To be honest, I’m getting a bit extremely tired of Christians who are striving to be conformed to the image of Stuart Scott.

I read a blog post today. Granted, it’s a bit old. I scanned it when it was fairly new, but some personal issues in recent days brought it back to mind, and I was wondering, “Was it really that vomit-inducing or is my memory given to exaggeration?” (Answer: no exaggeration on this one.)

Now let me be clear. A lot of what was in this post — when it was sticking to facts — was very accurate and true. But the way in which it was presented — and garnished with a healthy dose of the author’s opinion — was enough to cause anyone with any intellectual honesty to throw up in their mouth at least a little.

The post discussed the reasons given for leaving the faith and/or never believing in the first place. These reasons were broken down into three categories, the first of which was claimed (by the post author) to be mostly populated by obviously fake stories. In case we missed that, it is re-iterated a bit later that the author doesn’t believe the person telling the story most of the time. This is followed by highly dismissive language that covers the writer in the event that one of the stories turns out to be true.

This is then followed by a deadly logical refutation of 10 possible reasons (how we got from 3 to 10 is anyone’s guess), complete with Scripture references backing up much of the refutation.

(The sensitive of ear should be warned that I am about to use language that — in a different context — would probably be deemed offensive. But I am using it in a Biblically accurate sense.)

So, if we boil the post down (along with some of the comments that followed), what the author has said is this: “Take that, you damned atheist. And if you don’t buy into the logic I’ve presented, then to hell with you.”

Literally.

But that’s not quite the message that I hear from Jesus. In Mark 9, we see the story of a possessed boy and his father seeking healing for him. Jesus told the father, “If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes.” The father admitted to an incomplete belief (”Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”). And you know what Jesus did? He healed the boy.

In John 20, the disciple Thomas stated unequivocally that he would not believe that Jesus was risen unless he had visual and tactile evidence. And so, the next time they were together, Jesus accommodated him. And He did not rebuke Thomas for his lack of faith.

I’ve yet to meet a hurting person for whom logic was the answer. Yes, it can certainly be a tool to help that person see the truth. But it’s certainly not the answer.   Jesus is the answer.

I am genuinely happy for the author that he has not faced adversity that was significant enough to shake his faith to the core. And I genuinely hope that God doesn’t deem such adversity necessary in the future to build the author’s sanctification.

But, for the rest of us, there’s grace.

I started reading Michael Spencer’s “Mere Churchianity” yesterday.  Leave it to the iMonk to not even make it through one chapter without making me stop dead in my tracks.  Although I love Tim Keller’s “The Prodigal God“, Spencer has managed — in three paragraphs — to make me reconsider the entire parable of the prodigal son more than Keller did in an entire book.  In examining the part of the story where the prodigal son realizes that he’s at the end of his rope, and so he creates the plan to return to his father’s house and ask to be a servant, Spencer writes:

… our boy decides that his dad could help him escape his pigpen lifestyle, but he doesn’t want to deal with the full implications of his stupidity. So he creates a plan for apologizing to his father, whom he (rightly) assumes will be angry. That plan includes negotiating the son’s new role in the family — that of servant. He will live out back and be useful, but he won’t be a son any longer.

His plan should sound familiar to all of us, since it is the religious answer to our problem as human beings. It seems like the perfect solution, since it’s our idea. But it’s never God’s idea, since he’s not into religion.

Religion is our negotiation with God to try to get his help in exchange for our good behavior. We promise to do what we’re told, and we expect God to reward us. This is a straightforward business arrangement, and we fully expect it to work. Meanwhile, we talk about being God’s child as if we’re family. But in our performance-for-reward arrangement, things don’t operate on grace. Under the rules of religion, God is kept at arm’s length and is expected to be involved only to the degree that he gives us what we think we deserve.

Um. Wow.

To be honest, until yesterday, I had always seen the prodigal’s plan as misguided (especially since I knew the ending of the story), but well-meaning. In retrospect, the latter is incredibly untrue.

In Yiddish, it’s chutzpah.

In the Old Testament, it’s filthy rags.

In the New Testament, it’s skubala.

In plain English, it’s pride, arrogance, stupidity, and pure crap.

When am I going to learn what grace is really about?

First of all, go watch this message. I’ll wait. What I’ve got to say pales in comparison.

Very powerful stuff, IMHO.

