For the invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and Godhead; so that they are without excuse. Romans 1:20
His Name . . .the note in my ear . . .the taste on my tongue . . .of the Holy.
Today, February 25, 2019 in congressional chambers of the United States of America, a majority of senators voted down the Born-Alive Abortion Survivors Protection Act which would have required that “any health care practitioner present” at the time of a birth exercise the same degree of professional skill, care and diligence to preserve the life and health of the child as a reasonably diligent and conscientious health care practitioner would render to any other child born alive at the same gestational age.”
In essence, as I understand this, our country has now officially embraced infanticide. I’m stunned at what is happening to our country.
Frequently through my life-time, with my family and friends, I’ve discussed the grandeur and exceptionalism of America and how blessed we are to live here. Inevitably such conversation leads to the humble conclusion that the reason for this distinction is: 1. Our country was founded on Judeo/Christian values, and 2. Because we honor Israel. (We pray for that country as the Bible instructs us to do.)
Now, I tremble to consider that our country is slaughtering babies by the multiplied tens of thousands. How, tell me how, can God’s hand continue to be on us?
God help us. God cause us to turn. Forgive our iniquities. Cause our country once again to walk in the way He orders.
The steps of a good man are ordered by the LORD: and he delighteth in his way. Psalm 37:23 _______
I read once–don’t recall where–of researchers who in cooperation with the US Navy researched the effect of the voice as orders were given to the sailors. The results overwhelmingly showed the way a person is addressed determines largely how he responds.
If the orders were spoken softly, he would answer in a similar way. Same for shouts: Shouted at, he answered in the same rough way. It was also interesting that the results were much the same whether the communication came face-to-face or by telephone.
I’m attracted to people who are polite, kind and thoughtful. Not surprising, for the Bible tells us to be courteous, to care about each other, to be humble-minded, and to prefer each other. Kind of a neat way to live, huh?
Finally, be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of another, love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous. I Peter 3:8
Edit: Just read on Facebook where Pastor James Groce posted this:
Rudeness is a weak man’s imitation of strength. – Eric Hoffer
“Mom, you need to call Marcine. She’s in some kind of trouble.” I recognized it to be Michael who had left the message on my phone. I promptly called the woman. (Marcine is a pseudonym.)
She was crying so that I could hardly understand her. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong, Marcine?”
I could not understand her words, and pressed her to speak more plainly. “Tell me. Tell me what is wrong.”
At last I could understand her and knew what needed to be done. We worked through the necessary details so that finally we were all at the church–Jerry, Marcine and I. She sobbed and trembled as she told us the story, a story whose details I cannot divulge, but whose details really do not matter, and whose knowing or not knowing changes not at all the impact of the tale. For the story is identical. The story is unchanged. The story is of sin and fallen man and wretched ugliness; the ugliness of sin; the hopelessness of life without Jesus Christ.
We sat in the lobby of the church as she sobbed and eked out the words–words which later we found to be lacking in veracity and completeness. “I need a cigarette,” at one point she said.
“Well you know we can’t help you with that, Marcine,” I said.
“I know. I know…I have one cigarette; the rest are at the house. I”ll smoke half of it.” We watched as from her purse she drew a leather holder, clicked it open and removed the single cigarette. Through the glass that stretches across the front of the church we saw her walk across the blacktop area, and respecting our plea with our CIP students not to smoke on our property, she trudged into the rocky lot next to ours. She slumped, then sat flat among the scattered stone and sand. She lighted half a cigarette. My aching heart bled.
We took her into the sanctuary after she had smoked, seating her on the edge of the platform; she wept and sobbed. Gently we talked with her; inquired and soothed, then I knelt beside her and grasped her hand as she bent forward into a position of black despair.
“Do you know how to pray, Marcine?” Jerry asked.
“Yes.” And so…we prayed and wept and mourned.
