Monday, January 29th, 2018
Naturally, since there was plenty to do on Monday to prepare for class, we all decided it'd be a great idea to go on a hike. And so we did. Isaac and I carpooled down to Brooke and Anna's house, getting there at the same time as Benjamin, and we went inside where Sara, Brooke's friend from Spokane, was all set and ready to go. Soon Brooke and Anna were ready as well, and then we made a quick decision as to where we should go on our hike. Now, most people would have had figured this out the night before like sensible people, but, being the people we are, we just rolled with it.
Soon we had a two-car convoy heading north out of town. After the hike Sara would drive off to Spokane for her classes and the five of us would all go back to Moscow in Brooke's car. Soon enough we arrived at Kamiak Butte. The cool, crisp morning air alivened our metabolisms and spurred us on to good and noble thoughts. We got on the trail and walked. Now, hiking up a fun new trail with five other people is always a delight. If one has ever been so fortunate as to have experienced this or something like it before, you'll know what I'm talking about. At first everybody stays in a clump and all laugh and joke together, and then as the path twists and winds ever upward, people break into smaller clusters and talk amongst themselves. Let's jump into a few hiking stereotypes now.
1. The Joker. This is the guy who makes a joke or funny insult and tells it loud enough so that everybody in the line of hikers can hear it. Never forget to bring along one of these guys.
2. The Aww-Look-At-That-Pretty-View Guy. This person stops at every rock outcropping and overlook to take in the scenery and revel in the beauty of the hike. They'll notice cool things and stop a minute to inspect it some. Without this person, you'll miss lots of the natural beauty along the way.
3. The Let's-Get-There-ASAP Guy. This person strikes off at a lively gait and doesn't stop and wait for anyone who pauses to look at something. Usually when they're about at least a half-football length ahead of you they'll holler for the rest the hurry up. This is also the guy who makes sure everybody finishes the hike on time so you can get to class later that day.
4. The Lagger. This guy likes to go at a leisurely pace and isn't in a hurry. They usually end up at the rear of the group and routinely get left behind, prompting periodical times of sprinting to catch up. The fast overly-zealous people at the front secretly like having a Lagger in the group so they can take a good breather while they wait for them to catch up.
5. The Converser. This is the guy who tries to make sure to have at least a ten minute conversation with everybody in the group before the hike ends. Something about the fresh air makes them wax philosophical, and they really make the distance go by quickly as you forget about the walking while you're going along with him and talking. Would definitely recommend having one of these guys along, especially on a long hike.
6. The Squirrel. This person gets distracted rather easily and runs off into the bushes at the first sight of some fun log, clump of moss, or patch of snow. They can never decide where in the line of hikers they should be and what conversation, if any, they should be a part of, and constantly run forward and back between all the people. Though slightly annoying, they always try to make sure everybody has fun along the way.
By and by we made it to the ridge and looked out across the palouse. It was rather pretty, though somewhat overcast. We continued along the ridge till we got to the other end where we started our descent along the now-narrow path. This side of the ridge had much thicker ice patches, which forced us to slow down and tread carefully lest we slip and break a hip or something. The ice also, heh heh, afforded me some little reprieve from the lack of winter-weather-fun. There was this particular stretch of solid ice longer than the rest, where partway down was a rock embedded in the path. This rock covered the width of the trail and had no ice on it, but beyond the rock the ice continued on for another ten feet or so before it came to another similar rock, except on the other side of this one was an eighteen-inch drop and then the slick icy patch carried on for another thirty odd feet or so. It was one long icy boi.
So I got a good running start and got some good speed sliding on the ice right off the bat. It seemed to me I picked up a little more speed as I went down the slight incline, and as I approached the first rock I prepared to jump. Since there was no ice on the rock I'd need to jump it in order to keep going, for stopping wasn't an option at this point and not-jumping would surely send me sprawling out on the path ahead. I cleared the first rock, jumped over the second rock, and landed on the ice below and kept on sliding. It went perfectly without a hitch! It was so much fun I decided to run up and do it again.
On the second go, things got interesting. I sloppily cleared the first rock, but didn't have time to regain my footing before the second one, and my attempt at jumping over that one ended up with me falling really hard on the far side of the rock. My right knee took the brunt of it as I continued to fall onto the ice below the rock on the other side. As I rolled toward the edge of the trail and started to go over, I nervously glanced at my jeans where my knee should have been: Yes, it was just as I feared; there was a hole. Not in my knee, only blood there, but a hole in my jeans. This was a good pair I'd only a few months back had repaired! Ughh. I grabbed a bush on my way down the hillside, checking my fall having only gone off the trail maybe a yard or so. As I got to my feet, the pain started to kick in. Once I was back on the trail again, I leaned against something and rested my leg for a second. Oh boy, this was going to be fun alright.
