came over us at the strangest times. I would remember great moments with Dad at the oddest times, and I would feel a joy that God had made him my father in this world over and over. 

            When the worst calamities in all of life strike, where do you get your comfort, your encouragement, your words of wisdom to keep you through? If I had not been a Christian for all the deaths I’ve witnessed over the years, I don’t think I would have lasted this long. Every one was an amputation, a cleaving of the heart. But with God in me somehow it’s different. I knew my father was with him, I knew they were undoubtedly chuckling over some of the crazy episodes of his life together.

            To me, that presence can hold me, and keep me strong through just about anything this life hurls at me. Isn’t it the same for you? 

 

Why I Like Barack

            The most fascinating of all elections is upon us, and I’m fascinated.

            For the first time, I see  a real choice in the nominees. Instead of the old hard-eyed decision between two bowls of cold oatmeal, it’s shaping up to be a bigger menu: possum and muskrat. Some delicious options here.

            But really, what is it I, a conservative, like about Sen. Obama? There are a number of things.

            For one, he’s a true liberal. He won the nomination by playing left, and now he intends to win the election by moving to the middle, as the Clintonian triangulation process mandates. Truly, Obama’s the real thing, the most liberal Senator in the Senate, never crossing lines to work with partisans, political as all get-out, and now proving he really is slicker than Slick Willie himself. Of course, he still says he can unite the country, and he probably can because most of us are fools anyway. Fool me once, I’m an idiot. Fool me twice, I’m still an idiot. Fool me three, four times, just shoot me, I’m definitely not worth leaving alive. 

            Look at it this way: for the first time in years we’ll really see liberalism at work. Liberals will be able to strut their stuff like never before. They’ll have carte blanche to do everything they’ve always wanted to. They’ll be able to remake America in their image. Then we can decide once and for all whether this stuff really works, or if it’s as crackpot as a lot of the crackpots on the other side say. Should be good medicine for the soul, know what I mean?

            A second reason I like Sen. Obama is because sooner or later he’ll disclose what kinds of changes he really wants and how he will implement them. This will happen either after he’s elected, which is the usual way, or perhaps before if the press realizes he intends to take away freedom of the press for good. At first he’ll just go after those nutty conservative talk shows, but sooner or later he’ll get around to snuffing anyone who disagrees with him. The guy just has no sense of humor about anything, especially people who contradict him. Gotta like that. It’ll definitely unite the country because we won’t be able to think anything but what Barack wants, likes, and decides. After all, his wife told us he won’t let us get away with any of that easy-going, grilling-in-the-backyard stuff anymore? We’ll all be in lines – for gas, for health-care, for a bowl of soup. That makes me dream of the good old days, know what I mean?

            A third reason I like the Senator is because he just makes people feel so good. He’s the Dr. Feelgood and his Travelin’ Show. And miracle of miracles, he’s here. Sen. McCain is such a curmudgeonly, stick-in-the-mud, overly-principled drill sergeant-old crapper that he just comes out an says what he thinks.

            But Barack? Hey, you want to feel good, cry a few tears, laugh uproariously at conservatives, and walk away with a contact high, grab a seat. He’s more than a motivational speaker. He’s a mountain-moving, marvel-tongued, Messianic-Gonna-Be-The-New-Savior kind of guy. We haven’t seen his likes since Moses. And the way his wife talks, he’s going to lay down the law, just like Moses did, too. Yessirree, Michelle’ll be proud of our country for the second time in her life if Barack gets in there and starts hurling laws around.

            So that’s what I like about the man. He flips switches. In fact, if he doesn’t flip yours, you probably ain’t got switches.

            Anyway, if nothing else about Obama gets us through the next decade, that smile of his will. Look it direct in the face, you won’t be able to see for another eight years.  

Elizabeth Turns Off the Lightning

This is not my usual post. My five-year old daughter, Elizabeth, came into our bedroom the other night during a lightning storm and said, “Daddy, please turn off the lightning. It’s keeping me awake.” So I decided to help her turn it off. This is what happened.  

 

Elizabeth Turns Off the Lightning

By

Mark Littleton

   A storm raged outside Elizabeth’s window. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. Elizabeth cried from her bed, “Daddy, the lightning! Turn off the lightning and thunder!” 

   Daddy stepped into her room. “What’s the matter, Elizabeth?”

