I Don't Know, But I've Been Told...

Recently I received the same request from two friends who don’t know each other. Seeing on Face Book that my religious views are “agnostic but open,“ they asked that I read Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. One added The Case for Christ by Lee Strobel and even brought me a copy. I am glad I have friends of such sincerity, and I read both books. With very different approaches, each author promotes serious thought and offers profound argument for the spiritual and physical reality of Jesus.

I found each book persuasive yet not motivating. All their truths were rules for a sport in which I was not – I am not - a player. I gave some serious thought to what sport I do play in this context, and what truths I have instead of the ones for which Lewis and Stobler argue so well.

Start with the truth that if God wants you to tell you something, you are going to get the message. There was Saul, who set off for to Damascus to kill Christians and arrived as Paul the Apostle. There was the Baptist preacher who showed me where he stood in the middle of US Highway 61, drunk out of his mind one Saturday night, when suddenly he got the message that he needed to start living a very different life. Neither of these men was open, interested or cooperative, but they got their messages.

Next truth: God is infinite and we are not. We tend to think of infinite as “real big” like the national debt. Nope. Big is zero compared to infinite, which means limitless, no boundaries, all things to all people, world without end, amen.

As finite beings we see through a glass darkly. Yahweh, Vishnu, Zeus, the Great Spirit are all attempts to understand an infinite God within our finite limitations. We are like church mice trying to understand hearing the Hallelujah Chorus on Easter Sunday. God extends beyond any of our limited perceptions, and encompasses all of them. As Dirty Harry said, “A man’s got to know his limitations.” Knowing mine I can’t imagine that this infinite God appears to mankind only according to my particular limited way of understanding, and never according to any other limited way of understanding. Of all the imperfect perceptions of God mine is the only one approved by management? No way.

It seems more likely to me that an infinite God gives many different messages to many different people, guiding them toward many different ways of understanding. All limited, all imperfect, all divinely given. Have you have gotten the message that you should accept Jesus as your savior? I think it’s probably arrogant, if not outright dangerous, to do otherwise. Have you been told to witness for Christ? Then God may want to speak to someone through you – maybe by asking them to read a book. An infinite God can tell anybody anything in any way that suits.

I got my message one day when two young Mormons came to my door and I invited them in to talk for a while. One of them had been a submariner in the Navy, where he did a lot of complicated things with valves and switches. He never knew where they were going or why, the captain told him only what he needed to know to do his job. Somewhere in there, one of the three of us uttered the phrase “I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

So: Two strangers came to my house with the express purpose of addressing my religious beliefs. Nobody but me ever saw them or knew they were there. They left and I never saw them again. Out of two hours conversation I remember only a single sentence: “I’ll tell you what you need to know.” A message from God? Anything in any way that suits. I’ve concluded, over years of pondering, that I’ve been told it’s not for me to seek messages or worry about being saved. If at some point I’m supposed to accept Jesus as my savior, I’ll be told that. Maybe I’ll be told to give all my belongings to the poor, like the rich young ruler described by Matthew, Mark and Luke. Until then I only need to worry about doing what I’ve been told up to now, because that is all I need to know.

So what have I been told? This didn’t come to me in a visit from two strangers, or any other single event. It has just taken shape slowly, from uncounted thoughts and experiences that all boil down to “Love one another.” I know, grammatically it should be “Love others” or “Love thy neighbor” but “Love one another” is the phrase that flashes into my awareness daily. Often hourly. Always reminding me to ask , “Am I loving? What would I be doing different if I really were loving?”

More than once in those years, I’ve been down on my knees, saying out loud “If you want to tell me something or come to me in any way then I‘m ready, I’m open. I’m about at my limit, and I need help.” I’ve been half afraid and half hopeful, but it hasn’t mattered. It seems I don’t yet need to be told more, and until I do I’m supposed to act on my own judgment. I hear people speak of their joy and rapport with their perception of God, and I believe they’re sincere. I don’t feel that nor expect to; apparently it’s within my limitations to carry on without it.

Come Be My Light, the published writing of Mother Theresa, reveals that throughout her selfless life in India, she was completely cut off from God. There was no guidance, no joy, no union of spirit, nothing. She believed that God had abandoned her to fulfill the mission toward which she was guided in their last communication. I understood exactly what she was describing, and her experience was very reassuring. I mean, if God went radio silent on Mother Theresa and left her to carry on incommunicado...well it doesn’t seem so bad going down my own much easier road without coaching.

Like my naval Mormon visitor, I can concentrate on the valves and switches, and not worry about where the boat is going or why. I’ve been told “Love One Another” until further instructions. God will do the steering. That’s kind of a relief because most days it takes all my attention and energy just to figure out what loving means right then and there, never mind actually doing whatever it is.

Credits:

1) The image "Infinity" is from www.sgeier.net/fractals, where a very interesting artist shares some incredibly beautiful work.

