The New World Order with COVID 19

I watched the news about the COVID 19 Pandemic. It was spreading from China to other parts of the world. It reached the Seattle, Washington area. It was only a matter of time before we would see it in our urban Michigan area. And so it came.

We knew the Michigan Governor was going to issue some kind of "stay at home" order, and on Friday, March 20, 2020, the order was issued. Sunday, March 22 we stayed home and watched the livestream service from our church.

That was the 1st Sunday. It is now Friday, June 26 and this coming Sunday will be the 17th Sunday. A few weeks ago we started to again meet in the church building, but with restrictions regarding masks and limited seating to encourage social distancing.

Online social media has become saturated with news, analysis, and opinion about the pandemic to the point where my eyes would glaze over and I just ignored most of it; blocking much of it, especially the "conspiracy theories". Michigan had some of the more stringent emergency orders in place, and that became a political hot point between the Governor and her more extreme political enemies.

Being a political independent removed me from the echo chambers some of my friends and acquaintances were caught up in. It is frustrating to watch it. COVID 19 became very politicalized. To wear or not wear a mask became politicalized. To often basic science was ignored or thrown under the bus to sustain a narrative with not much connection to reality. And on top of all of that, it is a major election year.

At our age, my wife and I are in a "vulnerable group" for COVID 19. When we are places where we will be in proximity to other people, we wear a mask. The mask does not stop oxygen or carbon dioxide flow, or even the virus itself. The mask stops the water droplets that are carrying the virus. Stop the water droplets and you stop the virus. That's why we wear a mask when it is appropriate to do so. It's how we can practice loving our neighbors.

The other issue is the abject failure of our culture and society, and even the church at large, to recognize God's hand in judgement through this pandemic. I'm not talking about specific people of whom I know nothing about who have died from COVID 19. But I am talking about judgement at large against a culture and society that is immersed in a selfish secular materialism bathed in the blood of millions of aborted unborn innocent babies.

How long do we think as a society and culture we can keep shaking our fist at Him and spitting in his face? The COVID 19 pandemic with its economic consequence is the small cloud of what is to come. It is the proverbial warning "shot across the bow". Whatsoever you sow, you shall reap. It is an inevitable consequence which at some point will become unavoidable.

May God Almighty yet have mercy upon us.

She was Much to Young

When we first started attending our current church, Meghan was just entering her teenage years. In the context of church life we came acquainted with her parents and two siblings. Meghan was the youngest of the three. She was at that time of life where it remained to be seen what she would become as an adult. There was a time in those teen years when in dealing with severe headaches, it was discovered that Meghan had an unoperable tumor in the brain area. At the time it was dealt with by other means, and seemed to be under control.

The years passed. Meghan graduated from high school, and a few years later married her high school sweetheart Jordan. Children came; their own children, several adopted children, and a foster child; six in all. Meghan and Jordan were active in our church. She loved her husband and children, and more importantly she loved her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and she reflected that love of God to those around her.

Last year the tumor reappeared. To make a long story short, this past week Meghan passed away at the young age of 30. It was a bit of a shock. It seemed to happen so suddenly. She's gone; leaving behind her husband and children and extended family and an innumerable number of friends whose life she touched and impacted for good and for the glory of God.

We know Meghan is with her Lord and Savior. God has His sovereign purpose in all He does and we rest in that assurance. By the grace and mercy of God we will see Meghan again.

The righteous man perishes, and no man takes it to heart;
And devout men are taken away, while no one understands.
For the righteous man is taken away from evil,
2 He enters into peace;
They rest in their beds,
Each one who walked in his upright way.
(Isaiah 57:1-2)

"The world was not worthy of them."

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Through faith

There were others who were tortured, refusing to be released so that they might gain an even better resurrection. Some faced jeers and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were put to death by stoning; they were sawed in two; they were killed by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated—the world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, living in caves and in holes in the ground. (Hebrews 11:35b-38)

We love the Bible stories of those who "conquered kingdoms, administered justice, and gained what was promised; who shut the mouths of lions, quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword; whose weakness was turned to strength; and who became powerful in battle and routed foreign armies" (Hebrews 11:33-34). But how little we want to talk about the possibilities of our Christian life involving "torture", "flogging", "chains and imprisonment", or being "killed by the sword"?

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But the path of faith is also a path that more often involves suffering. How often do we like to think about that? That doesn't exactly resonate with our "prosperity gospel" propensities. In fact a Biblical theology of Christian suffering brands the "prosperity gospel" for the damnable heresy it is.

R

May our minds in all things be conformed to the mind of Christ.

On Being an Autism Grandfather

For some time I’ve been meaning to sit down and write about my grand-daughter. She was our first grandchild. When we heard some 16 years ago that we had a grand-daughter we were excited. We looked forward expectantly to the Grandparents role with all the assumptions of normalcy; a grand-daughter who I could bounce on my knee, we could buy fancy dolls for, who we would read stories to and all the normal things a Grandfather does with a Grand-daughter.

