Introduction: I have read Peterson’s books. I tend–by disposition–to be a word-centered person. Emotionalism is fraught with perils, and so much of contemporarary discussion is reduced to emotionalism, talking points, and repeated bromides, and there is often little depth to the conversations. But Peterson is being used by God to speak to multiple generations in our day. He is bringing ideas forward that come right out of the Bible. And he’s referencing books by Dostoyevsky and plays by Shakespeare and philosophy from Plato and Nietzsche. He is invoking arguments from theology and especially from his presuppositions in evolutionary psychology. But he is at least bringing ideas to the table for people to wrestle with; for that I am grateful. To state what is glaringly obvious, we are living in an age of folly, an age of absurdity, straight up clown world. Kids are being indoctrinated about pronouns and gender fluidity, but they can’t think critically. They are not trained in logic. They emote now, since they don’t know how to actually think. But at least they have TikTok videos.

What I am about to say I do not say without having given it a lot of thought: I think God–the true God–is after Jordan. I don’t think Jordan is a Christian yet. But I do think that Christ is haunting Jordan. Jordan is a Nicodemus. Jordan is a centurion. Jordan is one in Acts 17 who would come back for a second talk from Paul, in other words. Jordan wants truth; he’s just not sure he can crucify his intellectual pride to follow truth when he sees that following truth demands taking up one’s cross and following the Crucified.

Books: Like I said earlier, I have read all of Jordan’s books. They are good, easy to read, and actionable. It is clear why they sold millions. Folks are hungry. And folks see–by the millions–that secularism is the death of hope and truth. So … read Jordan’s books. But then–I beg you–read the Bible. If you are “not a reader” (perish the phrase!), at least read these biblical books: Genesis, Exodus, John, Romans, and 2 Timothy. Those will give you the very minimal storyline of God, Man, Fall, Redeemer, and Church/Christians).

Final thoughts:

I disagree with Jordan’s presuppositions on macroevolution, and some of Jung’s archetypes. But here’s where I commend Jordan: He has the integrity, I think, to pursue truth. Wherever it leads. And that will lead–as it always does–to the way, truth, and the life–and that is not just a theological term, but a person. And He has spoken. And His Word is true and good and beautiful and redemptive.

Blood-bought: Today I was able to be amidst some blood-bought people, crimson-clad saints. We looked into Asaph’s heart in Psalm 73 and confronted why believers can and should endure hardships, setbacks, and suffering. Because in the end, the Judge of all the earth does what is right. He always does what is right. No one receives injustice. Some receive grace; others receive justice. But no one receives injustice. There is a reckoning for us all. Either we are in Christ or we remain under judgment. But no one escapes ultimately. Either we are new creations in Christ or we remain servants of Satan (2 Corinthians 5:17). No middle ground. Neutrality is a myth. We either believe YHWH or the serpent. Truth or the lie. Again, neutrality is a myth. As Dylan quipped, “It may be the devil, or it may be the Lord, but you’re gonna have to serve somebody.” We’re all slaves theologically; it’s only a matter of who the master is–whether He’s the light of the world or the prince of darkness.

Next week, Lord willing, we will look into Psalm 14. Again, the spiritual warfare is writ large. It’s right there in black letters on white paper, revealed for all who will attend to the cosmic war raging in the souls of all of us.

Two types: The fool vs. the wise.

The fool is characterized by his suppression of the truth. It’s a moral combat that is taking place in the soul of the one who denies God and His moral law. God tells us up front that such a person is a fool. It’s Romans 1 in the Old Testament. When Paul writes in Romans 1:18 that sinners “suppress the truth,” this is what he is talking about.

We know the truth; we just don’t like it because we are confronted with our sin, folly, and God’s holiness. This is why we flee. We seek to don fig leaves. We seek to flee the presence of the holy. This is why it’s easier to make excuses for not attending the teaching of shepherds who tell the truth. It’s much easier to either not attend at all or to go somewhere where we’ll not be confronted over our sin and God’s holiness. As one of my mentors has said, “Soft preaching makes hard people. And hard preaching makes soft people.” The fool suppresses the truth; the wise attends to it and becomes still wiser.

