Original Sin, Laboured Cries and the Terrible Twos
In case you missed it, Micah Tian Xiang Un was born on the 21st March.
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He's very cute. I find myself wondering how strongly I hold to the doctrine of original sin.
There's a school of thought that says that hearing a mother's labour cries are quite traumatic to a baby being born. Scientologists are especially infamous for espousing this.
But I was thinking that the pain a mother goes through in birth is a tangible reminder that The Curse, Genesis 3 is still in effect. There will be great pain in childbirth (although, He actually says, "I will increase your pains"—does this imply that there is already pain in childbirth?).
The cries the baby hears are a reminder to him, on the day of his birth, that he lives in a fallen, sinful, broken, painful world.
In the hospital, I was looking after Micah in the TV room so Sarah could have a few hours of much-needed rest.
In the room was another dad, and we chatted briefly. He had just had his second child; his first is currently navigating the "Terrible Twos".
I have always taken the Terrible Twos as evidence of original sin. I think quite apt the Paul Colman lyric:
I've never grown out of the terrible twos,
I've just learnt to hide it from all of you
- Selfish Song
I quoted this lyric to him. But he demurred, saying that the thought it was really good that his children learnt to be assertive, to express themselves, to tell people what they thought, so that they wouldn't be children who would be pushed around or bullied.
Maybe I don't spend enough time with non-Christian parents, but I thought that thinking totally remarkable and different!
Possibly Heretical Musings about God
I still musing about this stuff, so don't shoot me down for heresy.
I've been reading Henri Blocher's In The Beginning and it's tremendously illuminating and mind-stretching.
What got me started was Genesis 3:21:
The LORD God made garments of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them.
Blocher quotes E.J. Young saying that imagining God sewing clothes with his fingers is absurd.
But I wonder: is it? One imagines that God could have clicked his fingers and made the clothes appear out of nowhere... but does he?
Does he ever?
It may appear like that in Genesis 1, but as we replay the creation of man in Genesis 2, God is a careful craftsman. He shapes man with his bare hands, he breathes his own breath into man.
I have the quote of GK Chesterton bumping around as well:
It may not be automatic necessity that makes the daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never gotten tired of making them...The repetition in Nature may not be mere recurrence; it may be a theatrical encore.
It seems to me that God never just "makes things appear"; and I suspect he quite likes the process of creation. Why did God take 6 days to make the world? He could have made it in one, but he took his time, and crafted the world as we know it. And when his hands were finished, he saw it was good: not a moral judgement but an aesthetic judgement; the creation was precisely the way he wanted it. It was the way he had envisaged before he started his work of creation.
The reason man alone was "not good" was because he is only half-way through; the creation of mankind is not complete without woman.
So much as God could have made made a Versace suit appear with a click of his fingers, I can imagine him lovingly making man clothes out of animal skins, sewing them just so.
Something else I was pondering was how God experiences the world. I think a lot of people have a transcendent view of God; he must be all-knowing, all-powerful, and ever-present.
But even humans are able to "live in the moment". Even though we know that the song will come to an end, that the dance will eventually stop, that the film has an ending and a book has a "The End", even though we know death is the final "The End", we know how to live in the moment. We blot out life and its cares when we enter into the world of a movie. We forget about the minutae and millions on our todo lists.
If wonder if God is able to live in the moment as he experiences his own creation. He knows that Adam and Eve will ultimately sin (as he knew my name and all my deeds and misdeeds before the world even began) but he can still enjoy his walk through the garden.
I wonder if he enjoyed dwelling with the Israelites in a tent (Numbers 9). Indeed, I love the picture of God's whimsy:
Whenever the cloud lifted from above the Tent, the Israelites set out; wherever the cloud settled, the Israelites encamped...When the cloud remained over the tabernacle a long time, the Israelites obeyed the LORD's order and did not set out. Sometimes the cloud was over the tabernacle only a few days;... Sometimes the cloud stayed only from evening till morning, and when it lifted in the morning, they set out. Whether by day or by night, whenever the cloud lifted, they set out. Whether the cloud stayed over the tabernacle for two days or a month or a year, the Israelites would remain in camp and not set out; but when it lifted, they would set out. At the LORD's command they encamped, and at the LORD's command they set out.
Okay, enough heresy.
Contented Dreams
Yesterday, I realised that, several months shy of 30, I will have achieved all of my childhood ambitions.
