Liar, Liar, Lake of Fire

From Harold Best, "Unceasing Worship," p. 89:

... when it comes to his (Satan's) dealing with the church and the world, I believe he can lie in two opposing directions at once. Here is what he, coming as an angel of light, may say to the church: "The average human being is fairly slow, culturally encrusted. People like things that are palatable and light. So be palatable and light. And for goodness' sake, don't go into the primitive stuff -- the blood of Christ or the realities of lostness throughout eternity." Here's what he says to the unconverted: "You're too smart for the gospel. Look at how so many of its trappings are second-rate knockoffs of the real stuff you can find around you in the theater, in deeply thought-through books, in higher education. Notice how much more of your mind is demanded even in your daily work than at church. You're ahead the way you are."

What do you think of that? Agree? What evidence have you seen of that, either in church and Christian gatherings, or among "secular" society?

The State Of Things

I just read a novel about a young widow who is learning how to deal with grief. It was a fairly-well told tale.

After nine months of being alone, she meets a guy and they start dating. This guy is the book's "hero," I guess you'd say. Well, on the fourth date, they have sex. And this is treated as a normal, healthy thing. It's just what she needs. It's a sign that she is growing, overcoming.

How did we get here? It's no longer even a question of waiting until marriage -- it's just a question of making sure you learn your lover's name first.

Fourth-date sex is responsible? It shows character and restraint? Wow, they didn't rush in. They waited until the fourth date -- and she had a whole nine months of celibacy following the death of her husband. What a great fairy tale.

And I guess that would be the world's point -- that to expect higher standards, in this day and age, is a fairy tale. Biblical morality is a fairy tale.

What a sad state of affairs.

Swim Party at the Anderson's

After Sojourn last evening I went to the home of Joel The Metro and Amanda (who has to get a cool nickname. I'm thinking.) The pool was open and the water was great. The Nightriders were living in style. Then things got ugly.

We were playing a game of keep-away frisbee. First, Nature Boy Jason accidentally popped Pinhead Stacey in the nose. He is her fiance. This is important to remember, in light of soon-to-be-reported dastardly actions.

Then, a 7-person fight broke out over the frisbee. Lots of hands grasping. "Seizure Later" Will did a belly spash on top of everyone except me (who was hanging back, lurking, awaiting my chance) and almost got the frisbee for himself. Then, I entered the fray, attempting to use my formidable wrestling skills to sever all hands from the frisbee. But one hand was particularly determined, so I gave up on the Greco-Roman stuff and pulled an old Hulk Hogan maneuver -- I bit the stuffing out of that hand. Which turned out to be Pinhead Stacey's. Not a good day for a pinhead. She let go, and the frisbee was mine!

A little bit later, something happened for which I wish there was a video camera. Jason picked Stacey up in a fireman's carry (her body was lying across both his shoulders). Then, he climbed out onto the top of the deck with her. He was gonna SLAM her into the water! I started clapping and shouting "Do it! Do it!"

Now, for the record ... I didn't think he was really gonna do it. I thought he was just teasing/ scaring her. So I was attempting to add to the scare by shouting for him to cream her. I just didn't think he really would.

He did. BAM! Little girl went down! Down into the water! SPLASH! In pro wrestling lingo, we call the move he did to her the "Death Valley Driver." It was truly spectacular. But then she had to get out of the pool because her nose was burning with water, and she wouldn't get back in. I suppose there are always casualties when it comes to pool parties. This was the most awesome looking move since I did a flying body splash off the deck onto Joel the Metro, who was lying on his back on top of four floatie rafts.

You see, this is what makes the Nightriders such a formidable crime-fighting team -- our intense pool-sparring sessions.

P.S. For the record: I didn't really chomp down hard when I bit the pinhead. It was just a warning bite. But I don't think her fiance held anything back when he gave her the Death Valley Driver. YOWZA! You don't mess with the Nature Boy.

But I have a feeling that some day soon I'll be writing a column called "Revenge of the Pinhead." She's scary.

Lyric Analysis: In Christ Alone

Let's do this:

In Christ alone my hope is found,
He is my light, my strength, my song;
This Cornerstone, this solid Ground,
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace,
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My Comforter, my All in All,
Here in love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone! – who took on flesh,
Fullness of God in helpless babe
This gift of love and righteousness,
Scorned by the ones He came to save:
Till on that cross as Jesus died,
For every sin on Him was laid;
Here in the death of Christ I live.