   She pulled the sheet up to her nose with her wide eyes bugging out at him. “I can’t sleep. The lightning and thunder scare me. Please turn them off.” 

   Daddy sighed. “To do that, we have to go to the Lightning Switch. We can go in my rocketship, if you want.” 

   “A rocketship? I didn’t know you had one of them.” The sheets came down to her mouth. “It’ll take us there?”

   “Yes.”

   The sheet came down to her chin. “Will we go to the moon?”

   “Almost.” 

   “Okay.” Elizabeth jumped out of bed, pulled on her snow boots, her mermaid dress, and her cowboy hat.

   Daddy took her downstairs. He grabbed some bananas and they climbed into his minivan.

   “How come you have bananas?” Elizabeth asked.

   “You’ll see. Hold on.” 

   The minivan shot up into the air. High, high above the houses, and then the city. Soon, they were in outer space.

   “Look at the moon, Daddy!” Elizabeth cried. “It’s smiling.”

   “It’s happy we’re coming near to say hello.” 

   “Hello, Moon,” Elizabeth said and waved. She looked out the back window. “Daddy, is that blue round thing earth?” 

   “Right.”

   Elizabeth waved again. “Goodbye, earth.”   

   Something hit the windshield.

   “What was that?” Elizabeth cried.

   “Space bugs,” Daddy said.

   Lightning flashed all around.  Bugs splatted. Daddy turned on the wipers and shot some water on the windshield.

   Suddenly, a monkey grabbed the window. “What’s that?” she cried. 

   “A Moon Monkey,” Daddy said. “Give it a banana!”

   Elizabeth handed the Moon Monkey a banana. It smiled and ate.

   Lightning burst all around them. The thunder roared. Elizabeth held her ears.   Soon the monkeys surrounded the van. Elizabeth gave them all bananas.  

   Bugs struck. Moon Monkeys streaked after them eating bananas. Meteors crashed against the sides of the van, leaving bit dents. Up ahead, Elizabeth saw a giant switch. “Is that it?”

   “You’ll have to open your window to switch it off.” 

   The lightning blasted on the top of the van. On the sides. Everywhere. 

   Trembling, Elizabeth let down the window. Her cowboy hat almost blew off, but she pushed it on tighter.

   Moon Monkeys chattered. Bugs zoomed around her. She reached out.

   “It’s too far away, Daddy.” 

   He drove closer. 

   Elizabeth got her hand on the switch. She pulled.

   It wouldn’t budge.

   A Moon Monkey helped her.

   Together, they pulled it down.

   Instantly, the wind kicked up. The lightning crackled even more fiercely. Rain pelted the side of the car.

   “You pushed the switch the wrong way!” Daddy cried. He veered the van around in a circle. They came back to the switch. One of the Moon Monkeys jumped onto the switch and switched it down another notch.

   The wrong way again! Great hailstones clattered against the van. Tornadoes whirled about. Winds tore at Elizabeth’s hat.

   “What do we do?” she cried.

   “Here,” Daddy said, handing her a hammer. “You’ll have to whack that switch back the other way.” 

   Elizabeth took the hammer. She opened her window as Daddy sped toward the Switch. Elizabeth leaned out with the hammer in her hand.

   “You’ll have to stand on the roof,” Daddy cried.

   “I’m afraid!” 

   “You can do it!”

   Elizabeth took a deep breath. Then she climbed out the window. They soared closer to the Lightning Switch.

   Closer. Closer. 

   Elizabeth leaned way over. The switch was just yards away. She raised the hammer. Her cowboy hat stayed in place. And . . .

   She swung at the Switch. Bang!

   Nothing happened.

   Bang! Again.

   Nothing.

   “Help, Moon Monkeys,” Elizabeth shouted. “I have more bananas.” 

   All the monkeys jumped on the switch. Bam! Bam! Bam!

   Everything went black.

   The lightning stopped. Elizabeth swung into the window. “Whew!” she said.

   “You did it!” Daddy said and they smacked hands.

   They zoomed back to earth. 

   Daddy tucked Elizabeth in. “Now you can sleep,” he said.

   “Until next time,” Elizabeth said. “But now we know what to do.” 

   Daddy nodded.

   Elizabeth looked up at the moon. “Goodbye, Moon,” she whispered. “Hello, earth.” 

   Daddy left.

   “Okay, you can come out now!” Elizabeth said.