One ancillary statement that Matt Chandler made, though, stuck out to me because of prior statements that I’ve read. Several pastors/teachers have been repeatedly thrown under the bus by ODMs* and their ilk because they chose to speak at conferences or churches where the other speakers didn’t agree with them theologically — sometimes with significant differences.

The “unequally yoked” phrase from 2 Corinthians 6:14 gets hideously misappropriated and gross exaggerations like “partnering in ministry” get bandied about. Not surprisingly (and I say this with regret, because I are one), a lot of such silliness comes from those that would consider themselves to be of the Reformed community. I point that out because Chandler is a Reformed guy and this was at T4G, which was lousy with Reformed guys. So when he talked about the issue, this was not two hyper-Pelagians discussing it over a beer.

The embedded video below (in case you haven’t listened to the whole message yet — you heathen) kicks in at the start of the statement that’s relevant to this post. As background, he’s talking about the vision that he had for his church when he first started pastoring. The statement runs for about 1 minute, 25 seconds (you can quit listening when he says “I’ll be working”).

In a minute and a half, Chandler crystallizes what I’ve believed for some time. I don’t think I ever want to hear that “partnering in ministry” crap again.

* so-called “Online Discernment Ministries” — admittedly, they are online, but beyond that …

(or I hate it when that happens)

Luke 18:10-14 (NKJV):

Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, ‘God, I thank You that I am not like other men—extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I possess.’ And the tax collector, standing afar off, would not so much as raise his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me a sinner!’ I tell you, this man went down to his house justified rather than the other; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.

Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the publican (aka tax collector) is something that many of us cling to.  This world is lousy with Pharisees (particularly as described in this parable) and the advent of the blogosphere just gave them a bigger bully pulpit and a louder megaphone.  Trying to disabuse readers of some of their silliness — more specifically, trying to help others avoid the pain brought to me by the Pharisees in my own life — is one of the primary reasons that I write.

Well, apparently, God deemed that I needed to be smacked right between the eyes last night. It occurred to me — rather jarringly — that I have been guilty of living as though the publican prayed:

‘God, I thank You that I am not like other men—extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this Pharisee.’

In short, I have been proud of my lack of pride.  I’m not sure which this is more — stupid or shameful.

It’s all about humility.

I have a feeling that I’m not alone.  I hope I am, but I kinda doubt it.  If the shoe fits, your mileage may vary, etc, etc ….

From Oswald Chambers :

We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God. As soon as we abandon ourselves to God and do the task He has placed closest to us, He begins to fill our lives with surprises. When we become simply a promoter or a defender of a particular belief, something within us dies. That is not believing God — it is only believing our belief about Him.

There’s more to the devotional. I recommend the whole thing. But I thought this part was particularly good.

(And yes, this title is a riff off of one of the more measured — but still wrong — criticisms of Piper’s decision.)

It was noted earlier this year that John Piper has invited Rick Warren to speak at this year’s Desiring God national conference.  This has been public information for at least a couple months, but was more formally announced in recent days.

When this announcement was made, to quote Tillie in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? , “all hell done broke loose”.

Now, admittedly, I was a bit surprised by the invitation.  There are some things that Warren has written which strike me as being in error, as best as I interpret Scripture.  And, then there’s those dang Hawaiian shirts.

But, on the other hand, some of the criticisms of Warren take asininity to a height that would give a Sherpa a nose-bleed.

Either way, I wouldn’t consider Warren to be part of (what I affectionately have termed) “the Piper posse”.  But hey, I have a great appreciation for Pastor John.  And ya know what?  Before further investigation into any issue, if he and I disagree on something, I’m putting my money on him turning out to be the one who is right.

Does that mean that I give him a free pass and blindly follow whatever he says or does?  No, not by a long shot.  (And I’d venture to say that he wouldn’t want that, either.)  In fact, I know there are some issues that he and I disagree on, and I’m fairly certain that my view is correct.

There is, admittedly, a part of me that wants to say, “C’mon; this is John freakin’ Piper we’re talking about!!”  But even setting aside any “celebrity pastor” status, we have to look at the man’s track record.  And ya know what?  At the end of the day, we’re talking about the track record of John freakin’ Piper.

(And the circle of life is complete.)