Later she called her probation officer, who advised her to call the police and surrender herself. Marcine wanted to do it at home, but just as she positioned herself in her
friend’s car for the ride home, two police cars pulled onto our parking lot…and then after more weeping and hugging and whispering words of courage into her ears, the officers handcuffed her and led her away.
I’ve written before, and no doubt will do so again, concerning the ghastly and mistaken thought that serving God and abiding by His law is a form of bondage. Bondage, you say? Bondage it is to live in a holy and godly way? Bondage to refrain from stealing and promiscuity and drunken brawls and hideous addiction? Bondage, you claim? Bondage to dress in a modest way, to erect a family altar, to read often the Word of God? Bondage to attend church, to give generously, to minister to the less fortunate, to be kind and caring? This is bondage? No friend, let me tell you of bondage.
“I wonder if they might have a cigarette,” Marcine said at one point yesterday, as she stood looking across the street where two men stood on a parking lot.
“They tried to force me to join a gang,” Eric told my husband a few minutes ago. Eric received the Holy Ghost four weeks ago, and the next day had to go to jail. He was released only yesterday.
“There was every kind of drug you can imagine in the jail,” Eric continued.
“How do they get it in there?” Jerry asked.
“Pastor…by hiding it in body orifices.”
“The gang leaders tried to force me to shave my head,” Eric said.
“We were introduced to hard drugs by our parents,” the trio told Michael. One at 12, one at 13, one at 14.
“My mother left us when I was a child to go live with a lesbian,” said one of our CIP students who looks about 13, but who is actually 19. “I’ve been to about 30 psychologists and psychiatrists,” he added. He pled with me as I enrolled him some months ago. “I have to smoke marijuana. It’s the only thing that calms me down.”
“Have you been drinking?” Michael asked the student as he attempted to enter the class. “No, but she has,” he said, pointing to his female companion.
“I’m sorry, but she can’t be here,” Michael explained.
“Okay, I understand,” said the student, and he led his staggering friend away and seated her in his truck on the parking lot.
Relapse, jail time again. Prison. Visiting hours, books, magazines.
I sat in a court room and watched one of our students–shackled hand and foot–as she shuffled to her spot.
Excuses, embarrassment, cries, troubled children, community service. High on drugs, dropped from class, re-enrolled. Teeth rotted from methamphetamine. Emergency dental calls. Pain. Disappearance. Broken promises. Fines. Failure to pay. Failure to appear. License revoked. Eight siblings–all different fathers. Violations. Probation officer. Judges.
Chains. Bars. Cigarettes, beer, cheap wine, hard liquor. Stagger. Divorce, mistrust, broken windows, unmarried mother unmarried daughter–both pregnant–due two months apart. Emergency room visits, stomach pumps, prescription pills. Little boy killed by drunk driver, his father and friend nearly killed, still having surgeries, not able to work. Sleep into the afternoon. Violated. Nightmares. Sleeping pills.
Speak not to me of bondage associated with serving Jesus Christ my Lord. Say no such thing to me. For it is only through Jesus that Freedom and Peace can envelop the human soul, can straighten the twisted life, can right dreadful wrongs, and can apply the sweet balm of Gilead.
I’ve told of yesterday’s grisly afternoon at Christ Alive. Compare it please with yesterday’s evening Bible study where we worshipped, prayed for friends and relatives, rejoiced that in the past few hours Eric had been released from jail and that he was eager to be in church Sunday, studied God’s word, sang a great hymn of the Church and laughed; where new converts testified, finally having to declare they just couldn’t explain how wonderful they felt, and where after church we just hung out for awhile, admiring the moon and the beautiful sky…and loving each other.
No. Do not speak of bondage in the same breath with which you speak of God’s church. You have come too late, you have come to the wrong person. Positively I affirm that it is the grip of satan that chains the human soul and that drags him into everlasting, hideous bondage and torment. But in Jesus, my Saviour, my Lord, is absolute and glorious Freedom, whose glittering highway leads into Life everlasting, where we will forever to be in the presence of God.