   All the Moon Monkeys jumped onto her bed. Then they all fell asleep and dreamed about bananas, lightning, and switches. 

 

Evolution and Intelligent Design

   Having recently seen, “Expelled: Intelligence Not Allowed,” the movie, I thought I should comment on this issue of creation that has twisted so many of us in the U.S. into knots, both liberal and conservative, Christian and otherwise. 

   Let me first say the movie was first-rate. I have already read several scathing reviews of it, which says to me it’s hitting some nerves. So bring it on. I don’t think the point of the movie was that Intelligent Design is superior to Darwinian evolution, just that the debate should remain open and vigorous, which it obviously isn’t. Too many in the sciences and academia seem to think evolution is a “closed issue” and completely “proved.” The truth is they will not allow dissent about this from any quarter, even though solid scientists like Stephen Jay Gould, Francis Crick, and Francis Collins all saw/see flaws in basic evolutionary theory. And there are many others.  I really think it’s in the interest of America, humanity, understanding, and the sheer need to talk about something intelligent now and then, we should allow the debate not only to start, but to get going with a little American free-thinking, free-speaking, free-hurling-of-verbal-bombs enthusiasm. 

   Regardless, let me tell you a little about my own journey in this matter and perhaps offer some intelligent conclusions. 

   To open, I have been fascinated by the evolutionary debate from my high school and college days back in the 1960s and 70s. We dissected fetal pigs and live rats in those days and remember marveling that I could open up a white rat’s chest and see that tiny heart pounding away like the Little Engine That Could.  I don’t remember the bio prof saying much about evolution at the time; what I do remember is that he wore the same shirt every class for the whole semester. The one time I went up to ask him a question, I had to turn away and ask someone for smelling salts before I could voice it without retching. That did throw a little wrench into my respect for people of the scientific mind, and I thought I should recommend that all the chem., physics, and bio majors not only learn how to memorize scientific laws like “ontology recapitulates philology” but also some lessons in good grooming(“A little dab’ll do ya” – Albert Einstein’s Law on how he keeps that mane of his tamed). 

   It never seemed to me a closed issue as I often talked to friends about it in college in “bull sessions” and the opinions flew about like vampiric mosquitoes in search of human blood. I remember a friend in college who was a pre-med student and an ardent evolutionist. He claimed everything in life happened through chemical reactions in the brain. I asked him, “Well, Diz, how do you explain your love for your girlfriend of several years?”

   He could only laugh. “My chemical reactions respond to her with a chemical called love, and her chemical reactions respond to me, that’s all.”

   I responded, “Fine, but please don’t tell her that. You may get hit. Or dumped.” 

   He agreed and looked around, putting his finger to his lips.

   Over the years, I have read all kinds of books on the issue, studied the fossil record, considered various data on mutations, and everything else I could find. Since I’d become a Christian in my early twenties, I never really saw that evolution had much of an argument. The fossil record was full of giant gaps, which evolutionists seemed to make “leaps of faith” about the same way I leaped to God when I first learned about eternal life, love, forgiveness, and that I could actually learn “the truth” about everything from him personally.

   Meanwhile, just to be sure, I took long looks at the fruit flies bombarded with radiation, the Miller-Urey lightning-in-a-bottle experiment, and all of it from Australopithecus to Zebra stripes. I never saw a fruit fly that turned into a mockingbird, or vice-versa. I read the results of anthropologists all vigorously trying to find that “missing link” in various digs here and there, and it seemed every bone they turned up turned out to be an ancient pre-human lineage that unfortunately didn’t lead to us but to some offshoot that never survived. 

   Moreover, I kept asking myself, if there really is this descent from apes to humankind, why aren’t we finding fossils all over the place of everything from rhesus monkeys to Richard Dawkins? The evolutionists kept saying, “They didn’t fossilize.” I honestly think they should take another look at Dr. Dawkins, but anyway . . . if we’re talking millions of years here, why not? We have so many other fossils, why not human beings, who in earlier incarnations might actually have tried to preserve the pre-human remains in a cave, crypt, or the latest steel box from the Charles Darwin Funeral Home for People Who Went Ape(the PWWAs)? Also, why aren’t there missing link species all over the world today? Why is it that only actual human beings seem to have survived? We have pygmies, aborigines, blacks, whites, Asians, and so on. Why not Cro-Magnons, Lucys, and Neanderthals lurking here and there in a colony dedicated to the “Mastodon Dance” so they can bring home some fresh meat for dinner?

