"And this, in the final analysis, is all that matters.  The only reason God has left us here—the only good reason for wanting to be here—is to glorify God by proclaiming the blessed message of grace to the multitudes about us.  Every other reason for living—or dying—revolves around this reason."

(CR Stam)

Why We're Not Emergent

I am currently making my way through the book, Why We're Not Emergent by Kevin DeYoung and Ted Cluck.  Since Ted starts out by saying that people will probably blog about this book, I decided to do just that — blog about it.

All I can say is, so far, guys, I couldn't agree with you more!

Having recently read Donald Miller's popular book, Blue Like Jazz (you can read my review of it here), I was interested in reading more books on this post-modern emerging church idea.  True, Donald doesn't consider himself a follower of the "emergent" movement, but much of what he says paints him as such.  Consequently, his writings have become quite popular with many involved in the emerging church conversation.

Below are just a few lines from the beginning of Why We're Not Emergent.  Perhaps they will wet your appetite enough to give this book a try, too.


"... emergent leaders are allowing the immensity of God to swallow up His knowability.  In good postmodern fashion, they are questioning whether we can have any real, accurate knowledge about God in the first place ..."

"As Donald Miller says at one point in his wildly popular Blue Like Jazz, 'I don't believe I will ever walk away from God for intellectual reason.  Who knows anything anyway?'

"The emergent agnosticism about truly knowing and understanding anything about God seems to be pious humility.  It seems to honor God's immensity, but it actually undercuts His sovereign power.  Postmoderns harbor such a distrust for language and disbelieve God's ability to communicate truth to human minds that they effectively engage in what Carson calls 'the gagging of God ...'"


"Because of the emerging church's implied doctrine of God's unknowability, the word mystery, a perfectly good word in its own right, has become downright annoying.  Let me be very clear: I don't understand everything about God or the Bible.  I don't fully understand how God can be three in one.  I don't completely grasp how divine sovereignty works alongside human responsibility.  The Christian faith is mysterious.  But when we talk about Christianity, we don't start with mystery.  It's some combination of pious confusion and intellectual laziness to claim that living in mystery is at the heart of Christianity.

"Yet, time and again, emerging leaders brand Christianity as, above all things it seems, mysterious."


"Certainty, for the emergent church, is the same as pinning down Jesus and summing up God, while uncertainty is a breath of fresh air.  'Drop any affair you may have with certainty, proof, argument—and replace it with dialogue, conversation, intrigue and search,' argues McLaren.  Clarity, after all, is usually boring and wrong 'since reality is seldom clear, but usually fuzzy and mysterious; not black and white, but in living color.'

"But why do intrigue and search have to mean the end of all certainty?  McLaren is guilty of a very modern error, insisting on either-or when a both-and is possible.  There is a place for questions.  There is a time for conversation.  But there is also the possibility of certainty, not because we have dissected God like a freshman biology student dissects a frog, but because God has spoken to us clearly and intelligibly ..."


(to be cont)

Well the potatoes are done...

At first I thought my daughter's room smelled weird.  But when I stuck my head inside her doorway and took a big whiff, there was nothing.  As I walked down stairs to get a cup of tea, the odor increasing as I went, I finally discovered what did smell weird — it was my kitchen.

We're having friends over for dinner this evening, and one of the dishes I plan on serving is potato salad.  Thinking I'd get a jump on things, I put potatoes on to boil and then went upstairs to put in some hours at work (it's fiscal year end in a few days, don't you know).  But I completely forgot about the potatoes! 

So the potatoes are "done."  And so are my pan, stove, and kitchen cupboards. 

Actually, though, it's not as bad as the last time I did something like this.  One Sunday morning several years ago I put eggs on to boil and then left for church.  When we returned home hours later, the pan was completely black, burnt egg and egg shells were all over the stove, cupboards and kitchen ceiling, and our dog was cowering in the basement.  In fact, for several months afterwards our dog cowered and whined anytime the stove was turned on or a candle was lit.

But this time wasn't so bad.  Sure, the pan was black again, but there was only a little bit of burnt potatoes on the stove and cupboards.  Nothing was on the ceiling.  And, our dog wasn't cowering in the basement. 

Of course, we no longer have a dog.  She was quite old and we had to have her put down because of quality of life issues.  I'm pretty sure my "egg incident" had nothing to do with those.

But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.

James 3:17

It is of utmost importance that we understand what the Scriptures teach so that we may believe what God has said, for 'faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God' (Rom. 10:17).  The type of 'faith' which some advocate today is sheer superstition, which dispenses entirely with the need for searching or studying the Scriptures.  But the faith which the Scriptures themselves call for is always based on an intelligent understanding of what is said (Mk 6:34; Eph 1:17-18; Col 1:9-10; 2:1-3; 2 Tim 2:15)"

(CR Stam)

Rhubarb Pie

A few weeks ago I finally planted my vegetable garden.  I didn't put in as much as I have in years past — only tomatoes (though several different varieties) and green peppers.  I usually plant green beans too but they are such a pain to harvest. Tons of them hide amongst the green leaves of the plants, and finding and picking them during our typical hot and buggy summers is quite miserable.  Besides, there's always fresh green beans at our grocery store that taste every bit as good.

I also put in something completely new this year — rhubarb.  (Valentine rhubarb, to be exact.)  I love rhubarb!  There's so much you can make with it — jams, breads, muffins, and pies.  Of course my pie, pictured above, does not contain rhubarb from my garden; it takes several years for rhubarb plants to establish themselves.  But I was able to buy fresh rhubarb at our grocery story last week.

Pastry for 9-inch Two-Crust Pie.  If you don't already have a favorite pie crust recipe, try this one here.

1 1/2 c sugar, plus 1 tbsp

1/3 c flour
4 c cut-up rhubarb (1/2-inch pieces)
2 tbsp butter

Heat oven to 425 degrees.  Prepare pastry.  Mix sugar and flour.  Turn half of the rhubarb into the pastry-lined pie plate; sprinkle with half of the sugar mixture.  Repeat with remaining rhubarb and sugar mixture; dot with butter.  Cover with top crust, seal, flute the edges, cut slits in it, and sprinkle with with 1 tbsp sugar.  Bake 40 to 50 minutes, covering with foil for the last 15 minutes to prevent excessive browning.