A Minuscule Taste of the Middle East

Ahlan w sahlan! I never guessed I would spend one of my college semesters in Egypt, but God led me to do exactly that in my junior year. Here is a fraction of the highlights, as well as a few of the lessons I learned on my amazing trip—four of the best and most challenging, inspiring, fulfilling, and life-changing months of my life!

I arrived in Egypt in January 2004, joining twenty-three other students from Christian universities across the U.S. for the Middle East Studies Program. We lived, studied, and traveled together until our program ended in April. We studied Arabic, Islam, people and cultures of the Middle East, and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Based in Cairo, our flats were three blocks from the River Nile in a traditional district of Africa’s largest city. We engaged the culture, practiced the language, fell in love with the food, and made many friends with Muslims and “Coptic” Christians.

Egyptians are known for being very friendly and hospitable; late-night folks who usually smile and always have time for tea! Most were kind and cordial to us, whatever their economic class (usually poor) or religion (mostly Muslim).

We explored greater Egypt on weekends—oases, cities, beaches, famous sites, and not-so-famous sites (which were just as memorable). We got to stay with Egyptian families for a week. We toured Syria, Lebanon, and Jordan for three weeks, which ten articles could not adequately describe. Our program closed near Alexandria on the Mediterranean Sea. We enjoyed many late nights together, which frequently included hearing the beautiful pre-dawn call to prayer! We grew very close.

Hundreds of specific stories formed the real, life-changing parts of our semester, far beyond mere sight-seeing. We were blessed not only to see the cultures, but to engage them and invest ourselves in them, not just milk them for ourselves. Dialogue occurred and relationships formed, all of which helped us learn that our culture is not completely or inherently better or worse than others. Rather, we informed and learned, talked and listened—and many Middle Easterners humbly bestowed on us the same respect.

Someday, I hope to write more of the many lessons and blessings God gave me on my journey, and how He has helped me incorporate them into a more holistic lifestyle since then. Until then, I thank Him for letting me visit such a marvelously different culture and meet such marvelously different people.

And yet…the Middle East is not so different. People there are still people, with the same spiritual and physical needs that we all have. God loves them just as much as anyone else. He forgives them just as readily as any other asking soul. And His Great Commandment and Great Commission are just as prevalent there as any other place. I pray that I can follow those two “Greats” everywhere I go. And I hope “everywhere I go” will someday again include the Middle East—“insha’allah”! (if God wills!)

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(Originally published by Cedars.)

Strange Encounters in Uganda

Part 1

8 March 2005

After about half of our four or five mile trek, we rested for a time overlooking the majestic valley and lake below. Our hosts were socializing with some of their friends. One of the girls and I each had to relieve ourselves, so we asked where to find the nearest latrine.

Most Ugandans use latrines as their toilets, even in the cities, unless they are rich. Latrines are of kindred spirits to our outhouses—only they are permanent, and generally made of mud with a tin roof. They rarely have a seat. Moreover, we always had to carry toilet paper with us because few latrines ever had any. It is a different and generally smelly way to go—but then again, they never have to unclog their toilets, repair their pipes, or empty their sewers or septic tanks!

Anyway, Cassie went to the latrine first. When she returned, she told me I was going to have fun in there! When I found it, I was dumbfounded to see a four-foot high latrine. I not only could not stand up inside, I could not pee in any upright position whatever—I had to squat like a girl!

Most men in that neighborhood, I suppose, simply used the outdoors for number one. This would be no problem at home on my family ranch or hiking in the mountains. But here, it was not really an option. Plus, to cap off the event, ten or twelve youngsters were lined up nearby as I came out, shyly watching my every move. Ah, Uganda!

Part 2

27 February 2005

Most of the Ugandans I have met are fabulous folks. But there was this one guy…

My good friend Cassie and I were talking late one evening, sitting in the middle of the university basketball courts on the edge of campus. We had not been there long when a random, seemingly drunk man approached us out of nowhere.

He began telling us about how impoverished and run-down Uganda was. He told us to tell others in our home country about these problems. We already had witnessed a great deal of deprivation all over Uganda. Also, we had been planning to share with people back home about the plight of many Ugandans. This man was simply ordering us to do this for him.

He pointed randomly to the patched asphalt basketball courts as evidence for his case. This was a legitimate example, for Uganda Christian University was one of the finest in the country, and yet for its three thousand students it could only maintain one outdoor basketball court, complete with cracked asphalt and cement.

