The flight path from GA to my location in PA pleases me visually. On clear days I can follow the ridges of the Allegheny Mountains from WVA to PA, a long green spinal cord (it’s summer now) linking disparate American cultures (from above, anyway).

As the plane descended, PA came into view:

The farms here impress me each time, as if I have stepped back in time.

But it is always soon–too soon–when I am amidst another line of travelers, waiting.

On the first flight up, a young couple was seated in front of me. The young dad was a soldier, too. He had a tattoo identifying his field of aviation on his arm, and his beige hat had a stitched emblem of a CH-47 Chinook. The older of the two daughters lay in a car seat that faced my direction. The child had flushed red cheeks the color of cotton candy and strawberry blonde fine straight hair. Her dad gave her a lollipop which she sucked for the entire flight, her blue eyes looking at me through the space of the two seats dividing her from her dad. It made me miss my daughter when she was that age.

Across the aisle sat the mother of the two girls. She had the younger of two girls on her lap, and a car seat on the window seat, but the toddler would have nothing to do with lying down. She wanted to stand in her mom’s lap; otherwise, she screamed. And screamed. And screamed. But when her mom stood her up on her lap, the screaming ceased like the turning off of a faucet, and her blue eyes (identical eyes to those of her older sister) surveyed us all. Her pudgy arms were so cute, red, and pudgy they reminded me of beef with white strings around it, striations of white running along her toddler limbs like integument.

When we landed, I had a three-hour layover. I went to one of the airport shops and purchased a protein drink, a Pepcid AC, and a fruit snack, all of which were exorbitantly priced. I called my wife, letting her know I had made the first leg of this trip. We chatted for a bit.

The next leg of the trip was a full flight. The two women seated on my left were returning from a trip to Alaska. They took selfies and posted their images on social media, sticking their tongues out and somehow grinning simultaneously. (I do not purport to understand the current rage of photographing ourselves doing what [surely] every former generation would have thought self-absorption, fatuousness, or worse. But they took at least a dozen pictures of themselves, appearing more and more delighted with each new face they donned for their selfies, and uploaded them for the world to enjoy.)

I opened the book I was reading today, a wonderful paperback by James Wood on the history of literature. To the two women to my left, I must have appeared a Luddite who scribbled beasts of yore uoon the walls of caves. The ladies continued snapping selfies and checking social media. We were two separate universes separated by inches.

Arrived in PA and made the drive to lodging. Will see my fellow soldiers in the morning. Time to finish the Wood volume. Truly a wonder-filled read by one who relishes literature’s gems. Then the gym and a burger for supper. To be continued . . .

Why not Dr. Seuss’ wisdom? Here goes: “The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.” In a word, yes.

Recently I discovered the fiction of British novelist Jeremy Cooper. In my view, his writing is akin to Patrick DeWitt’s, especially in deWitt’s novel, The Librarianist, and Walker Percy’s excellent novel, The Moviegoer.

Brian (the novel) is about a solitary reader who becomes an avid, one might even say obsessive, moviegoer and cinephile. The story involves how film enables him to break out of his emotional carapace to embrace others, to get out of himself and care about others in actuality, not just emotional posing/virtue signaling.

Like some erstwhile English literary fiction writers, Cooper can be sometimes efficacious via his literary understatement; at other times, he clearly reveals a desire to virtue signal to the Spirit of the Age, especially regarding sexuality and even, dare one even mention it, a former (and likely returning) president of America. It seems even as gifted a writer as Cooper sometimes is in this novel, he cannot resist genuflecting to the Leftists who cannot view anything without going through a lens of TDS (Trump Derangement Syndrome). All in all, however, it (Brian) remains a worthwhile read.

It is hard for me to say whose poetry I more enjoy, David’s or that of his son, Solomon. Both were masters of expressing sinners’ wiles and human craftiness. Listen to David in Psalm 55 where he warns about those who speak smoothly but inwardly are ravenous wolves:

My companion stretched out his hand against his friends; he violated his covenant. His speech was smooth as butter, yet war was in his heart; his words were softer than oil, yet they were drawn swords (Psalm 55:20-21 ESV).

In other words, watch people’s actions; don’t be duped by words that are “smooth as butter.” This is the textbook characteristic of a politician, whether he be in sales, government, or church. The principle applies across the board.

Now listen to David’s son, Solomon:

3 For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

² a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
³ a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
⁴ a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
⁵ a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
⁶ a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
⁷ a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
⁸ a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 ESV).

Timing is so important to notice. One might say it is crucial.

Do we have discernment to cut through smooth-as-butter words to see the vulpine war that is being smuggled in?

To be cliche, do we follow the money? Do we follow the evidence or just listen to smooth words? We are told up front that there are many among us whose god is their belly (Philippians 3:19). Are pastors shepherding the true sheep or simply building their own barns of comfort? Watch them. May God equip a discerning people, for there is, to reference Solomonic poetry again, “a time to love, and a time to hate.”