Seriously, if I’m going to claim anything even approximating intellectual honesty, I need to hear him out even if he says that all 43-year-olds should be painted purple and hung upside-down from a flagpole next Wednesday.  Granted, that one would probably need a long expository explanation; but, to whatever degree I ought to give the benefit of the doubt to any Christian brother or sister, Pastor John should be getting it ten-fold.

And yet we’re hearing nothing but criticism for Piper’s decision.  Some of it may be valid; some is tiresomely obtuse, rehashing sad (and untrue) whacks at Warren; and some of it takes the form of crap like this (referring to Piper’s upcoming sabbatical):

If [I] had just endorsed Rick Warren and brought him to my conference, I’d take a sabbatical, too. Permanently.

But all of it (that I’ve seen, anyway) is ostensibly coming from those that like and/or admire Piper.  With friends like these ….

What I am completely incredulous about, though, is that Piper made clear why he made this decision and some of the criticisms actually quote his reasoning — verbatim — and yet miss the whole thing.  Part of what Piper said was this (emphasis mine):

When I wrote [to Rick Warren] … I said “the conference is called ‘Think: The Life of the Mind and the Love of God.’ I want you to come. You are the most well-known pragmatist pastor in the world. I don’t think you are a pragmatist at root. Come and tell us why thinking Biblically matters to you in your amazingly pragmatic approach to ministry.”

One of the corollaries to Occam’s Razor says, “Never attribute to malice that which can be explained by stupidity.”  In that spirit, I’m going to assume that those who quoted Piper (and yet totally whiffed on the content of the quote) did so out of a mistake and not a willful blindness born of a hatred for Warren.  So let me spell it out.  And let me do so by past example.

A few years ago, Piper invited Mark Driscoll to speak at a DG conference.  The God-blogosphere was all abuzz with what a Bad Idea this was.  Most of it surrounded predictions that Driscoll’s invitation would result in a plague of locusts in downtown Minneapolis and a protest headed by Chris Rock and Quentin Tarantino over all the foul language that Driscoll would use.

And when, at the conference, Piper gave Driscoll a mild bit of fatherly admonishment, many of the critics took this as validation of their prognostication, as though Piper had rent his clothes in agony and apologized for screwing up so badly by inviting Driscoll.  When Piper heard that his words were being used to bash Driscoll, he was appalled.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve noticed (and if you only listen to him to find new stuff to criticize, then you probably haven’t), but Driscoll has become a bit more mature and a bit less rash over the last few years.  In short, Mark is growing.  While all credit goes to God on this one, I’d bet dollars-to-doughnuts that his relationship with Piper is one of the tools that God is using in this process.  And maybe, just maybe, the fact that Piper invited him to speak at DG helped to show how much Piper meant business.

So now Piper is cultivating a relationship with Rick Warren.  And here’s what I hear Piper essentially saying:

There are many ways in which you and I, foundationally, believe the same things.  Now in my sphere, the way that this plays out in my life and the lives of many of my peeps is XYZ.  But in your life, this plays out differently.  Show us how you get from point A to point B.

Honestly, this is a challenge that Piper has presented to Warren.  But not in the sense of throwing down a gauntlet.  I believe that Piper truly believes that there is a path from point A to point B, and he is genuinely interested in seeing how this plays out.  Right there is enough reason for Piper to have extended the invitation.

But even if we assume the worst, and there is not a path from point A to point B, and Warren falls flat on his theological face, who’s to say that the whole Piper posse influence doesn’t cause Warren to step back and think some things through?  While Warren is not a young buck (so he probably won’t have the Timothy-Paul relationship with Piper that Driscoll has), it’s hard to imagine him being involved with someone God is using mightily and not being affected in some way.

There are only three conclusions that I can reach about much of the virulent criticism:

1. There are many professing Christians out there that not only think that Warren is in error, but genuinely believe that God is totally incapable of changing him.  Even if we set aside the laughable nature of such a view, it becomes even more ludicrous for someone to claim any affinity for Piper — someone who is all about God’s sovereignty — and yet believe in such a wimpy God.  It would be more logical for Ahmadinejad to claim that he greatly admires the teachings of a particular Hasidic rabbi.
2. There are many professing Christians out there that think that the worst will happen — Warren’s head will start spinning and he’ll vomit pea soup from the pulpit at Bethlehem — and yet Piper won’t do or say anything.  An examination of Piper’s track record would indicate otherwise.  At one conference (and I’m not even sure it was his conference), one speaker said something with which Piper strongly disagreed, and when it came his turn to speak, he made no bones about the disagreement before launching into his message.  (This viewpoint also points to a God who is totally incapable of protecting His sheep from error.  See previous comment about Ahmadinejad.)
3. There are many professing Christians out there that don’t want to see certain people drawn closer to God, because it would upset the apple-cart of their philosophical belief system — something that I doubt God gives a rip about.