Looking ahead: Another one of my mentors wrote, “The Old Testament is the New Testament revealed and the New Testament is in the Old concealed.” What Augustine understood is that Christ is the crimson thread woven throughout the Scriptures. As the Puritan Thomas Manton wrote, “Christ is the living Bible.” This reading of the Scriptures Christologically is why we will look at Psalm 14 next Lord’s Day. Christ is the answer to man’s need of redemption. Not secularism. Not paganism. Not materialism. Not consumerism. Not transgenderism. Not globalism. But Christ.

We will see there why June is now the enforced month of mandatory pagan worship. We’ll see folly on display. We’ll see how the enemy of men’s souls has taken the rainbow of God’s blessing to not destroy the earth by water and twisted it into reprobation, genital mutilation, and attempted erasures of the image of God. We will see, in short, how God told us up front (Romans 1, 3; Psalm 14, etc.) and how His Scriptures prove exactly what is unfolding in clown world. We will see what folly looks like. We will see what it looks like when the salt and light are vanquished or at least retreating.

The offer of redemption: But the good news remains for all who will attend. For those who come, God says that He “would feed you with the finest of wheat, and with honey from the rock I [God] would satisfy you” (Psalm 81:16, ESV).

That’s nothing short of poetic agrarian language from the worship leader Asaph in the 900s B.C. with a simple message: Forsake folly. Come to the truth. And be reconciled.

Introduction: There are likely perils in saying, “This is my favorite book of the Bible,” but I will venture nonetheless. Why might saying that be perilous? Well, all of Scripture is profitable. Yes, but some of it is much more beautiful and pleasing to read and study than other parts. I cannot say that I devour 1 and 2 Chronicles, for example, as much as I do the writings of Solomon.

I have lost count of how many times I have read through Ecclesiastes. I have marked up Bibles galore. But in Ecclesiastes, I may have more notes in the margins, more underlining, more arrows and ellipses and links to other books, poems, etc. than any other section of Scripture. Solomon’s Ecclesiastes is tops for me in terms of wisdom literature.

Here was a man who went from “Hero to Zero” more than once in his life. Brilliant in some seasons, lamentably foolish at other times, that was Solomon. For everything there was a season–in Solomon’s life and in ours. I see my own follies in him. He was an Everyman. It’s one more reason I recognize the veracity of Scripture. Scripture shows us how we really are, not how we like to think we are.

A Homely Illustration: Recently our son earned his driver’s license. Like other parents and their children, I assume, his mom and I were proud of him. He’s self-effacing by nature. He never craves the limelight or draws attention to himself. He does well in school, works a job, saves money, has now earned his driver’s license, and is a joy unspeakable in our lives, etc. This season for us is full of expectation and not a little anxiety, though. Will he drive as carefully as we’ve taught him? Will the crazy drivers out there on the roads affect our son with dangers as he learns to navigate amidst the nuances of driving and the unwise ways of many drivers? Yes, of course. The questions are nearly endless. For everything, however, there is a season, Ecclesiastes reminds me.

Simple & Beautiful Reminders of God’s Providence: I flew back from Iowa last night and a friend of mine had emailed me a few pictures he had that he knew I, too, would appreciate. A few were of birds; another was of a plant. There is a time for every matter under heaven, in other words. Just as Solomon wrote in Ecclesiastes. The wren fed on seed. The Blue Jay stood proudly. Spring was and is on display. “For everything there is a season,” as Ecclesiastes says.

A New Season: I spoke with a senior officer today in my life as a soldier. He shared with me that he is going to retire. “It’s time, Jon. God is taking me somewhere else now in ministry,” he said. There it was again: for eveything there was and is a season.

A Reminder from History: I’m currently writing on and reading more of the incredible Reformer John Huss. Huss was a Protestant in Czecheslovakia in the 1300s-1400s. He was martyred by the Roman Catholic Church for his biblical stances regarding the Lord’s Supper, his condemnation of the papacy, his stances that the selling of indulgences was abominable, etc. The Roman Catholic Church had Huss tied to a stake and burned. When his head was burned nearly to ashes, the Catholic leadership threw it and the rest of his ashes in the Rhine River, thinking they’d dispensed with the recovery of the biblical gospel and the seeds of what would come to be the Protestant Reformation. But history would tell a different story. Huss’s ministry lives on despite Roman Catholic murders of Huss and other Christian martyrs.

