Michael Crichton Died

I'm increasingly interested these days to peek behind the curtain and learn more about the secret lives of writers. Here's one I never paid particular attention to, even though he was one of the rare novelists to become a household name during his lifetime. Anyway, I found this article extremely fascinating. You should read it in honor of the man who brought you Jurassic Park, Twister, and ER, and died too soon.

I Voted Today

I’ve been fairly silent (in print) about politics during this long and exhausting political season. There are several reasons for this: first, it’s all very complicated, and I don’t know much about politics; second, there’s so much opportunity to offend people when you start talking issues, that I’ve found it helpful to just keep my comments to myself (not a natural practice for me).

There is one thing I’ve given a little bit of thought to that someone out there might find helpful. I am convinced that voting is not a “Christian duty.” (Maybe I’ll try to articulate why four years from now.) Even so, I do think that both voting and abstaining from voting can be meaningful spiritual disciplines.

Here’s what I mean. As I see it, there are two central biblical principles that apply directly to politics. One is that God is sovereign (however broadly you define that word). The other is that our sovereign God uses humans to accomplish his purposes. It’s quite possible to overemphasize either of these principles. That’s where comes in.

If you believe that the outcome of today’s election will either enable or thwart God’s purposes in America—if you believe that all our hope depends on one candidate or the other being chosen for office—then a vote for the candidate of your choice is, to some degree, a vote against our sovereign God. That is, there’s a tacit admission in your ballot casting that God can only act when the American political system works in his favor. If you doubt there are people who think this way, this letter from Focus on the Family might change your mind: click here.

Well, if this paragraph describes you, I suggest you consider abstaining from voting as a spiritual discipline. By abstaining you will acknowledge that regardless of how things go today, Christ will still be King tomorrow. This is sort of like fasting from food. Ordinarily, Christians should probably vote, just as ordinarily Christians need to eat. But when the vote becomes too precious (as food can), maybe it’s best to confess our faith in God by fasting.

There’s a second group of people to consider here (the one I’m more likely to fit in). If you believe that the choice of president makes no difference because every politician is crooked and the system is broken and you have, in general, a low view of human nature—if you are skeptical that there’s any use in working with a wicked system to bring God’s kingdom—then your failure to vote is a failure to acknowledge that God has given human beings the horrifying responsibility of working within systems to accomplish his work.

If this paragraph describes you, I suggest you go cast your ballot at your earliest convenience. By voting you will acknowledge that if God used Pharaoh and Caesar (unwilling subjects at best) to complete his will, he can use either of the candidates we have to choose from. And besides, one of the first commandments in Scripture is that we rule—and in America, that requires our vote.

I voted today. And I hope you will—or won’t—for the right reasons.

Reformation Day

Happy Reformation Day everyone.

For those of you don't know what Reformation Day is all about, maybe this brief informational video will answer your questions.

Review: The Blue Parakeet

If you keep up with the "books we're reading" list on the sidebar, you may have noticed this title a couple weeks back. The author is a local professor who writes for a successful blog, JesusCreed.org. Anyway, I've finished the book and have written a review for Out of Ur. The first installment is up now. Part 2 comes tomorrow.

Here's the beginning bit:

While the majority of academics won’t—or can’t—write for a popular audience, Scot McKnight is willing and able. And in The Blue Parakeet (Zondervan, 2008), he opens the complex issue of biblical interpretation to the uninitiated with a great deal of grace.

Because the issue is complex, I’m going to tackle this review in two parts. In this one, I’ll just describe the book. Next time I’ll identify what I consider its key strengths and weaknesses.

I’ll let the author tell you how the blue parakeet became his metaphor for exegesis. For now, suffice it to say that the bird represents biblical passages (and even personal experiences) that “make us think all over again about how we are reading the Bible.” For example, evangelicals tend to be fairly lax about resting on the Sabbath (whether we observe the right day is another question). Yet right in the Decalogue God says, “Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.” Our task as Bible readers is to decide whether this is a valid command for today or a context-specific regulation that we can more or less ignore. How you answer that question says a lot about your understanding of biblical interpretation.

Read the rest here. Or don't.

