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Old Super Bowls and Gas Station TV

Here’s a random story for you: Tonight I decided to pull out an old DVD set I hadn’t watched in a couple of years. It set me to thinking.

The DVD set in question was a set I bought after the Indianapolis Colts won the Super Bowl in January of 2006. That 2005-2006 season was a magical one for me as a sports fan. I had grown up rooting for the St. Louis Cardinals and the Buffalo Bills. The Cardinals were the regional fan-favorite where I am from, and my dad is from New York and was a Bills fan, which led to me rooting them on with him. Needless to say, my teams suffered through a lot of heartache.

Then came Peyton Manning. I was a Tennessee Volunteers fan as well. And I absolutely idolized Manning. I played quarterback for four years in high school, and he was my absolute hero, even surpassing my early childhood hero, Bills quarterback Jim Kelly. Kelly retired the year that Peyton entered the NFL. Thus I became a Colts fan. And of course my fandom has followed him to Denver – in fact, I am wearing a ‘Keep Calm and Peyt-on’ shirt right now (and his autograph rests on a hat that rests in the armoire a few feet away from me).

Both the Cardinals and the Colts won championships that season. It was the first time a favorite team of mine won a championship in my lifetime. I rushed out and bought a set of DVDs with every Colts playoff game from that season (four games), in their entirety, without commercials. I’ve watched the ’06 AFC Championship game against the Patriots at least a dozen times from start to finish, including tonight. It was a magical game, the Colts coming back from being down 21-6 at the half. But I digress.

There are two movie scenes from movies released during my childhood that come to mind every now and then relating to the their forward thinking. The first is from the movie Big (starring Tom Hanks). There is a scene in the movie where Tom Hanks, as a boss at his company, requests a commercial-free VHS copy of the Giants Super Bowl victory against the Broncos. I always thought it would be nice to be able to watch any game you wanted, especially without commercials.

The other scene I have in mind is from, I think, Back to the Future II. In this story, Marty (Michael J. Fox) travels to the future in order to help his (future) son. At some point in the movie there is a gas-station scene in which there was a television screen at the gas pump.

And now, the future is here. Maybe it’s not quite a The Matrix future. Maybe Back to the Future II didn’t get it all right. But in 2014 I can watch the Colts Super Bowl victory, without commercials, 8 years later and watch television at the gas pump. I am amazed at the power of YouTube as well. I can watch so many things that I never imagined I would be able to watch again (like old Bills games). And I chuckle to myself every time I watch TV while pumping gas, and my kids (who I won’t let watch the movie yet) never get tired of hearing the story of how this scene played out in a movie 20 some odd years ago.

I think about (and have written on this blog about) technology quite a bit. I am leery of where we are headed, but I am thankful for some of the happy perks. Now if we could just ban the use of cell phones in public!

It’s Like…You Know…Okay?

This post has been sitting in the ‘drafts’ for a while, but tonight I actually saw a video shared on Facebook that makes the point much more strongly than I was orgininally able to.

A portion of a sermon by Martyn Lloyd-Jones (on Ephesians 6:15, ‘feet shod’) got the ball rolling on this line of thought:

Have you a definite position? Are you prepared to stand in it, and say, ‘I will never yield, I will never move from this?’ The moment you begin to compromise on this Word of God you will soon be slipping and sliding both in doctrine and in practice. Some people are constantly contradicting themselves; they praise the Protestant and the Nonconformist Fathers in the first half of their address or article; then criticize them in the second half. That is not ‘standing’; that is sliding. They do not know where they are, and no-one else knows.

As the Apostle Paul says in 2 Corinthians 1:19, the Gospel of Christ is not yea and nay at one and the same time. That is true of politics, of ecclesiasticism, of ‘the world’; but it is not true of Christ.

I recently listened to a Mars Hill Audio anthology on the subject of ‘words.’ An author, who was being interviewed, made the point that she theorizes the common American usage of the term ‘like’ as a conversation filler has more to it than meets the eye (or ear in this case). Like is a term of equivocation. It is the language, obviously, of ‘likening.’

Jesus uses such language when he likens the kingdom of God to certain stories or things. The kingdom of God is like a man in search of costly pearls, etc. But Jesus used the term ‘like’ in order to convey ideas and concepts in concrete terms. He actually wants us to know what the kingdom is like in terms that we can understand and relate to.

I am afraid it is not so with many modern Americans. Perhaps the word simply slips out as an unconscious filler in the midst of brain lags. Perhaps not. Perhaps we have been trained, unlike Jesus, to never say things concretely, but to equivocate and make our language as ambiguous as possible so as not to offend or contradict anyone else. Rather than standing in their speech they are sliding.

Here’s a clip from Def Poetry Jam that says it more clearly than I have been able to. I don’t know who the man is yet, but I appreciate his articulation of the idea:

Christianity is Just a Crutch…

This is one of the arguments you hear from time to time against Christianity. Religion is just a crutch for weak people.

But before I get to the point, let me give my disclaimer. I work in the pharmacy business. I am not against the use of prescription medication. Nor am I contending that all psychopharmacological drugs are bad. Nor am I claiming that all people who are on them are bad! They have their purposes. This is only an illustration of a point. Having said that, allow me to digress.

