. . .So the first thing to note is that Paul starts out with the word "Finally," and I think that means there's a reason he's talking about the armor of God and spiritual warfare last in his letter. How often have we heard this lesson taught on its own, out of context, to young Christians who have no foundation in their understanding of who God is and who we are in Him? I think that's the first reason this passage gets misconstrued so often. This metaphor is meant only for people who have already prepared for battle.

How should we be prepared? In chapters 1 and 2, we should be growing in an understanding of God’s immense love for us and his gracious work of salvation in our lives. In chapters 2 and 3, we learn that we must have an active connection with our church body, united together, dependent on one another, contributing our gifts and benefiting from others’ gifts. And in chapters 4 and 5, we must be acting out in loving and submissive relationships with others around us. After all this, we're ready to hear about warfare.

Whenever you go into a fight, it's always a good idea to identify and understand who your enemy is, otherwise you could end up pretty unprepared and ultimately pretty embarrassed. So the second thing to notice is who our enemy is, or, if you ask Donald and me, who our enemy ISN'T. Thankfully, Paul tells us that, too.

It's not a war against cultures, it's not the good guys vs. the bad guys, and it's not us vs. them. No, it's not against flesh and blood at all, but rather a supernatural struggle. And the fact that it is supernatural not only tells us who we're fighting against but also our ability to succeed in this fight. We don't have a chance.

So if we don't have a chance, how are we told to fight? We're told to be strong in the Lord, to rest in his mighty power, to put on the armor of God, to stand firm, to pray, and to be alert. And our weapons consist of things like truth, righteousness, peace, faith, salvation, and the word of God.

None of these things come from ourselves, and of course they don't, because we already admitted we don't stand a chance in this supernatural fight. John tells us that we aren't greater than the one who is in the world, but the one who is in us is.

Truth has its source in God, and it's a reminder of who God is and who we are in him. Righteousness is what guards our hearts, and while our righteous acts are like filthy rags, a righteousness from God has been revealed. Peace with God and the peace of God makes us ready to face anything; it is a complete, sound and total welfare. Peace is what we're talking about when we sing "it is well with my soul." The faith that God supplies is the ability to believe his truth is in fact truth, enabling us to resist all temptation or doubt that comes our way. Our salvation in God gives us confidence and security. And God's Word continues to grow us in each of these areas. And where we falter in any of these areas or lack the desire to keep the armor in place, we must pray in the Spirit.

So, the question is, what does our fighting really look like?

We're not coming out swinging, kicking, screaming or yelling. We're not shooting or bombing. We're not even protesting or boycotting or arguing. We're not picking fights. None of this is what Paul's getting at in this passage.

No, instead, the battle is fought by a steadfast, intimate trust in the one who can fight and has already won the battle. Paul tells us several times to stand, and that should be our first clue that the battle is much more defensive than it is offensive. It's a resting in God, a continual reminder of who He is and who we are in Him. While it's not exactly passive (we're told to be alert!), it definitely looks quite passive compared to the fighting we're used to seeing. It's more inward than outward (have we not learned this lesson yet?!), more personal and individual than corporate.

(It's worth noting that, while no one can fight this battle FOR you, we ARE fighting together, side by side, encouraging one another along the way...)

This doesn't look like fighting or warfare at all! But I think it's a lot closer to what Paul is talking about. (And a lot of this makes more sense when we take a closer look at 1st century warfare--what Paul was really talking about--instead of our modern warfare.) It's not fighting against the liberals and the homosexuals, nor is it fighting against Satan with our own feeble tactics. It's standing firm in who God is and who we are in Him, resisting the devil, and becoming more like Christ along the way. Paul using this metaphor to tell us we're under attack, and he's not using it to tell us we need to be attacking in return.

Tell all this to organizations like BattleCry and they'd cease to exist. Tell all this to Donald Miller and he might start to be OK with war metaphor in its proper context.

I have grown in my understanding, and it's time we start spreading a more accurate word on this oft-misunderstood passage and idea.

It probably started with reading Blue Like Jazz. I used to be afraid of War Metaphor, just like Donald Miller.

"Only one more thing that bugged me, then I will shut up about it. War metaphor. The churches I attended would embrace war metaphor. They would talk about how we are in a battle, and I agreed with them, only they wouldn't clarify that we were battling poverty and hate and injustice and pride and the powers of darkness. They left us thinking that our war was against liberals and homosexuals. Their teaching would have me believe I was the good person in the world and the liberals were the bad people in the world. Jesus taught that we are all bad and He is good, and He wants to rescue us because their is a war going on and we are hostages in that war. The truth is we are supposed to love the hippies, the liberals, and even the Democrats, and that God wants us to think of them as more important than ourselves. Anything short of this is not true to the teachings of Jesus."

