I'm becoming a wedding grinch. It's not because I'm against weddings per se; I could never declare unclean what Jesus blessed in His first miracle (cf. John 2:1-11). No, my problem is what weddings in western civilization have become. Instead of celebrations of holy Christian matrimony, today's weddings have morphed into an obscure ritual intended solely for fancy pictures and a prelude to a drunken bacchanalia. (For more of my rant, read my post "The Problem with Weddings" on my church's website under "Pastor Ben.")
Interestingly, we're exporting overseas our self-centered materialism and its affect on marriage. A recent Reuters story ("China's 'me' Generation") tells us how the one-child policy in China is one of the factors behind their now-rampant divorce rate. One Beijing marriage counselor/psychiatrist says this about young adults in China: "They are weak in horizontal bonding, communicating with the same generation. They tend to apply a vertical approach to horizontal relationships." In other words, they're spoiled, selfish brats who have been raised badly.
Why on earth are young couples so foolish to think that a fancy, expensive wedding is preferable to a healthy, lifelong marriage? I'm weary of pregnant brides and couples who bring their children to premarital counseling. I don't condemn them; after all, most of them haven't been raised to know any better. What grieves me most is their fairy-tale picture of a wedding: no expense is spared in order to meet everyone's expectations. So what if the marriage falls apart? At least the wedding was nice!
Repent, Church. Stop surrendering the meaning of matrimony to the wedding planners and cardboard wedding cakes. Speak out against cohabitation and materialism. Teach abstinence, self-control, and commitment. Throw away the trashy "How to Have Great Sex" magazines and read scriptures like Ephesians 5:21-33 and 1 Corinthians 13 to learn what marriage is really like. Trust and obey God rather than dumb luck.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
A Walk in the Fog
This morning I took my dog Leila on a much-needed walk, one both of us need. It was cold, damp and foggy as we made our way out of town and down a country road. It was a long hike, around five miles round-trip, but it provided me a much-needed opportunity to reflect on life, dogs, and what to do about my lack of physical exercise.
I was amazed at the number of realizations and insights that popped into my head as Leila and I walked. Here they are in order of profundity (stop reading when you feel like I'm being pompous):
#1 -- People are litterbugs. It was shocking to see how many beer bottles, cans and empty cigarette cartons were on both sides of the road. I don't want to accuse all smokers and drinkers of being essentially pollutive -- that would be an erroneous stereotype -- but it raises an interesting question: Why don't we see more trash from, say, Dasani drinkers? I suppose the exorbitant prices smokers have to pay give them a license to litter. Beer-drinkers are probably too focused on driving than to worry about proper disposal of empty bottles and cans.
But this brings out a deeper issue. We have a tendency to go through life and heedlessly leave trash -- literal and figurative -- in our wake. I have a closet full of clothing I hardly ever wear and a garage full of old "stuff" I can't even identify. Worse, I vividly recall the many hurts I've caused others by my thoughtlessness and rebelliousness. Beer drinkers and smokers have nothing on me when it comes to moral litter.
The frightening thing is that I don't usually see how much litter is on the side of the road. When I zip by at 55 m.p.h. I don't see much of anything. But it's still there, only for the pedestrians to notice. In my busy distraction I don't see the litter in my life, either. It's still there, and I see it only when I slow down and allow God to point it out.
If I'd had a bag and didn't have a dog, I would have been doing some clean-up. That leads me to my next point ...
#2 -- Dogs are tempted by the nastiest things. Leila, for all her cuteness, can be annoying to the extreme. Every smell, piece of trash, and even floating leaves would distract her away from her real job: accompanying me on a brisk autumn walk. I wasn't trudging along because I wanted to smell the roses (of which there were none); I wanted exercise! Leila had other ideas. Now I understand God gave dogs a powerful sense of smell, but why can't they control it? What is so attractive about half-decayed roadkill? The piece de resistance was a half-gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream! Anyway, I probably had more exercise for my arm pulling her along than I did for my legs.
I realize I'm a lot like Leila, however. I walk this path of life beside my Master, Who too often has to shorten the leash to keep me by His side. I veer away chasing things that aren't good for me, even though I want them now. I have a nose for temptation and an obstinacy to resist God's clear commands. If only I followed Him so faithfully that a leash weren't required!
