I have read Vonnegut for 40 years now. And I still learn from him. Like Twain, to whom his dark satirical pen is often favorably compared, Vonnegut is pretty dark stuff. This week I reread Slaughterhouse-Five. I am not sure how many times I have read it now. But I still learn from it. So it goes. The mark of excellent literature.

Billy, the divided protagonist–the war veteran, the kind-hearted, misanthropic, romantic, sad idealist, etc. is an Everyman. He’s John Lennon’s “Nowhere Man” and Camus’s Mersault and Sisyphus, and Faulkner’s Benjy from The Sound and the Fury, and Shakespeare’s sundry fools. Who isn’t Billy?

I was so struck tonight as I reread this passage from S-Five:

There are no telegrams on Tralfamadore. But you’re right: each clump of symbols is a brief, urgent message–describing a situation, a scene. We Tralfamadorians read them all at once, not one after the other. There isn’t any particular relationship between all the messages, except that the author has chosen them carefully, so that, when seen all at once, they produce an image of life that is beautiful and surprising and deep. There is no beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense, no moral, no causes, no effects. What we love in our books are the depths of many marvelous moments seen all at one time (215).

Well, here we go again. Warning: this is not a warm and fuzzy.

So, I returned my rental car to Hertz without issue. My receipt was emailed to me within moments. The same thing at the hotel. No issues. Receipt was emailed to me right away and I was good to go. So far, so good. But then I went to the Delta counter in Pennsylvania to check my bag and print my boarding passes. Might you guess how many courteous employees were at the counter to facilitate that process? I’ll give you some brackets: It was less than 3, 2, or 1, but it was not a (-) number. That’s right. Good’ole 0. Zero. Let me say that again: zero!

Okay, I’m a nice guy, kind of on the quiet side, military, not one for small talk, and just want folks to be present and ready when that’s their job. Is that too much to ask? Finally, I walked over to the United counter.

“Ma’am. I’m sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know if there are any Delta folks around? I would like to check my military bag.”

“Oh, they’re understaffed. They don’t have anyone here right now,” she replied.

Um, what? Am I living in an alternate universe presided over by Mr. Bumblefart? (Sorry, I have these interior dialogues in order not to throat punch some people.)

“Since you’re military, you may try going upstairs to TSA PreCheck, and they’ll check it for you,” she said.

“Okay. Thank you, ma’am.”

I took the escalator upstairs, pulled out my military ID card, my boarding passes (I was able to print these via the kiosk, without a Delta employee), and placed my duffel to be checked in the gray bin, and my small ruck in another, and proceeded through the scanner.

My duffel got stopped by the gaggle of women staring at the monitor. There were six–yes, six!!!–women in blue TSA shirts, staring at the monitor as if I were a Columbian smuggler with 6 kilos of cocaine in my bag.

The man behind me was incensed. “What is this?” he exclaimed. “How many women does it take to do this? I have a flight!”

I felt bad for him, too, but I kept saying to myself, “Okay, surely, someone will step up and take charge, someone who knows what he is doing.”

But that didn’t happen. And it still didn’t happen. And it still didn’t happen.

I began to think the man behind me was going to remove his loafers from his feet and start lauching salvos at the TSA women.

But the six of them just kept staring at the monitor that revealed the contents of my duffel, as if I had a nest of cobras inside that might spring out like Medusa’s sons from her neck.

We waited, and waited, and waited. The anger at the TSA counters by the travelers was palpable.

Fiinally, a woman dared–can you believe it?–to actually talk to me, ask me if it was my duffel, and when I said yes, she unzipped my duffel. “Sir,” she said, “These shampoo and conditioner bottles are too big. Would you like to check them or would you voluntarily abandon them?”

I almost lost my cookies.

The woman downstairs, since Delta employees were missing in action, told me to come upstairs to TSA and that TSA would check my military duffel. But nope, TSA said they couldn’t do that. That needed to be Delta. Well, you don’t say? Thanks for the insight. (Insert mental throat punch here.)

So here I am, without my shampoo and conditioner (oh, and my shaving cream, I forgot that was necessarily ‘voluntarily abandoned,’ too), with my military duffel beside me, and I’m sure I’ll get the hateful look if and when a Delta employee shows up when the plane arrives.

Does anyone else deal with this stuff, and also scratch his/her head and think, “Really? Are these the most-qualified applicants? These people?” At times like this, I appreciate my dogs more and more.

Recently I was able to be with some fellow soldiers for a tour of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania’s grounds. It is the site of three days of devastating battle from 1-3 July 1863 that still boggles the mind. For the military strategy, the heroism, the carnage, the soul-splitting, nation-sundering impacts, Gettysburg is incomparable.

It is one thing for me to read books about it, but when you walk the grounds, it changes you. Period. My deep gratitude to the soldiers from Ft. Indiantown Gap, PA and our excellent historian and guide, Lt. Col. (Ret.) Shick, for the day.

