think hard, think well

To all six of you who read this regularly (love you, Mom!), I apologize for the recent poverty of posts. Between October 10 and October 30, I preached three Sunday sermons, taught a week-long class on Numbers and Deuteronomy in Wisconsin, and moved.

This past weekend was quite a flurry of activity: I flew back from Minneapolis (after a three-hour drive from Cable, WI) this Friday evening, and then we moved on Saturday morning. Corrie worked hard last week to get us ready to move, and thankfully most of our stuff was in storage and didn’t need to be packed. But now we have the task of unpacking and setting up house again. I now have access to all my books once more; I feel as though I have just had full release after six months of intellectual constipation.

In many respects my recent teaching and preaching opportunities are more important landmarks in the life of the Giffone family than our move. After years of undergraduate and graduate school, training and preparing for ministry, Corrie and I are finally beginning to see some real fruit from our labors.

I can’t really express how satisfying it felt to complete last week’s course. Since sophomore year, I’ve been convinced that God is leading me to teaching ministry. But last Monday at 9am, when I stood up in front of twenty-four freshmen–that was the moment of truth. It was scary, not so much because I was afraid that I would bomb or freeze, but because I was afraid I would hate it. But I loved it. I’ve never felt "in the zone" like that before, so completely sure that I was fulfilling my God-given vocation. The preparation, the class time, the discussions with the students in and outside of class–it was a wonderfully stimulating, encouraging, spiritual and intellectual experience.

These last few weeks vindicated all the work we’ve put in and all the sacrifices Corrie has made to put me through grad school. We still have quite a ways to go: MTh and then DTh at Stellenbosch. (More on that later.) But this is another Ebenezer, a memorial stone at which we say, "Thus far, YHWH has helped us."

Once again, Professor Walter Williams hits the nail right on the head, exposing the unseen costs of regulation. This example caught my eye because I just flew with an infant last week:

The National Transportation Safety Board has again recommended that airlines require a separate seat for all children, regardless of age, eliminating the current practice of permitting children under the age of 2 to fly for free on the lap of a parent. Will mandating child restraint systems make air travel safer? The answer is probably yes but that’s the visible. Having to purchase an extra airplane ticket, some families will opt to drive to their destination instead. Thus, mandated CRS will force some families to switch to a less safe method of travel and some highway fatalities will represent the invisible victims of NTSB policy. By the way, if parents wanted a greater measure of safety for their infant, it’s available to them right now. They can purchase a seat and seat restraint for their infant.

What do you think about the NTSB regulation? What about the FDA? Is the cost of dangerous drugs greater than the cost of banning effective drugs?

I’ve posted a recording of today’s sermon on Numbers 21:4-9 at Shellburne Bible Church–and yes, I couldn’t resist titling the sermon, "Snakes on a Plain." I’d appreciate your comments and feedback.

The highlight of the morning: ever the adroit one, I banged my head on the pew in front of me while fishing around on the floor for Daniel’s expectorated pacifier during the prayer.

Thanks for your prayers. I’ll be preaching on Mark 10:35-45 in Wayne, NJ next Sunday. When it rains, it pours….

It’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to blog meaningfully. I’ve been working feverishly on my doctoral proposal, two sermons and my upcoming Pentateuch course. Plus, last week Corrie and I took Daniel to Texas so he could meet my grandmother. I hope to give some more updates very soon.

I’d appreciate your prayers as I preach this Lord’s Day at Shellburne Bible Church in Wilmington, DE, and next Sunday at Preakness Valley United Reformed Church in Wayne, NJ. If the audio is decent, I’ll put them on the Papers and Presentations page ASAP.

I just sat down with a cup of my favorite tea, and I found this profound quotation from Charles De Gaulle on the tea bag’s tab:

Since a politician never believes what he says, he is quite surprised to be taken at his word.