The man almost acted as if he had planned the entire show, as if he knew that two white students would be right there at 11:30 pm! He spoke loud, and sat close. But he was not mad or bellicose, and he stayed where he was. He was creepy, but probably harmless. I was on my guard the entire time, mostly for Cassie’s sake. She was, too, she told me afterward.

But nothing happened. Eventually, he got up still gesticulating wildly and talking with increased nonsense. Finally, he wandered off into the darkness and disappeared as quickly as he had come. You just never know who you might meet in Uganda near midnight on a basketball court!

Sleeping in Kampala

26 March 2005

One day I wandered all over the capital of Uganda for ten hours, starting around 11 am. I already had spent several afternoons in Kampala. But this was my first all-day and overnight excursion.

I was by myself, and my goal was just to see—and learn my way around—as much of the city as I could. My second goal was to try many different restaurants from many different cuisines. But I quit after getting sick at my fourth restaurant, fourth country, and third continent!

Late in the evening, still rather sick, I trudged around trying to locate my hostel. I considered just going back to my dorm an hour outside of town. But I was on an adventure, and I was staying on it!

A nice man helped me find my lodging by going almost an hour out of his way to ensure my safe arrival. I felt exhausted after hours of walking under the African sun and eating too much diverse food. But this was precisely where God graced me with humor to get through the night, although the events seemed so typical of Uganda.

I entered the gates of the hostel and met three guards lounging there—as in lounging! They were eating, talking, and leaning back in what vaguely looked like lawn chairs. One easily could have grabbed one of their guns before any of them could do anything. I also wondered why three were there, all apparently doing the same thing: nothing!

I greeted them and announced that I had reservations for the night. Three blank stares. I repeated with a patient, annoyed sigh, “I have experienced this before in this country!”

They dryly asked, “You want to stay here tonight?” I thought, “Shall I repeat myself again, or do random white people often show up with backpacks at the entrance to the ‘Backpacker’s Hostel,’ alone, tired, in the dark, at 9:30 at night?!” But I answered, “Yes.”

Again, silence. “So…can I go in?” “Yes.” “Um…where do I go?” It was not like a big, or small, “Office” sign stood right in front of me, or anywhere in sight for a hundred feet in any direction. One guard pointed toward my left, but silence reigned. So I sighed and went in, barely stumbling onto the correct path to the distant, unmarked office building.

To perfect the evening, I went in and gave my name, having made reservations that morning. But whoever I had talked with in the morning did not record my reservation! Yet after insisting that I would not leave at this hour or in my weakened condition, they provided me a better room at the same price.

I went in, lay down on my bed, and just thought, “Ah, Africa!”

A Tire in the Desert

7 February 2004

Transportation stories often etch themselves permanently into one’s memory—especially if they take place in Egypt’s Western Desert.

At least a dozen of my fellow American college students had journeyed with me into far western Egypt for several days. We visited the small, yet magical and lovely oasis called Siwa.

We returned to Cairo in three different groups. Mine took the boldest, longest, and most exciting route—an overnight desert safari!

The main bus route went north from Siwa and followed the Mediterranean to Alexandria, then it cut south along the Nile to Cairo. We, however, went straight east through the Sahara on a safari vehicle—a covered long-bed pickup truck—and we slept out under the stars.

During our 24-hour trip, our two Bedouin guides, who also served as drivers and cooks, allowed us to climb out the back of the truck and onto the roof—while we were still driving! We went up there two, three, even four at a time and just let the wind blow in our faces as the countless miles of sand flew by beneath us. At least one of us was up there half the time, hanging on for dear life.

We had a splendid evening with a fire, food, fellowship, and a full moon. Unwilling to sleep, my blanket worked its way over to the cute, shivering girls in my group. Then I strolled in and out of camp the rest of the night, praying, reading, and pondering. I also observed the sun set, the moon rise, the sun rise, and the moon set all on one night for the first time in my life.

Next morning, our escorts offered us hardboiled eggs. I made myself eat them, enjoying them for the first time in my life. Then we took off again.

After a while, four or five of us clambered up to the roof of the safari vehicle. We barely fit—but we barely cared. We were shouting over the wind, laughing whether we heard anyone or not, and enjoying to the fullest all that God had given us.

Suddenly, we heard a sound and felt the truck veer sharply off the “road,” which really was just a two-wheel track. By God’s grace, we were all gripping the roof rack tightly when this happened.