I wasn't a particularly ambitious child. I didn't dream of being a scientist, or a famous sportsman, or a musician, or being rich, or being "successful". I had smarts, but a lack of ambition, which generally meant I wasn't driven to do anything particularly much particularly fast.
So as a gentle quiet child, I simply dreamed of suburbia: a wife and kids and a nice house (no dogs, wasn't a big fan of dogs back then). A comfortable life, not particularly ostentatious. My God was comfort.
When I became a Christian, I became comfortable for the fact that God had other plans in store for me, and to him I gave not just all I had and all I was, but also all my dreams: all I might be, and all I might become.
But, because I suspect God is the ultimate poet, (and his justice is without question), by the end of this month, I will have comfortably achieved all of the above childhood dreams, comfortably before the age of 30.
Which leads me to be slightly wary of what God has in store for the rest of my life. How much of this creature comfort would I be willing to give up for the sake of the gospel?
Sarah has been reading Job recently. In my mind hovers Mark 8:34-38.
Also, I'm curious of what my father dreamed of being. I'll have to ask him.
Heard at the Housewarming...
"Hey everyone", I said, "This is W. He's the sort of guy who would bring tea as a housewarming present."
"Nice work," said S, who is a tea snob of some renown.
"Well," said W, "at the housewarming if one of the biggest coffee snobs I know, I thought it was appropriate to bring tea."
"You realise Haoran is a tea snob, as well as a coffee snob, right?"
G interjects, "I think Haoran is just a snob, generally speaking."
I paused. "Actually, that's pretty accurate."
I like good things. I like to think of it as the spiritual gift of discernment.
God vs the Devil: Statfight
Satan: 46
Devil: 32
Tempter: 2
Accuser: 5
Beelzebub: 7
TOTAL: 92
God: 3508*
Jesus: 1226
TOTAL: 4734
I think the stats speak for themselves.
* I haven't even included mentions of LORD, because (just searching quickly in an English translation of the Bible) its too hard to separate LORD from Lord. I'm sure it's a lot higher.
Blessing
I've always wondered about the particular efficacy of the blessings of the patriarchs.
For instance, in Genesis 27, in the account of Jacob stealing the blessing from Esau, Jacob's stolen blessing is significantly better than Esau's. It seems as if the blessing is a tangible thing, and Isaac has but a certain amount of blessing to impart, and cannot give a second blessing that would contradict the second.
Or, the blessings that Jacob gives to Joseph's sons in Genesis 48, or the rest of his sons in Genesis 49. All of these blessings seem very much to be prophetic and powerful, and one wonders how and why God causes such blessings to be so effective.
As I am slow, it has only just occurred to me that there might be a connection between these blessings and the "reciprocal blessing" that affects Abraham, viz.
I will make your name great,
and you will be a blessing.
3 I will bless those who bless you,
and whoever curses you I will curse;
and all peoples on earth
will be blessed through you."
Apparently "you will be a blessing" is in the imperative, which is to say, "Be a blessing!"
Mind you, this may not necessarily work. Lots of people are blessed in Genesis: Abraham Isaac and Jacob are blessed, Ishamel is blessed, Isaac blessed Jacob again (intentionally this time: Gen 28:1), Jacob is a blessing to Laban, Jacob forces God (perhaps) to bless him (Gen 32:26), God blesses Potiphar, and Jacob blesses the Pharaoh.
Why SMBC?
SMBC has begun in earnest: we've just had our first full week of lectures, with a week of Greek and a week of orientation just before.
As much as the academic side of it, the last few days and weeks have been spent asking the same few questions of a plethora of people.
One question that SMBC people ask each other, almost as if to seek for their own legitimacy is, "Why did you choose to come to SMBC? Why not Moore College?"
I have been pleasantly surprised by the number of Sydney Anglicans at SMBC who have made similar decisions to myself, and it has been interesting to sit down and trade notes with each other. It seems as if it is not an isolated individual decision, but a growing trend.
Why did I choose to come to SMBC?
I love that SMBC has an active focus on encouraging us to grow as Christians, as much as to grow in our knowledge. One lecturer has the prayer that "we wouldn't just become smarter sinners."
Or a subject I had on Thursday, Introduction to Degree Theology. The lecturer spent the first lecture explaining to us the limitations of the various theologies (biblical, systematic, historical). He explained, the problem with theology is that it leads you to pigeon-hole God, rather than leading you to fall deeper in love with him. That lecturers with more letters after their names than in them are mindful of this is extraordinarily encouraging. Many second-year students have said that this was their favourite subject, because it was at the concerned with pushing theology into personal growth.