A couple of hours ago in the library checkout line, I stood behind a cheerful looking group consisting of two fairly young, attractive women, with five well-dressed children–children ranging from 5 or 6 to 10 years old, I would say. The women were conversing as I joined the line.
“Well, did you get remarried,” said one lady to the other.
“Uhh, no. I didn’t. But we have two kids together.”She waved a hand toward a couple of the youngsters.
“Same with me. We have three. I’ll never get married again.”
It made me sad.
It made me sad because of the children. It made me sad because of their daddies. It made me sad because of their mommies. It made me sad because of their pappys and of their grannys. It made me sad because of our country. It made me sad because of our world. It made me sad because of God’s Word.
I just called Misty to be sure what I heard was accurate…and it is. Dustin is to be released from the hospital this week–probably by Friday! It seems unbelievable to me, given the severe and extensive injuries he sustained a mere eight days ago. Just last Sunday when we visited him, he didn’t even open his eyes, although I know he had done so at other times. Now, he is fully aware, and scheduled to be released by the weekend.
Why should I be shocked? Have we not been praying? Have not people told us they were fasting for these families? Have not thousands of people joined in extreme and faithful prayer? Yes! Why then am I shocked? Why are you shocked?
I remind myself of that long-ago day recorded in the 12th chapter of Acts after Herod had killed James and had thrown Peter into jail. A bunch of Christians gathered over at Mary’s house for a prayer meeting; after all Peter was their leader, and here he was, a prisoner. Time for a prayer meeting. Time to pray Peter out of jail.
Meanwhile, there were rumblings over at the city jail. An angel flitted into Peter’s cell, poked him in the side, and said, Get up. Uh, get up? Yes, get up, Peter. Put on your shoes and socks, throw something about you, and follow me.
Peter did as he was told, not understanding, thinking perhaps he was dreaming, but the chains had fallen off his hands as he first arose; would that be in a dream? Quietly they crept–the angel and the man–past the first ward, past the second ward, then to the iron city gate which opened of its own accord, and finally through one city street.
The angel left Peter then. Poof. Disappeared. Peter was now standing in the dark of night–an escaped prisoner, startled and bewildered at what had just happened. Finally his senses kicked in, and he said, “…The Lord hath delivered me…” Think I’ll go over to Mary’s house.
Peter’s banging on the door interrupted the prayer meeting, and somebody sent Rhoda to see what was going on. She must have asked, “Who’s there?” for verse 14 says, “And when she knew Peter’s voice, she opened not the gate for gladness, but ran in, and told how Peter stood before the gate.”
You’re mad, Rhoda. Can’t be Peter. He’s in jail, remember.
“It’s Peter, I tell you,” Rhoda insisted.
“Rhoda, there’s something wrong with you.”
“No, there’s not. Peter is standing at the gate, I tell you.”
Finally they all went to the door–all the unbelieving prayer meeting buddies–and sure enough, there stood Peter. They must have yelled out in astonishment when they saw him, for Peter “beckoning unto them with the hand to hold their peace, declared unto them how the Lord had brought him out of the prison…”
I feel like one of Peter’s unbelieving prayer meeting buddies today. But the news is real, it’s true. In an astonishing way, Dustin has been touched by God, and is scheduled to be released from the hospital by Friday.
Given its title, I suspect the thrust of this post could be misconstrued, and readers might conclude this to be an apologetic for belief in a Supreme Being. That would be a timely and worthy subject, but is not the one for this piece today. Lengthy shelves that stretch into expansive rooms have long been filled with volumes so written, coupled with writings of repudiation in equal number.
My piece today—my 1000th post here—may be rightly considered a corollary to that subject, but is conclusive and not open to valid rejection for it is an essay that goes to the feelings of my heart and of my soul. Though I am not a student of psychology, it seems logical to conclude that there could be no debate of the accuracy of this piece, for my discussion is not centered on the logic of my feelings, but merely is a reporting of them. Of course, one may conclude my feelings to be misplaced, and argue that my mind (or my heart) has led me to illogical conclusions, but none should be able to make the case that my feelings are not mine.