   I hit the second problem with a Christian friend who had been a pastor but had to retire because of a serious bicycle accident that incurred brain damage. I knew he believed in evolution, “theistic evolution” anyway, and I said to him, “Jim, I’ve really studied this. How can you believe it? I mean, look at the fossil record. It’s so full of holes, you couldn’t even make a hunk of Swiss Cheese worth eating from it.”

   Jim gave me some website addresses. “Look at these. You’ll be amazed how they’ve filled in the gaps.” 

   So I went to the websites. Yeah, they had an impressive layout. But when I looked carefully at their “lineages” for the development of the eye, or the bird-wing, and so on, it was the same old story: giant leaps of faith everywhere. When I pointed this out to Jim, he just shrugged. “I thought it was pretty good, but then I’ve had brain damage.” 

   So, look, evolution-people. You’re gonna have to do better if you want to convince the likes of me. I’m quite open to hearing what you have to say, but so far it’s mostly been nice stories that just don’t have the facts behind them. 

   As for Creationism, which is generally defined as the belief that Genesis one is an exact record of how God made everyting in six actual days. I’ve read magazines like “Answers in Genesis,” dedicated to just that proposition. Some of their arguments are pretty good. My only problem is that I just can’t bring myself to believe God meant to give us a scientific argument in that chapter.

   Remember: evolution didn’t even come about as a genuinely scientific theory until 1859 when Darwin had “Origin of the Species” published. So how was God going to explain to those early Hebrews and everyone else up to 1859 how he did it? People didn’t have the horse chart back then. They wouldn’t have understood one-celled organisms, mutations, the Galapagos finches or the fossil record anymore than you and I understand how Michael Moore ever became a legitimate movie-maker.

   God was not about to say, “Look, you’ll just have to wait till 1859 for this one.” No, he gave us a sketchy outline that made it neat and clean and didn’t require all the nonsense we see today in biology classes. “And so, you see that all the stages of human embryo development goes through all the evolutionary stages of previous species. Ontology recapitulates . . . well, that other big word no one can remember. Of course, Haeckel, the person who drew the diagrams, made most of it up. But that’s neither here nor there. It’s true whether he made it up or not.” 

   No, those generations just wanted to know who this God was and what he was like. Genesis one told them that: he’s all-powerful(did it all fairly effortlessly, since he didn’t have to rest until the seventh day), he can create at a mere statement(“Let there be light” and there was), and he has a love for beauty(roses, tropical fish, women), variety(everything from amoebas to antelopes, goldfish to swordfish, artichokes to zucchini), the grotesque(the hippo, giraffe, crab, some of my relatives), fun(dogs, cats, hamsters, me), intrigue(cobras, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi), power(lions, and tigers, and bears, oh my), sheer crazy nutso-ness(kangaroos, ostriches, rhinoceroses, Robin Williams), practical jokes (the platypus, bat, venus flytrap, appendix), total risk(all of us out there with free will), good cooking(salt, paprika, Rachael Ray), and undoubtedly a taste for a savory cut of meat now and then(chicken, lobster, filet mignon, and pastrami on rye)(with mustard).

   Clearly, from Genesis one, one can conclude God is quite a character, not only in what he created, but how he simplified explaining it all in a way that everyone could get it through the ages, except of course today’s progressives, atheists, and members of the NEA.  

   What about I.T. or Intelligent Design? For me the old watch argument does it. You see a watch on the ground, you don’t say, “Hey, look what appeared out of nowhere today, experienced random changes through mutation, and was naturally-selected to be at this place?” No, you pick it up and if it works, you take it home and give it to your ten-year old: “Here, Gardner, you can use this now in view of the fact that we’ve bought you sixteen watches over the last few years and you’ve lost everyone of them.”

   Why is it that some people believe the most complex things in all creation like  DNA, cells, weather, planet earth, and us all happened by accident when everything else ever made and used by people was designed by intelligent beings? Why can’t we take that little step for man, that giant step for mankind, and admit that nothing ever came out of nothing, except perhaps the writings of Jim Belushi?

   Ultimately, I think there’s one reason evolutionists believe evolution over any form of design that involves an intelligent God, person, thing, being or whatever: they don’t want anyone like the God of the Bible telling them how to live. They don’t like things God says in the Bible about sin, guilt, sex, forgiveness, salvation, Jesus, people, the world, heaven, hell, and everything else. So in order to dispose of that God and his warnings that they’re accountable to him, they have to get rid of that God.