I was listening to a sermon by Martyn Lloyd-Jones a couple of nights ago. Though he did not use this terminology, for the terminology had not yet been developed at the time, he was doing a fine piece of presuppositional apologetics. He was demonstrating how modern detractors of Christianity contradict themselves. One interesting story he told was of what he called one of the greatest speeches he ever heard.

He listened to a political leader, before World War II, arguing that Germany had acted so immorally in the breaking of one of its alliances that it demanded war. His speech concerned the sanctity of national contracts, treaties, and alliances. Compacts and treaties are sacred, and dare not be broken. For one nation to break its vow of fidelity to another is the unpardonable political sin.

Lloyd-Jones said that this speech was eloquent and compelling. Only, in later years it came out that the man who gave this speech was in the midst of marital infidelity as he delivered it. So much for the sacredness of compacts, at least as far as wedding vows are concerned. We are walking contradictions.

Which leads me to a story. This is one ‘work story’ that I have shared several times from the pulpit. And it is a true story.

I have worked at a pharmacy for years. One day I was ringing up a customer at the cash register while she continued to talk on the phone. She had no idea that I was a Christian, much less a preacher of the gospel. She was highly emotional, and very much tuned in to her phone conversation, virtually oblivious to the fact that she was in a public place (let this be a lesson for those who talk on cell phones in public!). She raised her voice and said to the person on the other end of the phone, ‘Can you believe so and so (she said a name here) says she’s become a Christian? What a joke! Religion is just a crutch for weak people who can’t cope with life!’ She pounded her little hand on the counter as she said this.

In that moment I felt a deep sympathy for her. For as I looked down on the counter, I saw that what this lady was purchasing was a large bottle of prescription Xanax!

Why I Don’t Say ‘I’m Bored’

Chesterton, in Orthodoxy, wrote something to the effect that suicide is a great act of cosmic hatred. His contention, in my own words, was that suicide is a desperate middle finger directed at all the world around you. By killing myself, I am, in my depression and desperation, flipping the bird at the trees, the birds, the stars, food, drink, and men and women, boys and girls, etc. I am saying, forget all of you, you’re not good enough for me, I’m outta here.

I do not agree with Chesterton. I think it is usually the opposite that is the case. A man doesn’t kill himself because he thinks he is too good for the world, but because he thinks the world is too good for him. Or perhaps he thinks the world is too much to bear on his shoulders and in his heart.

However, if Chesterton would have been describing boredom rather than suicide, he would have been right on. The declaration, ‘I’m bored,’ is a direct affront to everything around you, and to God himself. How can we be bored if God is God? How can we be bored in this glorious world with so many glorious gadgets?

In a way it is good that people so often declare themselves to be bored. It demonstrates that they were not made for this world. It shows that the human soul needs something more than gadgets. But, if you, as a Christian, having found that something more, infinitely more, continue to pronounce boredom – you my friend, need to do some examining. Examine God, examine the world around you, and examine yourself.

When someone says, in my presence, that they are bored, my standard response is to say – ‘Actually, you’re just boring.’This world is not boring – you are. Your life is not boring – you are. Your declaration of boredom is a big, Johnny Cash-style middle finger directed at all the world. Hebrews tells us about men of whom the world was not worthy. In your boredom, you declare yourself to be among those men. But you are not among those men. Those men knew nothing of boredom. They were too busy communing with their God and serving him. They were too busy offering sacrifices, becoming sacrifices, and turning the world upside down. They were too busy praying and crying, and laughing and mourning, feasting and fasting.

Have you ever rummaged through a Goodwill or an old antique store? I’ve literally been kicked out of one at closing time. In Paul’s letter to the Ephesians we are told of ‘the love of Christ, which is beyond knowledge’ and the ‘unsearchable riches of Christ.’ They ought to have to kick you out of your meditation and prayer. Boredom doesn’t mean that the riches aren’t there, it only means you are too lazy to search them and stuff your pockets.

God has given us families and friends. They ought to have to kick you out: ‘Hey, quit playing with your kids. It can’t be that fun.’ ‘Hey, quit talking to your wife, how many times do you have to tell her you love her? Get a room.’ ‘Hey, why are you always laughing and joking with your friends, doesn’t that get old?’

I have sometimes been tempted to call my 20 minute drive home from work boring, especially after the time change, since its always dark. Then a few weeks ago I realized that Venus is staring me in the face for the whole drive. How boring, a giant planet, disguised as a star, is leading me to my home on a similar giant planet. And we both happen to be suspended in mid-air as we race around a gigantic flaming ball called the sun. Maybe my drive isn’t so boring.

When I feel bored, I remind myself that it is not the world’s fault. It’s mine. I’m the boring one. And so I must take my eyes off my boring self and put it on the wonders around me – the glory of Christ, the beauties of his creation, and the joys of fellowship. That’s why I don’t say I’m bored.

People our outlandish enough to imagine that heaven itself  is boring. No, but perhaps heaven is bored with you. It would seem justified to think so. But, in fact, heaven is not bored with us at all. Jesus Christ, on the cross, is the only proof we need of that fact. And if God can get excited, if he can care so greatly, for your boring little existence, how excited should you be? Heaven came down to raise you up. Will you hem and haw and sigh along as if there were nothing outside yourself.