With joyous beat, I have passed the scalding intersection of the great question– Is there a God? I’m not here to proof text but to tell you why I’m glad I believe in God and in His word. Multiplied reasons occupy my brain, my heart, and my soul: I’ve selected a few for this discussion.
· It is logical to believe in God.
I prefer to hold opinions that stand up to reason. While I respect the intellect of many atheists, none can explain beginning, so no matter which brand of the evolutionary theory we’re hearing, the hard bump of beginning is always there. I don’t understand beginning either, and my finite mind cannot wrap around eternity which has no beginning and no ending. I can’t grasp that. That’s why logic screams: It’s God, the supernatural Creator, the One who extends beyond explanation or understanding, and who takes my hand when I’m walking these labyrinths, and who says, “Believe, believe in Me, for I am supernatural; I have no beginning and no ending.” My belief is logical.
· Believing gives me hope of Heaven.
It matters not whether I am right, for I am discussing the benefits and joy of the belief. God’s word promises me a better life than this; one where there is no pain, no sorrow, confusion, sickness, or casting about in despair. No death. This belief in a future Heaven gives me comfort in this, my present.
· Belief in God connects me with people who live exceptional moral lives.
My life is centered on God and His people. Because of the nature of my life’s work, my years have set me in close relationships with people of superior moral values.
I’m not at all an elitist, though, and through Jerry’s ministry and my own contributions to the church, we have cheerfully worked with many classes of people—from those who are homeless, to the very wealthy—from those who admit to being deep in sin, to others who, like me, are striving to be righteous. But my overarching, deep relationships are those with persons of high moral values.
· The Bible is the best-selling book in the world.
It’s gratifying that millions of other people agree with me about the value in God’s immutable word.
· It is intriguing to see Biblical prophesies fulfilled in the daily newspaper.
· Believing the Bible causes me to adhere to the plan of salvation for this dispensation.
I’m glad I know to repent, to be baptized in Jesus’ name and to be filled with the Holy Ghost. If I did not believe in God and His holy word, I would not possess this amazing gift.
· I can howl into the night with pain and believe I am being heard.
It would be ghastly to think my screams go unnoted, and that they merely ricochet through eons of hopeless emptiness.
· Although God is righteous, I’m glad I understand Him to be patient.
To Judas, “Here, dip with me.”
· Believing in God reveals that I am more than a body.
My housing is dissolving, growing old, breaking apart. I’m glad I understand that I am an ever-living, never dying soul.
· It brings me untold joy to believe the stories in the Bible are true.
I’m glad Daniel really slept with lions, Noah actually built that monstrous boat, and that all those animals marched in. I’m glad I believe Jesus made a mud-ball and stuck it in the socket of a blind man, who could then see!…and that He raised up dead people, and took a picnic lunch from that little boy and then fed thousands of people.
It makes me happy to believe Peter got out of his boat and walked on water and Jonah got swallowed up by a fish, and then, incredibly, grew angry at the people to whom he took the message of repentance.
I’m glad I believe those stories to be true and that I’ve whispered them in the ears of my babies, and have told my sons, “Be brave as those Hebrews who were pitched into flames,” and to my daughter, “Be as Esther, Rebecca. Say with her as you do the will of God, ‘If I perish, I perish.’”
I’m finding this much too long for one post. Will write part 2 for tomorrow
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My devotional blog is here.
“Howl, ye shepherds, and cry; and wallow yourselves in the ashes, ye principal of the flock: for the days of your slaughter and of your dispersions are accomplished; and ye shall fall like a pleasant vessel.”