   Now that’s a hard thing to do in today’s world. First of all, he’s God, all-powerful and can do things like part the Red Sea, incinerate altars with lightning bolts, and open up the earth any time he wants. So knocking him off could be difficult. Saran has already tried it, and look where he is. 

   Thus, Plan B calls for them to shut all of us up who believe in him. But since most Christians are motor-mouths about Jesus, that also proves impossible. Furthermore, our laws say we can believe what we want. Thus, Plan C: change the laws.

   When they can’t do that, because the Supreme Court is stacked in favor of people who actually believe the Constitution, they decide to take over the education of our kids so the kids’ll believe as they do, and eventually we’ll all die out.

   Problem is, we who believe the Bible take seriously not only the God of creation in Genesis one, but also his command in that same chapter to reproduce and fill the world with our kind (non-evolutionists, presumably). So not only do we make lots of kids, but when they come home from school telling us the teacher said we all came from monkeys, we just say, “No, you came from God. Your teacher came from monkeys.” And they believe us instead of the teacher because we can whip their behinds and the teacher can’t. 

   So all the evolutionists keep running into the few of us at various street corners yelling that God is real, you’d better repent, or he’s gonna get you. It’s at that point, I think they’ll try to eliminate us completely(that happens in the end times according to the Bible, if you’ve noticed).

   Last, when only a few of us still remain, they’ll try to wipe us all out at Armageddon.

   It’s at that moment that our God returns and disposes of all of them, brings back all of us who believed in him, and we party for the next four trillion years. After that, we break up into groups and talk about what went wrong on earth with those evolutionists. After two minutes, we decide we just can’t figure it out, we go back to partying, ruling the universe, and eating filet mignons for all eternity. 

   So I guess the question is this: Look, do you want to hold to your weak, foolish, and full-of-holes arguments about evolution, or do you want to repent of all that and party with the God who is the ultimate Party-Guy of the Universe?

   For those of us who enjoy blowing horns, shooting off fireworks, eating shrimp, French onion dip and chips, not having a hangover the next morning, talking about something other than the latest news about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, and seeing God blow our minds for the rest of eternity, it’s a pretty easy choice. 

 

The Atheists Are Coming!

             I’ve been reading with much interest the books and ideas of various atheists: Richard Dawkins, the renowned evolutionist; Sam Harris, the atheist Christianity-slayer; and Christopher Hitchens, the spouter of all things horrible against religion. It was with some trepidation that I picked up Sam Harris’s book first at my local Borders, called, “Letter to a Christian Nation.” His stated purpose was to pound the final nails into Christianity’s coffin. He seemed very confident he had the arguments, logic, and facts to finally put the whole Christ-myth into the dirt for good.

            As a Christian, I read with some anxiety. What would he say that might derail my faith of more than thirty years?  I’ve always worried somewhere in the back of my mind that someone would come along who would blast Jesus to pieces.  They’d find the real tomb he was buried in and his bones would still be there with his coat – “Jesus” stitched over his chest pocket. Or some “gospel” that had the true story of him being just a regular guy who did nothing but hang around with fishermen, but who told such great tales that the fishermen had to write him up and embellish the book. 

            Nothing like that has ever happened, although a recent movie documentary and book tried to show someone had found Jesus’ bone in a crypt in Nazareth. Sorry, that one didn’t fly, although the media made much of it.

            Yet, as I delved into these atheists’ books, I worried that they’d made some incredible discovery that would do just that: prove the whole history of Jesus was bunk! 

            So I read avidly searching for what it was. Nonetheless, when I put the book down, I sat there absolutely stunned. I said out loud, “This guy doesn’t have anything. Not a thing.” 

            I moved on to Richard Dawkins’s latest, “The God Delusion.” When I finsihed, again I was astonished. “How can these educated men believe this swill?” I asked myself. It really was startling how feeble their arguments and “proofs” were. I’d heard many of these ridiculous arguments in my first few years in seminary and had them debunked years ago.