As we ground to a halt, we watched in disbelief as our whole rear left tire raced on ahead of us at top speed. After rolling a hundred yards or more, it finally plopped over along the desert floor. It had snapped off of the axle right through the bolts!

This pit stop cost us about two hours, but our guides said “Mafeesh mushkayla!” (“No problem!” in Arabic). They told us to relax and make some tea! Relax, right. We are stranded in the world’s largest desert!

But we really were put at ease because we were having a great time anyway, and we loved being where we were, and best of all, the skillful Bedouins immediately and cheerfully set to fixing the truck, whistling and joking with each other for the next hour or more! What could we do but just what they had told us? We sat down on a blanket, heated up some tea, and just hung out and had some great talks next to our wounded vehicle in the middle of the desert!

Hikes, Cows, and Tunes near Mount Elgon

Part 1

9 April 2005

These three tales are from the same weekend excursion in Uganda. We were fifteen students from a university just outside the national capital, where I spent my final semester of college.

We visited eastern Uganda, which boasts some of the prettiest waterfalls and foothills I have ever observed. We hiked along one side of a massive mountain, Elgon, whose 14,200-foot summit we neither approached, nor even saw.

Part of the hike was in a national forest, and official guides had to accompany us. Our group size posed a problem for our two guides. They said we had to divide into two clans—one group three to five minutes behind the other. They added that every person in both groups had to walk single file behind our guides on the path. Disgruntled, and curious as to their reasoning, we asked for an explanation.

They politely informed us that their methodology sought to protect the environment. But this was despite two obvious factors. First, all of us would be walking along the exact same route whether we were in two separate groups or one large group. And second, the path was already well worn. There was nothing that walking single file or in separate groups could do to the environment that one group walking two abreast would not also have done.

But they insisted!

Part 2

9 April 2005

Later that day, after we left the national park and could trek with more liberty, we were treading through villages and on paths through local farms and fields. A few of the people on this hillside kept a small number of cows—an uncommon, valuable commodity in East Africa. For myself, I grew up on a cattle ranch in Montana. So I like cows, and like conversing with them sometimes.

I was lagging behind my group. And since I had not seen many cows in Uganda, I said “moo” to one lone cow eating separately from the herd. She immediately looked up. Pleased, I said “moo” again, and she looked ever so intently at me. A third “moo” and she started pacing toward me.

She was distant enough that I could not discern her mood. But I was very curious, since a “moo” back home never arouses more than a lazy glance. I half guessed that if eastern Ugandans called their cows this way, perhaps she thought I had food. My speculation soon changed!

I called once more and to my great humor and surprise, she began to charge! I took off, but I was already a good distance from her, so she eventually stopped. I tried one final time and she picked up the chase again! It is quite an experience to run for your life while laughing at the same time!

Eventually she halted, and I pressed on and left the poor beast alone. She watched me closely for another five minutes. I have been charged before, but never for offering an innocent “moo!”

Part 3

9 April 2005

Back in our weekend lodging, we met a small band of British students. They were celebrating the 21^st birthday of one of their members, and spent the evening drinking themselves silly. We talked with them around a campfire awhile, and in time a few of them started singing.

If you have spent much time overseas with Brits as an American, you probably have traded jokes about colonial disobedience, royal tyranny, and the like. Our new friends were singing distinctly American songs, including patriotic songs like Yankee Doodle Dandy or even the Star-Spangled Banner.

Then in strong British—and fairly drunk—accents, one or two began teasing us and calling on us to “Sing us a tune, sing us a tune!” We smiled. Almost like cat calls, they pressed again, “Sing us a tune, sing us an American tune!” We kept chatting by the campfire. One or two of them looked embarrassed and tried to distract them or make them stop.

Finally, the annoyance was bathed in humor as they cried, “Sing us an American tune! Sing us—sing us an anti-British tune!” We still pretended to ignore them, until somebody in our group said quietly, “We don’t have any anti-British tunes...we won the war!”

African Bus Rides

Part 1

15 June 2005

Ethiopia is a phenomenally aged country and society, like that of Egypt. In seventeen days there, God led me to engage the people and culture as much as I could. I experienced some of the most challenging, horrifying, yet also fantastic and fulfilling episodes of my life. Comic relief filled in the gaps.

Halfway through my stay, I took one of my many rough, crammed, and sometimes scary African bus rides. I highly recommend the adventure at least once!

