I want to do something today which I almost never do in a thought of the day: refer you to another resource. Last week, Michael Medved wrote an outstanding column for USA Today correcting errors about the origins of this country. I strongly recommend you read it in its entirety.
The main one he describes is the inversion of motives for those who came here. Almost all of us have been taught that America was settled by people fleeing religious oppression to create a land of religious liberty and openness. This is exactly backwards.
The Puritans, for instance, came here precisely because they found European society too tolerant, immoral, and religiously lenient. They wanted to establish religious utopias with higher standards and greater purity (hence their name). And although it’s true that some did come here fleeing persecution like the Catholics, once here they established an extremely narrow religious society named “Mary”land.
The irony Medved hints at but doesn’t explicitly state is that America was founded by people who were fleeing places that had become, essentially, America in the year 2009.
Thought of the Day 11.25.09
Imagine you’re sailing to a new home overseas when the unthinkable happens: shipwreck. Somehow in all the chaos, you manage to find a lifeboat and scramble aboard with only a backpack containing your laptop, CDs, and DVDs.
After several days at sea on the verge of death, you finally float ashore an uncharted island, where you find people in a primitive society without electricity. They ask if you need food and water. “Yes, please,” you gasp. “Fine, what do you have to trade?”
Shocked, you eagerly show your electronics. “That is of no use to us. Do you have anything else?” Realizing they’re serious, you ask if you can roam the island for food. “No,” they reply, “All this belongs to us. Go find your own island.” Then, in stunned disbelief, you watch them turn and leave you to die amidst your useless wealth.
After considering the obvious evil of this example, I have a simple question. Just how sure are you that it’s perfectly okay for you to enjoy all those electronic gadgets while so many people in this world don’t have food and clean water?
After several days at sea on the verge of death, you finally float ashore an uncharted island, where you find people in a primitive society without electricity. They ask if you need food and water. “Yes, please,” you gasp. “Fine, what do you have to trade?”
Shocked, you eagerly show your electronics. “That is of no use to us. Do you have anything else?” Realizing they’re serious, you ask if you can roam the island for food. “No,” they reply, “All this belongs to us. Go find your own island.” Then, in stunned disbelief, you watch them turn and leave you to die amidst your useless wealth.
After considering the obvious evil of this example, I have a simple question. Just how sure are you that it’s perfectly okay for you to enjoy all those electronic gadgets while so many people in this world don’t have food and clean water?
Thought of the Day 11.24.09
The other day at the grocery store, I was looking at something when I thought I heard out of the corner of my ear a man gently telling Spencer, “No.” When I saw him near a big basket of beans, I inferred that he must have been touching them while the man filled his bag. So I called him back to me while the man (in his fifties) watched, uncertain about my reaction to him scolding my son.
I asked Spencer why that man had been telling him, “No.” “Was it because you were touching those beans.” “Yes,” he sheepishly replied. “It is not that man’s responsibility to correct you. You shouldn’t have put him in that position. You know better than that.” At this the man looked at me and said, “Thank you,” presumably for reaffirming his authority. But I wasn’t satisfied yet.
“You need to apologize to that man for inconveniencing him.” “I’m sorry,” Spencer said. The man simply smiled and told him, “That’s alright. You have a pretty good daddy.” “I know,” Spencer replied.
Although it might occasionally turn out wrong, I always start from the premise that 50-year-old men are to be trusted, and 5-year-old boys are not. Society can’t survive if that presumption is reversed.
I asked Spencer why that man had been telling him, “No.” “Was it because you were touching those beans.” “Yes,” he sheepishly replied. “It is not that man’s responsibility to correct you. You shouldn’t have put him in that position. You know better than that.” At this the man looked at me and said, “Thank you,” presumably for reaffirming his authority. But I wasn’t satisfied yet.
“You need to apologize to that man for inconveniencing him.” “I’m sorry,” Spencer said. The man simply smiled and told him, “That’s alright. You have a pretty good daddy.” “I know,” Spencer replied.
Although it might occasionally turn out wrong, I always start from the premise that 50-year-old men are to be trusted, and 5-year-old boys are not. Society can’t survive if that presumption is reversed.
Thought of the Day 11.23.09
If you’re a major league pitcher, one of the hardest things you are ever asked to do is walk an opposing batter intentionally. The reason this hurts so much is because you’ve spent your entire life honing the art of beating batters, and now you’re being told to surrender. Your manager is asking you to swallow your pride and trust him that this walk won’t come back to bite you even worse.
Similarly, major league hitters are sometimes told to give up the one thing that defines them at the plate: a hit. To help the team by advancing a runner, they may be asked to lay down a sacrifice bunt or hit a pop fly. As hitters and pitchers, players must be humble about their role in the entire puzzle of a baseball game and also trust that the manager knows best how to construct a win from that puzzle.
The funny thing is how few people ever truly realize that Christianity is a team sport. And if egoistic baseball players can trust a fallible human manager like this, why do we get so disgruntled when God declines to let our lives produce the individual results we yearn for?
Similarly, major league hitters are sometimes told to give up the one thing that defines them at the plate: a hit. To help the team by advancing a runner, they may be asked to lay down a sacrifice bunt or hit a pop fly. As hitters and pitchers, players must be humble about their role in the entire puzzle of a baseball game and also trust that the manager knows best how to construct a win from that puzzle.
The funny thing is how few people ever truly realize that Christianity is a team sport. And if egoistic baseball players can trust a fallible human manager like this, why do we get so disgruntled when God declines to let our lives produce the individual results we yearn for?
Thought of the Day 11.20.09
As many of you know, I find the interplay between language and reason terribly fascinating. One of my favorite aspects is the way language use can backfire, communicating the exact opposite of what is intended.
For instance, I recently heard a Congressman dismiss concerns about the likelihood of passing health care reform with the assurance, “We will not fail to get this done, because failure is not an option.” This sounds nice, and it probably even comforts some people, but I saw it as admission of real uncertainty. After all, if failure truly weren’t an option, there wouldn’t be much need to reassure people by saying so.
Imagine legislative support for this plan was overwhelming, like say, like say 70%. In that case, the same man wouldn’t bother overstating his chances. He’d simply say, “We’ll get this done. We have 70%.” In situations where failure actually isn’t an option, no one bothers saying it. It’s a phrase used only when it isn’t true.
For instance, I recently heard a Congressman dismiss concerns about the likelihood of passing health care reform with the assurance, “We will not fail to get this done, because failure is not an option.” This sounds nice, and it probably even comforts some people, but I saw it as admission of real uncertainty. After all, if failure truly weren’t an option, there wouldn’t be much need to reassure people by saying so.
Imagine legislative support for this plan was overwhelming, like say, like say 70%. In that case, the same man wouldn’t bother overstating his chances. He’d simply say, “We’ll get this done. We have 70%.” In situations where failure actually isn’t an option, no one bothers saying it. It’s a phrase used only when it isn’t true.
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