Concluding Thoughts: When I read in Ecclesiastes that there is “a time to kill, and a time to heal” (Ecclesiastes 3:3a, ESV), it’s a reminder that the upshot of this favorite of biblical books (at least for me) is found in the last two verses of Ecclesiastes. Verses 13-14 of chapter 12 tie the whole book up with the clear takeaway. As topsy-turvy as life can and does seem oftentimes, God rules over all, and there is no escaping His watchful eye. How much more important therefore is how we spend our time under heaven.

It was so good to get home today and enjoy some time away from work. I was able to enjoy some time at the pool with my wife, read a book on C.S. Lewis, George Whitefield, and George Herbert, sit under the oaks, maples, and pines, enjoy a home-cooked meal, see my boy come home from work and have to look up to him (because he’s taller than I), and of course, play with my dogs.

When outside, I felt someone or something watching me. I finally saw him. He had seen me long before I saw him. A young buck was browsing behind the house.

Lady was keeping watch over me to make sure we were safe. She’s such a killer.

Two headlines: I read several articles today in order to get more indicators of where we are as a culture. In no particular order of reprobation, they are linked below. Warning: you may want to sit down to read, possibly with some Alka-Seltzer nearby. The first article is of a so-called ‘trans’ person who is pregnant. He’s now a cover model on a ‘fashion’ magazine. (P.S. Remember, dear reader, there’s absolutely no spiritual/theological warfare being waged here. Completely neutral. You know, part of all the ‘tolerance’.)

https://www.breitbart.com/the-media/2023/06/02/glamour-magazine-puts-pregnant-transgender-man-on-june-cover-for-pride-month/

The second article is about banning the Bible. You know, because the forces of darkness waging combat against the truth are so ‘tolerant’. I’m sorry, did I say “the forces of darkness waging combat against the truth”? I meant, of course, the ‘tolerant’ mobs with multiple piercings, inked skin, and purple and green hair, those saints screaming at you for your Christian beliefs.

Of what are they so afraid? Of the sword of the truth. As they should be. They’ll never conquer it. Just ask John Wycliffe, John Huss, Martin Luther, John Calvin, Charles Spurgeon, Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Paul, Timothy, David, et al.

https://www.breitbart.com/politics/2023/06/02/vulgarity-and-violence-cited-as-king-james-bible-removed-from-some-utah-school-libraries/

Drag Queen Story Hour and genital mutilation are fine, but not those Bibles. Get’em out!

I cannot make this madness up. The adults have left and the urchins are running things.

Just a thought: There is another way. There is a way to come to your senses after being captured by folly to do the will of the Prince of Darkness. It’s the biblical way. (That’s why darkness hates the light; that’s why the mobs want to quench the Bible–all in the names of “safe-spaces,” warm hugs, love, and of course, ‘tolerance’.)

Solomon wrote in Proverbs of man’s folly, of his suppressing what he clearly sees about God and of God’s wisdom: “For the simple are killed by their turning away, and the complacency of fools destroys them” (Proverbs 1:32, ESV).

Doesn’t that sound just like today? Almost as if God knew what He was talking about when He inspired Solomon to pen those words.

The offer of hope & encouragement: Solomon writes his very next sentence with the gospel offer, the only way of redemption:

“but whoever listens to me [wisdom, God’s way] will dwell secure and will be at ease, without dread of disaster” (Proverbs 1:33, ESV).

In Christian ministry, I talk with a lot of people and try to reason with them. And so very often the people are scared. They see that the world has seemingly gone mad. Bananas, absolute barmy. It’s clown world.

Many folks identify with the speaker in one of Pink Floyd’s iconic songs:

And if the cloud bursts thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
And if the band you’re in starts playing different tunes
I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon
“I can’t think of anything to say except… HaHaHa!”

There is another way: There is another way, of course. It’s to return to the sacred story of Scripture, to come back to the garden from which we were banished because of our following the serpent rather than following God.

It’s the way of Christ, the second Adam, the last Adam, the Lamb slain for sinners.