But our Grand-daughter was not normal. Our daughter, her mother, noticed it when our first grandson came along. He developed differently than his older sister. She was obviously not where she should be in terms of “normal” development. And so we entered the world of autism. Our expectations of “normalcy” in relation to our grand-daughter were shattered. I have grieved and still to some degree grieve what could have been but was not.

We always hear of the "success stories"; the autistic children that respond well to this therapy or that therapy or some "miracle program" and we are happy for them. But as our grand-daughter grew older, hope for "the miracle" has faded considerably. I don't totally rule out a miracle, but neither do I hold my breath waiting and hoping for one.

We observed the strain her autism has been on our daughter’s family as well as ourselves. Her sibling brother at an early age sensed and felt the anxiety and uncertainty autism brought into his family. He too shared the emotional burden and psychological strain. We often were there to provide much needed respite time for her mother. There were some very extremely difficult times, but somehow by the mercy and grace of God we as an extended family pulled through.

Yes I do love her; autism and all. She is very very special. I think she knows I love her, and in her own way has expressed her love for me. If she was on the verbal end of the autism spectrum perhaps it would have been a little easier, but she is on the non-verbal part of the autism spectrum, and though there has been speech therapy and other things, she remains non-verbal. I have never heard her say, “I love you Grandpa…” She has expressed love to me in other ways and for that I am thankful, but I still feel a loss.

I don’t know why this happened. It just is, and despite all, she was created in God’s image and as such, her life has meaning, purpose and value in and of herself as a being created in the image of God. I pray for her just as much as I pray for her two younger “normal” brothers. My hope is that in the resurrection when all things are restored to the fullness of what they were meant to be, that I will finally hear those words I have so longed to hear…

“I love you Grandpa…”

The Party

I was just a few years out of high school. I was working a summer job, having finished another year of college, and needing money for the resumption of classes in September. One of my co-workers at the shop was also a college student, a year younger than me; an acquaintance from high school; one of those small rural high schools where everybody knows just about everybody.

Sometime in the course of that summer, this acquaintance made it known to me he was going to have a party at his house. His parents were going to be away for an extended period of time, and he was going to take advantage of the opportunity to have a beer party.

The context of this intended party would involve a number of people like him and me who had recently graduated from our local high school, but were not yet of the legal age of 21 which, in our particular state, was the minimum age for the legal possession of and/or consumption of alcoholic beverages. Understand dear reader that one of the reasons for waiting for over forty years to tell this story is that the statute of limitations for any violation of the laws of the state detected in this saga has long since ran out. Nevertheless, names will not be used so as to protect the guilty as well as the innocent.

The other context coming into this story was a personal one for me. Over the past several years of college I had encountered that existential crisis of philosophy, life, and faith that in the end, much to my own surprise, took me into a conscious embrace of the Christian faith. There was much about that personal world view change that I had yet to work out in my own daily life.

The appointed day came. Through the provision of some legally of-age friends of my co-worker, the stage had been set. I cannot remember if I ever really thought about just not going at all. It would be an occasion of seeing some people I had not seen since high school. At the time I more or less left the whole under-age alcohol thing in an ethically grey area; a place that at this point in my life over forty years later, I would not be able in conscience to go to.

It was late in the afternoon when I drove down the dirt road to the farmstead where my acquaintance lived. I suppose looking back, the location was relatively ideal for the purpose intended; a dirt road with not much traffic; the farmhouse some distance from any neighbor’s ears and eyes. I turned in the driveway, parked off on the lawn by the barn. It was a warm summer evening, but not overly humid or hot; the sky clear and blue with a few fluffy clouds here and there; the sun slowly sinking towards the western horizon. I don’t remember how many people were there. The people who were there were familiar faces; some I had known most of my life. There we were, young adults pushing the boundaries in a way many of us had not done up unto that time. There was a keg of beer there. There was some bottled premium beer. There was also some hard liquor, Crème d’ menthe, and what else I do not remember; probably whiskey and rum or whatever.

I sampled the brew from the keg. I walked around and watched what was going on. Imagine a bunch of little kids greedily grabbing for some chocolate candy. Add ten or so years to their lives, and substitute the alcoholic beverages for the chocolate. I will admit my memory could possibly have distorted some things over the past forty pluse years, but that is how I remember it.

I don’t know if I stayed there even a full hour. At some point as I was watching it all, the question hit me right between the eyes.

“What am I doing here?”

Looking back later, I could see that the purpose of the whole affair stated or not, was to get soused; that is out right drunk. And even if those there did not consciously have that intent, there was a certain inevitability that such was where many of them would end up, unless they had more discipline over their alcohol intake then I gave them credit for.

