I bought Carla some flowers today. Consider it an improvement on the one cut rose per year we’ve been married.

I’ve written it before: I am going to live my ordinary life in an extraordinary way: Rejoicing always, praying without ceasing, giving thanks in all circumstances, in humility of mind regarding those around me as more important than myself, loving You with all my heart, mind, soul and strength in my quotidian. I guarantee the non-quotidian will follow from there.

Singings lessons didn’t feel as good this week as they did last week. But I’m taking it in stride: As with Carla and local governance, I still have so much to learn about singing.

I am Calvin’s mom. And Calvin is my underpowered id.

I like Shardas. And FarmFest.

Tom Lundin, Dan Sharda, and I trotted over to the ballfield at Spring Creek Park to toss a disc this evening during a Shardas-are-here! shindig at our house that also included Stacy Tibbets. In the end, we ended up playing a game in which Jori Sharda tossed the disc long-distance to all three of us and we fought for it. What happy, sweaty exercise it was! And now that I think about it, the fun bears some relation in my mind to my recent hypothesis that physical affection between heterosexual men in Western societies such as our own will rebound once homosexual men no longer face stigma.

Good news for folks like me who sometimes worry whether Jesus’ instructions to the rich young ruler to sell 100% of what he owned and distribute it to the poor might be required of you to inherit eternal life per Luke 18:18-27: In the very next chapter, Jesus said Zaccheus was saved upon pledging just half.

I brought energy to our SCUL game this evening. When I pick up my energy level at the beginning of the game, I think it helps.

A cheer for the red team, whom we beat, 12–8, sung to the tune of “Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer”:

O, how the black team loves you,
And we’ll shout it out with glee:
Good game, Red Bull frisbee,
You’ll go down in history!

I understand why trust is a virtue, particularly trust in the almighty creator. I don’t understand by it has to be just so blind, nor do I understand why it is the virtue on which salvation from death depends.

Given how tired we are recently because of our over-engagement, I’m going to set an idealistic guideline for how many evenings a week I will make prescheduled plans for: No more than four. Time to start practicing my N word: no.

He’s Indonesian, Japanese, American, now Dutch.
Jimmy Hutasoit, we will miss you very much.
May you find a church with other folks who really really care.
Above it all, we pray, may you find Jesus Christ o’er there.

Mike Licona published a short piece on doubt today that I greatly sympathize with and thus found very encouraging.

Since Licona will be using plausibility “as the most important criterion” (p.113), his chapter entitled “The Historian and Miracles,” which comes up next, had better be good.

He also says that since to hypothesize a real resurrection of Jesus is to hypothesize a singular event, you can’t apply Bayes’ theorem because you can’t asses the prior probability of a unique event (p. 120). But what if your hypothesis is that the report of Jesus’ resurrection is false? Couldn’t you assess the prior probability of a resurrection report’s falsehood by looking at other the veracity of other resurrection reports?

To a skeptic materialist, ’tis no bad news to hear that God will annihilate him for his disbelief, because on that we already agree: To a materialist, annihilation is what happens to us at death anyway.

While walking with God through a nearby neighborhood in the wake of a few spats this morning with wife about housekeeping, it finally clicked: The housekeeping and homemaking is her work. It may even be helpful to compare the house to my computer and desktop workspace. Before I do any of the following again, it would be best to consider how it would make me feel if anyone came to my computer or desktop workspace and did the same:

• Leave items in places they shouldn’t be
• Move items that are not mine
• Change settings without asking
• Argue forcefully about the proper place or protocol for something
• Complainingly refuse to help when asked

The Bible does acknowledge the problem of the selectivity of miracles in Luke 4:23-27.

Religious faith is a virtue only in that it constitutes trust and trustworthiness, the former of which is virtuous only if there is Someone worth trusting. So it’s no wonder atheists question its virtue.

Don’t extort, don’t slander: Easy. Be content with your wages: A little harder. Redistribute your wealth: Um, really? Yet John the Baptist appears to assign similar moral value to all of them.

My aversion to academic writing under deadlines is what doomed any thought of me becoming an academic myself, but a love for academic reading could make this book the first in a long run tomes that pass through my house by way of my friends-of-Penn-State library card.

A few critical notes as I dive back in to Matthew McCormick’s book:

• Concision carries rhetorical power. And McCormick is concise.
• I agree that miracles don’t happen nearly as often as I wish they would or think they should. But that doesn’t mean they don’t happen. How do I account for some of the miracles my friend Marshall describes (i.e., the rain stopping, the word of knowledge for the divorcée, and the healed tumor)? How do I explain the healing ministry of Heidi Baker?

Wife and I share a concern that wherever this doubt and I end up, that I don’t end up lacking in the strength and security that I’ve given her and the kids with my faith in Jesus.

Is it not possible that the strength and security I’ve given comes not from being a conduit for Jesus but rather from my having certainty about my purpose and mission, a surety of a unifying guide, a lodestar principle? If I have a lodestar principle and mission I can settle on other than Jesus—what am I writing?!?—perhaps I can still lend strength to my family even if I end up a doubting Thomas.

friend:

I just wanted to let you know that my thoughts have been with you after hearing about your sleepless night. I think I understand the sort of turmoil you are in; I’ve been deep in it for a while!

I would be delighted to talk more…and/or to let ideas and feelings percolate as needed.

self:

Thank you for your sympathy. You and your husband are good people.

That it wasn’t until thirty-three years old for this devout Christian to experience his first pangs of doubt probably accounts for why it was so intense. It was a doubly novel experience for me: my first doubts and my first involuntarily sleepless night. A doozy I don’t hope to relive.

But now that I’ve slept some and my thoughts have settled, one could say in summary that not much has changed: I am simply less sure of all my Christian beliefs. Still, it’s strange to pray to a god you’re less sure exists. His hiddenness used to be a source of knowing laughter in prayer. Now it’s a bit more serious than that.

Anyway, I currently plan to pause on the McCormick volume until Sunday or so. We’ll see what happens as I continue reading. You still plan to finish, yes? In the apparent absence of a volume directly responding to...

When I restart my reading of Atheism and the Case Against Christ, I plan to actively take critical notes along the way. To fight back, as it were.

Scott: What would life be like without screens?
Carla: Buggy.
[pause]
Scott [slightly annoyed]: Could you just answer the question, please?
[pause]
Carla [gathering what he meant]: Well, we know what life would be like without screens. We didn’t have screens the first year of our marriage.
Scott: What did we DO?
Carla: We fought.