But if you don’t come, we get what we want–a world without God’s mercy, God’s kindness, God’s grace, God’s benediction, without God’s good purposes of favor upon creatures.

And that, dear reader, is not what you want, I pray.

Will wickedness shut its own mouth? No.

We are told the way wickedness has its mouth shut (Psalm 107:42). It is by way of judgment, by the Judge of all the earth. And that is the One before whom we all must appear and give an accounting.

The beginning of wisdom is to rightly fear Him.

Someone has a birthday in a few hours. She’s kind of special to me. Her name is Carrie Jane. Wisely, I cannot seem to recall the precise number of years old she is, but who’s counting, right?

She is not the literary type like I, but the Bard said it better in his sonnets than I ever could–of what it means to love another when so much changes, when tempests howl, when age exacts tolls upon our frames, when we gray and slow and eventually cease–but through all that, how the invisible power of love sustains.

Happy birthday to my Carrie Jane. See you soon.

The funniest thing happened recently. My bride and I were riding my motorcycle in the hills where we live. We stopped for a bit to grab a bite to eat at a Mexican restaurant in a small town an hour’s ride from home. By that point, we had been riding for several hours. Our butts had been enduring the vibrations of the mountain roads and of the engine for more than enough miles. Finally, however, I pulled off at a small town at a Mexican restaurant that had a lot of cars in the parking lot. It must be good, I thought to myself, as I pulled in and we took off our helmets. I mean, look at all these cars.

“Let me see your helmet,” she said. “Hold it up for me.” She looked at her reflection in the back of the helmet so she could pull her hair up and look decent for our casual meal together. It was so funny to me. Guys would never think like that. I didn’t give a moment’s thought to my hair. But that was just the point. She thought about her hair, how she looked, how she would appear. I thought only of fajitas and salsa.

We went in, enjoyed some very good chips and salsa, chicken fajitas, etc. and had food left over to take home to one of the kiddos who loves Mexican food as much as we.

We ate, were full, and it neared time to go.

“I’m going to run to the restroom real quick,” I said, and I left my wallet on the table for her to pay if the waitress might happen to reappear while I was gone. When I was washing my hands in the restroom I looked in the mirror above the sink as I lathered and rinsed my hands. I had “helmet head.” My hair was board-straight and it was obvious I’d either been born with hair that looked like a stand-in for the 1980s hair band A Flock of Seagulls or I had indeed been in a motorcyle helmet for several hours. (Some might argue both; we have our own crosses to bear.)

We got home. I put up the bike. We were both really tired. We chatted for a bit. I gave the leftovers to my boy who put the to-go box in the microwave and ate while still playing online games with some of his friends.

I played with my dogs, and knew I’d not be up late. I was worn out. And I had an early morning ahead. I had a drive back to my hub from which I work, several hours away from home.

When I got to said place today, I caught up on some reading, looked over some material for a course I’m co-teaching online, went to the track for some time in the sun (it was a beautiful day in the 80s here today), listened to my favorite history podcasts, listened to some tunes I’ve probably sung thousands of times (I’m sure Dickey Betts hates how I do air guitar and butcher his amazing guitar skills on “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” and “Jessica” but so it goes), and watched a fellow soldier complete the “Murph” workout over by the pull-up bars, as he did air squats, pull-ups, and push-ups, and ran the regimen that is common for some soldiers to do in remembrance of Murphy.

And I reflected:

1. My wife literally caught her reflection in order to fix her hair up before we entered the Mexican restaurant in the small mountain town.
2. Several times during the motorcyle ride, I looked in my bike’s mirrors to reflect upon the road behind. I could see the hills we’d ascended and descended; I could see my bride behind me, and feel her legs straddling me as we gained more miles.
3. When we crossed the lake in our neighborhood, I caught the reflection of the last hours of the gloaming on the water, and saw red and yellow and green canoes on the rippling water.
4. When we got home and later that night lay down, I reflected on the blessing of my day, of the ways the clouds slid on the invisible winds, of the ways the air carried scents of grasses and hay and even chicken coops and pastures of cattle.
5. I reflected upon my Sunday school class, upon those men and women who love the Lord, and whose lives demonstrate said commitment.
6. I reflected upon my book of the week–a truly wonderful read by Doug Wilson entitled Mere Christendom–and of how I knew I’d finish it tonight, and wouldn’t go to bed at a decent hour like I should, and how 0400 would come early.