            For example, Dawkins made much of St. Thomas Acquinas’ argument from causation, that every effect demands a cause equal to or more powerful than itself. Dawkins poses the question, If everything goes back to the first cause—God—then what caused him? Dawkins seems to think this sophomoric argument quite potent. The problem is that Acquinas argued that an “Uncaused Cause” was the first cause: God himself, the one who was never caused, made, or created, but always was. Dawkins seems quite satisfied that he has destroyed Acquinas and God in his little question, but really it’s all quite foolish. Just about anything that exists today had a “first cause” or “uncaused cause” in some sense. The lightbulb’s first cause was Edison. Many of the peanut’s first “inventions” came from George Washington’s Carver’s discoveries. Even Post-It notes has a “first cause,” if you want to look at it that way.

            When Dawkins uses his evolutionary beliefs, he stretches it even further. He admits the “beginning of life” should cause some real “awe” that it happened. Unfortunately, he has no idea how it happened, but he’s sure one day we’ll find out, without the need to invoke God. In the recent movie, “Expelled,” Ben Stein even gets Dawkins to admit that perhaps the first cause of life in our universe was caused by elite beings from another universe, who themselves came about through some evolutionary process! How convenient. Dawkins goes on like this page after page: “they’ll find the evidence” for the tremendous gaps in the fossil record. And, “those gaps will be filled.” And, “we’re seeing more every day that shows the truth.”

            Unfortunately, he never quite arrives at the “facts” so indisputable that everyone would heartily agree to them. 

            I only read a little of Hitchens. He sounded like a cross between a little boy having a tantrum and the Cowardly Lion, screaming, “I won’t believe. I won’t believe. I won’t. I won’t. I won’t. “ 

            Nonetheless, these books are big bestsellers. People rip them off the shelves of Barnes and Noble, and Borders like cancer victims in search of the cure. After reflecting on them, my conclusion was that anyone who knows anything of history, theology, and Christian faith, it’s all twaddle, to say nothing of illogical and without any real facts to back up their so-called research. However, I also see that if you know little to nothing about the Bible and the God portrayed in it, these works would be very convincing — especially if you’re just looking for a reason not to read the Bible or pursue the truth or not repent of the sins you know to be sins but would be happy to learn from the atheists that those are “just choices we all make, nothing wrong at all.” 

            More recently, I read Dinesh D’Souza’s, “What’s So Great About Christianity?” another bestseller. It annihilated the arguments of these atheists, showing the logical and factual fallacies in their writings. A fascinating read, D’Souza repeatedly shows that the very foundations of western civilization hearken back to Christianity, from it’s influence in scientific discovery, to education, to health care, and so on. D’Souza shows that if atheists succeeded in their stated mission of eliminating Christian truth from the world, they would be knocking the foundation of human freedom, discovery, and exploration out from under them. This would undoubtedly lead to a world like that under Hilter, Stalin and Mao who used the “truths” of Darwinian evolution and atheism and a rejection of all things religious to murder millions and create a world as backward and evil as any we’ve ever seen.  

            Thus, I’d like to challenge you. If you’re looking for reasons to reject God, Jesus, the Bible, and all things Christian, any one of the atheists’ books will probably satisfy you. They provide just enough supposed “truth” to let you feel you’re okay and don’t have to ever worry about heaven, hell, judgment, God, Jesus, or any fire-breathing Christian cornering you at a party ever again. 

            On the other hand, if you want some real truth and “meat” to chew on for the rest of your life, as well as spiritual grist that may ignite faith in you or bolster your present faith, try D’Souza.

            In the Bible God invites all of us, “Seek me while I may be found.” His promise is that “you will find me if you search for me with all your heart.” But if you really want an out, if you demand, “No, I want nothing to do with you, God, and I want some reasons to justify that conclusion,” then God will let you find it in Dawkins, Harris, and the others.

            God simply will not force himself on anyone.  

The Comforts of Hell

             A title like “The Comforts of Hell” probably strikes most people as an oxymoron. What kind of comforts can there possibly be in hell? 

            Well, not “in” hell, but “about” hell. 

            The Bible reveals that hell is a place where its residents “weep and gnash their teeth” forever, where the “worm never dies, and the fire never dies”(see Jesus’ words about it in Mark 9:42-50). Everyone there has received specific punishments on the basis of his or her sins while living on earth. Revelation 20, the chapter about the Last Judgment, concludes, “And if anyone’s name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire”(20:15). 