In our continued study of Matthew’s gospel, we are currently in chapter 9 where the Christ heals two blind men (vv. 27-31) and where he heals a man unable to speak/mute (vv. 32-34). The passages break into two distinct principles–1) the embrace of Jesus as the fulfillment of the promised Messiah (vv. 27-31) and 2) the rejection of Jesus despite the evidence and the remaining curse for rejection of the truth (vv. 32-34).

Quote: R.C. Sproul penned and preached a lifetime of profound biblical truths, one of which is this gem: “When there’s something in the Word of God that I don’t like, the problem is not with the Word of God, it’s with me.”

Encouragement/Takeaway: The people we study in Scripture are no different than people today. It is not lack of evidence preventing people from believing the truth; it is simply a moral obstinacy and rejection of the obvious. But here is the beauty, folks: Some will believe; some will come to the truth; some will be redeemed. Therefore, we go to all proclaiming the truth in the blessed assurance that some will come to the way, truth, and life who is Christ the Lord.

Blessings and curses are simply the natural outworkings of people’s responses when confronted with the truth.

When I departed Atlanta’s airport the sun was up but blurred by unrelenting heat and haze. The city’s buildings, nested along her overcrowded highways, were as vittles steaming in a southern kettle.

The flights to the West were good, however. The lady at the Delta counter was friendly, dressed in her blue blouse, with an azure rubber wedding band on her left hand. At the TSA Pre ✔ counter the old man with a beer belly and white mustache waved me through quickly. It was apparently evident to him I was military. He barely scanned my military ID card. My rucksack did not signal inspection either as it went through the coffin-like tunnel that, to me anyway, elicits images of a horizontal PET scan.

Once upon the plane I retrieved Smith’s You Are What You Love. I had just begun it an hour or so before but could tell it was my kind of book–biblical, Reformed, and replete with literary allusions, my favorite of which was from Eliot:

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time (T.S. Eliot, “Little Gidding”)

Made it out West and am about to turn in for the evening after a few more pages of Jeremy Cooper’s fine novel Brian. Cooper’s somewhat new to me but I am enjoying his Anglican understatement, especially when it comes to themes explored profoundly by Walker Percy, John Updike, and others.

The thought about calling (at least for some): “This is what we were made for: to love what God loves. Our telos brings us back to our beginning. And we were made to be sent” (You Are What You Love, p. 189).

This week I am studying a passage from Matthew 9:18-26 where Christ does at least two things: 1) he restores a girl to life and 2) he heals a woman who had suffered a blood issue; apparently, she bled profusely.

I am familiar with the passage. I have heard it referenced, preached, and alluded to many times. But this is I think the first time I have focused just upon the two miracles that are recorded here. For purposes of today I want to focus on just one principle, namely, the contrast between the woman who came up behind Jesus and touched the fringe of his garment (v. 20) and the faith in Christ she demonstrated versus the scoffing and disbelief of the crowd surrounding the dead girl whose father was a ruler in the synagogue (vv. 18, 25).

The woman with the issue of blood is an embodiment of the sinner’s complete brokenness and utter reliance upon the grace of God in Christ. And Christ both received her and healed her.

The ruler of the synagogue implored Christ to raise his deceased daughter, and when Christ does just that, the crowds “laughed at him” (v. 24) out of their disbelief.

Here’s the rub: Genuine belief in the person and work of Christ entails casting ourselves upon the mercy and grace of God, that he is who he says he is and proves himself over and over to be. But some folks just want a show; they do not come to Christ as Lord, but Christ as someone less than what he is: Lord.

The woman was healed, made well, and Christ knew her savingly. The crowd who witnessed the results of Christ raising of a corpse (v. 25) wanted a show, mere entertainment. There is a world of difference between those who want a show and those who want the Lord.

I got to the pond before dawn. Above the pines there was the glowing orange of promise. The sun would be visible in moments now. I could smell the water. Two herons were at the deep end of the pond, still as a portrait, watching me. The red-winged blackbirds fluttered into a tree above me, squawking at my presence.

I walked some in the grass along the banks. Finally I retrieved a rod and put a topwater lure on and cast out beyond the tip of a felled tree that has yielded fish consistently. Cast, retrieve, cast. No bites yet. Beyond the tips of my shoes, I glimpsed two turtles connected, one atop another, just inches below the water’s surface. My movement startled them, and the mounted one took them into deeper water.

The promised sun showed itself above the pines now and a soft breeze picked up. Cast, retrieve, cast. Still no bites, and the day promised to bring high temps and a punishing sun.

At lunch I decided to take a break and get a walk in. I snapped some photos of trees I found beautiful, despite the dry days of late.

We need rain badly, but for now it is simply hot and dry.

When I returned to the water, a fellow soldier was jogging around the water. He was muscular, barrel-chested, with red hair and freckles. He looked like what I imagined an adult Opie Taylor would have looked like had he become a bodybuilder.