But they were as a whole encouraging reflections. They expanded the connotations of such a noun. And I hope they encouraged you, too, dear reader.

After Sunday school and church today and a lunch at our favorite local pizza place, I put the wifey on the back of the motorcycle and we went off for several hours of riding and burned a tank of gas in the hills this Memorial Day weekend.

Lots of motorcylists were out, along with topless Jeeps.

From Ellijay and up Fort Mountain’s one side, then down the other.

From one of the scenic overlooks, here are a few pictures.

Rode down into Chatsworth on the west side of the mountain and stopped at a good Mexican restaurant. Then back home afterwards.

I’m a good tired now. And thankful.

Simple pleasures.

Would it not be sad if life didn’t speak to us? What if the heavens were silent?

When I was on a walkabout down south, I crossed a bridge over a muddy creek I’ve crossed many, many times. Still the slow muddy creek ran. Raccoon and deer prints were stenciled in sand and clay. Herons waited like gargoyles on their skinny limb-legs.

Drove north several hours. Prayed and thanked God and families for my brothers and sisters who died while still serving in uniform during a ceremony commemorating those who laid it all down.

Got home. Piddled in the yard. Went to the pool with the bride as she sunned her pretty skin and I read more of a novel called The Overstory that I’m appreciating.

Came home. Piddled some more. Raked and picked up limbs and tended to some honey-do requests. Some deer walked up after I had used the weedeater.

The clouds overhead played with me. Sometimes they came between the sun and me. The leaves would appear a different shade then. Then the clouds would move and I would notice a fallen limb, with its grain running a pattern, or a dogwood that held blooms from April, or the deer’s nostrils pulsing black and bloodfilled as she smelled me, smoky from burning limbs I’d picked up earlier.

Speech was occurring, you see. Speech. As if there was a speaker. As if creation bespoke its author.

Come Get Your Satan Wear: Just in time for spring and summer wear, Target and other retailers have partnered to sell pronoun-peddling t-shirts with images of Satan/Baphomet.

Satan is smiling.

If you doubt it, below are linked a couple of articles about it:

https://nypost.com/2023/05/23/target-partners-with-satanist-brand-for-pride-collection

https://www.foxnews.com/media/target-customers-shocked-company-features-gay-pride-items-satanist-partner-devil-hope-love

Whew! Glad we have those now. I’m sure Target will also be partnering with evangelical Christian comapanies to sell t-shirts with the gospel of Jesus Christ on them later this week. Just wait.

There will surely be swimwear with images of a dad, a mom, and children, and a Bible, or of a traditional biblical family entering the doors of a church with a white steeple on a sunny Sunday morning.

Because there’s no agenda being put forth to all the moms who shop at Target each week. No message at all. Purely neutral.

Nothing to see here, folks. It’s all a perfectly level playing field. No theological worldview message being put in your minds and on your bodies via t-shirts and fashion. No message whatsoever.

But At Least We Still Have Baseball, Right?

After you get your Satan wear at Target, you can take your family to a Dodgers game and enjoy the celebrations, Yay! American as apple pie. A baseball game.

There’ll surely be no theological/worldview message promulgated there. It’ll be neutral, too, like Target:

Here are a couple of links before you load the kiddos into the minivan:

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2023/may/23/los-angeles-dodgers-queer-drag-nuns#:~:text=The%20Los%20Angeles%20Dodgers%20announced,the%20team’s%20annual%20Pride%20Night.

https://apnews.com/article/los-angeles-dodgers-pride-night-lgbt-sisters-of-perpetual-indulgence-67ac5dd13bc8b929f57c0185b0713e0f

No message whatsoever here. Men are supposed to dress as women and praise Satan during Pride Night at the baseball park, don’t you know?

Perfectly neutral. No religious message whatsoever. At least the good’ole American pastime of baseball remains wholeshome.

Satan is smiling.

But at least there’s no theological warfare occurring. It’s all neutral, don’t you know? Nothing to worry about. Just enjoy your pronouns and go to the baseball park and don your t-shirts, and tell yourself: “It won’t affect me and my family.”