Perhaps there is a fourth, more charitable, conclusion out there.  But, frankly, I ain’t holdin’ my breath.

We knew it was coming. Doesn’t make it any easier.  Michael is no longer with us.

I wrote a fairly verbose post about him a couple weeks ago.  Other lyrics from the same song that I quoted then seem more appropriate now:

And it’s easy enough
To say he’s better off
Chalk it up
To the luck of the draw
Life is tough
It was his time to go and that’s all

But I don’t know about that

‘Cause I’m broken and breathless and bent to the ground
And I’m listening; Lord, but I don’t hear a sound

I’m sure there will be more eloquent things written about Michael in the next few days (e.g. T-Wax has a list of some of Michael’s articles that meant the most to him). Just don’t expect much from this corner of the blogosphere.

A Greater Yes: The Story of Amy Newhouse
(2009 - Anne Underwood, Bradley Dorsey, Paul Willis)

Some time ago, I read a blog post in which the author stated that he watched a movie the previous night.  He admitted to several short-comings in the film, including some sub-par acting, occasionally bad editing, and over-simplistic resolution in the plot.

The list of criticisms that he provided seemed to be coming straight from the “Talking Points Hymnbook for the Too-Cool-for-School” crowd in some Christian circles as they knocked Facing the Giants.  Among those in the church, there seemed to be two camps (with no middle ground): those who went ga-ga over the movie simply because it was produced by Christians, and those who were thoroughly embarrassed that the film wasn’t perfect (definitions of “perfect” to be determined at a later date).  The author seemed to be falling into the latter category.

But then, the author confessed, he thoroughly enjoyed the movie, anyway.  And then came the punchline.  The author was not referring to Facing the Giants, but to the beloved Frank Capra film, Mr Smith Goes to Washington.  The author’s point (and I concur) was that a movie does not have to be perfect to be enjoyable.  It also seemed that his secondary point (with which I also agree) was that, while our brethren shouldn’t get a carte blanche pass on creative issues, the “too cool for school” crowd was getting its knickers in a twist for no reason.

Such was my impression while watching A Greater Yes.  The movie isn’t perfect.  Case in point:  Early on, the lead character, a high school student, is addressing one of her classes.  At times, the camera view changes from her to members of the (mostly not listening) class.  The shots of bored students usually come during pauses in her speech, so the silence punctuates the fact that they aren’t paying attention.  However, most of the “white noise” that is occurring in the background when the camera is on her is totally gone during these other shots.  The switches back and forth are a bit sonically jarring.

There is also a little sub-par acting.  This might be partially explained by the fact that half of the cast members are also the crew (assuming you expand “crew” to include the producers, directors and writer).  However, in retrospect, some of what might seem to be bad acting might actually be intentional.  Several of the characters are high-school students, and (with apologies to my friends of that age) teenagers can be pretty weird at times.  This is a point to which the movie even admits when one characters implies that another is a freak, then clarifies that that was intended as a compliment.

And, yes, I realize that I am over 400 words into this review and have yet to say anything really substantive about the movie itself.  Part of that is that some of the review that I want to write is fairly spoiler-ish.  As much as I hate spoilers, there is a greater spiritual point that I wish to make (that also ties into the earlier points I made) that would make no sense without revealing key points of the plot.  So if you really hate spoilers, it might be a good idea to watch the movie before reading all of this review.  I’ll warn you when the spoilers come up, but know that you’ll be halfway through the review when that happens (and by then you may very well be spellbound by my writing). 

THE ACTUAL REVIEW

The story of A Greater Yes is based on the true story of Amy Newhouse (Underwood), a Christian teenager from Pampa, Texas.  She has a lot going for her and a sincere love for God on top of that.  Shortly after returning from a summer mission trip to Africa, she feels God’s leading to be involved in the changing of lives in her hometown, just as she had been when she was thousands of miles away.  One of the ways that she does this is to start a prayer group at her school.  The first meeting has a whopping three attendees, two of which are Amy and her boyfriend, Tyler (Dorsey).

