bierkergaard

As I picked up the sticks and branches from the storm the other day, a distant church bell played "A Mighty Fortress is Our God." I strained to hear the notes. At least that is what it sounded like to me. For the purposes of this blog post, let us conclude that it was and move on, for this writing would make no sense if not. Or even less sense than usual. One of the stanzas: A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing; Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing Luther had a robust theology that acknowledged that life in this world is full of the flood of mortal ills prevailing. Having Papist wanting to drown you alive or light you aflame on a stake can do that to a man. These mortal ills prevail in the reality that they happen and are not prevented. God certainly could stay the flood and push the water back unto the skies, yet in His providence He does not. The greatest threat to a humanity's soul health is pride: The belief that we can command th

Two Bison were lost at Hershey Park's Zoo America due to high waters. With the "two by two" species idea and the flooding, it is not hard to draw parallels to Noah. When I arrived back from work on Wednesday through the harsh rains, I put on Facebook that I was in need of some pitch and gopherwood because I was fixing to build an Ark. About an hour later, a friend on Facebook commented that he was already tired of Noah jokes. I wondered if my mine was before he had made that assessment, was causative of that condition, or after. The worst of course being "after"--that my Noah joke had missed getting on the boat--my comment drowned in a Deluge of disenchantment, for several others flooded his post with similar of "tired of Ark jokes" comments. I knew when I posted my comment that I was taking a chance of being trite. I thought the pitch and gopherwood wording from the King James was sufficiently arcane to be amusing and would tow the rest of the joke

Oh yes, I have rain on the brain, rain in the drain. Dr. Seuss could go on but I am out of lines. That is why he was Dr. Seuss and I'm not. I think the themes of the bierkergaard blog for the foreseeable future are going to be water-logged and logs about water. Catching up on reading a couple of missed days of " 365 Days with Calvin " devotional this morning. School was cancelled because of the flooding, so I have some time. If I miss a few days reading the daily entries, which I really should not do, I at least try to go a back and read what I missed. For God could speak through a devotional that I skipped. On September 5, Calvin writes, "Children ought to be like their Father....Christ declares that unless we show kindness to the unworthy, we cannot be children of our Heavenly Father." Calvin is caricatured as being a stern man, unloving and unkind. Bent on preaching predestination and damnation. Yet, in reading his writings, truly he writes from the Scriptur

Today I was high-tailing it out of work after we heard the announcement that the staff was to leave due to flooding. I was pretty much ready to run. Like a sprinter in the blocks. Maybe a pool analogy would be more appropriate. When water is in a glass, it is truly life-giving. When water overwhelms the banks, it is destructive. Odd how that works...the water is friend or foe. This aptly demonstrates that great blessings can be worse curses when unrestrained and undisciplined (sex, food, spirits, and anything else in the created order). Psalm 42:6 Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me.

According to Jonah Lehrer in his book "PROUST Was a Neuroscientist" 90% of taste is actually smell. And don't I know it! For I was napping when Lina came home tonight and since I was racking like a baby out cold, she went downstairs to work-out and then make dinner for both us this evening and tomorrow night for her Girls Book Club. Us men, we just drink beer. No book or food needed to convene. And, cigars of course. I awoke from my slumber to smell a lovely aroma in the air. Spicy dumplings in the far dish, spicy tofu in the closest bowl. Let me tell you, these dishes rocked the house. By filling the house flirtingly with the smells, my stomach soon followed. I often have a hard time getting out of bed post-nap but tonight I staggered to life like a Mummy from the Crypt. And a hungry one at that. I love that my very corporate and modern wife loves to cook and is great at it. Truth be told, she is pretty much great at whatever she puts her time to. It is more of a questio

Lina has been after me for several years to be more thorough in my hand-washing. After my most recent skirmish with a cold in August, I am practically now OCD about hand-washing. Enough is enough. The world is a dirty place and it is good practice to routinely wash the mitts as a way of maintaining cleaner hands. We can go too far the other way (literally, on one hand) and refuse to touch the dirt and there is mounting evidence that the avoidance of dirt and over-use of anti-bacterial soaps are making people less resistant to fighting off disease. Their immune systems turn weak because the presence of germs dictates a bodily response and that reaction builds strength through use. That has been my argument in times past to what I considered excessive washing. I have had to pull it back to the other hand because of getting b-slapped by illness. So, now it is hot water and regular bar soap without the anti-bacterial component every couple of hours in addition to when using the loo.

I have scars on my face from a Job-like bout with cystic acne as an early adult. Finally shut down by the toxic but effective Accutane, the scars are daily reminders of many hard days and nights. I don't particularly like such jarring reminders but what can I do but accept them? The outward scars are visual cues and evidence of my internal soul tumult of trying make sense of suffering in a world that is both beautiful and broken. All suffering is personal and not theoretical. Scarring is both a healing and a deadening of sensation and such a process certainly can lead to a lack of emotional resonance and empathy. Or, it can enhance such identification with the tragedy of others if the Spirit's balm emanates from the former wound. I have been pondering the scars of Jesus, wounds from the crucifixion, that he appears to still have as evidenced from the biblical texts. What does the Bible reveal to us in this reality? God suffers with the world....not only from above but fro