I completed a reading of Helprin’s collection of short stories, A Dove of the East and Other Short Stories. Helprin is remarkable on multiple levels. He’s a prolific author of literary fiction; he’s a seasoned soldier; he’s a political conservative; and he’s one of America’s finest living writers. His stories are unlike anyone else’s I know of. One might be set in NYC and the next one is set in Tel Aviv. Like Helprin himself, his characters are well-traveled, well-read, and unafraid.

It’s Leviticus 18, 20, Deuteronomy 27, 1 Kings 11, & Romans 1 in 2024.

Polyamory, incest, and child marriages. No big deal, it seems.

https://www.foxnews.com/politics/pandoras-box-polyamory-child-marriages-possible-under-proposed-california-amendment-group-warns

Nothing speaks so loudly as irony. Those who talk about “safe spaces” and tolerance and love, etc. will stop at nothing to execute their evils upon the most vulnerable.

No borders, no enforcement of law, no moral restraint, no God; just power and savagery and violence. It’s Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian day in and day out and the sheeple stand by and watch it happen.

The reality is horror, of course, but the leftists/secularists/progressives will not stop.

You will be made to care.

When the mob shouted, “We’re coming for your children!” they were not jesting.

You will be made to care. Behold, the consequences of ideas.

People who don’t know their Bibles might say, “How can this happen? People sleeping with children? People sleeping with animals? People without conscience?” Yes, reader, yes; Scripture is replete with warnings about this, because when people reject God, reject His revealed will, reject His moral law, reject His design, reprobation ensues, judgment falls, and there is no bottom to man’s depravity. What’s more, those who say they’re for righteousness are cowering in the corners, assuming and hoping the evil won’t come for them. But it will, because Satan has nothing to fear from cowards. May God raise up courageous, biblical warriors for righteousness. If people don’t have eyes to see the evil upon them, they’re willfully blind.

“Truth is heavy, so few men carry it,” is an aphorism I keep in my mental and spiritual rucksack.

Connection to today: Recently we had another suicide of another NCO that is near to many here. As chaplains we invariably are brought into the conversation about the loss of still another warrior, often to try and bring spiritual balm to a sad situation. It does not matter how many books I have read on suicide prevention, how many certifications I have in suicide interdiction and prevention, how many courses I have taught in suicide prevention, etc. The reality is that Soldiers continue to take their own lives, often via violent means. We walk a fine line as chaplains because we are charged with spiritual and religious support for Soldiers and Families, among other responsibilities, but the reality is that few leaders have the courage to address the truth that is being denied in so many areas. We are spiritual beings. But spirituality must have intellectual and visceral content; it cannot be a vague ‘spirituality’ that is impersonal and/or devoid of empirical content.

Wisdom from Francis Schaeffer: This week I reread Schaeffer’s classic work, How Shall We Then Live? In it, Schaeffer cut right to the heart of the issue of what I am addressing here: “Nietzsche knew the tension and despair of modern man (no matter what he says he is), cries out for a meaning that can only be found in the existence of the infinite-personal God, who has not been silent but has spoken, and in the existence of personal life continuing into eternity” (HSWTL?, p. 180).

Encouragement & Application: See what Schaeffer recognized? Man is designed by God for meaning, connection, and significance. Those are all found in the gospel. Why? Because man is not, contrary to secular humanism’s lies, a cosmic accident. He is created in the image of the infinite-personal God. But secularism has no answer for modern man’s hopelessness because it cuts the umbilical cord of man from his Maker, who is God. Man is severed. He is thrust adrift with no means of explaining his own existence. What will it take for us a culture to return to our Creator, Redeemer, and Lord? May we have the intellectual and spiritual courage to admit what is overt. I am just one among many fine chaplains and Soldiers who is long weary of having Soldiers go out this way.

Schaeffer’s influence on understanding intellectual history/the history of ideas is remarkable. This week, I reread his masterpiece How Should We Then Live? Below are just (3) of the book’s myriad nuggets of wisdom:

• “Nietzsche knew the tension and despair of modern man. With no personal God, all is dead. Yet man, being truly man (no matter what he says he is), cries out for a meaning that can only be found in the existence of the infinite-personal God, who has not been silent but has spoken, and in the existence of a personal life continuing into eternity” (HSWTL, 180).

• “If there is no aboslute moral standard, then one cannot say in a final sense that anything is right or wrong. By absolute we mean that which always applies, that which provides a final or ultimate standard. There must be an absolute if there are to be morals, and there must be an absolute if there are to be real values. If there is no absolute beyond man’s ideas, then there is no final appeal to judge between individuals and groups whose moral judgments conflict. We are merely left with conflicting opinions” (ibid, 145).

• “To make no decision in regard to the growth of authoritarian government is already a decision for it” (ibid, 257).

Well done, good and faithful servant.