2) This entire post contains no gender-specific references to God, which I thought deserved some credit.

Can You Identify These Famous Illegal Aliens?

Answers at bottom.
For extra points, where and when did they alienate?

Somebody needs to say this and it might as well be me. Why? Because I enjoy enraging people by stating a different point of view. From a safe distance, to make sure their second amendment rights don't intrude on my first amendment rights.

Here it is: A huge number of the forefathers of whom we are so proud were illegal aliens when they settled the US for us. Don’t like that? I hate to mess up your opinion with facts, but…

In 1763 European Colonists (not Americans yet) were told by King George (their lawful and acknowledged sovereign for another 13 years) not to settle west of the Allegheny Mountains because there was no arrangement with the Native Americans who owned it. Of course, the European Colonists illegally alienated themselves over the line and shot enough Native Americans to grab Kentucky, Tennessee, Ohio, Indiana and a few other future states.

Meanwhile, Mexicans were fighting and dying to win a free homeland from Spain. Once free, they allowed immigration by Americans who wanted to move to Mexico. Big mistake. As soon as there were enough of them, the former Americans threw the Mexicans out and formed an independent state so they could be Texans instead of Americans.

Ten years later, Americans (real ones; citizens of the USA) took California from the Mexicans. This seemed fair; the Mexicans’ only claim was that, like Texas, they fought and died against Spain to win it as part of a free homeland.

Fifty years later the Americans (now including Texans) decided to cut the Mexicans out of the middle and go directly to war with Spain. That got us Guam, Puerto Rico, the Phillipines and Cuba. I suppose technically the members of an army conquering another country are not illegal aliens, not even when the invaded citizens (!) fight back for three years. Whatever -- they got the job done.

Before this all became an issue, I occasionally hired some Mexican workers for house and yard work. Looking back I suspect they were "undocumented". What I know for sure about them is they worked hard, they worked fast, and they did quality work. By contrast, I have hired quite a few American “craftsmen” who seemed to think the Constitution gave them the right to overcharge for doing everything half-ass.

Sure there are some dirt bags and free loaders in the illegal alien ranks. You think there are no US citizens who are dirt bags and free loaders? I would rather judge a person by what they do, not by where they were born or who their parents were.

Imagine that we renounce all 300 million US citizenships and grant citizenship only to the first 280 million who come forward and pass the test for naturalized citizenship. My guess is that a huge number of illegal aliens would gain citizenship, displacing “citizens” who are really just residents – they haven't gotten off their butts since the doctor spanked them in the delivery room. But by thunder it was an American delivery room!

Our forefathers got citizenship the old-fashioned way. They earned it. And in a great many cases they earned it by doing exactly what a great many illegal aliens are doing today. They valued the opportunity for political and economic freedom, and the welfare of their families as the most important values in the world, and they endured hardship, danger, toil and poverty to achieve what they valued most.

If you don’t acknowledge that there are illegal aliens like that, as well as dirt bags and free loaders, then I suspect that in 1776 you would have chosen to be a Tory burning the homes of those dirt bag colonists who were committing treason against their lawful King.

Answers - 1): Davy Crockett, Texas 1836
2) Daniel Boone, Kaintuck and points west of the Allegheny Mountains, 1763
3) Robert E. Lee and Ulysses S. Grant, Mexico, 1846
4) General John J. "Black Jack" Pershing, Phillipines, 1899
5) Colonel Theodore Roosevelt, Cuba, 1898

My Future's So Bright --

I don’t like this prediction. If anybody can make a realistic case for some rosier outlook, I will receive it eagerly.

Ten to thirty years from now the United States will go broke. There is not the faintest bump on the horizon that holds any hope. Maybe in ten years, maybe in thirty, the Chinese or somebody – probably the Chinese and a lot of somebodies – will give us the same choice that we have offered so many countries that we deemed fiscally irresponsible: Cut out all un-necessary spending or we will cut off your credit.

They, not we, will decide what is necessary. They won’t care about entitlements, about national defense, or anything else that we think we can’t live without. Millions of people who sell goods or services to the government will be out of work. They will stop buying consumer goods and services that keep millions of others employed. Congress will vote a pot of money to save the day, but will be in the same straits as Old Mother Hubbard.

People will default on their mortgages and car notes and credit cards. Millions will be homeless, surrounded by dirt-cheap houses that they can’t afford, and the credit industry will have nothing to loan them anyway.

Illegal immigration will no longer be a problem as the Mexican peasants realize there is nothing in the U.S. better than there is at home. It will be a problem for Canada, as Americans sneak across the border seeking a livelihood.

People will rebel, march on Washington, form radical political movements. Nothing will do any good. Recovery, like prevention, would require sacrifice and commitment to common goals. These virtues are beyond our abilities. We and our children will pass into history full of bitterness, blame, and resentment over the loss of illusory expectations.

