My buddy Greg sends me names of authors from whom he thinks I would benefit. Very often he hits the bull’s-eye. He tends to find them via YouTube and/or podcasts. So he gives many a listen and shares with me some he thinks I need to be familiar with, and I am grateful.

Paul Kingsnorth is a most interesting writer and thinker. He came out of an eco-terrorism globalist background. He tried Buddhism. He tried atheism. But he could not shake the realities of creation as beautiful (so there must be an Author who is beauty Himself). And he could not shake the realities of conscience (the moral law within put there by the Author of life). And he could not rid himself of his own sin nature (his depravity was clear to him; he did not lie to himself). And on and on it went.

Why steward creation if man is just matter in motion, he asked himself.

The biblical view of creation, of man, of sin, of redemption–it alone explained the totality of man and his place in the cosmos. Such was the outcome of Kingsnorth’s intellectual pilgrimage.

This book by Kingsnorth is of his pilgrimage before he became a Christian. I could not put it down. Why? Because of its being so well-written, for one thing, but also because it was authentic. He did not hide his struggles, his questions, his anxieties about his desires for him, his wife, their children, their leaving London and moving to the countryside in Ireland. It was simply beautiful.

Again, in this book, Kingsnorth does not detail his becoming a Christian, but if you enjoy seeing a person following ideas to their logical outworkings, following ideas to their consequences, this is a beautiful read. It’s also about his struggles to express himself well and to do it with honesty.

Thank you, Greg, for turning me on to Kingsnorth.

In reading through Kingsnorth’s books, I found that he is a fan of Claire Keegan, and so I picked up one of her books, too. An Irish writer, and wow!, what a beautiful storyteller of terrible abuses against Irish girls. Condoned by the Roman Catholic Church and the Irish government, this is a story of abused girls under the covering of false religion and power. Keegan’s story of what Furlong finds (Furlong is the main character) will break your heart, if you have one, and you’ll be better off because of it.

Tolle Lege.

I have a few authors who have shaped me in ways I can never repay. Near the top is Schaeffer. He taught me how to think, in so many ways, of the beauty and coherence of the Christian worldview, the majesty of the Bible, the authority of the holy Word from the sovereign God.

And he taught me how God is NEVER silent.

He speaks … through hummingbirds, through the smell of the infant, through the beauty of the woman.

My thanks to my buddy BB for more of his pictures.

This past week I was in D.C. to minister to soldiers there. Being on the road alone so often can take a toll on one’s soul, even if one loves to travel. Airport after airport, hotel after hotel, city after city. But I love getting to see the most interesting of people. Let me phrase it this way: One can see travelers who value nothing quite so much as their own comfort. You might see this type person with slip-on sandals for shoes, a pillow the size of a small country, a blanket, and a smartphone the size of Alaska.

Another type of traveler is nearly opposite. He or she seems that he/she spent the first three hours of the day in front of a mirror to make certain that he/she turns heads in the airport. Not a hair out of place, a crease in the slacks, a purse with the label facing outward so gazers will know and perhaps envy.

Still another type is the tech junkie. A tablet, a laptop, a smartphone, earbuds, a smartwatch, and on and on. Wherever these types tested on the scale of aptitude, I am on the opposite end. Leave me to pen and paper and the bank of a slow river in spring. You carry on with your TikTok videos and memes. Never the twain shall meet. You can send me a Tweet I’ll never see and I can write you a real letter you’ll never read because it’s in cursive.

Still another type is the reader. I know these types. I see one when I shave each morning. These types are usually hunkered down near the coffee shop tables between flights with a novel or non-fiction book, often sipping a coffee or tea, or perhaps gazing between chapters at tech junkies with a look of perplexity or consternation.

This was my perspective at Reagan Airport in D.C. this week as I waited on my next flight. I was across from the bookstore and just down the corridor from Chick-fil-A (so it had to be good, right?). I love this little area. The windows behind me allow natural light to come through and light the floors and environs. As one who eschews flourescent light, I love this spot. Flourescence is still there, but the sunlight helps.

As we departed D.C. it was rainy again and gray, an English sky. But as we entered the skies of southern Virginia and North Carolina, the sun broke through. As I looked from my seat, the clouds appeared again and the firmament changed colors, and I could see VA and NC 36,000 feet below, and I watched the tips of the plane’s wings undulate amidst some bumps as we traversed the skies.

As we flew to GA and Atlanta came into view, I saw once again what we call the “Big Rock,” or Stone Mountain on the east side of the city.

When I got home, I was tired. But I was able to see my bride, play with my dogs, hug my son, watch my dogs (and cat), go to the pool to cool off, sleep in my own bed on sheets I too seldom feel, eat a home-cooked meal, and just be.

Some folks may scoff at home and hearth. I’m not one of those. There is, as Frank Baum wrote, no place like it.

P.S. Lady says hi. As do some of the deer.

I was standing in the lobby waiting to link up with Jay, my point of contact for the event where I was teaching soldiers. I could feel someone approaching me. I looked up. But it was not Jay, the hotel employee. It was a man that I could tell had served in the military. He walked up to me, a hint of recognition in his eyes. He extended his arm to shake hands.

“Good afternoon, sir,” I said.

“What brings you here, soldier?”

“I’m leading an event for some soldiers, and they recommended this place as a venue they’d like to use,” I said. “I worked the request and it worked out. So we’re here for training.”

Looking around at the lobby, I said, “I like their choice. I’m just waiting to link up with one of the employees so I can do a little reconnnaissance and get my bearings. Training begins tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll like it. I’ve got my grandboys here. They’re swimming currently with one of my sons.”

“What brings you here, sir?”

“My grandsons love this place. I served in Vietman from 1970 to ’71,” he said.

“Which branch?” I asked.

“Marine Corps. I was a grunt.”

“Welcome home, Marine,” I said.

“What do you do?” he asked.

“I’m an Army chaplain.”

“A chaplain? Well, chaplain, let me tell you. I was saved finally in the 1980s, after finally giving in. I had run for a long time. I now run a Christian organization in Pennsylvania to reach veterans. We take guys out to hunt and fish and we give them what they don’t get from the world,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” I said. I looked at his blue short-sleeve shirt. Over the left breast of his shirt was a logo with a pair of dog tags and a Scripture reference from Luke 5, and the name of his Christian ministry. And his cap had MARINES written on it.

We talked for several minutes. He told me of where he was in Vietnam, of his time being a grunt, of his unit, of how his whole life changed after Vietnam. He talked for some time about his brothers, guys that self-destructed after Vietnam, even after making it through the war.

It was coming back to the other wars afterwards that did many of his brothers in, he said. “That’s why I do ministry now,” he said, “to show them there’s an answer. I’ve lost too many.”

“Chaplain, can I give you something?”

“Sure, sir.”

He reached in his right pocket and came out with a coin. “I’d like you to have this. Thank you for what you do,” he said, gripping my hand.

“Thank you, sir,” I said. “I think we’re in the same line of work. I really appreciate it.”

We could have talked more but I saw Jay, the hotel employee, looking at me from a counter nearby.

“I see the fellow I’m supposed to meet. I better go link up with him, sir,” I said.

“Understood, chaplain.”

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.