Another thing that she does is to try to befriend a loner kid, Jordan (Willis) at the school.  I found his character to be truly interesting.  At first blush, he seems to be the stock “bad guy character of the Christian film”.  He dresses a bit “out there” (compared to most of the other students), doesn’t get the “God stuff” at all, steals money (and another crime is alluded to), and he has spiky hair and smokes through most of the movie.  But upon closer examination, these attributes are not a flashing neon sign to help the ignorant viewer recognize that “this is the bad guy” — it’s just genuinely a part of his character.

Even by the end of the movie, we are unsure of his spiritual state.  There is no scene in which he suddenly spouts “the sinner’s prayer” in flawless King James English.  The closest he comes to redemption (as far as we see) is that he eventually returns the money that he stole.

And, at least once, Jordan shows greater insight than the Christian characters.  In an early attempt to be Jordan’s friend, Amy sits with him at lunch and starts making small talk.  Then she produces a flier for her prayer group and invites him to come.  Jordan notes that she had an ulterior motive — she didn’t want to be with him; she just wanted to invite him to the prayer group.  He then accuses, “You Christians don’t want friends; you just want converts.”  She admits that he was right and apologizes.

HERE THERE BE DRAGONS SPOILERS

Shortly after that exchange, Amy starts getting sick.  What doctors first think is bronchitis (because of coughing and such) turns out to be cancer around her heart and lungs.  Surgery is unable to completely remove the mass, so she undergoes a 10-day round of chemotherapy.  It turns out that this is ineffective, so she undergoes another 8 weeks of a stronger dose of chemo.  During this time, not only does the prayer group grow much bigger, but people from all over the school, the town, and even in neighboring towns, are encouraged and challenged by her struggle and her faith in the midst of it.  At one point, one of the characters tells her that “people who have never prayed before are praying for you”.

This second round of chemo is effective, and Amy returns home to happy and excited family and schoolmates.  But no one is more excited than Amy, as she starts looking for (and finding) ways to use her trials to bring honor to God and hope to others.

However, she soon has a relapse and has to return to the hospital for more chemotherapy.  While Amy holds on to her faith during this trial, many around her seem to lose theirs.  It is said or implied by several characters that it seems that God isn’t listening and all those prayers were useless.  Most of the support she was shown during her first battle dries up quickly.  But Amy hangs on to her faith, and encourages others to do so as well.  Near the end of the movie, she realizes that even when God’s answer to a prayer is “no”, He often has “a greater yes” behind it (hence the movie title).  Unfortunately, the answer to the prayers for healing was, indeed, a “no”.  This round of chemo is ineffective; there are no viable options, and she is sent home to die, which she did at age 16.

There is no indication in the movie that the support she received in her first battle (which then dried up in her second battle and subsequent death) made any kind of significant comeback.  And given human nature, it is not to be expected otherwise.  So, in a sense, the impact that she had on others’ lives was fairly limited.  She went through all that suffering for a very small payoff (as far as we know, anyway).  But God was in control of everything and His plans were done.

The title of this review doesn’t primarily refer to the movie.  It was Amy’s life that was unremarkable, in a good way.  And that’s what I found most encouraging about this film.

About 12.5 years ago, God called home singer/songwriter Rich Mullins. Burned into my mind for eternity are the first four words of Danl Blackwood’s email notifying us of Rich’s passing : The unthinkable has happened. I still get a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach when I hear a hammer dulcimer (an instrument indelibly associated with Rich in many folks’ minds — I personally know of three people who took up the instrument because of him).

Six months after his passing, I sat in a church for a Caedmon’s Call concert, ready to endure two opening acts that I had never heard of, so that we could hurry up and get to the band that we had all come to hear.

The first act was some guy named Andrew Peterson.  I liked his music OK at the time.  (In retrospect, I probably would have liked it a lot, had I not been predisposed to being a bit ticked that he was delaying Caedmon’s Call from hitting the stage.)

The third song in his set was called “Three Days Before Autumn”.  He had written it as a tribute to Rich and as a memory of the whirlwind of emotions that he went through when he found out about Rich’s passing. You can read the lyrics here.  It’s a painfully raw song, and I lost it about three lines in.  Not a bit misty-eyed, not a few quiet tears, but convulsions of weeping.