“The Lord has just ground of controversy with every nation and every person; and he will execute judgment on all the wicked. Who can avoid trembling when God speaks in displeasure? The days are fully come; the time fixed in the Divine counsels, which will make the nations wholly desolate. The tender and delicate shall share the common calamity. Even those who used to live in peace, and did nothing to provoke, shall not escape. Blessed be God, there is a peaceable habitation above, for all the sons of peace. The Lord will preserve his church and all believers in all changes; for nothing can separate them from his love.” From a Matthew Henry commentary on Jeremiah 25:30-38
Rarely, if ever, have I printed an article in its entirety, but the following resonates with me to such degree that I’m printing every word of this lengthy AP article. With a dateline of Saturday, June 21, this riveting abstract is written by Alan Fram and Eileen Putman
WASHINGTON – Is everything spinning out of control?
Midwestern levees are bursting. Polar bears are adrift. Gas prices are skyrocketing. Home values are abysmal. Air fares, college tuition and health care border on unaffordable. Wars without end rage in Iraq, Afghanistan and against terrorism.
Horatio Alger, twist in your grave.
The can-do, bootstrap approach embedded in the American psyche is under assault. Eroding it is a dour powerlessness that is chipping away at the country’s sturdy conviction that destiny can be commanded with sheer courage and perseverance.
The sense of helplessness is even reflected in this year’s presidential election. Each contender offers a sense of order — and hope. Republican John McCain promises an experienced hand in a frightening time. Democrat Barack Obama promises bright and shiny change, and his large crowds believe his exhortation, “Yes, we can.”
Even so, a battered public seems discouraged by the onslaught of dispiriting things. An Associated Press-Ipsos poll says a barrel-scraping 17 percent of people surveyed believe the country is moving in the right direction. That is the lowest reading since the survey began in 2003.
An ABC News-Washington Post survey put that figure at 14 percent, tying the low in more than three decades of taking soundings on the national mood.
“It is pretty scary,” said Charles Truxal, 64, a retired corporate manager in Rochester, Minn. “People are thinking things are going to get better, and they haven’t been. And then you go hide in your basement because tornadoes are coming through. If you think about things, you have very little power to make it change.”
Recent natural disasters around the world dwarf anything afflicting the U.S. Consider that more than 69,000 people died in the China earthquake, and that 78,000 were killed and 56,000 missing from the Myanmar cyclone.
Americans need do no more than check the weather, look in their wallets or turn on the news for their daily reality check on a world gone haywire.
Floods engulf Midwestern river towns. Is it global warming, the gradual degradation of a planet’s weather that man seems powerless to stop or just a freakish late-spring deluge?
It hardly matters to those in the path. Just ask the people of New Orleans who survived Hurricane Katrina. They are living in a city where, 1,000 days after the storm, entire neighborhoods remain abandoned, a national embarrassment that evokes disbelief from visitors.
Food is becoming scarcer and more expensive on a worldwide scale, due to increased consumption in growing countries such as China and India and rising fuel costs. That can-do solution to energy needs — turning corn into fuel — is sapping fields of plenty once devoted to crops that people need to eat. Shortages have sparked riots. In the U.S., rice prices tripled and some stores rationed the staple.
Residents of the nation’s capital and its suburbs repeatedly lose power for extended periods as mere thunderstorms rumble through. In California, leaders warn people to use less water in the unrelenting drought.
Want to get away from it all? The weak U.S. dollar makes travel abroad forbiddingly expensive. To add insult to injury, some airlines now charge to check luggage.
Want to escape on the couch? A writers’ strike halted favorite TV shows for half a season. The newspaper on the table may soon be a relic of the Internet age. Just as video stores are falling by the wayside as people get their movies online or in the mail.
But there’s always sports, right?
The moorings seem to be coming loose here, too.
Baseball stars Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens stand accused of enhancing their heroics with drugs. Basketball referees are suspected of cheating.
Stay tuned for less than pristine tales from the drug-addled Tour de France and who knows what from the Summer Olympics.
It’s not the first time Americans have felt a loss of control.
Alger, the dime-novel author whose heroes overcame adversity to gain riches and fame, played to similar anxieties when the U.S. was becoming an industrial society in the late 1800s.