I agreed, and so I did my best to read the Bible and conveniently avoid certain passages. This was fine with me, because I had heard that lesson on the armor of God one too many times anyway, with all of its cute illustrations and cliche demonstrations. It was getting old.

Then, one Sunday, Carl taught on the chapter "Fighting with All His Might" from the book Holiness by Grace by Bryan Chapell. It turned out the chapter and the lesson focused on Ephesians Six, the armor of God. While Carl didn't come right out and clearly make the point that Donald Miller and I desperately wanted him to make, he did offer the most real, applicable, beautiful teaching on the passage I had ever heard. And he definitely didn't tell us to go bomb any abortion clinics or picket any gay-loving churches.

This set up some conflict for me. I wanted to be all hip and emergent or whatever and delete that part from my Bible, but Carl was showing me it was there, and it was true, and it was valid. Getting rid of it simply because some people were getting carried away with it would, like I mentioned recently, leave us equally misguided in the opposite direction. Instead, it's our job to test everything and hold on to the good, avoiding all extremes.

Fast-forward a year or so, and now it's my job to teach Ephesians 6, the armor of God, to a room full of 50 adults. I tried to pawn this one off on my co-teacher, but he was away and I was stuck with it. It turns out I'm glad I was.

. . .more to come. . .

Can I be honest?

Sometimes I get frustrated with rich Christians finding all sorts of ways to justify not being more generous with their money. They have all sorts of convenient arguments to account for their vacation home(s), sports car(s), and countless other luxuries.

I'm not saying they're necessarily wrong, because I'm not convinced they always are, but I've always dreamt of a CEO handling his wealth like THIS.

I was glad to read I'm not being completely lofty in my idealism.

But, I suppose it's easy to say I would give away all my money if I were a CEO. Maybe I should start now with the little bit I do have.

So, happy Thanksgiving, and happy Black Friday, and all of that.

I'm savoring the last of my break, here. Moravians apparently don't hunt, so we don't have off tomorrow.

There is truly so much for which to be thankful. On the top of that list, this year, is my job. After the last two years, I never expected to find a job that didn't make me dread waking up each morning. But I've found that job. It's rewarding and enjoyable, and more often than not, it's actually fun. This is a privilege I am not taking for granted, and while some days I have conflicted feelings about giving up on my previous job, it's a blessing I'll take advantage of while I can.

And as nice as this place is, and as tough as the last school was, I can say I'm thankful for those years too. They taught me some pretty important things. My patience grew, my trust in God deepened, my love, compassion and understanding for people widened, and I learned a lot about teaching. I still get excited when I see old students of mine walking through town. I get more excited than they do, that's for sure, and I probably make a fool of myself rolling down my windows and yelling at them. But I miss them. And I'm thankful for my time with them.

I'm thankful for a wonderful summer. Each time I see a picture of our adventures, vivid memories come flooding back and I can physically sense just for a moment how relaxed and stress-free we were. It was truly amazing. And I can close my eyes and picture myself on certain streets in Marseille or Montpellier or Strasbourg, and it brings a smile to my face. I am humbled to realize we had the opportunities we did.

I'm thankful for being encouraged. Grandfathers came up to me at Grandparents Day and took the time to ask how my year was going and they thanked me for all I do. And outside of school, lots of people are taking the time to encourage me in my teaching at church. Erica and I have had great interaction with people who are encouraging us as a couple. And all of this tells us God is working in our lives and marriage.

And I'm thankful for my wife. This woman, again this year, took on the planning of a thanksgiving meal that fed around 300 people across the Lehigh Valley. It was more amazing than ever. And if you saw the work behind the scenes you would know the compassion she has for these people, the grace she wants to communicate to them. She's an incredible woman.

And I could go on.

Could you?

I think I'm contradicting myself in that last post. And again, maybe it will all be cleared up when I continue on with the rest of the book.

On one hand, we can save ourselves the trouble of reinventing the wheel if we take a close look at things first, reading accounts like Chesterton is going to share.

On the other hand, if we insist on setting out to find something new, let us not resist returning to the same place we started, and let us rejoice in the incident, for we learned a lot in the journey and what was once commonplace and mundane is now meaningful and brilliant.

And however it happens, isn't it wonderful to know that people went through the same thing one hundred years ago? There's nothing new under the sun.

And with all this talk of discovering what we sought out to avoid...does this have anything to do with my trying to avoid being a pastor?

Why has no one told me sooner to read G.K. Chesterton's Orthodoxy? I recently saw the Barnes and Noble edition available for seven dollars, and decided I needed to add it to my library, going off of little knowledge besides hearing the name thrown around here and there.