This view above is from Little Round Top overlooking Devil’s Den.

Looking out over the field of Pickett’s Charge, a battle that altered the trajectory of the war.

The Wheatfield. Over 15,000 soldiers were killed here in one day.

Lt. Col. (Ret.) Shick.

We landed in Atlanta after a 35-minute delay, but I was still going to be able to make my next flight to Pennsylvania. I had time to go by a coffee kiosk for a quick breakfast and get to my concourse and gate. I took the Plane Train to my concourse, patronized my favorite coffee place in that concourse, walked to my gate, found a seat, opened my ruck to retrieve a book, completed a reading of another of the seven short pieces in a book I am thoroughly enjoying, and waited for my steaming coffee to cool.

I finished another of the fictional gems in my book, finished my coffee, discarded my rubbish in the appropriately marked cans nearby, and waited for the announcement coming shortly. Within moments, the lady’s voice came on, though she sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher–“Wah wah . . . Wah wah . . . Wah . . .” She sounded like she was eating the microphone, perhaps digesting it.

Nonetheless we boarded the plane and took our seats in typical fashion. As I boarded, those in wheelchairs and pregnant women, and parents with small children, were of course already on. I don’t know why, but I always gravitate towards those who need extra help. Something in me is determined to help those who may be overlooked or minimized.

As I boarded, there were two older women who were clearly weak and needed patience and perhaps a kind word from someone. They were struggling to get their purses and backpacks in the overhead bins. “Good morning, ma’am. A hand?” I asked. The clear leader of the two ladies turned around and looked at me in uniform. (I’m guessing they were twins, at least sisters. They had the same build, the same haircuts, even the same facial expressions.)

“O, thank you, sir,” she said. “And thank you for your service.”

“I saw you were getting peanut M&M’s out of your backpack; that’s what I’m talking about. Clearly you’re good people,” I said. They both laughed simultaneously and looked at each other and smiled. I liked them both immediately. They just needed a kind word and some patience from folks.

I got their backpacks stowed and took my seat a couple of rows behind them, and the rest of the passengers were all finally boarded. When we were all seated and about to back up from the gate, the leader of the two ladies came walking slowly down the aisle with an unopened yellow bag of peanut M&M’s. “Will you please take some?” she asked me.

“I really shouldn’t,” I said.

“Please,” she said. “It would mean a lot to us.”

She tore off the corner of the yellow bag and poured some candies into my hand. “Thank you for your service, sir.”

And thank you, ma’am, I thought. You and your companion have just made my day. (And the smell of peanut M&M’s after a cup of coffee ain’t too bad, either.) It’s the small things that aren’t, well, small.

I was flying to Pennsylvania. But the journey did not begin so well. When I was at my first airport, after we passengers were seated, and the flight attendants went through their safety and comfort spiel, we were, I thought, headed to our first stop.

The man to my left was a talker. He saw me reading my book but he was undeterred. “What unit are you in?” he asked. (I was in uniform.) I told him. He went on to tell me about himself, what shop he worked in back on post, what unit he was part of, people he knew, etc. He was quite pleased with himself. I listened for him to take a breath. Then, I thought, I would return to my book.

I was literally saved by a bell. It was my personal cell phone. A friend texted me and my old iPhone went “Ping!” I did not hesitate. I reached for my phone to read the text. Though it was nothing terribly interesting either, I thought this could be my escape from Mr. Awesome’s fascination in telling me how fortunate I was to be seated next to him.

Suddenly the pilot’s voice came on the intercom speaker. “Folks, this is your pilot speaking. Unfortunately we are going to be delayed. We have too much weight underneath. We are going to have to move some of the checked items back into the cabin. Thank you for your patience. As soon as we the weight acceptably arranged, we’ll push back on be on our way.”

He was articulate, to the point, and calm. I liked the way the pilot spoke and dealt with things, and now I had more time with Mr. Awesome. (Just a few more reasons to bring BIG BOOKS when flying. You may experience delays. And you may even have Mr. Awesome seated next to you. And if you do, you will know about it, I promise. He’ll be sure to tell you.)

Principle: Darkness always resists the light; expect resistance, but persevere.

In Esther 5, we see what perhaps all people have encountered–spiritual resistance. Here was the context. Haman, the main antagonist in the book of Esther, has plotted a Jewish holocaust. Mordecai, a faithful believer in the one true God, exiled to Persia, is both courageous and faithful. He resolves to trust the Lord, and he bolsters his cousin Esther’s faith in God, too. She, too, is a Jewish exile under Ahasuerus’s pagan rule. Mordecai’s famous words to Esther are, “And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14).