After that I continued on with a good limp, being sure to be extra cautious and slow on the ice. No more fun and games for me. A little further on, Sara slipped and twisted her ankle, and so now there were two fairly disabled people in the group. Isaac and Benjamin each took a shoulder as they helped her along, and so we continued on. There was still a little slipping and sliding, but we helped catch each other from our imminent falls and nobody else got hurt. Eventually Benjamin ran on ahead and scouted it out to see how much further it was, and Sara's ankle started to feel a little better and she could walk slowly by herself.
A good bit further on, we eventually made it to the second parking lot, where Benjamin met us with one of the cars that was originally parked in the lower lot. We piled in, and it was then that I found out that bending my knee into a sitting position was really quite painful. Anna hopped in the back of Brooke's car so I could have room to sit without bending my knee at all. The two other girls sat up front while Isaac and Ben rode on the bumper down to the lower parking lot.
And so it was we all hobbled back to Moscow. Issac and Anna may have missed their Spencer class and Sara her whole first day of classes, but we sure did have a good adventure along the way. Enjoy it as it comes I always say. Later that day found me laying on our comfy orange couch, buried chin-deep in warm blankets with my leg elevated and two pillows at my back, reading Bede's Ecclesiastical History. I sure am blessed to live such a life; despite hurting my knee and making it slow to amble around, I can still get work done and succeed in my calling, which, at this point of my life, is school. Not everyone gets to attend such a wonderful college; it really is a wonderful thing to be thankful for.
Not long after that my eyes grew quite heavy, my Bede slipped to the floor, and sleep encompassed me as I drifted off for what would become a three hour nap. What a glorious day.
Wednesday, January 31, 2018
Friday, January 19, 2018
Excuses
[Notice: this post has almost nothing of substance within to read and is all just me merely talking about writing and not actually writing... if that makes sense. At any rate, there's nothing remotely interesting here, so I wouldn't blame you at all for not reading this.]
But let's crack on with it anyways.
Wow. I know it's kinda cliche to say, but my life has been so busy lately, with hardly any time for writing. Then when I finally do have time, I can't find the will to write, and when I have both of these, I sometimes can't figure out what I should write in the first place. And then I'll finally write something, but only half finish it and leave it as a draft and never publish it and never come back to finish it. Hahae, it's a vicious cycle! Oh well. Nothing to do but mush on I suppose. Perhaps as I catch up on my reading and get school matters more under control I'll be able to pick back up and write more, but for now there will probably be a much slower pace of writing. But who knows, we'll see. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that life is like a pitch: you never know if it'll be a curve-ball.
But let's crack on with it anyways.
Wow. I know it's kinda cliche to say, but my life has been so busy lately, with hardly any time for writing. Then when I finally do have time, I can't find the will to write, and when I have both of these, I sometimes can't figure out what I should write in the first place. And then I'll finally write something, but only half finish it and leave it as a draft and never publish it and never come back to finish it. Hahae, it's a vicious cycle! Oh well. Nothing to do but mush on I suppose. Perhaps as I catch up on my reading and get school matters more under control I'll be able to pick back up and write more, but for now there will probably be a much slower pace of writing. But who knows, we'll see. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that life is like a pitch: you never know if it'll be a curve-ball.
Wednesday, January 17, 2018
Carnage At The Warehouse
Loud noises. Screaming. People running. A velociraptor jumped and pulled down his prey. People kept running. Shots rang out, buildings burned, terror on every side. There was nothing I could do but run. I turned a corner and saw a barricade, hope swelled up in me, maybe I could make it. Sprinting across the filthy street, I ran for the barricade as fast as I could go. Just then, another velociraptor rounded the corner chasing after me. I heard its vicious breaths and could almost feel his jaws piercing my flesh when one of the soldiers pulled his rifle up and fired three times. I made it, I was alive.
