A friend of mine, the pastor of this wonderful church, quoted this on Facebook:

“We hope that by believing less we will become less vulnerable to spiritual manipulation. We cannot be duped, we imagine, if critical doubt weakens the force of our commitments. If there is no truth, then we will not quarrel over our visions of the truth. If nothing is worth fighting for, then nobody will fight. However, an iconoclasm of truth will not succeed. Hell can be as easily built of apathy and diffidence as of megalomania and fevered ideological zeal– perhaps more easily for it is difficult to wake from the narcosis of a velvet barbarism that desires no truth.” — R. R. Reno, Commentary on Genesis

A friend of mine, the pastor of this wonderful church, quoted this on Facebook:

“We hope that by believing less we will become less vulnerable to spiritual manipulation. We cannot be duped, we imagine, if critical doubt weakens the force of our commitments. If there is no truth, then we will not quarrel over our visions of the truth. If nothing is worth fighting for, then nobody will fight. However, an iconoclasm of truth will not succeed. Hell can be as easily built of apathy and diffidence as of megalomania and fevered ideological zeal– perhaps more easily for it is difficult to wake from the narcosis of a velvet barbarism that desires no truth.” — R. R. Reno, Commentary on Genesis

I have been thinking much of skeletons lately, specifically my own skeleton (I remember C. S. Lewis mentioning, somewhere, that he found it hard to believe he even had a skeleton. I used to feel the same way). If you missed my previous announcement, I’ve been diagnosed with avascular osteonecrosis (bone death), and I will be going in to have my right hip replaced tomorrow morning.

An unpleasant experience generally, but salutary, I think. I am now the old codger with crutches who blocks supermarket aisles, a character who’s always irritated me. Though no macho guy, I’ve always had strong legs, and it’s a shock to be unable to get around easily on my own power. Thus does God humble us.

If the worst should happen, which is always a possibility, what would I want my readers to remember as my final message?

I think it would be, “Don’t try too hard to be loved.” Love is important; love is central to everything (God is love). But real love comes as a byproduct of virtue. Seeking love for its own sake, out of a fear of being left alone, is not only wrong but generally counterproductive. Do what’s right, and you’ll attract the love of people whose love will enrich you.

This is what is wrong with the church today, I believe. It values being loved (by people) over being faithful. Remember, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you.” First things first.

But assuming this isn’t my swan song, I’ll probably be posting again sometime next week.

Our friend Gene Edward Veith at Cranach blog links to a post where the blogger wonders why, if many young people are being attracted to liturgical churches, as has been widely reported, they aren’t streaming to Lutheran churches.

Our friend Anthony Sacramone, at Strange Herring, provides an answer: Lutherans are boring:

Growing up, all the Lutherans I knew were boring. They minded their ps and qs and paid their taxes on time (begrudgingly—I was LCMS, after all) and kept their heads down and their feet on the ground. They were good citizens and thought things through and were practical, rarely all that imaginative (although every once in a while a teacher would try and shake things up, only to be brought to heel if no great measurable results were forthcoming). There were exceptions, of course. (An elementary school teacher pretty much drank himself to death.) But they were notable for being exceptions.

I would rise to the spirited defense of my Lutheran brethren (and Anthony is a Lutheran, by the way), but I think I need a nap.

Thomas Kidd of Baylor University talks about Christians wanting to sanitize the past and the restrictions on religious worship in the American colonies:

If religious liberty is one of our greatest national legacies, we can thank many early Baptists for being on the front lines of the fight for that liberty. In the Massachusetts Bay Colony, and later Rhode Island, Roger Williams was one of the first dissenting voices speaking out against a state establishment of religion, and against the state policing people’s religious beliefs. (For Williams, religion was too important for the government to meddle in it.) In the era of the Revolution, Baptists emerging from the Great Awakening wanted full freedom to create their own churches and to preach to whomever they wished. In most of the colonies, such freedom was not readily granted.

We forget that at the same time as the fight for independence from Britain, Americans were also fighting for freedom from oppressive religious laws. There were Baptist pastors being fined and even jailed for illegal preaching in Virginia in the early 1770s.