There in the ground His body lay,
Light of the world by darkness slain;
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again!
And as He stands in victory
Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me,
For I am His and He is mine-
Bought with the precious blood of Christ.

No guilt in life, no fear in death,
This is the power of Christ in me;
From life’s first cry to final breath,
Jesus commands my destiny.
No power of hell, no scheme of man,
Can every pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns of calls me home.
Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand.

Lyrics copyright 2001 Kingsway/Thankyou Music

In Christ Alone

This song, a collaboration between songwriters Stuart Townend and Keith Getty has a timeless feel to it, like an old hymn. Many songs aim for a "hymn-like" quality but fall short. Why?

One big reason is the shlocky tendency to use antiquated words. Notice that Townend and Getty don't do that -- no "thees," "thous," "forsooths," or any such animal.

This song is a modern hymn because of it's structure. What do I mean by that?

On a line level, the entire song is written in iambic tetrameter. Each line contains four iambs, a unit of measurement consisting of two syllables, one unstressed and one stressed (so at it's most basic, you'll notice that there are eight syllables per line). As is usually the case with strict verse, whether written by Shakespeare or current practitioners, there are subsitutions in some of the stresses (but this is getting very technical. If you want to know more along those lines I can send you some links to articles about meter and scansion). The metered line structure actually tells us, subconsciosly, how to sing the lines. For instance, in the line

No power of hell, no scheme of man,

we sing "power" as "pow'r." We reduce it to one syllable because we are "into the flow." We don't need to be told to do it, we just do it because we're caught up in the songwriter's rhythm.


Then, we see that this song is written in the folk ballad format, usually used by hymn writers, of a series of verses. No chorus. A few months ago Mike Cosper was telling me about a modern hymn project -- perhaps it was from the Passion Worship people -- that featured new choruses in the old hymns. The artists had tried to make the hymns more relevant by sticking their own choruses in the middle of the hymns to give them a modern format (verse - chorus - verse). Well, that's fine and dandy, but now they're not really hymns.

Also notice that each verse sheds a further light on what it means to be in Christ. We could say that the first and last verses are more of an overview, while the second focuses on his death and the third, the resurrection. But even the first and last are not mere mirrors of each other. The first focuses on the love of Christ; the last, on His power. So we have a fully actualized song, where every word tells. Masterful!

That rascally rabbit

If you haven't found out by now, by childhood stuffed rabbit and occasional nemesis Rabby is making the rounds on other blogs in an attempt to get me to cave in on my principles. He refuses to come on Jive To The Monkey until I apologize -- I can't even remember what I'm supposed to apologize for, but I seem to remember that HE is the one who is in the wrong. Plus, the idiot can neither spell nor pronounce "apologize," as should be painfully apparent from some of his comments that you have, no doubt, read.

He thinks my ratings will go down and my sponsors will all vacate this blog. In the meanwhile, he hopes to make me jealous by showing up in second-rate blogs and thereby expanding their audiences to the levels I once enjoyed. He has even stooped to helping out one of his former kidnappers. Talk about dancing with the devil!

The truth is, I have fallen on hard times here at Jive To The Monkey. I didn't realize how popular that grotesque bunny was. Several major advertisers have withdrawn support -- I can't even get Pepsico to return my calls any more. And less people view this blog now than view a weekly edition of Desperate Housewives on TV.

I haven't been able to do an interview in a while because guests are refusing to come on until I make up with that hare. And I haven't been able to do a lyric analysis because I no longer have the funding that enabled me to do the research necessary for those articles.

Will I give in? No! Someone needs to stand up to the bully. And that someone is me, Love Caddy B-Dog, The Forlorn Moonpuppy. Stick by me, my friends. We few, we dedicated few. We will see each other through the storm, and come out smiling in the sunny days ahead.

I have one request: my friends, do not support the enemy. Rabby has gone on these blogs: Lorie King's, Nikki Tatom's, Tom Branch's, and Cheryl Rupp's. I ask that you boycott these blogs as long as necessary. Don't show up in any of them, because you never know when Rabby is going to pop up there. You don't want to give ear to him or aid his egomania.