American University historian Allan J. Lichtman notes that the U.S. has endured comparable periods and worse, including the economic stagflation (stagnant growth combined with inflation) and Iran hostage crisis of 1980; the dawn of the Cold War, the Korean War and the hysterical hunts for domestic Communists in the late 1940s and early 1950s; and the Depression of the 1930s.
“All those periods were followed by much more optimistic periods in which the American people had their confidence restored,” he said. “Of course, that doesn’t mean it will happen again.”
Each period also was followed by a change in the party controlling the White House.
This period has seen intense interest in the presidential primaries, especially the Democrats’ five-month duel between Obama and Hillary Rodham Clinton. Records were shattered by voters showing up at polling places, yearning for a voice in who will next guide the country as it confronts the uncontrollable.
Never mind that their views of their current leaders are near rock bottom, reflecting a frustration with Washington’s inability to solve anything. President Bush barely gets the approval of three in 10 people, and it’s even worse for the Democratic-led Congress.
Why the vulnerability? After all, this is the 21st century, not a more primitive past when little in life was assured. Surely people know how to fix problems now.
Maybe. And maybe this is what the 21st century will be about — a great unraveling of some things long taken for granted.
Having brought about this gripping secular viewpoint of our times, I wish now to apprise you of a prophetic biblical perspective. In the July issue of the Pentecostal Herald, Rev. Irvin Baxter, Jr writes a compelling article in which he cites four major biblical prophecies pointing to the end of this age that are being fulfilled now.
He lays as foundation that there has been one other time like this in history…just before the first coming of Jesus to earth. That generation had at least 100 specific prophecies concerning the first coming. The Old Testament foretold Messiah would be born in Bethlehem, would come from the tribe of Judah, from the lineage of King David. The method of His death was foretold, the exact amount for which the Messiah would be betrayed, and that the betrayal money would be used to purchase a potter’s field.
Rev. Baxter challenges us:
“…most people on earth at the time missed the coming of their long-awaited Messiah…It is our generation’s turn now. We stand just before the promised second coming of Jesus to the earth. This time, we do not have only 100 prophecies of His coming. We have closer to 1,000.
Could we possibly live right through the prophetic fulfillments God has given us for this time and not recognize the signs of His coming and the end of the age?”
He goes on to list four prophecies that he feels are being fulfilled at this moment.
1. Rebirth of the Holy Roman Empire
“Ratification of the Lisbon Treaty will solidify the rebirth of the Holy Roman Empire. It provides for Europe to have its own president and its own foreign minister. For all practical purposes, it creates a United States of Europe. Circumstances look favorable for the Lisbon Treaty’s ratification.
Will the rebirth of the Holy Roman Empire be finalized in 2008? It certainly looks like it! If so, a European president could be elected in 2009.”
2. President Bush predicts Middle East peace in 2008
“The prophecy states that a Middle East peace agreement, which establishes internationally recognized borders between Israel and the Palestinians will mark the beginning of the final seven years to Armageddon.
…Palestinian President Abbas speaks of signing a peace agreement. Are negotiators actually nearing a peace agreement?
3. Implementation of a national ID in 2008?
“Is the Real ID the mark of the beast? No, not now, but I believe it is the mechanism that will ultimately be used to implement the mark of the beast once the Antichrist takes power.”
4. World War III in 2008?
“The most ominous prophecy in the entire Bible has been tucked away in Revelation 9:13-16. It says, “the four angels were loosed…to slay the third part of men.”
Two billion human beings will be wiped off the face of the earth in one single war. The war will start from the Euphrates River and will feature an army of 200 million soldiers.
When America launched its invasion of Iraq in 2003, almost no one noticed (that) from the north in Iraq to the south flowed the prophesied Euphrates Rivers. When pictures of U.S. troops fighting up and down the Euphrates began to surface in the news, a sense of unease came over us who are familiar with the prophecies. Could this be the “Two-billion-to-die Euphrates River War?”
Rev. Baxter concludes his article:
“…2008 could be the most important year of prophetic fulfillment since the year of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
Should we totally mobilize to reach the world now? Or should we just wait awhile?”
