Near the end of his life, the man who translated portions of the Bible into nearly two score languages said:
“I can plod and persevere. That is my only genius. I can persevere in any definite pursuit. To this I owe everything.”
Near the end of his life, the man who translated portions of the Bible into nearly two score languages said:
“I can plod and persevere. That is my only genius. I can persevere in any definite pursuit. To this I owe everything.”
Last Wednesday while my bakkie rolled toward town for my weekly trip I listened to Feisel call into the national radio station, SAFM, to air his thoughts on their open line.
“Look, I don’t know what everyone’s getting upset about with Lance Armstrong. He did what everyone in that sport does.” Etc., etc.
The surprised announcer laughed out some question about whether we should change the rules for everyone. Lance broke the rules, and Mr. SAFM (and probably the vast majority of the listening audience) thought he should pay for the liberty he took.
Feisel however, was much more malleable. And I’m glad he called. At least he was trying to be—to a point—consistent.
If we can’t keep a rule, or if a fairly large segment of the population doesn’t like it, then let’s just let our legislation be honest with our action. Drop the rules that we don’t keep.
Is this not the situation that confronts us all today?
There is an obvious law that says, “Mothers should love their babies.” If a mother does not love her child, she has broken that rule known to all men because it is preprogrammed on our hard drives. But when that law conflicts with my strong desire to pursue my girlfriends or my voting block, then I will be faster than a speeding locomotive and able to leap over tall buildings in a single bound to justify a mother’s right to murder her baby. On average since I arrived in SA in 2004 well over 200 babies per day in this country have been murdered with consent of their mothers.
Or, we all know—in such a basic way that we don’t even think of it as a law, but of course it is—that a husband should be faithful to his wife in thought and action. Until he’s really tired of her because she’s not as perky as the latest wench who’s caught his eye. So says our inherently contradictory and ultimately inconsistent world. This law is broken repeatedly in divorce courts.
And we could expand our list of ways that the contemporary world not only breaks obvious rules, but revels in law-breaking. What I was reminded of so poignantly by Feisel’s call last week was that we are not law breakers when it comes to something we really care about. When it comes to our highest commitments—like sports—we will deal with criminals because of our love affair with pleasure and entertainment.
We live in a world of law breakers who incredulously gasp when someone implies that we should live as lawbreakers in all categories of life. Could it be that the essence of sin is inconsistency?
Nice wake up call, Feisel.
My right hand holds the London Baptist Confession of 1689 pretty firmly with only a few exceptions—like defining the pope as the antichrist (a pretty common hermeneutical conclusion back in the Luther-Calvin-Council of Trent days). And Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings rests comfortably in my left hand. My wife and I have read through the trilogy 5 times in 8 years of marriage. The last time through I even read the poems in Elvish.
These two books—one basically a pamphlet and the other a 1,000 page novel—summarize key aspects of my life. I want to believe right propositions about God, know objective truth about His revelation, and proclaim this body lucidly in whatever venues Providence opens up for me. That’s the Confession of Faith. We use it as textbook when training pastors, and my teammate and I have both worked through it with men in our church.
Tolkien stands for the wonder and intrigue that should grip the mind of a Christian who is eager to see the fingerprints of his Father in every area of life. Several years ago, when I first moved to South Africa, I began trying to find a trail back to God from everything I met with in life. Abraham Kuyper helped me do that. A few months before marriage I took my first visit to Lewis’ Narnia which helped me see the value of imagination in this process. The Lord of the Rings, with its languages, cartography, history, botany, anthropology, etc., etc. built walls, doors, and windows on that foundation.
But I wish I had three hands because as important as these works are to me, I felt like I was neglecting one of my children by not putting John Frame’s The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God in the header for this blog.
On another occasion I plan to post a fuller interaction with the many practical, Biblical, and insightful sections of this book, but here suffice it to say, that Frame’s work fortifies the mind against hastiness in judgment. How often have I found myself assenting to some idea only to find my reasoning based on some passing stimulus rather than on real, logical bedrock.
Classic and enduring. Those are the watermarks I want to find on my conclusions. Frame’s book helps the thinker build stilts by which to get through the morass of post-modern triteness to the dry ground of appropriate and measured certainty.
I’ll go forward with two great works if I have to, but if I could carry three, The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God would be a good choice.