I soon found out that these people, the ones manning the barricades, were beset on all sides. Not only did they need to pay close attention for any vicious beasts charging them, or brigands and outlaws trying to plunder their stores, but they even needed to keep order within the barricade. At least a hundred people inside were violently protesting, shouting out that the end had come, that resistance was futile, and that they had better destroy themselves rather then try to prolong their miserable lives. Amidst this conflict the defenders of the barricade were sorely pressed, being barraged with constant cries of doom and hopelessness on the one side, while still defending with their own lives the ones who had lost the will to live. I didn't know what to do. Should I grab a rifle and help stave off the attacks, or try and calm the people and convince them all hope was not lost? Another thought struck me: What were they all doing with those bright cheerful balloons? While many still wailed and cried about their inevitable doom, others, set with grim faces as if going about serious work, were vigorously pumping up more and more balloons and handing them out to the crowd. I didn't know what to make of this at first. Now every one of their number had two or three balloons. What were they going to... No! I ran toward them, screaming for them to stop, but it was too late. In unison, they let loose all the balloons. I stopped dead in my tracks, a lump forming in my throat. Why were they trying to attract the attention of that behemoth? This was madness! Not far off a penetrating screech rung out, and a monster of a pterodactyl dropped like lightning from the sky in a dive just as quick. Its sharp beak and piercing talons grabbed as many people as they could, either crushing them to death or flinging them high in the air to fall to their demise. And then it swooped back down for more. The crowd of people didn't even try to escape, though the defenders of the barricade scrambled like mad to get to cover. I came back to my senses and made a dash for an old warehouse with a second floor. Meanwhile, velociraptors joined in on the growing carnage outside, chasing down the fleeing defenders and mercilessly slaughtering them as fast as they could.
I opened the door to the warehouse, but to my dismay, the whole bottom floor was unsafe from the pterodactyl. Two large bay doors were left open on the one side, and the entire wall just opposite me had been destroyed by something or other, leaving it wide open to the outside. I turned to an old staircase and ran up the stairs three at a time. Looking around, I figured this would do fine. I hunkered down in a corner and waited. A couple minutes passed. The commotion outside quieted, then fell silent all together. No more screaming. Then, as my ears adjusted to the silence, I made out another sound; that of raw flesh being torn out and devoured in juicy, sloppy bites by hungry beasts. It was sickening. I shuddered. Pterodactyls have a wonderful memory, and this is why, after everything had been eaten and the velociraptors went off to find more to satisfy their insatiable desire for food, the pterodactyl took to the sky once more and circled the building a few times. "No! He must have seen me go inside!" I thought to myself. For a brief moment there was silence and I couldn't see where the brute had gotten off to; maybe he'd flown away. I peeked up from my hiding place just in time to see the pterodactyl diving straight for the half-frosted glass window. There was a shattering of glass, shards flew everywhere. The pterodactyl extended his talons trying to grab me, but narrowly missed as he flashed on by. He broke through the other window on the opposite side of the room and took to the skies again for another run at me. What was I to do? I had to change places, for he knew my exact location in the building now, and doubtless wouldn't miss a second time. I ran across to the other side of the room and got as close to the wall as I could. Sure enough, a moment later the pterodactyl dove again, with both wings folded above his back to get even more speed, and crashed through some of the thin sheet metal to the left of the window he'd come through the first time, and where I had been just a moment before. He let out an angry screech when his prey alluded him for the second time, and took to the skies once more. Now what to do? I switched sides again and covered myself as best I could with debris and waited. For a third time the beast swooped in, again breaking through the sheet metal on the other side of the room where I'd been a moment before. The building was looking less and less like a building, and more and more like a warzone. The pterodactyl, instead of crashing through the wall on the other side like he had done before, didn't even make it out the building this time. With a bloodcurdling screech it reeled in pain and crashed with a thump on the floor. There was an old rusty pipe protruding through both its wings, pinning them together and preventing the beast from flying. I guess that's what happens when you go crashing through walls; you're gonna hit some plumbing eventually.