            Many people, especially those who grew up in church environments, have heard of these things. Many more reject the idea of hell or say it’s not worthy of a loving God to create and populate such a place. But just as the Bible speaks much about God’s love, grace, kindness, and compassion, it also says that “it’s a terrifying thing to fall into the hands of the living God” and that “vengeance is mine, I will repay.” The God of scripture is unlike any person ever conceived. He is both just and gracious, loving and wrathful, forgiving and holy, hating any and every sin. No human could ever have painted the composite we have of him in the Bible, for no person would ever have been able to dream up the contrasting character traits that make up his being. 

            That is why the reality of hell can be vastly comforting. 

            For one thing, the truth of hell means all people truly are accountable to God for how they lived and conducted themselves on earth. The Apostle Paul says, “God will give to every man according to his deeds”(see Romans 2:6), and “each one of us will give an account of himself to God”(Romans 14:12). This means that kid who bullied you all through grade school will have to own up to it before God. It also means people like Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, Saddam Hussein, and everyone who ever cheated, hurt, despised, hated, murdered, committed genocide or even cussed you out personally will answer for those crimes. 

            For another, it means real justice will occur for everyone who was ever treated unjustly. No evil person will escape. They will all pay for the terrible things they did to anyone and everyone. God will mete out punishments in accordance with the crimes, and right every wrong.

            For a third, it means all our deeds, words and thoughts count for eternity. Nothing is wasted, forgotten, or overlooked. Of course, an evil person would not consider that very comforting. But for those who love God, it means we truly are significant. Everything we do has meaning and purpose because of the reality of hell.  

            The fourth comfort about hell, and this is the greatest one, is that while it is terrible pain and agony for all eternity for those in it, no one ever has to go there. In John 3:17, the verse after the famed John 3:16, Jesus says, “For God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.” The great truth of Christianity is that Jesus Christ paid for all sins of all humankind on the cross. If we simply trust him with our lives, and put our faith in him, hell’s horrors become meaningless. We will never experience them for Christ experienced them for us. 

            It’s a great promise and truth. For those, though, who reject it, hell is a giant warning: you will answer and be punished for everything you ever did. So if you don’t want to end up here, get your life right with God. Now. 

I Turned to God Out of Bitterness, Too!?!?

             Senator Obama’s recent remarks about how bitter Americans are these days and how we have turned to God out of that bitterness resonates with me. I did turn to God out of bitterness. At least in some ways. How? 

            For one, I was bitterly scared of going to hell. But all my professors would tell me was that there was no hell. I should get over it. I tried. Hard. But the idea that I might get out there after this life and have to go to hell for reasons I could quite well imagine remained. Why didn’t anyone have an answer to that one among the world’s most intelligent people at the university I attended? 

            Why was my father paying a fortune to have me learn this stuff? I was kind of bitter about it. I don’t know if my father was, though. He never said much about the bills except to say, “You’re good for another semester.” Had to love the guy about that. 

            For another, I was bitterly enslaved by guilt. Every time I slept with a girl, which I was told was the natural and wholesome thing to do, I felt guilty. Everyone said it was a mirage, nothing to worry about. It would go away in time, a leftover from my church upbringing. But it didn’t go away. Not when I lied to friends about this and that. Not when I cussed my head off and got the nickname in my fraternity of “Guttermouth.” Not when I did drugs and got drunk incessantly. Always, always there was this little voice somewhere deep down inside me saying things like, “Why do you do this to yourself? It’s stupid.” And, “This is wrong. You’re going to feel real bad in the morning, and afternoon, and night.”  And, “If your family saw you doing these things, they would be ashamed.”

            Why was that voice always there no matter how many times I told it to go away or that it wasn’t real or that it was just superego ranting I should simply ignore? 
            Another bitter element for me was how anytime I mentioned things like, “What is truth?” people always said, “There is no truth, you make it up as you go along.” When I said things like, “Either there is a God, or there isn’t. Both statements can’t be true,” my erudite professors intoned, “If it’s true for you, it’s true. It doesn’t matter what anyone else says or thinks.”

            When I tried to argue about logic and things like that, they just said, “If there’s a God, why is the world so messed up?” 

            “Yeah,” I said, “I want to know the answer to that one, too.” 
            They just shrugged and turned to the next part of the lecture. 

            Sheesh. All I wanted to know was the facts, reality, you know, those kinds of things. But all I was told was, “Go get laid. That’ll make you feel better.” Or, “Just do something fun this weekend to take your mind off all this garbage.” I was quite bitter about that. Wasn’t college where I was supposed to learn about life, justice, meaning, purpose? No, it was all, “What matters to you is all that matters.” But I didn’t know what mattered to me. And what did matter, finding out the truth, was just “stupid” since there was no way to find it or know it.