I sat down this morning--in the beautiful act of recuperation from the previous days' gluttony--and opened the book, reading both the introduction by Steven Schroeder and Chesterton's opening introduction. The author immediately became one of the most endearing personalities I have ever encountered, and the presented premise of the book seems so completely and utterly relevant to matters in the church today, definitely much moreso than any magazine that deems itself relevant only to meander about matters discussed much more eloquently and relevantly elsewhere.

Now, before I get too excited and assume too much, I realize I need to read more than just the introductions. But if a book's introductions are this enrapturing, how much more will be the actual content?

Admitting I am being a tad hyperbolic, allow me to expound, in hopes that I can make some sense to these elusive connections swimming around in my brain.

This past Friday, we had the pleasure of hosting a French-missionary-friend for dinner. At one point in the conversation, he asked if I could see myself as a pastor. As much as this tends to be a goal of mine somewhere in the back of my mind, I still have trouble seeing it or admitting it. So, my answer was, "Yes, but I think my role and my church will look different from what I see in my dad and his church." And this is not to say I disprove of my father or his church, because that is far from the case. And in saying this, I have no idea how it will look or even in which small details it will be different. In other words, I am not aiming to make some huge departure and run a radically different path, but I just tend to think it will look slightly different in some unknown ways.

He appreciated and understood what I meant, and this led to a discussion of this crazy emergent-post-modern-whatever-it's-supposed-to-be-called-these-days-type movement. I tried to insist I wasn't much of a proponent of the emergent church, but he tried to insist that my earlier statement (paraphrased as, "I don't know what it will look like, but it will be different") indicated I was whether I liked it or not. (I think I still disagree.)

This led to a discussion of reactions and changes and responses and evolution. He wants the older generation to be tolerant and embracing of the changes the younger generations are bringing along. And while I appreciate his graciousness in this matter, I tend to think we're too accepting and uncritical of some of the changes that are occurring.

And maybe my idealism rests in this: "It is good to grasp the one and not let go of the other. The man who fears God will avoid all extremes." Ecc. 7:18

If we keep reacting and reacting and reacting in one hundred eighty degrees each time, we're going to be just as deficient as the ones before us, only in the opposite direction. Now, I must submit my idealism to the reality that the church will never reach perfection on this sinful earth, and at the same time, I want to believe we can get closer than we've been getting if we don't react with such intensity for the opposite direction. I want to believe we can get closer than we've been getting if we can "Test everything. Hold on to the good." 1 Thess. 5:21 We can get closer than we've been getting if we don't run the other direction and try to reinvent the wheel each time.

But enough of all this, how in the world does this relate to G.K. Chesterton's introduction to Orthodoxy?

Chesterton seems to say that in his zealousness to run from the church and find something new, his discoveries led him right back to precisely what the church believed all along. He likens himself to a yachtsman who leaves England in pursuit of an undiscovered island in the south seas. When he arrives to his supposed destination and proudly sticks his flag in the ground, he eventually realizes he ended right back up in England.

And while this may look foolish and embarrassing to many, Chesterton gives several reasons why it's not, and why it can actually be quite comforting, liberating, and beautiful.

These emergent-post-modern types (of which I may actually be a part) are setting out to find something completely different than the church of the previous generation. They may be surprised to find that the place in which they arrive is quite similar to what has been all along. But this is nothing to fear, because there is beauty in the journey, and beauty in finding the newness and depth and truth of what has been called home all along.

"What could be more delightful than to have in the same few minutes all the fascinating terrors of going abroad combined with all the humane security of coming home again?" Chesterton asks. And then, delving into deeper thoughts, "How can we contrive to be at once astonished at the world and yet at home in it?"

And so, in our zealous idealism, let us not arrogantly think we are alone in finding truth.

"When I fancied that I stood alone, I was really in the ridiculous position of being backed up by all Christendom. It may be, Heaven forgive me, that I did try to be original; but I only succeeded in inventing all by myself an inferior copy of the existing traditions of civilized religion. The man from the yacht thought he was the first to find England; I thought I was the first to find Europe. I did try to found a heresy of my own; and when I had put the last touches to it, I discovered that it was orthodoxy."

Chesterton is serious without taking himself seriously. He is confident and bold, but is able to laugh at himself in humility. He is sharing an experience that could very likely be perceived as foolish and embarrassing, and while it is, it is also beautiful.

And this is just the introduction!

"I want to tell you how much I've enjoyed A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints, Chalk, Dan in Real Life, Into the Wild, and The Darjeeling Limited, and what I've taken from each one."