"Adam's Curse", by William Butler Yeats

What is he saying about beauty? Do you agree?

We sat together at one summer's end,
That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,
And you and I, and talked of poetry.
I said, 'A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought,
Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
Better go down upon your marrow-bones
And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones
Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;
For to articulate sweet sounds together
Is to work harder than all these, and yet
Be thought an idler by the noisy set
Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen
The martyrs call the world.'

. . . . . . . . . And thereupon
That beautiful mild woman for whose sake
There's many a one shall find out all heartache
On finding that her voice is sweet and low
Replied, 'To be born woman is to know-
Although they do not talk of it at school-
That we must labour to be beautiful.'


I said, 'It's certain there is no fine thing
Since Adam's fall but needs much labouring.
There have been lovers who thought love should be
So much compounded of high courtesy
That they would sigh and quote with learned looks
Precedents out of beautiful old books;
Yet now it seems an idle trade enough.'


We sat grown quiet at the name of love;
We saw the last embers of daylight die,
And in the trembling blue-green of the sky
A moon, worn as if it had been a shell
Washed by time's waters as they rose and fell
About the stars and broke in days and years.


I had a thought for no one's but your ears:
That you were beautiful, and that I strove
To love you in the old high way of love;
That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown
As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.

Support Local Art

Looking for some good artwork for your home? Check out some photos for sale by Dr. Tom: http://mrbranch.photostockplus.com/
He's got some great images there.
Since Tom didn't win the free beans in my contest last week, he needs to earn some grocery money. If you bought a picture or two, you'd be doing your part to keep an artist from starving.

Plus, okay, let me get up on my soap box for a second. Hopefully I will offend no one -- particularly any Home Interior sales people. Home Interior and other businesses of that ilk have some good products, but there is a trend that I call the "Home Interioring of America." Notice how many homes you walk into that have the exact same paintings and photos on the walls as every other house in town? What's up with that? What happened to originality? What happened to personal style? Geez!
Move the Thomas Kincaid reprint to the garage -- it will fetch you some restaurant money in your yard sale next Spring. Then get yourself some Tom Branch prints. You'll be glad you did.

The Sound Of Music

Last night, a Nightrider and I visited the Bean Street Cafe in New Albany for some cups o' joe and good music(Nightriders of course are members of a secret society of superheroes. I can talk freely about them here since nobody reads this site. Not since Rabby boycotted.)
Guitar Chick From Sunday Nights Nikki Tatom, along with Starving Lorie King, opened for Jamie Barnes. This was the first time I've heard Mr. Barnes, and it was a treat. Check out his music at www.jamiebarnes.net. For that matter, you can check out the exploits of the Nikki Tatom Band at www.nikkitatom.com.
Both will be performing at Sunergos on Saturday, August 6. No doubt I will be there. Depending on how hot the weather is, I will either be having a caramel latte or a mocha shake. I will also be heckling Tatom if she goes a second set without playing any Dylan covers.
If you go, remember that I am there to enjoy good music and sip my beverage. I don't mind signing a few autographs, but lets keep a healthy perspective. The people on stage deserve your attention. I can't keep hogging the limelight or they're not gonna want me to attend future shows.

Let Us Ponder

What do you think of this quote from Keats, taken from "Ode on a Grecian Urn":

"Beauty is truth. truth beauty," -- that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

True or false? Why?

Best answer wins a can of pork and beans.

Puttin' On The Dog

Lose yourself in the dandy imagery of this poem:

From LISEL MUELLER's Alive together: New and selected poems,
Louisiana State University Press, 1996

WHAT THE DOG PERHAPS HEARS

If an inaudible whistle
blown between our lips
can send him home to us,
then silence is perhaps
the sound of spiders breathing
and roots mining the earth;
it may be asparagus heaving,
headfirst, into the light
and the long brown sound
of cracked cups, when it happens.
We would like to ask the dog
if there is a continuous whir
because the child in the house
keeps growing, if the snake
really stretches full length
without a click and the sun
breaks through clouds without
a decibel of effort,
whether in autumn, when the trees
dry up their wells, there isn't a shudder
too high for us to hear.
What is it like up there
above the shut-off level
of our simple ears?
For us there was no birth cry,
the newborn bird is suddenly here,
the egg broken, the nest alive,
and we heard nothing when the world changed.