חַטָּאתִ֙י אוֹדִ֪יעֲךָ֡ וַעֲוֹ֨נִ֤י לֹֽא־כִסִּ֗יתִי אָמַ֗רְתִּי אוֹדֶ֤ה עֲלֵ֣י פְ֭שָׁעַי לַיהוָ֑ה וְאַתָּ֙ה נָ֨שָׂ֤אתָ עֲוֹ֖ן חַטָּאתִ֣י סֶֽלָה׃

My youngest siblings, Deborah and Michael, were baptized on Sunday evening at Riverside Community Church in Nutley, NJ:

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I used to watch my good friend and roommate, Alex (a frequent foil in my writings), playing various RPGs on our PlayStation unit. He is particularly fond of the Final Fantasy series. For those who are unfamiliar with RPGs (role-playing games), often they focus around an adventure or a battle in which the human-controlled player performs various tasks–rescuing this wizard, defeating this dragon, escorting this noblewoman to that castle, etc. When I teased Digs about playing games, he would reply defensively, "Hey–I’m engaging a narrative."

I used to scoff at his contention, but now I’ve begun to realize how deep an insight that is. (Don’t tell him.) The most engaging forms of entertainment and art, in any medium, tell a story. Television, computer/video games, books, radio programs, sports contests, movies–each one tells a story. A work of art is engaging and entertaining to the extent that the hearer/reader/viewer is able to identify with and appreciate elements of the story. Technology has allowed entertainment to become even more responsive to the consumer in two ways. First, response is immediate and quantifiable (ratings, hits, downloads, DVR recordings, etc.), enabling producers to know what people want. Second, consumers can now actually be a part of the narratives they follow; they can vote on American Idol (ha ha), they can control Frodo or Albert Pujols on the screen, or they can create their own Fantasy Football teams.

A few years ago I read Exodus to the Virtual World by Ted Castronova after hearing him discuss the book here. It’s well worth a full read, but his thesis is essentially that Americans are spending more and more time in virtual worlds online, interacting with real people in a simulated environment. He assesses the merits and drawbacks of this prospect, but emphasizes that we cannot ignore this phenomenon, especially as it relates to popular expectations of political and social structures.

So, which entertainment narratives are mine? Which ones do I engage, how engaged am I, and can/should I get out? A few observations:

• I follow a few sports teams and several TV shows to varying degrees.
• Some teams I follow because I like to see them win. Identifying with the winning team from my home state or town makes me a part of that team’s story in a small way.
• Some teams I follow because I want them to lose. Usually they are rivals with my home teams. As a New-York-area fan living for the last seven years in Philadelphia, I have followed the Phillies and very emphatically wished them ill. (My wishes have obviously had little effect–apparently I have no control over this narrative.)
• Some TV shows I watch for an hour of diversion, and some I watch because I identify with a character or enjoy the broad story arc.
• A few TV shows I watch for a the philosophical point or social commentary. A few shows contain compelling aesthetic elements (and I don’t just mean attractive women).

As fall premieres begin, my wife and I have discussed which shows and sports to give another try and which to ditch. Try not to laugh too hard at my poor taste in shows/teams…

• We like Chuck because the characters are fun, and because Chuck is just a good guy. Each show contains tributes or take-offs of classic movies and shows. But I actually was quite pleased with the way last season tied up the loose ends, and I’m not very intrigued by the "hook" for this season (Chuck’s quest to find his mom). Chuck and Sarah are together, Ellie knows his spy identity, and everything seems good. Is this a good spot to jump off the train, to chuck Chuck?
• The Mets are awful. Period. They have no prospects. The Phils will win the division yet again. Once again, I will probably be forced to root for the Yankees in the World Series, a terrible fate for one practically raised at Shea Stadium. I’m out.
• The Jets, strangely, seem to be doing better in recent years. For a long time I’ve been able to enjoy the "lovable losers" narrative so familiar to those who root for Gang Green. Now our expectations are higher, and I’ll have more chances to blow 3 hours on a Sunday watching the Jets on national TV. Tread with caution…
• Community and 30 Rock are hilarious, and I can’t get enough. I justify these by reminding myself that they’re only half-hour shows, and that satire is a high form of humor.