I missed A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints in the theaters and put it in my queue instead. I was intrigued when I heard it was a memoir about surviving the culture in which I was attempting to teach at the time. And boy did it hit home, making some part of me regret leaving that demographic for the comfort of the motivated upper class. I could instantly attach a former student with each one of the characters, some with so much potential, seeing their culture for what it was, and longing to escape to bigger and better things, and others simply caught up, unable to escape. The most memorable part was each character intoducing themselves to the camera, accompanied with some sort of line that explained who they were. The scene ended with Antonio, walking up, looking straight into the camera and saying, "I'm a f------ piece of s---. And that's who I am." Strong words, indeed, but I could name a long list of my former students who would say the same thing if they could be honest with themselves; they have no identity other than what their abusive fathers and careless teachers and parole officers and society have told them over and over again. And it completely explains why they act the way they act. But besides the storyline, the movie--and I'm assuming the book as well--are amazing achievements for the autobiographer, Dito Montiel. Why didn't we hear more about this one when it came out?

I saw Chalk shortly after, another movie forcing me to reflect on my first two years of teaching. The movie is no great accomplishment. It's more a group of friends making a movie, finding themselves hilariously funny when they are only moderately funny at best, and thus overdoing some things too much and other things not enough. But the main character is played quite well, and if you want a small taste for my first years of teaching, watch him. I swear some of the exact things that came out of his mouth came out of mine as well. And the scene where he wrestles himself when signing his contract for the following year was also quite true and accurate. ...And, come to think of it, perhaps that's the other problem with Chalk. I never quite figured out how much of a mockumentary it was. Some things were too true to life and some things were, I think, fully intended to be serious, either showing what teachers truly go through or attempting to encourage them in some way. I think the group of people putting it together simply couldn't make up their minds on that end. And it's okay.

Dan in Real Life was sweet fun. Maybe I'm only liking movies that remind me of myself, but this one reminded me of our family vacations and family dynamics in a big way, and I found myself identifying with Dan at several moments. I loved how it communicated the warmth and support of a family but also the simultaneous isolation and loneliness. Maybe that's a paradox only introverts experience, but it was an intriguing insight. And while it seemed like a simple role, Steve Carrell is just a wonderful actor. Again, maybe it's because I could relate, but he just seemed to communicate nonverbal thoughts and feelings exceptionally well. It's always a shame when great actors get pegged in the goofball category, especially when even (some of) their comedy is incredibly intelligent.

Into the Wild was simply excellent. For Erica and I, it was so alarmingly similar to the friend we picked up a while back on so many different levels. If I were to write my thoughts on the theme of the movie, it would read pretty much exactly like my thoughts of that crazy experience in April. Again, maybe I'm only liking (or seeing?) movies that remind me of me.

And this past Tuesday, Dan, Wes and I went to see The Darjeeling Limited. First of all, few things are more relaxing than a weekday matinee. Second of all, this was a bit of a departure for Wes Anderson, one that felt like an EP between full lengths, a short story between novels. It was lovely. "I looks like I have more healing to do." "You've come a long way, though." "And it adds character." Mr. Anderson has a knack for these beautiful moments that tug at your heart and stick with you forever. That was one.

"I want to tell you how overwhelmed with movies I am now...I've waited all year, and now there's a whole slew to keep up with."

Wanting to see: Michael Clayton, Before the Devil Knows Your Dead, American Gangster, The Savages, Juno, Lars and the Real Girl, What Would Jesus Buy?, still My Kid Could Paint That, No Country for Old Men, and maybe Margot at the Wedding. What else am I forgetting? Eagerly awaiting There Will Be Blood.

There's so much to write about, but I seem to have lost the drive.

I want to tell you how much I've enjoyed A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints, Chalk, Dan in Real Life, Into the Wild, and The Darjeeling Limited, and what I've taken from each one. I want to tell you how overwhelmed with movies I am now...I've waited all year, and now there's a whole slew to keep up with.

I want to write the typical autumn post about the changing leaves.

I want to tell you about finally listening to Rhys Chatham's composition for 400 electric guitars that was played in Sacre Coeur, and how surprisingly wonderful it is, and how it's changing my opinion of ambient, minimalist music.

I want to tell you what I found in Acts chapter 8 and I want to express my frustrations about Ephesians chapter 5.

I want to tell you how much I'm enjoying my job.

Maybe someday soon.

Students were asked to add a personal motto to the coat of arms they were creating. One boy wrote,

"Do it fast, and do it rite."

The mistake was unintentional, but it is probably a more accurate motto for him than the correct version.

--

I typed a note on the Activboard today and finished with a common emoticon: ;)

I had three students raise their hands and ask if my finger slipped, trying to correct my apparent typo. They were completely clueless and unaware of the obvious modern-day connotation a colon and parenthesis holds in our day. I found this incredibly surprising and alarmingly refreshing. There are some small pockets of our world that have not yet been infiltrated by our pseudo-society of cyberspace.