I’m far from being a scholar of either biblical prophecy or of sociology. I am a Christian and for as long as I can remember the preaching of the second coming of Jesus Christ has pealed in my ears. I’m also an observer and a listener, and I try to be a logical thinker. When I see the utter chaos in our world, and feel the stirring in my spirit, and when I read within a 24 hour period voices from opposite ends of the spectrum that cite impending earth-moving developments, I take notice.
Perhaps you should also.
(I hope I have preserved the integrity of Rev. Baxter’s article, despite heavy cutting. You might want to visit his site for more information. Rev. Baxter also has been a guest on George Norry’s Coast to Coast, where his interviews may be heard.)
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My devotional blog is here.
How is it that persons given identical sets of facts frequently come to contrary conclusions? In recent months I have considered this notion and in some of my writings here, in a collateral way, have marked my observations. The enigma is observable in every class, rank and collection of people. I’ve seen it to hold in families, in churches, and in politics. As recently as last week, we saw a striking example in our country when our Supreme Court Justices ruled 5 to 4 on an issue. How can that be? Why is that so?
For the sake of this conversation, I want to rule out the possibility of dishonesty and “agenda,” for although I’m not quite naive enough to disallow for such happenings among us, I believe the issue I’m raising exists outside such considerations. Think about this; approximately half of Americans are Republicans; the other half Democrats. Ministers reading the same Bible as their colleagues strongly avow the use of fermented wine for communion; others believe that to be a sin. Some ministers take a literal conservative view of the Bible; others, reading the same Holy Writ plead for liberality. Children reared in the same family, same gene pool, same parental guidelines take wildly divergent paths in the world–some pressing for bigger government with more power; others wanting minimal government invasion into private lives.
Think about abortion. Given the same set of facts, honest people divide into two groups. Standing on what each proclaims as reasonable grounds, one set votes for the rights of the mother; the other for the life of the unborn.
A piece by Paul Martin Lester notes a national survey of photographers, in which a question was posed as to the ethics of a particular situation. Given the same set of facts 38 percent said the response at question was ethical; 34 percent called the action unethical.
In an article in which Ann Morning wrote concerning the definition of the term “race,” she observed that after interviewing over 40 university professors in biology and anthropology, she found their views to vary widely.
Almost 40 percent of these academics took what can be called an “essentialist” view: they described races as groups of people who share certain innate, inherited biological traits. In contrast, over 60 percent held a “constructionist” perspective: they argued that races do not correspond to patterns of human biological variation, but rather that racial groupings are “constructed” through social processes that take place in particular historical, political and economic contexts. In other words, the jury was out on the scientific nature of race.
She goes on to ask,
With a commonly-accepted set of facts, why did they arrive at different opinions about whether the groupings we call races actually exist “in nature,” independent of our study of them, or whether these groups are ones that we humans construct, guided by our cultural presuppositions, and then impose like an artificial grid on the fuzzy reality of human diversity?
What is it that causes this phenomenon? Perhaps a difference in values is the mainspring, yet that leaves unexplained that children from the same families vary distinctly in their views, and should we consider it to be the gene pool and inherent tendencies we are against the same wall. Levels of education seem not to scribe a defining line, nor do church denominations or the area of the country–with some modest exceptions.
Ideas out there? I’m interested in hearing them.
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My devotional blog is here.
For his 80th birthday, which proved to be mere months before his death, I threw a big party for my dad. Did all the planning long distance (with the help of some of my family) for I lived in California and the party was at a hotel in Springfield. Dapper, yet, wasn’t he. I bought all his clothes for that day, including a pair of silk shorts which I laughingly presented. At the party, I quizzed whether or not he was wearing his silk underwear.
His eyes crinkled in their usual way. “Shirley, I couldn’t wear those things.”
Years ago, his body was laid to rest in Greenlawn Cemetery in Springfield, Missouri. He awaits now the resurrection.
I honor my dad on this Father’s Day.
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My devotional blog is here.
Shirley Buxton 