I’m trying to be more intentional about these narratives, the time I spend in front of the boob tube, and whether there is anything true, honorable, just, pure and excellent that I should be doing instead. It looks like there are some narratives that I can shed.

Oops, gotta go–CSI: Boise is back from commercial.

Here are some more fun pictures of Daniel. He is nearly 8 weeks old. Enjoy!

As I said last time, I’m starting to take a close look at the narratives of my life. Stories define us and shape us, and we in turn engage stories and shape some of them to an extent.

One of the more prominent narratives in my life is a conflict between dispensational evangelicalism and Reformed Calvinism. My personal journey from the former to the latter is as much a cultural shift as it is a theological one. I was raised by a Southern Baptist mother and a Messianic father (who currently claims no sort of faith in Jesus). Growing up I was taught to regard the Old Testament as Scripture–even if I wasn’t sure what exactly that meant. I was taught that the modern state of Israel was God’s reconstituted people in fulfillment of biblical prophecy, and that the Palestinians were mostly Islamic terrorists bent on destroying the “apple of God’s eye.”

When I went to PBU, it was still a Bible college aspiring to be a university in more than name. I was taught to read the Bible carefully and passionately as God’s Word. But I was also taught mostly the same perspective I had always been taught–although now it had a name: dispensational premillennialism. The strange thing about my PBU experience is that it pushed me toward a Reformed understanding of soteriology, ecclesiology and eschatology.

My story is a conversion to the Reformed perspective. My situation in the Reformed camp differs from my friends who grew up in the camp. First, I tend to have a soft spot for folks on the fringes of the Reformed camp–folks whose teaching and writing won me over, such as Tom Wright, G.E. Ladd, and some in the Federal Vision. Second, my Messianic upbringing means that dispensationalists’ talk of a millennial future for ethnic Israel in the last days makes my blood start to boil. This is a sore spot for me; I have had to struggle to empathize to any degree with the modern state of Israel, even when they may be in the right and the Palestinian leadership in the wrong.

Third, because I “chose” Calvinism (ironic), I feel more freedom to question different parts of the tradition. When I talk to some of my friends who grew up Reformed this makes me seem liberal or less committed. I’m either free or unanchored, depending on your perspective–and this is both a blessing and a bane.

Right now I feel quite engaged in this narrative as I minister in various ways in several different evangelical churches, Reformed and non-Reformed. Rather than a fence to keep out bad theology, I hope that my adopted tradition will always be a solid place to stand and dialogue with neighboring traditions.

Reformed Calvinism seems to be a central narrative in my life, at least at this point. God has used the teachings and writings of Reformed people and the doctrines of Reformed theology to show me His grace and His mercy, which continually shape who I am.

This article from the CHE documents some of the problems with Google Books:

There are bound to be occasional howlers in a corpus as extensive as Google’s book search, but these errors are endemic. A search on "Internet" in books published before 1950 produces 527 results; "Medicare" for the same period gets almost 1,600. Or you can simply enter the names of famous writers or public figures and restrict your search to works published before the year of their birth. "Charles Dickens" turns up 182 results for publications before 1812, the vast majority of them referring to the writer. The same type of search turns up 81 hits for Rudyard Kipling, 115 for Greta Garbo, 325 for Woody Allen, and 29 for Barack Obama. (Or maybe that was another Barack Obama.)

Certainly Google has undertaken an ambitious project. I have found Google Books to be a very helpful source of information in my scholarly research. Many of the books that I need are from smaller publishers and tend to be expensive, and I may only need one or two articles or bits of information. Rather than making a long trek to the (not-so-)local seminary libraries that may have a book that may not turn out to be helpful, I can see most or all of the book online.

And, as I have discovered with free music downloads, a free e-copy of the book makes me more likely to purchase a hard copy. I hope that more and more publishers will make their copyrighted works accessible for free with the goal of increasing readership and eventually sales. Books have been around for a long time, and they’re not going away.

What do you think about Google Books, and e-reading in general? Is it helpful to scholarly research, or does it breed error and laziness?