She took the kingdom by storm

I like John Bunyan's take on what it means to take the kingdom by force (ref. Matthew 11:12) in Part II of Pilgrim's Progress.

The scene is Christiana has reached the Wicket Gate (which represents Christ), knocked and was ushered in with fanfare and joy. Her companion, the young maiden named Mercy, is still outside the Gate and full of doubt about her reception since, unlike Christiana, she lacks a direct invitation from the King.

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"Now Mercy began to be very impatient, and each minute was as long to her as an hour; wherefore she prevented Christiana from a fuller interceding for her, by knocking at the gate herself. And she knocked then so loud that she made Christiana to start. Then said the keeper of the gate, Who is there? And Christiana said, It is my friend.

So he opened the gate, and looked out, but Mercy was fallen down without in a swoon, for she fainted, and was afraid that no gate should be opened to her.

Then he took her by the hand, and said, Damsel, I bid thee arise.

Mercy: I am come for that unto which I was never invited, as my friend Christiana was. Hers was from the King, and mine was but from her. Wherefore I fear I presume.

Keep: Did she desire thee to come with her to this place?

Mercy: Yes; and, as my Lord sees, I am come. And if there is any grace and forgiveness of sins to spare, I beseech that thy poor handmaid may be a partaker thereof.

Then he took her again by the hand, and led her gently in, and said, I pray for all them that believe on me, by what means soever they come unto me.

So he left them awhile in a summer parlor below, where they entered into talk by themselves; and thus Christiana began. O how glad am I that we are got in hither.

Mercy: So you well may; but I, of all, have cause to leap for joy.

Christiana: I thought one time, as I stood at the gate, because I had knocked and none did answer, that all our labor had been lost, especially when that ugly cur made such a heavy barking against us.

Mercy: But my worst fear was after I saw that you was taken into his favor, and that I was left behind. And afraid I was to knock any more; but when I looked up to what was written over the gate, I took courage. I also thought that I must either knock again, or die; so I knocked, but I cannot tell how, for my spirit now struggled between life and death.

Christiana: Can you not tell how you knocked? I am sure your knocks were so earnest that the very sound of them made me start; I thought I never heard such knocking in all my life; I thought you would come in by a violent hand, or take the kingdom by storm. Matt. 11:12.

Our first family hike in Utah

The temps broke into the 70s this weekend so we enjoyed some of the nearby Rocky Mountain scenery. After an easy hike around the lake we got to the real reason for the expedition--dinner at The Oaks. Nestled along the bank of the Ogden River, this is a delightful place for a casual dinner and dessert.

Homeschool Helps

A wonderful surprise came in the mail for Isaiah, and it just so happened to go right along with his science lessons!














THANK YOU!

$.31 scoop night at Baskin Robbins

A tradition for the Baileys.



It seemed very cold to be eating ice cream, but it was enjoyed by all.

A visit to Salt Lake

The Great Salt Lake has no outlet and so the mountain water that finds it way to the lake eventually evaporates leaving the shallow lake water that remains two to five times as salty as the ocean.

One prominent sign in the Visitors Center declares, "Not everything is dead", which wins the prize for most morbid welcome center banner. Brine shrimp the size of a grain of rice thrive and provide a rich meal for the Utah state bird, which surprisingly, is the seagull.

The state park is a large, mountainous, high desert island in the middle of the lake. It has become a preserve for bison, antelope, and people on bikes. But the first thing you notice is the powerful salty odor of the dried out marshes that line the receding lake this year.

But once you drive onto the causeway and out to the island it's a more pleasant and scenic environment.

We found our way to the "beach" which was a little chilly today but will probably make for a popular summer spot for the kids.

Gospel-Powered Parenting

This parenting book stands above the rest.

There are two things that Farley does particularly well that I'd like to draw attention to.

First, he distances himself from those that insist we must remove our children from the world (e.g. public schooling, Halloween, etc) in order to protect them from the world. He acknowledges that parenting always involves some protection, but he righly points out that an isolationist mentality often ends up with legalism. Farley recommends parents raise up their children not by changing and controlling their environment (things external to their children), but by going after their hearts.

Second, he picks up a theme from a great parenting book from the 1970s, How to Really Love Your Children, and emphasizes the importance of affection and different ways to show it to your children.

In places Farley sounds a lot like Tripp's Shephering a Child's Heart, but I think Farley is clearer in his main point of going after heart issues. Gospel-Powered Parenting may be the best parenting book I've read.

Good Hair

After a trip to the local beauty shop; check out Faith's new look.

Zeke is 3!

Transplanted

"The great Master Gardener, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, with his own hand, planted me here, where by his grace, in this part of his vineyard, I grow; and here I will abide till the great Master of the vineyard think fit to transplant me again."