Now there was a different problem on my hands. The pterodactyl turned around, still in great pain, and scanned the room. He fixed his eyes on me. Gulp. He stood up on both his legs and started coming for me, his talons slashing about, his sharp beak thirsty for blood. My blood. Could I run? No, the pterodactyl was between me and the staircase. Could I jump? Definitely no, I'd surely impale myself on the wreckage strewn about and around the destitute building. I had to fight. Looking around for a weapon, I grabbed up a broken 2x4. "This isn't going to end well." I thought to myself. Just then, I spotted an old rusty axe laying on the floor. I dropped the board and picked it up. Now I was ready. The beast was almost all the way to me, and I advanced a few more paces to meet him. He slashed one talon at me, I blocked it with the axe, then dodged the next one before jumping up and bringing the axe down full force in the monster's neck. He let out a gurgling scream and raked my back with his talons. I pulled the axe out and jumped back. The pterodactyl fixed me again with his deadly stare and advanced once again. We circled each other for a moment, and simultaneously he lunged with his beak and I swung my axe while jumping back to avoid his lunge. The axe lodged in his neck again, too deep for me to pull out immediately. The beast writhed in pain, and flailed his talons and head around, trying everything he could to hit me. I kept my distance as much as I could, but he was still fast despite his injuries. He managed to push me toward one corner, and I needed to do something quick to avoid the corner, which would spell my doom. All of a sudden I rushed the beast, narrowly avoiding a savage jab from his beak though getting clawed again on the other side of my back, and with all the power in me grabbed the axe handle and pulled up, dislodging it. Now I had my axe again. Blood spurted up from where the axe had been, and the pterodactyl turned around to meet me, talons flailing about in pain. He paused, choking on his own blood, and I rushed in for the kill. With two chops of my axe, the pterodactyl's neck hung on by just a few inches of flesh, and the beast fell down in a crumpled heap, dead. I was exhausted. I dropped to my knees and breathed deeply, the blood dripping from my back reminding me that I was not unscathed.The sky had grown dark, and deep clouds were forming to the north. The sun was setting.
Not two minutes after killing the beast, I saw red dots flying across the broken walls of the warehouse. I looked up, and saw five men dressed in camouflage with tactical rifles and body armor about thirty yards away. Yikes. They didn't look very friendly. I picked up my axe and, crouched over, made my way to the staircase. I descended it, rounded the corner and crossed the street. Just then a shout called out, "Hey! You there! Stop!" I turned into a dark alleyway and ran, just as a few bullets hit the wall behind where I had been standing just a moment before they called out. As I ran through the destitute city, greeted only by mauled corpses and carnage on every side, the sound of chasing boots growing slowly dimmer, I thought to myself, "This is going to be a long night."
I soon found out that these people, the ones manning the barricades, were beset on all sides. Not only did they need to pay close attention for any vicious beasts charging them, or brigands and outlaws trying to plunder their stores, but they even needed to keep order within the barricade. At least a hundred people inside were violently protesting, shouting out that the end had come, that resistance was futile, and that they had better destroy themselves rather then try to prolong their miserable lives. Amidst this conflict the defenders of the barricade were sorely pressed, being barraged with constant cries of doom and hopelessness on the one side, while still defending with their own lives the ones who had lost the will to live. I didn't know what to do. Should I grab a rifle and help stave off the attacks, or try and calm the people and convince them all hope was not lost? Another thought struck me: What were they all doing with those bright cheerful balloons? While many still wailed and cried about their inevitable doom, others, set with grim faces as if going about serious work, were vigorously pumping up more and more balloons and handing them out to the crowd. I didn't know what to make of this at first. Now every one of their number had two or three balloons. What were they going to... No! I ran toward them, screaming for them to stop, but it was too late. In unison, they let loose all the balloons. I stopped dead in my tracks, a lump forming in my throat. Why were they trying to attract the attention of that behemoth? This was madness! Not far off a penetrating screech rung out, and a monster of a pterodactyl dropped like lightning from the sky in a dive just as quick. Its sharp beak and piercing talons grabbed as many people as they could, either crushing them to death or flinging them high in the air to fall to their demise. And then it swooped back down for more. The crowd of people didn't even try to escape, though the defenders of the barricade scrambled like mad to get to cover. I came back to my senses and made a dash for an old warehouse with a second floor. Meanwhile, velociraptors joined in on the growing carnage outside, chasing down the fleeing defenders and mercilessly slaughtering them as fast as they could.
