Sometimes I forget, but God is still at work in the world.
Over at Power Line, they’ve posted Orson Bean’s account of how he came to faith.
Sometimes I forget, but God is still at work in the world.
Over at Power Line, they’ve posted Orson Bean’s account of how he came to faith.
Over at Strange Herring, Anthony Sacramone writes “a strange review” of Joe Eszterhas’ earthy memoir of his conversion, Crossbearer.
It’s winter now. Not full winter. It’s snowed a few times (it snowed a little today), but there’s no accumulation to speak of—yet. Winter has been sneaking up on us in an Avoidant manner—hanging around the edge of the conversation, gradually making its presence known without drawing too much attention to itself. But today was seriously cold. And naturally I began to have trouble with the starter on my car. Not the usual kind of trouble, but the peculiar variety that goes with the Chevy Tracker’s idiosyncratic ignition system, which involves tramping down on the clutch while turning the key.
Ah well.
Rev. Paul T. McCain of Cyberbrethren wrote a moving and thoughtful post the other day on the subject of suicide. A friend of his took his life recently, and in meditating on it, Rev. McCain quoted a statement of Luther’s I’d never read before. This is part of it:
“I don’t share the opinion that suicides are certainly to be damned. My reason is that they do not wish to kill themselves but are overcome by the power of the devil. They are like a man who is murdered in the woods by a robber. . . .”
This was one of many statements of Luther’s they never told us about in the church I grew up in. We were taught the view (which, I believe, used to be taught by the Roman Catholic Church as well) that suicide left one with no opportunity to repent of the sin of murder, and therefore could not be forgiven. This view doesn’t actually jibe very well with Lutheran grace-centered theology, but that never occurred to me.
It must be a great comfort to the families of suicides to believe this, and I’m glad of that.
But I have reservations, too. (If you’ve recently lost a friend or family member to suicide, I recommend not following on to the portion of this post below the fold. It might upset you, and I have no wish to do that. I want to consider an argument here, not rub salt in wounds.) Continue reading Suicide, in theory
Sherry recommends books for giving to children.
The strange things you discover while looking at your Sitemeter statistics. I checked somebody in Denmark who visited our page, and found they’d been referred from this Wiki page in Denmark. We’re reference note number [13], in relation to the Fairy Flag of Dunvegan. It’s lovely to be a citation, but I’m not sure I’ve really earned it.
I was a little upset a few days back by a blog analysis app that decided Brandywine Books was a blog written by do-ers, not thinkers.
But it’s OK now.
I found this new test here that makes a guess as to whether a blog is written by males or females. (I’d link to the blog that pointed me there, but I can’t remember which blog it was.)
We get male.
I feel so affirmed. So warm and nurtured. I think I’ll put on my footy pajamas and watch “Rosie Live.”
Update: Now it says female. I’m thinking this post tipped the scales.
So now I’m gonna kill me a bear and eat it raw. Maybe that’ll help.
OK, here’s the thing.
Via Mirabilis, I find this little internet test thingie, which analyzes your blog and tells you where it scores on the Myers Briggs personality scale.
So I run our URL through the rollers.
And how do we come out?
ESTP – The Doers
The active and play-ful type. They are especially attuned to people and things around them and often full of energy, talking, joking and engaging in physical out-door activities.
The Doers are happiest with action-filled work which craves their full attention and focus. They might be very impulsive and more keen on starting something new than following it through. They might have a problem with sitting still or remaining inactive for any period of time.
My question(s) is (are), does that sound like Phil?
Does that sound like me?
The only possible conclusion I can draw is that this blog is secretly being run by the Illuminati (who are well known ESTP types).
James Lileks, the chariots of the Blogosphere and the horses thereof, has added a new section to his Institute of Official Cheer, over at lileks.com. It’s called Comic Ads in Comics.
In the past James has made us wince through revealing the amazing awfulness of pictures of food in old recipe books, and interior decoration as practiced in the 1970s (apparently entirely by blind people). But I think this new section may be the most painful of them all. Ugly, mendacious and pathetic all at once, the old comic ads from comic books are like one of those hypnotherapy sessions on TV crime shows, where the traumatized victim screams “No! No!” as the police hypnotist tries to pull some horrible, suppressed memory out of his subconscious, like a dentist yanking a healthy tooth. Anybody who spent any time with comics in their childhood (and I read a few, though only when they were given to me. The folks wouldn’t let us spend money on the things. I see their point now) will recognize those ads. Post-traumatic stress ensues.
I think I’ve mentioned previously that, before I set my personal sights on immortality through literature, I dreamed of being an artist. I drew incessantly as a kid. I had no high-brow pretensions. I wanted to draw stuff that looked like stuff. I wanted to be another Norman Rockwell or Howard Pyle. I thought I might be a cartoonist, or a commercial artist.
So I can imagine myself snagging an entry-level job with Marvel or DC, and being assigned to draw these abominations as part of my apprenticeship. It reminds me of something I used to say, when I was contemplating (theoretically) what it would be like to try to be a professional actor—“If you’re really lucky, you get to prostitute yourself.”
All in all, I think I prefer being a failed novelist to being a failed artist.
(I mean, “Captain Tootsie.” Nothing could justify that. Nothing.)
Ballantyne the Brave is the website and blog of Joshua T. Phillips, 15, who is dedicated to inspiring boys to read good books like those of G.A. Henty and R.M. Ballantyne. It was Robert Louis Stevenson who gave us the phrase “Ballantyne the Brave.” Phillips writes, “He did this to honor Ballantyne for his bold vision of manhood — a vision which influenced Stevenson himself.”
I see one of Ballantyne’s books is on Leif Ericsson, called The Norsemen in the West. Rife with errors no doubt, but hopefully fun to read.
Anthony Sacramone, formerly of “Luther at the Movies” and “First Things” is back blogging at Strange Herring.
I suppose he’ll suddenly give it up again in a couple of weeks, but for now, our long night of the cyber-soul is over.
Tip: First Things.