Adapted from The Loveliness of Christ, page 1

April in Utah

That's Eli in our backyard. He's on Spring break, snow-sledding! 4 inches and still falling.

Spring...Hello?

New assignment

The Air Force has notified us of our new assignment. We are to be in Utah (Hill AFB) by early March. Since the report date is sooner than I was expecting, we have a thousand things to do in the next month. Blogging will be light to non-existent until we're re-settled.

We will greatly miss our dear friends in Albuquerque.

You don't leave your sick mother

(A third post in a short series on Presbyterian Church History)

When do you leave a church? What grounds justify forming a new one? American Presbyterians could learn a lot from their Scottish church forefathers who detested separatism.

Which Prophet called for the true Israelites to break from the idolatrous Old Testament Church? Which Apostle gave instructions to split from an immoral New Testament Church? Finding none, the Scottish Presbyterians kept their vows to their Church despite its corruption. Error in the Church was no reason to separate from it.

Separation was permissible only over the fundamentals of the gospel itself. They knew that separation is not the only way to testify against error. You don't leave a sick mother (the church, see Gal 4:26), you stay and help her to recover.

For more than 150 years the idea of a unified, visible Church of Jesus Christ had an immense hold on the Scottish Presbyterian mind. Apparently, very little of that mindset survived contact with the independent American spirit.

Good news!

Faith's leg casts came off today! There'll be some more check-ups, and night-time braces for a while, but no more casts and the doctor is pleased with the progress.

Faith was casted on both legs (from the knee down) to correct a problem with her calves that was limiting mobility in her feet.

"His face is white, but his heart be black!"

(The second post in a short series on Presbyterian history)

Such was the loving response one newly freed black woman gave when asked about her white pastor, John L. Girardeau. The federal government had sent to Charleston a black pastor to minister to the former slave congregation of 1,500. He was rejected in favor of Dr Girardeau who had not yet returned from the War.

Dr Girardeau has been called the forgotten Spurgeon of the South, loved by his congregation and remembered as a preacher with power and precision. He is a bright spot among Southern Presbyterians in a dark time.

I had the privilege to visit his grave and hear moving accounts of his love and faithful ministry among the slaves in Charleston.

Tour of old Charleston (part 1)

Last week I enjoyed an intensive class in Presbyterian Church History which included a tour of the oldest Presbyterian sites and stories in our nation.

Over the next few posts I'll cover some of the highlights of the class; this post will focus on one part of our tour of historic Charleston, South Carolina.

The oldest Presbyterian church building in the nation is on John's Island, part of the Charleston peninsula. The building dates from 1719 and is still in great shape and active use.
The layout of the sanctuary tells you a lot about the beliefs of the people that have worshipped there. You can't miss the raised pulpit in the center front of the room. There is no center aisle so that the congregation can center on the Word being read and preached. The elders of the church sit in the front pews on either side of the pulpit, symbolizing the safeguarding role the elders have over the preached Word.

Presbyterian worship, at its best, is simple, reverent, and Word-centered. When done right, it is also timeless, for our God is the same yesterday, today, and forevermore.

Haiti’s greatest need

If you find yourself wanting to help Haiti in some way but do not want to simply send money to an organization you know little about, know that Presbyterian Mission in Haiti (PMH) and the pastors there need help now more than ever.

In the wake of this massive catastophe, our pastors need all the support they can get to minister the Gospel. This is Haiti’s greatest need.

PMH is a faithful Reformed Presbyterian group that has been helping organize and support Charles Amicy, Leon Amicy and Octavius Delfils in the spread of the Gospel in Haiti. A friend of mine went to seminary with Leon and Octavius and know what committed and faithful men they are.

If you would like to give financially to PMH so that they have funds to use for the relief of earthquake victims, make checks payable to Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church (PCA) and please write “PMH-Earthquake Relief” on the memo line. Mail the checks to 2519 Woodruff Rd, Simpsonville, SC 29681.

Gifts for a child's soul

Our strangest family tradition must be Epiphany. On January 6th each of the children receive a gift intended to help them grow in faith during the new year. Kristin and I also exchange gifts of the same kind.

The strange part is how the gifts are wrapped--the wackier the better. Kristin's gift-wrapping was really clever this year--her gift came to me in a Hawaiian dinner roll bag (bread for the soul looking forward to Paradise). The other gifts were similarly wrapped in odd things: a shower cap, a diaper, a briefcase, etc.

Zeke and Faith each received some God-honoring music for very young children.



Isaiah received a brand new edition of Bunyan's "other" allegory, The Holy War: The Battle for Mansoul. It looks to be very well done.


Grace receive a collection of short bios of godly women of the past. She's already finished it.


Another great children's series of Christian biographies started last year with a look at Calvin. This year the focus is on Augustine.