When Haman thinks he is to be honored by the king and the queen for being the man of the hour, Haman, a hater of Jews and of God, despises Mordecai. Why? Because Mordecai understands who Haman is, how wicked he is, and Mordecai does not fear Haman. Mordecai trusts the Lord.

If that is not clear enough, here is the way the text reads: “But when Haman saw Mordecai in the king’s gate, that he [Mordecai] neither rose nor trembled before him, he was filled with wrath against Mordecai” (Esther 5:9b).

Here’s the principle again: Expect resistance when you’re doing the right thing. Darkness hates the light. But persevere in righteousness and witness God work.

“O Lord, hear; O Lord, forgive. O Lord, pay attention and act. Delay not, for your own sake, O my God, because your city and your people are called by your name” (Daniel 9:19, ESV).

We do not deserve mercy, Lord. We do not.

I pray that you spare for your name’s sake, because of your goodness, because of your nature. Not ours. Because ours is rotten to the core.

Give us new hearts, new minds, and transform our affections to those that love what is good, true, and beautiful. For we have rebelled in thought, word, and deed, and you alone are sufficient to redeem us sinners. Have mercy, Lord, for your great name’s sake.

I had just taken off a few minutes earlier from Indianapolis and was headed to Atlanta. I opened my blind on the left side of the plane. Because we were headed south, the sunrise was in full view.

A storm was below us now, in the heavy clouds. The pilot had raised us above that.

And aurora spoke in pictures Psalm 8 and Psalm 19, and I received a sermon via God’s handiwork.

One of the most dramatic passages in the entire 66 books of the Bible, the fourth chapter of Esther, pushes the drama of the book bearing her name to one’s viscera.

The Characters:

Haman (the villain; pagan; a hater of Jewish exiles and of God; he made a vow to launch a Jewish holocaust)

Mordecai (a faithful believer in God; cousin/avuncular authority figure to Esther, his Jewish cousin)

Esther (the new [Jewish] queen to Ahasuerus, a pagan king; Esther and fellow Jews are in exile in Persia [Iran]; she is tasked with the impossible–namely, go to her captor/king Ahasuerus, and tell the truth about wicked Haman’s plan to launch a holocaust of the Jewish people

What Esther Did:

She and her friends fasted (4:16a).

She counted the costs (4:16b).

What Mordecai Did:

Mordecai understood the times; he saw through the facades to how evil things really were, and he resolved to be God’s man (Esther 4:13-14).

Mordecai understood that failure to act was to act; it would be complicity. “For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14)

Two Profound Theological Verses:

1. Mordecai’s words to Esther: “And who know whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this? (4:14)
2. Esther’s words: ” . . . . and if I perish, I perish” (4:16b)

Encouragement: The doctrine of providence hinges upon faithfulness and courage. Mordecai is an example of both. Esther is an example of both. And Christian pilgrims today, too, will do well to think upon these things. Faithfulness and courage. What do they have to do with Christ? Everything. He was/is the only One who is wholly faithful and true. He was the One who was faithful even unto death, the ignominy of the cross. Mocked, stripped, beaten, forsaken–and yet he endured from sinners such shame for the sake of redeeming a people for God. Faithfulness and courage, dear reader, and the providence of God.

Providence: Lessons from Esther (Part 2):

One of my favorite and crucial episodes in Esther’s story centers on the faithfulness of Mordecai. Mordecai was the much older cousin to his Jewess cousin, Esther. He functioned more like an avuncular influence upon Esther. We might think of him as an “Uncle Mordecai” to Esther. Anyway, after Vashti refused to parade herself for Ahasuerus’ ogling (Est 1:12), and Memucan had stepped up and proposed ways for the king to put his foot down (Est 1:16), and the king had heeded the aforementioned counsel (Est 1:21), we see Esther chosen to be queen in Vashti’s place. Esther was clearly a physically beautiful woman (Est 2:7, 17). She was markedly stunning. But the episode upon which I want to focus here concerns not Esther’s physical beauty but Mordecai’s and Esther’s faithfulness. 

Here’s what is so important to remember: Both Esther and Mordecai were Jewish exiles. They were captives. And the natural reaction most of us would have would not be to try and please our pagan leaders, and certainly not seek their welfare. But that is exactly what you see happen in Esther 2:19-23. Mordecai discovers a plot against Ahasuerus’ life, and Esther (at the request of Mordecai) alerts the king. Think of that–doing good unto those who don’t deserve it. 

Connection to the Gospel & the Doctrine of Providence: All of Scripture coheres, dear reader. It is telling one unified story. The faithfulness of Mordecai and Esther is a microcosm of what God has done in Christ. Just as the Jews were in exile from the true King of kings, we sinners are exiles from Eden and God due to our sin. Yet God provided through the faithfulness of One whose work is accepted by the King of kings. Providence, you see. Mordecai and Esther were types and shadows of the Substitute who was to come, whose name is Jesus, the Christ.