            So I was pretty bitter about that, too. 

            For a long while, it seemed no one had any real answers to anything. They couldn’t even agree on if Shakespeare really wrote Shakespeare.

            So in the end, I said to God, “Just tell me the truth. That’s all I want. If it’s Hinduism, fine. I’ll take it. If it’s Buddhism, that’s okay. Or whatever. Just show me the truth.” 

            He took me at his word. He showed me what the Bible said about Jesus, God, reality, purpose, heaven, hell, everything. I was shocked out of my gourd. In it there were real answers, grounded in history to my amazement. So I said to Jesus, “Okay, you’ve got me. I’m yours. I’ll follow you wherever.” 

            He said, “Go back to your college and tell them about me.”  (I had graduated by them).  

            So I did. Old friends called me “condescending,” “arrogant,” “cocky,” “a fanatic,” “off my nut,” and “just looking for a psychological crutch.” 
            Some people did listen. But when I explained the gospel to one, he just said, “It’s too simple. That can’t be the truth.” 

            I think he went away kind of bitter.  

Homosexuality and the Bible

             Much controversy rages today about so-called intolerant Christian attitudes about gays. Just today, I received several e-mails alerting me about the support of  “the gay agenda” by General Motors and McDonalds, and a call to boycott those companies. I am grieved by the way some in the Christian community treat gays. But I also don’t like being labeled “intolerant” just because I subscribe to biblical morality. 

            I have known a few gays over the years. Most were sincere, friendly, hospitable people. Like all of us, all they wanted from life was genuine happiness and love. But while we all desire such things, Jesus said the only way to it is “narrow.” Like that or not, it’s wise to take to heart what he says. His words have guided billions of people for millennia. 

            To go at this biblically, God has given all people genuine freedom to believe, speak, and act as they wish. We can curse God and his laws or believe in him intensely. Ultimately, gays can do as they please in this world, no matter how much others may disdain them. 

            However, no one can break God’s revealed laws without suffering the consequences, both here and in eternity. The Bible teaches that God will call us all to account for our lives in this world. He will judge us on the basis of those choices. Many don’t want to hear that. But God repeatedly warns us in the Bible that ignoring, rejecting, or hating those truths only win his censure and ultimate judgmentl. 

            Second, God alone has the right to judge people. Christians have no right to take his place and judge others, or hate them. Jesus said, “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” Christians who revile and abhor others are sinning against God, no matter how justified they may think they are. 

            Third, while the Bible clearly says homosexuality is “sinful”(see passages like Leviticus 18:22, Romans 1:18-32, and 1 Timothy 1:8-10), so are all other sexual sins, including fornication, adultery, and sodomy. The Bible also condemns coveting, lying, envy, gossip , slander, and arrogance, to name only a few. Some might think these things rather trivial. Apparently, God doesn’t. Nor does God single out homosexuals as any worse or better than anyone else. In the biblical view, we’re all lost sinners until we repent and trust Christ. We may love our sin, but God calls us to turn away from it, no matter how much satisfaction we might get from it. 

            Last, gays want Christians to say their lifestyle is as morally legitimate as any other. Unfortunately, no one really has the right to do that. Even if the whole world says something is right, what ultimately matters is what God says. In that sense, every person must decide how he will live. But he must also remember that God will one day call him or her to account for his life.  

            Many Christians sympathize that gays believe their only sexual joy in life is through their lifestyle. But every Christian has had to forsake that as well as fornication and other sexual sins because God says so. The great truth is that he gives us better things in return for such devotion. “Delight yourself in the Lord,” King David says, “and he will give you the desires of your heart”(Psalm 37:4). I have found that promise to be true many times over in my life and so have most Christians. 

            Ultimately, if it turns out we Christians are wrong about God and the Bible, then that is our misfortune. But if right, it will mean far more than mere misfortune for those who reject him. 

            In the meantime, the law we must all obey is to “love our neighbor as ourselves”. If most people followed that rule alone, our world would be a different place. Christians must obey that law in every relationship, no matter how much they may dislike the sexual preferences of others.

            It is also the one law that, when obeyed, might win those who oppose us to the faith we so genuinely love.