Kristin gave me a copy of Gospel-Powered Parenting and I gave her A Praying Life. I've heard both are excellent!

Beyond superficial relationships

Pastor Kevin DeYoung points out a great letter in First Things from a woman in San Francisco.

She comes to see the "transactional and superficial" relationships of the workplace (that's a great description) and desires to be "the spiritual and emotional center of our family."

It is heartening to see a young woman who realizes that to be busy at home (Titus 2:5) and a helpmate to her husband (Gen. 2:18) are good things to desire.

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My husband was born in the 1960s to highly educated, secular parents; I was born in the 1970s to the same. Both sets of parents divorced when we were in our early teens. My husband and I met as youngish knowledge workers, equipped with laptops and degrees. We moved in together and eventually got married – as guilelessly, it now seems, as two lambs. If anyone had asked us what our respective “roles” were in the marriage, we would have stared at that person blankly. Surely, we thought, we will go on as before: both working, going to restaurants, and doing the New York Times Sunday crossword. Occasionally, someone will throw in a load of laundry or cook a meal. Why, we might even take a cooking class together!

Fast-forward five years. We now have two children in diapers. After going back to graduate school for two years when our first was a newborn, my husband can’t find a job in this economy. I’m supporting us with a high-paying corporate job that I’ve been hoping to leave for years. Instead of spending my days caring for my children and keeping the kind of home I’ve always wanted, I log countless hours in a sterile office environment where all relationships are transactional and superficial. I come home to find the kids in dirty clothes, the house disordered, and my husband preparing some elaborate meal because, to keep boredom and depression at bay, he has seized on cooking with the enthusiasm he once had for paid work. I give him money to buy groceries; he refers self-importantly to “his” kitchen. In our daily bickering over tasks and bills, I am petty and snappish, plagued by the sense that something has gone seriously awry.

Meanwhile, I have gravitated to a certain type of mommy-blog; one written by a stay-at-home mother, lovingly grateful to her provider-man, capably in charge of every detail of her children’s lives and home: the Angel in the House, as we might have sneered back in English 101. While the blogger and I remain quite different people, she seems to have grasped, early on, some essential fact about gender relations that no one ever told my husband or me. Those brave and brainy revolutionaries who raised us – parents, professors, Self magazine – never so much as hinted that someday we might want to act like men and women. Having dodged that retrograde fate, we had turned into neutered freaks, mired in resentments and domestic dysfunction. Our lucky kids!

Yet, as Shakespeare’s Portia says: “Happy in this, …she is not bred so dull but she can learn.” As we struggle on, juggling roles, I’m realizing that my main job is to be the spiritual and emotional center of our family: the Angel in the House even when not physically on the premises. I do this not by keeping the carpet vacuumed, the clothes ironed, and the baby on her nap schedule – although I’d prefer to do those things, too – but by radiating love, joy, and gratitude, particularly to my husband, who would give us everything if he could but who is limited right now to giving us countless uncomplaining diaper changes, lots of playtime in the backyard, and a delicious nightly menu of grilled meats.

The lousy economy can send me out the door to earn a living, the popular culture can befog what my duties are and to whom, but none of it – indeed, nothing – can unsex me if I don’t let it. As I struggle to learn the lessons of how to be a wife and mother, I am ever more grateful for my loving and forgiving husband.

The Brothers Karamazov

"All true Russians are philosophers!" is a revealing statement from a main character in The Brothers Karamazov, a passionate philosophical novel, hailed by many as one of the world's best pieces of literature.

It is a lengthy tale of the three sons of a dirty old buffoon, Fyodor Karamazov, who represent three personalities: the reckless sensual (Dmitri), the agnostic intellectual (Ivan), and an immensely likeable, godward young man (Alyosha).

The story is set in a small Russian town around 1870 and centers on a romantic rivalry that erupted between Fyodor and his eldest son Dmitri. This rivalry figures prominently in the murder of the father and the trial of Dmitri for the crime.

Dostoevsky’s description of the tragic Karamazov brothers and the murder of their father presents the context needed to eruditely explore philosophical questions about God’s sovereignty, the place of suffering in our world, human depravity, and redemption through pain.

The Brothers Karamazov is a long book (almost 800 pages), so I opted for an abridged audio book that still ran over 19 hours. Even abridgements cannot overcome some of the slow-moving moments where the novel labors in details. At other times, its story and dialogue are captivating. This, combined with the depth of thought behind the philosophical questioning, is what makes the book stand out as a true classic.

A good hair day

Today is a significant day in our household. After receiving much advice about how to do Faith's hair--much of it utterly incongruous--and filling a whole cabinet with various cremes, goops, and conditioners, today we found a good hairdresser!

Faith also has new casts. Not only are they in the color she likes, but the med techs were able to bend her feet to the proper position when they put these new ones on. That's progress we believe!