#3 -- We see very little. Leila and I walked in the fog a long time, and even when the fog lifted it wasn't very clear. And yet we saw many beautiful sights: a country road with partly bare tree branches hanging overhead, a beautiful home decorated for autumn, a wooden fence running along perfectly spaced trees. I kept reminding myself that it would all look different on a sunny, warm day in the summer, when the overcast gray would give way to brilliant blue, and the barren branches would be replaced with a mass of living green.
The community we walked through is relatively wealthy, although poverty isn't very far away. I wonder how people feel when they see their neighbors on the "other side"? Whether rich or poor, most of our perspectives are based on what we see with our eyes. We are subject to the fog of this world, frequently forgetting that -- someday -- the Dawn of God's Day will be upon us, and then in His light we shall see all things, ourselves included, as they are.
All in all, Leila and I had a very productive walk. I pray I have the self-discipline to do it again soon.
I was amazed at the number of realizations and insights that popped into my head as Leila and I walked. Here they are in order of profundity (stop reading when you feel like I'm being pompous):
#1 -- People are litterbugs. It was shocking to see how many beer bottles, cans and empty cigarette cartons were on both sides of the road. I don't want to accuse all smokers and drinkers of being essentially pollutive -- that would be an erroneous stereotype -- but it raises an interesting question: Why don't we see more trash from, say, Dasani drinkers? I suppose the exorbitant prices smokers have to pay give them a license to litter. Beer-drinkers are probably too focused on driving than to worry about proper disposal of empty bottles and cans.
But this brings out a deeper issue. We have a tendency to go through life and heedlessly leave trash -- literal and figurative -- in our wake. I have a closet full of clothing I hardly ever wear and a garage full of old "stuff" I can't even identify. Worse, I vividly recall the many hurts I've caused others by my thoughtlessness and rebelliousness. Beer drinkers and smokers have nothing on me when it comes to moral litter.
The frightening thing is that I don't usually see how much litter is on the side of the road. When I zip by at 55 m.p.h. I don't see much of anything. But it's still there, only for the pedestrians to notice. In my busy distraction I don't see the litter in my life, either. It's still there, and I see it only when I slow down and allow God to point it out.
If I'd had a bag and didn't have a dog, I would have been doing some clean-up. That leads me to my next point ...
#2 -- Dogs are tempted by the nastiest things. Leila, for all her cuteness, can be annoying to the extreme. Every smell, piece of trash, and even floating leaves would distract her away from her real job: accompanying me on a brisk autumn walk. I wasn't trudging along because I wanted to smell the roses (of which there were none); I wanted exercise! Leila had other ideas. Now I understand God gave dogs a powerful sense of smell, but why can't they control it? What is so attractive about half-decayed roadkill? The piece de resistance was a half-gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream! Anyway, I probably had more exercise for my arm pulling her along than I did for my legs.
I realize I'm a lot like Leila, however. I walk this path of life beside my Master, Who too often has to shorten the leash to keep me by His side. I veer away chasing things that aren't good for me, even though I want them now. I have a nose for temptation and an obstinacy to resist God's clear commands. If only I followed Him so faithfully that a leash weren't required!
#3 -- We see very little. Leila and I walked in the fog a long time, and even when the fog lifted it wasn't very clear. And yet we saw many beautiful sights: a country road with partly bare tree branches hanging overhead, a beautiful home decorated for autumn, a wooden fence running along perfectly spaced trees. I kept reminding myself that it would all look different on a sunny, warm day in the summer, when the overcast gray would give way to brilliant blue, and the barren branches would be replaced with a mass of living green.
The community we walked through is relatively wealthy, although poverty isn't very far away. I wonder how people feel when they see their neighbors on the "other side"? Whether rich or poor, most of our perspectives are based on what we see with our eyes. We are subject to the fog of this world, frequently forgetting that -- someday -- the Dawn of God's Day will be upon us, and then in His light we shall see all things, ourselves included, as they are.
All in all, Leila and I had a very productive walk. I pray I have the self-discipline to do it again soon.
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