I thought I was over Rich’s death.  As a friend of mine says, “You know what ‘thought’ done.”

I don’t remember anything else about Andrew’s set, nor anything of the set done by Bebo Norman (the second opening act).  When I got home, I looked Andrew up on the web.  In those days, he was wholly independent, having never been signed, so some of his music was freely available on his site.  I probably listened to “Three Days” about 50 times over the next few days. You may think that maudlin (and maybe you’re right); I found it very cathartic.

I came to realize that, much like Rich had been able to put words to what I was unable to express about God, Andrew had been able to put words to what I was unable to express about Rich.

So why bring this all up now?  It’s nowhere near the anniversary of Rich’s passing.  Heck, it’s not even too close to Andrew’s birthday.  But I’m getting a profound sense of déjà vu.

The opening lines of Andrew’s song say:

Three days before autumn
A cold winter came
Blew in a telephone call when my friend went away
And I swear I heard thunder at the sound of his name
He never even knew me at all, but I loved him the same

It struck me as startling, yet accurate, that Andrew referred to Rich as his “friend” despite the fact that Rich “never even knew [Andrew] at all” and that Andrew “loved him the same”.  This is certainly how I felt about Rich, and I’m sure that Andrew and I aren’t the only two people who feel this way.

Now that same feeling (as well as many others expressed in the song) is back with a vengeance, but for someone else.  Michael Spencer, dubbed “The Internet Monk” (or “iMonk”, for short) was blogging long before all the cool kids started doing it.  And not piddly little “Look at this cute video I found on YouTube” junk — but deep, heavy stuff that often reflected Michael’s own struggles and shortcomings as he tried to live out his faith in Christ as best as he could.  If Michael was any more transparent, he’d be invisible.

I’ll be honest — I don’t always read his site as faithfully as perhaps I ought.  Sometimes it’s sheer laziness, but sometimes it’s the fear that if I read something that Michael is struggling with, then I’m responsible to deal with it, too.  And to be honest, if I had to face down one tenth of what Michael has had to wrestle with, I think I would have bagged this whole Christianity thing a long time ago.  But Michael isn’t like that.  Even as he recognized severe problems in much of modern-day evangelicalism, he hung on to his faith.  Francis Schaeffer may have written a book entitled “How Should We Then Live?”, but Michael is the personification of that question.

Sometimes I have to wonder if what he’s dealing with now “ain’t nothing but a ham sandwich” (as Pancho Juarez is fond of saying) compared to the many issues that he’s written about in the past.

Several months ago, Michael was diagnosed with cancer.  He has more recently stopped writing at his site, though a friend has taken over, contributing his own material and recycling some of Michael’s many “greatest hits”.  Michael’s wife, Denise, has kept us apprised of his status.  Two weeks ago, she told us that the doctor had said that the cancer was too advanced and aggressive to expect a remission from ever occurring, and that he expected the current course of treatment to only give Michael another 6-12 months to live. (I strongly encourage you to read that whole post, as Denise writes about Michael’s faith through this ordeal.  It’s encouraging and challenging.)

On Tuesday, Denise told us that that treatment was not helping at all, but actually hurting.  So it was discontinued, and Michael is now under hospice care.  Denise’s prayer requests have shifted to prayers “for minimal pain and for a peaceful passing”.

As Andrew wrote about Rich, so I feel about Michael.  I count him as a friend, even though he “[barely] knows me at all” (I’ve commented several times on his blog, we’ve exchanged a few emails, and I even once was given a derisive nickname by another blogger while in Michael’s defense — a nickname that I wear proudly).  And “I love him the same”.

While I’ve learned many things from this guy from a little town in eastern Kentucky, the over-arching theme of what I take from his life and his writings is tenacity.  Even in the midst of a lot of insanity swirling around him, Michael holds on to Jesus.

He’ll see Him face to face soon; our loss will be his great gain. Vaya con Dios, my friend.

* - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * - * -*

From a purely pragmatic standpoint, Michael and Denise need financial assistance, particularly after Michael lost his job and the health insurance associated with it.  Friends have held various fund-raisers — the latest of which are prayer beads (if there’s a Southern Baptist with more Anglican and Catholic friends than Michael, I can’t imagine who that would be).  Or you can donate to them directly through PayPal.  See Michael’s site for further details.