I opened the door to the warehouse, but to my dismay, the whole bottom floor was unsafe from the pterodactyl. Two large bay doors were left open on the one side, and the entire wall just opposite me had been destroyed by something or other, leaving it wide open to the outside. I turned to an old staircase and ran up the stairs three at a time. Looking around, I figured this would do fine. I hunkered down in a corner and waited. A couple minutes passed. The commotion outside quieted, then fell silent all together. No more screaming. Then, as my ears adjusted to the silence, I made out another sound; that of raw flesh being torn out and devoured in juicy, sloppy bites by hungry beasts. It was sickening. I shuddered. Pterodactyls have a wonderful memory, and this is why, after everything had been eaten and the velociraptors went off to find more to satisfy their insatiable desire for food, the pterodactyl took to the sky once more and circled the building a few times. "No! He must have seen me go inside!" I thought to myself. For a brief moment there was silence and I couldn't see where the brute had gotten off to; maybe he'd flown away. I peeked up from my hiding place just in time to see the pterodactyl diving straight for the half-frosted glass window. There was a shattering of glass, shards flew everywhere. The pterodactyl extended his talons trying to grab me, but narrowly missed as he flashed on by. He broke through the other window on the opposite side of the room and took to the skies again for another run at me. What was I to do? I had to change places, for he knew my exact location in the building now, and doubtless wouldn't miss a second time. I ran across to the other side of the room and got as close to the wall as I could. Sure enough, a moment later the pterodactyl dove again, with both wings folded above his back to get even more speed, and crashed through some of the thin sheet metal to the left of the window he'd come through the first time, and where I had been just a moment before. He let out an angry screech when his prey alluded him for the second time, and took to the skies once more. Now what to do? I switched sides again and covered myself as best I could with debris and waited. For a third time the beast swooped in, again breaking through the sheet metal on the other side of the room where I'd been a moment before. The building was looking less and less like a building, and more and more like a warzone. The pterodactyl, instead of crashing through the wall on the other side like he had done before, didn't even make it out the building this time. With a bloodcurdling screech it reeled in pain and crashed with a thump on the floor. There was an old rusty pipe protruding through both its wings, pinning them together and preventing the beast from flying. I guess that's what happens when you go crashing through walls; you're gonna hit some plumbing eventually.
Now there was a different problem on my hands. The pterodactyl turned around, still in great pain, and scanned the room. He fixed his eyes on me. Gulp. He stood up on both his legs and started coming for me, his talons slashing about, his sharp beak thirsty for blood. My blood. Could I run? No, the pterodactyl was between me and the staircase. Could I jump? Definitely no, I'd surely impale myself on the wreckage strewn about and around the destitute building. I had to fight. Looking around for a weapon, I grabbed up a broken 2x4. "This isn't going to end well." I thought to myself. Just then, I spotted an old rusty axe laying on the floor. I dropped the board and picked it up. Now I was ready. The beast was almost all the way to me, and I advanced a few more paces to meet him. He slashed one talon at me, I blocked it with the axe, then dodged the next one before jumping up and bringing the axe down full force in the monster's neck. He let out a gurgling scream and raked my back with his talons. I pulled the axe out and jumped back. The pterodactyl fixed me again with his deadly stare and advanced once again. We circled each other for a moment, and simultaneously he lunged with his beak and I swung my axe while jumping back to avoid his lunge. The axe lodged in his neck again, too deep for me to pull out immediately. The beast writhed in pain, and flailed his talons and head around, trying everything he could to hit me. I kept my distance as much as I could, but he was still fast despite his injuries. He managed to push me toward one corner, and I needed to do something quick to avoid the corner, which would spell my doom. All of a sudden I rushed the beast, narrowly avoiding a savage jab from his beak though getting clawed again on the other side of my back, and with all the power in me grabbed the axe handle and pulled up, dislodging it. Now I had my axe again. Blood spurted up from where the axe had been, and the pterodactyl turned around to meet me, talons flailing about in pain. He paused, choking on his own blood, and I rushed in for the kill. With two chops of my axe, the pterodactyl's neck hung on by just a few inches of flesh, and the beast fell down in a crumpled heap, dead. I was exhausted. I dropped to my knees and breathed deeply, the blood dripping from my back reminding me that I was not unscathed.The sky had grown dark, and deep clouds were forming to the north. The sun was setting.
Not two minutes after killing the beast, I saw red dots flying across the broken walls of the warehouse. I looked up, and saw five men dressed in camouflage with tactical rifles and body armor about thirty yards away. Yikes. They didn't look very friendly. I picked up my axe and, crouched over, made my way to the staircase. I descended it, rounded the corner and crossed the street. Just then a shout called out, "Hey! You there! Stop!" I turned into a dark alleyway and ran, just as a few bullets hit the wall behind where I had been standing just a moment before they called out. As I ran through the destitute city, greeted only by mauled corpses and carnage on every side, the sound of chasing boots growing slowly dimmer, I thought to myself, "This is going to be a long night."
Wednesday, January 10, 2018
Credobaptism?