Forty to sixty years from now the next generation will come to adulthood in poverty unknown to us since the Great Depression. Many will live like the Somalians of today. Those with jobs will barely generate a livable income and most of that will be extracted in taxes to pay the costs of debt. Roads, airports, power and communication grids, bridges, sewers, and water systems will decay faster than their limited resources can repair them. They will hate us for our legacy.

One hundred years from now that generation's descendants will begin to pay off the interest on the interest on the wealth we borrowed and squandered. People will begin to hope and eventually believe that their labor may yield some benefit in their lives. They will embrace a grim determination to make better lives for their children. They will have regained the ability to sacrifice and commit to common goals.

One hundred to one hundred fifty years from now will be a period of national pride and triumph, as our descendants rebuild a functioning nation from the wreckage. The national memory will lose its resentment, but will retain a scorn for our generation, and its destiny will be guided by a determination never to sink to the depths that we so willingly sought.

Hey, Kids! Make Your Own BP (Backyard Pool) Gusher!

My granddaughter Alexis, 6 made a functioning model of BP’s Deepwater Horizon disaster in our back yard pool. She had a hollow foam “noodle” float, about 3 inches in diameter and 3 feet long. The game was to fill it with water, point it up in the air, and blow the water out the top like a whale spout.

It was hard to get the water started, because she was using her little lung power to lift a column of water about 3 feet high. When she got it moving, a little would trickle out of the top. Now there wasn’t as much water to lift, so it got a little easier. As she kept blowing, there was less and less water and it moved faster and faster until the last cupful or so blew out in a shower of drops with a satisfying “Poof!”

Now imagine the noodle as a couple of miles of pipe with the Deepwater Horizon oil rig at the top. At the bottom, playing the role of Alexis’ lungs, is a big pocket of oil and gas exerting thousands of pounds per square inch of pressure. Just like the noodle, it’s the weight of water in the pipe that keeps the oil and gas down, defeating the huge pressure that wants to escape. That may not be enough, so drillers keep the hole filled with heavy, gooey mud that is much harder to blow out than water alone would be.

But suppose the mud is a little too thin or the pressure below increases a little. Oil and gas move up a little, pushing mud out the top. Now there is less weight of mud holding the oil and gas down, so it moves up a little more, pushing out more mud. Just like the noodle, things move faster once they get started. Which means there is not much time to operate the infamous “blowout preventer,” seal the top of the pipe, and keep everything– mud, oil, gas – down in the hole.

It takes months to drill an oil well, and when you’re finished you slip a plug into the hole and pump in a load of cement to harden below the plug and seal the hole permanently. You want to do this fast, because you have a rig at the top of the pipe costing you hundreds of thousands of dollars every day, and doing nothing but keeping a hole filled with mud. This plug is not like bath tub stopper – it’s a huge chunk of metal that you’re poking around at the bottom of a mile-deep hole. If the plug doesn’t fit well, then concrete can leak past it, mud can settle into the concrete, and you only think your hole is sealed. BP had a lot of trouble getting their plug in place, which took time and put them behind schedule in getting that expensive rig on its way.

To check for leaks they did a “positive pressure test.” They pumped up the pressure and waited to see if it held or dropped. Just like Alexis’ float ring in the pool – if it stays firm, there’s no leak. If it gets floppy, there is. Trouble is, oil and gas flowing up from below can keep the pressure high, so you get fooled. A “negative pressure test” reduces the casing pressure and if any oil and gas is leaking, the pressure will go back up. If the pressure stays low, you know for sure there’s nothing coming through. This test would have proven that oil and gas was leaking. But they didn’t run it..

Based on the deceptive results of the positive pressure test, they started pumping out the mud and replacing it with sea water. The water weighed far less the mud so it exerted less pressure to hold down the oil and gas. Before switching mud to water, they could have put in a second concrete plug as a backup if the first plug leaked. But they didn’t.

So far there wasn’t a clear indication of a problem, just a lack of assurance that everything was OK. But that morning they measured more mud coming out of the hole than there was water coming in. Only way that could happen was if oil and gas was moving up and pushing the mud out. Knowing the physics of foam noodles, it won’t surprise you that the amount coming out was increasing. Even at this late point, there might have been a chance if they had started pumping heavy mud back in to push the oil and gas back down. They didn’t.

A while later they stopped pumping in sea water, and the pressure continued to increase – only way that could happen was if oil and gas was moving up. But no action was taken. A while later the pressure really shot up. It was reported that mud was flowing out of the hole so fast it was going over sides of the rig. Then the oil and gas reached the rig itself, and something ignited it.

This is a long story of assuming things are OK without real evidence, and of ignoring evidence that things are not OK. Before you get too mad at BP for these flaws, consider that this is pretty much the way we run our Federal government.