At that point of epiphany, I knew I did not belong there, and needed to just leave. I went into the house to the kitchen. The teakettle was on the stove. I made sure there was water in it, and set it on the burner and switched the burner on. In a cupboard I found the instant coffee.

One of my acquaintances made a surprised comment, “Bill’s making a cup of coffee!” Another friend replied to him, “He’s the only smart one here…”

I finished the coffee, rinsed the cup and set it on the counter. I went out into the yard, got into the car and drove away.

Thankfully there was no public fallout from my friend’s booze party; no automobile accidents on the way home by inebriated guests; no surprise visit to the farmstead by the local constabulary with resulting embarrassment and public scandal. As far as I know most if not all who were at that party went on to become responsible and mature adults. Oddly enough, the guy who hosted the whole affair ended up in the Christian ministry. Such are the mysterious ways of grace.

~ The End ~

Copyright © June 2014 by J. William Newcomer All rights reserved.

Passing Seasons

This day, December 5, has now become something of a double anniversary day for me.

One year ago today Mom passed away. A few short weeks later, Dad left us also.

Back in late December of last year, after my parents funerals, when I set the date for my then upcoming retirement, I didn't realize at the time that the day I picked was the 1 year anniversary of Mom's death. That realization did not hit me until about two months ago.

This day has come and one year after Mom's passing, after 34 years at my place of work I retired. It was time to go. There were some practical considerations in picking this day to retire, but it is also somewhat ironic. I think both Mom and Dad would be pleased if they knew.

This "retirement" thing is still a little surreal. Many years ago my Father in-law died of a massive heart attack about 7 months before his planned retirement, and 4 months before the birth of our oldest child. Back in March of last year (2012) a good friend of mine collapsed and died. He was three months from his own retirement.

Seeing things like that make you wonder, and as my wife and I approached this time of life, the thought in the back of our minds was , "Will we make it?" I found myself figuratively holding my breath until just before noon today, I walked out the office door for the last time. Some 9 hours later in this day, my mind has still not warped itself around the reality that I am now "retired". I don't know how many more years we will have, but of one thing I am very certain; each day is a gift; a gift from God; a gift of mercy and grace.

Even as last year at this time my life was unalterably changed with the death of my aged parents, so this year my life is again unalterably changed by the significant life event of retirement.

I am reminded of how much of Abraham's life as it has been recorded in Genesis was days, weeks, even years of mundane living. His revelatory encounters with God would occasionally break up that mundane regular cycle of life, but those times in Abraham's life were the exception and not the norm of his day to day living.

I have had enough of significant life events over the past year. I'm ready to enter a new pattern of day to day mundanes for a while. I want to concentrate on finishing up some writing projects. I have some genealogical research to return to and pick up on. I have retirement funds to manage and blog posts to write. I am ready for a sabbatical from the regular working world; a time to rest, recoup, and do some of the things that the 40 hour work week never really left me time for.

Soli Deo Gloria!

God & the Super Bowl

Scott McKnight posted on The Jesus Creed a note titled God and Sports which reported on a new survey that "...finds more than a quarter of Americans believe that God “plays a role in determining which team wins" at sports events." The following is an expansion of some comments I left on that post.

What do you think of that statement? Does God really play a role in determining which team wins the Super Bowl? Does God favor athletes on the basis of their faith or lack of faith?

Let's say, for the sake of argument, God does determine, in the words of one catechism, “the course and outcome of all events” including sporting events. What then? That assertion says nothing about WHY He has one team win or lose a game with another team.

The Gospel tells us the rain, coming from the hand of God, falls on both the just and the unjust. We are not necessarily told why the rain falls on the just in contrast to the unjust, or why it falls on the unjust in contrast to the just. The secret things belong to God and as C. S. Lewis wisely reminded us, God is not a “tame lion” we can manipulate or in some fashion “buy off”. I believe God's determining the outcome of a sporting event falls in the same category as where the rain falls.

In my life time there have been a number of great and successful athletes in both team and individual sports. Some modeled Christian virtue. Others modeled much the opposite. The good guys won some games and lost some games. The bad guys won some games and lost some games. With our presupposition stated above, all those, both wins and losses, come from the sovereign providence of God.

Related to the issue of God's sovereignty in relation to the outcome of sporting events, is how we view Christian athletes. We really need to be wary of a pop-evangelical tendency to view the Christian sport superstar with a sub-biblical pop-theology that has little to do with the hard realities of life in a fallen and broken world. God gives the the Christian athlete the losses as well as the wins.

Most of the world is not living in the atmosphere of success and winning, but of loss, failure, struggle, poverty, and the brokenness of a fallen world. I need a God and theology that helps me live in that reality, not a pseudo-god and pop-theology of an American materialistic view of value and worth as sometimes exhibited in our popular view of sports and athletes.

In the words of the Apostle John, “Little children, keep yourselves from idols.”

(Some further reflections on this can be found in one of my other posts Being Sacked on 3rd and Long.