Should we baptize our infants? This question has
been around a few years, and is right up there with politics on the list of
conversations not to have over Thanksgiving. Sadly, many talks and debates over
this issue never really get beyond Philippian jailors or the historical record,
and just go around in circles, only increasing the tension between the two
views. To answer this question properly we need to dig down to the heart of the
issue, and do our best to refrain from talking about secondary matters. There
are two main points that credobaptists hold to that, if shown to be false, will
inevitably lead to the conclusion that paedobaptism is indeed true.
First, credobaptists say that the way God
operates in the New Testament is fundamentally different. John Piper says this
explicitly when talking on baptism: “…circumcision
and baptism don't have the same role to play in the covenant people of God
because the way God constituted his people in the Old Testament and the way he
is constituting the Church today are fundamentally different.”[1] No longer is there an ethnic people of God united
with an outward sign, circumcision, there is a spiritual people of God, united
through baptism. Just as the outward sign changed, they reason, so the actual
meaning itself changed. In the Old Covenant, circumcision was a sign that you
belonged to the nation of Israel, which did not necessarily correlate with
actually being one of the elect. Now, however, baptism is a sign that you
belong to the spiritual people of God, and are a part of the elect. Since the
meaning has changed, it follows that the practices of inclusion used in the Old
Covenant should not be used in the New. It is hardly feasible that every last
child born into a Christian home will be of Christ, and therefore, they cannot
be baptized as infants. The only problem with their line of reasoning is that
the New Covenant is most definitely a continuation of the Old, with only the
outward visible sign being changed. Paul says in Galatians 3:17(ESV): “This is
what I mean: the law, which came 430 years afterward, does not annul a covenant
previously ratified by God, so as to make the promise void. For if the
inheritance comes by the law, it is no longer comes by promise; but God gave it
to Abraham by a promise.” We can see here that inheritance comes by the
promise. For, as Paul said, if the inheritance came by the law, then it cannot
come by the promise, which is exactly how God gave it to Abraham. Applying this
to the New Covenant, we still see that central to the acquirement of the
inheritance is the promise. Therefore, the previous covenants are not made
void, but rather are upheld by the New; there is continuity between them. We
are not living in fear that God may once again flood the earth, for His covenant
remains sure and has not been changed by the introduction of later covenants;
His promise remains sure.
How exactly is baptism the replacement of
circumcision? For starters, let me point out to you that both play the same
role, officially bringing in a person to the covenant. We see in Gen. 17:7-10
that circumcision brings you into the promise, and Galatians 3:29 tells us the
same thing about baptism: “For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have
put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free,
there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you
are Christ’s, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the
promise.” Baptism is the putting on of Christ, the turning into Abraham’s
offspring, becoming heirs of the promise. As we can see, both circumcision and
baptism play the same roles in relationship to the covenant. What is the
circumcision of Christ, of the New Covenant? It is the circumcision made
without hands, through being buried with Christ in baptism. Baptism circumcises your heart, which is what God has
always ultimately cared about.[2]
Now, however, baptism replaces the need for outward circumcision. We find in
Colossians 2:11-12, “In him also you were circumcised with a circumcision made
without hands, by putting off the body of flesh, by the circumcision of Christ,
having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him
through faith in the powerful working of God who raised him from the dead.” Therefore,
in the New Covenant, baptism is the official initiation into the covenant of
God. “If that is so,” credobaptists will say, “why should the customs of
circumcision carry over to baptism?” For this simple reason: it is still
‘circumcision’, only not outward of the flesh, but a circumcision of the heart.
Calvin says, “We therefore conclude that, apart from the difference in the
visible ceremony, whatever belongs to circumcision pertains likewise to
baptism.”[3]
The only thing that has changed is the outward appearance of the rite.
The second thing that credobaptists erroneously
believe is that faith is necessary to have before baptism. John Piper says: “In every New Testament command and
instance of baptism the requirement of faith precedes baptism. So infants
incapable of faith are not to be baptized.”[4] Baptism is the outward sign of an inward reality,
and since there is no way to know whether an infant believes in Christ or not,
there is no way he can be baptized. They
think this way because they view baptism as only a sign of their faith, and not
as both a sign and seal. Although the examples of baptism in the New Testament
are preceded by believing, this does not necessarily apply in the same way to
infants. John Calvin aptly says, “If any man subtly reasons that infants ought
to be denied food on the pretext that the apostle allows only those who labor
to eat [II Thess. 3:10], does not such a man deserve to be spat upon by all?”[5]
After looking at Thessalonians through Calvin’s eyes, it is obvious that this
verse must be applied differently in regards to different people. So too it is
with baptism. God works through families in both the Old and New Testaments. In
Acts Paul tells us in Acts 2:39, “For the promise is for you and for your
children and for all who are far off, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to
himself.” This sounds an awful lot like the language used in Deut. 7:9 and Ps.