Confessions of a Wild Man

Amy and I watched a couple of movies this weekend. (We're movie bingers; we'll go months without watching any movies and then watch three in a weekend.) We saw About a Boy, with Hugh Grant and others--a great British comedy. I could write about that, I suppose, but all I'd say is, "Everyone should see this movie."

We also watched Into the Wild, which I wouldn't say is for everyone. But it was fantastic. It rekindled a latent spark from childhood, a desire to do what the protagonist in this story, Chris, does: spend enough time alone in the wilderness to truly test his survival skills. There's more to the story than that--much more--but that's the point of contact for me.

When I was a kid, I bought a book called How to Stay Alive in the Woods, which I carried around with me all the time. I built forts and booby traps in the woods behind our house; I stored provisions (creek water in glass jugs I found buried in the leaves); I read Hatchet and My Side of the Mountain and Call of the Wild. My plan was to have someone drop me off in Canada and pick me up in a month at a predetermined location. The reason, I guess, has to do with something Chris says in Into the Wild--every man needs to feel strong. I always thought I could do it. I always needed to think I could.

At the beginning, it looks like Into the Wild is going to be one of those "rebellious American makes his own way in life" movies. But it isn't. Nearly every character in the movie is living some form of the American dream--from the hippies to the successful businessmen to young Chris. And all of them learn the limits of it, sooner or later.

There's also a theme of redemption through suffering that knits the episodes of this story together. I'll need to think more about that, but I sensed it and I liked it.

In terms of criticism, director Sean Penn does get a bit overly artsy now and then. I like artsy, but some elements are distracting. And because there are hippies in the movie, there are lots of naked bodies--no sex, if I remember correctly, but lots of bodies. Even so, I highly recommend the movie. It's left me with a lot to think about.

An Interview with the Gettys

Next week, I have the opportunity--through work, of course--to interview Keith and Kristyn Getty. I don't listen to Christian music, as a rule, because I find most of it somewhat superficial. But these two are fantastic. Writers of modern hymns with an intentionally robust theological foundation, Keith and Kristyn are developing a body of work that appeals to Believers across denominations and generations. It's great stuff.

Oh, and they're Irish. No surprise--so much talent from such a small island...

Anyway, here's one of my favorites. You probably know it.

Reflections: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay

It's difficult to know just how to approach a book as sweeping and wide ranging as Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (2001). The plot spans the two decades beginning just before and ending just after World War 2; the setting ranges from Prague to New York to Antarctica and back again. The characters wrestle with issues as diverse as giftedness and vocation, nationalism and family dynamics, human sexuality and human purpose. I'll offer a brief synopsis and a couple points that stood out to me.

Josef Kavalier escapes Prague as the Nazis are tightening their grip on Eastern Europe. He arrives in New York some time later, where he moves in with his cousin, Sammy Clayman (who goes by "Clay"). Sammy has big plans to strike it rich in the comic book business; Joe, it turns out, is a gifted artist. Together they develop The Escapist, a superhero whose super power is his imperviousness to capture. The Escapist is a huge success; more importantly, it serves as a metaphor for Joe's making peace with his past and Sammy's coming to terms with his future.

Besides being a great story told well, Kavalier and Clay is exemplary of the hard work of novel writing. Chabon, whose grandfather was a comics man, researched comics history and the production process exhaustively, resulting in fiction that takes you deep into the real-life history (more or less) of a fascinating cultural phenomenon. While the details this research provides is endlessly fascinating, there were times I got the impression that Chabon just couldn't bring himself to do away with some bit of trivia that didn't do much for the story. That is, in places, it gets a bit tedious. Overall, however, the prose is luminous and the story is captivating.

As a long time fan of Chaim Potok, it was interesting to me to see American Judaism brought to life by a different Jewish fiction writer. Chabon's Jews are not religious; and the dimensions of Chabon's New York are not determined--as Potok's tend to be--by the location of the synagogue and yeshiva. Kavalier and Clay have chance encounters with Salvador Dali and Orson Welles; the most exotic figure in Potok's fiction is the local rabbi. At any rate, both authors write about Jews in World-War-Two-era New York, and they couldn't have less in common.

I fear I haven't told you much. Here: read it. And plan to read it when you have lots of time. At nearly 700 pages of sometimes dense (though always beautiful) prose, the book is a commitment. But it's well worth your time.