I love that SMBC is an everyman's college. I love running into people from all walks and backgrounds and denominations and levels of education. I love being reminded that Christianity is for all people, and that you don't need a university education to be qualified to serve God. It reminds me that Bible College is not a rampant academic competition, but different people at different ages and stages and levels of growth who are all seeking to grow, in their own way.
I love that for my OT subject, our essay explicitly instructs us to not read any commentaries or dictionaries or books, but to only read the Bible. In fact, it's not truly an essay, but a "written response"—training us to constantly respond to God's word, written to us.
I love constantly being challenged about mission; by visiting missionaries, by missionaries-in-residence, by lecturers who are ex-missionaries, by many students who have been or who long to be on the mission field. As the perennial Sydneysider, I love being reminded that God's world is bigger than Sydney (as glorious as Sydney is).
There is much to love, and I am glad to be here.
...aaaand we're back.
So, welcome to the new year!
It's been two months since blog posts; in which time we've bought a house, packed countless boxes, moved house, unpacked most of those boxes, and languished for a month without an internet connection. I've had reconstructive surgery on my knee, gone from walking to crutches and back again, started Bible college and met more people in the last two weeks as I have in the last two year.
The countdown to the birth of our first child stands at 5 weeks (although the baby has every right to come earlier than expected!). We've bought and acquired a good deal of baby stuff (including the swishest pram ever!...which comes with its own fancy Youtube dance).
For the more comprehensive "what we've been up to" report, go to Sarah's blog, because she's a lot better at remembering what's happened to us.
So this is Christmas
It was an interesting Christmas this year.
Probably no Christmas in memory has actually "zinged" with that Christmas magic. Nevertheless, as the extended Un family (and associates) sat around the table last night for Christmas, I looked around and thought: it's been a rough year for all and sundry.
In the family this year, has been one divorce and one divorce pending. One ongoing battle with cancer. One young child a world away from her parents. At least one case of depression, at least one case of dementia, and countless other woes in the year past.
I know we've had a rough year ministry-wise, and I suspect G+M's year has been tougher: higher highs, but also lower lows.
Only my parents have had a good year, but like the rest of us, they are about to embark on another phase of life.
The food was good; as always. This time around, I contributed with my very first roast turkey, which was very well received. Sarah suspects we may have started a tradition. Of course, they would all be appalled with exactly how much butter went into the turkey.
It wasn't a hollow Christmas, but nor was it a celebration. Rather, it felt more to me like a panacea; a salve for the troubles and hurts of the year past, the comfort of familiar things (a big Un-family feed) amongst familiar people, and the hope of better things in the year ahead.
I have a theory, which will be tested tomorrow, which is that for those comfortable in their own skin, Christmases are almost easier at your in-laws than at your own.
With your own family, you sit rooted in years of tradition and habit and practice; and the people you have always been uncomfortable around, the roles that you have always played in the family, the expectations of the family around you. For instance, my brother has always been first to jump up and help clean up, but I am normally found in the kitchen prior to dinner. I tend to gravitate to the "adults" table for conversations about finances and politics, while my older cousin plays with the younger kids. Conversations flow towards traditional topics, and steering conversations towards God and Jesus are almost out-of-place.
At your in-laws, you come fully-formed to the table. Around the table, nobody remembers you as a callow child or a gangly, uncoordinated teenager, but they have always known you the way you are now. And the way I am now is the way I prefer to be.
Being a Short Poppy
Two verses popped out at me yesterday from completely unrelated sources:
2[Be] like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. 3 Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves.
- Philippians 2:2b-33b Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgement, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you... 5 in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.
- Romans 12:3b
Both of these are in the context of other Christians; or being in the body of Christ (Romans 12:4).
It seems to me that both of these speak about that very human tendency to compare ourselves to the people around us.
Our self esteem is derived from who we are better than: I'm more organised than so-and-so, I can sing better than that person, I can play guitar better than that person.
Even at our most humble, we settle, I suspect, for egalitarianism: We are all equal in Christ's eyes. Although I suspect that manifests itself more as: that person is no better than me (rather than the other way around).
Philippians in particular really surprised me as I heard it read; because the point is not just to put yourself on par with everyone else, but to put yourself below everyone else. It goes on to use the example of Jesus: He was equal with the Father, but made himself less than the Father.
I suspect that is truly counter-cultural for us: because ingrained in us Australians is equality and "the fair go". We take down the tall poppy to maintain equality, when instead we should be self-debasing; forcing ourselves to be the short poppy.