103:17-18, among others. When Paul uses this language, first century Jews would
have immediately been reminded of God’s promise to His people. In the Old
Testament, the Israelites were commanded to circumcise their children on the
eighth day.[6]
From what we see here, inclusion in the covenant isn’t about your faith, it’s
about all that God has done for you. You take and eat the bread and wine, but
you are baptized. Vander Zee had it
right: “Baptism is a sign and seal of what God is doing and has done in Christ
and to the baptized individual, not a sign of that individual’s faith.”[7]
Certainly, not all who are baptized are ultimately going to be of Christ.[8]
However, this is not a strong point to make against paedobaptism, as Israelites
in the Old Testament are constantly abandoning Yahweh. Since we have already shown
the continuity between the Testaments, this poses no setbacks for our
understanding of baptism.
From here it is plain to see that infants should
be included in the promise, since they are included in the promise in the Old
Testament. Therefore, they ought also to receive the sign of that promise, baptism.
God doesn’t want us to raise cute little heathens and then try to convert them
when they are old enough to think for themselves. Rather, we should raise them
in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. They should be able to pray from a
young age, “Our Father, who art in
heaven…”[9]
(Emphasis added.) and we should teach them how to live properly.[10]
This means we should act as though our children are already of the promise,
baptize them, and expect them to show the fruit of that promise. Let us boldly stand
with Joshua and say, “But as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD.”[11]
Bibliography
Calvin,
John, Institutes of the Christian
Religion, Translated by Ford Lewis Battles. Lewisville, KY:
Westminster
John Knox Press, 2011.
Piper,
John, http://www.desiringgod.org/messages/how-do-circumcision-and-baptism-correspond,
accessed December 1, 2016.
Vander
Zee, Leonard J., Christ, Baptism and the
Lord’s Supper: Recovering the Sacraments for Evangelical
Worship.
Downers
Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2004.
Monday, January 1, 2018
#Jex
Everyone seems to like writing about resolutions or giving summaries of the past year on January 1st or maybe even the day before. Now don't get me wrong, these are all good and well and definitely have their place, but today is not that day for me. Maybe sometime later I'll get around to writing about those things. For the moment, I'm just going to write about what's on my mind right now. Check back in a couple weeks and I might have a 'new year' post out. One can never be sure, especially me. Well let's crack on with it, shall we?
But then, jumping back to the present, my mamma came in with her phone and took a picture of Selkie on my lap and started laughing/giggling uncontrollably at the scheme she had in mind. Sure enough, not two minutes later, there was a new post on my wall with the very same picture along with the provocative caption: #jex. I immediately sprung to action and informed the world that it was not my doing and that Selkie had just jumped up there by herself, and I further said how great Jex is and how no mere cat could ever take her place.
It's been a long two weeks since I arrived in Florida, and I've been missing Jex a lot. She's the bestest dog I could ever hope for, and always makes me happy, even when I'm down. At any rate, I'm sad she's not here with me. There are, however, other critters here to keep me company. There's Savannah's dog Jill, as well as Pappy, who has now become the family dog. Jill tolerates me, and is only attentive whenever I happen to have food in my hands. Pappy, on the other hand, is super happy clappy all the time and loves being around me, but he'll never settle down enough to actually let you pet him, and is altogether a different dog ever since he drank a big bowl of bleach water a number of years ago and nearly died. Although he has since healed a little, his demeanor is not what it used to be and it's sad. At any rate, neither dog is a good substitute for Jex. Then, a more recent addition to the animals around the house, are two cats, as well as a kitten. Now I'm not much of a cat person, as some of you may know or at least suspect, and to me they're tolerable at best and incorrigible at worst. Firefly is a good example of the former. She doesn't do much, isn't very pretty, and fairly easily is stirred up to wrath and lashes out or runs off and pouts or sulks. Other times she simply walks about fairly aimlessly completely ignoring everybody and is never excited about being petted. Firefly's kitten hasn't had time to learn these traits yet, so we'll have to suspend judgment on him till a later date. He is kinda cute though, but in all likelihood he'll grow out of it. I don't know, we'll see. Selkie, on the other hand, is a good example of the latter. She is an entirely miserable cat, who never purrs, claws you just for walking within a three-foot radius of her, and would hiss just as soon as breathe. If you like artsy red lines up and down your hands with a possible side of infection, try giving her a pet. She'll slice your hands up like a professional butcher does a raw slab of meat, which is exactly what your arm will be by the time she's through with it.
As you can see, there' no suitable replacement for Jex here. Jex is far too sweet, pretty, obedient, and loving and perfect to be matched, especially by the likes of any mere cat. So here I wait, looking forward to seeing her again in a couple weeks. But then, it happened. I don't know why, but all of a sudden, Selkie decided she liked me. Still not quite sure why, but here's my working theory: Selkie is now in heat. Normally this makes cats incorrigible, as in the case of Firefly, but the truth of the matter is that it makes the cat the opposite or near opposite of what they are at the core of their being. Hence, Firefly becomes more annoying but not enough that normal people can't handle for a couple days. Likewise, since Selkie is normally demon-spawn, she is now almost angelic in her demeanor. She lets anyone pet her, and can even be found purring on occasion. And, for some reason, she now likes me. Whenever I sit down in this one particular chair in the Grand Hall (That's our name for this one room in our house. It's kind of funny because this room is neither grand nor is it a hall. If you want to here about the glorious history of how this room came to have such a name, ask me sometime and I'll tell you.), Selkie always runs up and jumps in my lap and sits down. She thinks it's the best thing in the world. Now, as you already know, I'm not much of a cat person. But at the same time, I am not so cold-hearted as to return evil for good. Here was a cat actually being nice for once in my life, and the little pity I didn't know I possessed in my heart for cats was stirred up. I allowed her to remain on my lap whenever she jumped up, and even petted her from time to time.
A brief hiatus: (this connects back to what we were talking about, so don't worry) A couple months ago Caleb, Brooke, Anna, Lucy and Sarah made a fake instagram account for me. They thought it was hilarious. Sarah convinced me to make my own instagram account because she "thought it would be cool" and that I should just do it, so I suspiciously played along, expecting an ambuscade of some sort. A couple days after making the account and finding nothing had happened, I forgot all about it and moved on with my life. All the while though, they had been posting random pictures of me from a variety of places, and including tons of weird outlandish hashtags. Each one, whether or not she was even in the picture, included #jex. I thought this was funny once they finally got around to showing me the fake account. I was blown away when they did; I'd never suspected them of making a fake account for me. The kicker though is that people actually thought it was me and that I had suddenly taken up a career in instagramming! This made me laugh. Apparently this whole idea was payback for the other day when I scared them half to death, so fair enough, I guess I deserved it. But the point though is how often Jex came up in all the crazy hashtags. This is further evidence (as if yall needed more!) of how much I adore her.
But then, jumping back to the present, my mamma came in with her phone and took a picture of Selkie on my lap and started laughing/giggling uncontrollably at the scheme she had in mind. Sure enough, not two minutes later, there was a new post on my wall with the very same picture along with the provocative caption: #jex. I immediately sprung to action and informed the world that it was not my doing and that Selkie had just jumped up there by herself, and I further said how great Jex is and how no mere cat could ever take her place.
Anyways, several of my friends have been tagging me in dog memes such as "I wish I could text my dog", among others. These all make me long to see her again all the sooner. To top it off, Caleb and Brooke and I did a video call today to catch up, and Brooke went outside and showed me Jex. There she was, happily wagging her tail, then sitting down and hugging Brooke, and occasionally trying to lick her face. I tried to call out to her, as I'd done many times over Freshman year before she was in Idaho with me, but still she couldn't recognize my voice through the speaker, nor could she notice me on the screen. It was a one-way glass window through which I could see, but not touch, hear, but not be heard, knowing the whole time that Jex would never know I was even there, and would in fact be wondering when I was ever coming back. When I left for my first year of college, she got really depressed and would barely eat anything. Her grief could not be quelled, and she would run from one end of the house to my old room and back again. At night she would scratch my parents' door and cry and cry. It was very sad, and there was nothing I could do about it.
At any rate, it's just two more weeks till I go back and see her. I suppose in my fervor to avoid writing a sappy end/start of the year blogpost I've managed instead to write a sappy blogpost about my dog and how great she is... but oh well. That's life I guess.
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