I was in the back row. In America, it would have comfortably fit four people, and tightly fit five. But in most of my travels in Ethiopia and Uganda, “comfortable” meant six, “full” meant seven, and “tight” meant eight! This particular bus ride, counting one or two kids, was “tight.”

Toward the end of the five-hour journey, I discovered that at least some (maybe most) Ethiopian children do not use diapers. I was squeezed in next to a father and his infant son, maybe one year old. I looked down on the floor and saw a small but growing pool of liquid. I thought there was a hole somewhere and water was leaking into the bus—I had seen such holes before.

But then the father reached down and grabbed a small basin about the size of a large cereal bowl. He pulled down the pants of his child right there—who was still urinating—and plopped his little bare butt down into the basin for a couple of minutes!

Afterwards, he apologized to me in his minimal English. Most humored, I assured him it was all right. After all, it was just another of my crazy African bus rides!

Part 2

14 March 2005

I had bus escapades in Uganda, too. My Ugandan friend Jeremiah was driving through Kampala. We were just finishing a tiring day on the road on our return from a ten-day trip to southwestern Uganda. With me on the bus were eleven fellow college students, all studying abroad for a term, as well as our program leaders.

Most of us were likely asleep or snoozing when all of a sudden Jeremiah slammed on the brakes. He just missed hitting a random—but not altogether uncommon—goat sprinting across the road. Wide awake, we all turned and looked to make sure we did in fact miss it.

Well, we missed it. But a cyclist going the same direction we were was not so fortunate!

With a big bus beside him, he could not discern what was coming across our path until it was out of our path, and therefore in his path. The silly goat ploughed right into the bicycle rider, and we looked just in time to see the bicycle wreck and its rider go flying and screaming through the air! I doubt his untimely flight without parachute or wings offered him a graceful or painless landing.

Nothing was stopping that creature from getting to the other side of the road. In fact, it kept right on going after the collision. The poor cyclist, meanwhile, probably had to be taken to a hospital!

Sexual Struggles in Marriage: Finding Help for Marital Intimacy…Is Possible

Life in a university men’s dormitory is lots of things: fun, gross, hilarious, and loud. Friendships evolve through games, studying, pranks, movies, mishaps, thievery, and late-night talks. Typical conversation topics include girls, faith, girls, goals, girls, classes, girls, sports, girls, hobbies, and girls. Subtopics on females include relationships (past, present, and future) and sex.

On a Christian school campus, discussions about sex include temptations, fears, confessions, and desires. Two guys—or ten guys—might spend hours each week covering these issues. They hold each other accountable, offer encouragement, and tease each other. Moreover, their ethics classes may address sexual morality, while their church might stress abstinence and marital faithfulness.

Then they graduate in May, get married in June, start their career in July, and by August some of them are confused or unsatisfied with their new bride in the bedroom. Some do not know how to talk about it with their old friends, let alone their wives, and their churches keep harping on stuff they already know, but which does not apply directly to their situation. They still need help!

In 2008, secular sociologist Sarah Diefendorf began tracing the struggles of evangelical men who commit to virginity until marriage. She talked with fifteen single men who were in a small group together. They grew close and kept each other accountable. But after they were married, they felt they could not discuss issues so intimately anymore, because it involved their wives.

Some still struggled with things like pornography, masturbation, lust for other women, and same-sex attraction. An August New Republic interview with Diefendorf does not identify the source of these challenges, or whether the temptations are new, or whether the men blame their spouses. But she does emphasize that they “no longer have an outlet to work through” their issues.

Diefendorf says some men who commit to abstinence define masculinity differently than popular culture. She cites fellow sociologist Amy Wilkins, who conducted her own research on the topic. The men Wilkins spoke with, states Diefendorf, do not claim to be men because they “engage in a variety of sexual activity.” Rather, they state, “I’m a man because I can avoid that temptation.” They consider sex “beastly” outside marriage and “sacred” inside marriage.

But achieving sexual fulfillment and staying pure in marriage is hard—no matter the age, history, or gender of either spouse. Diefendorf says small groups offer key support in evangelical groups: “They are caring, supportive, and safe space that allow men to have a remarkably open and frank discussion about sexual desire.”

Other resources exist, too. Authors, speakers, and organizations are addressing the subject more. Easy-to-remember phrases are becoming popular, such as “men are like microwaves, women are like crockpots.” Churches are focusing more on the “sacred” joys of sex, and less on its “beastly” dangers. And close mentors can provide honest feedback to the hurting and confused.

Back in the Christian men’s dorm, a respected hall leader graduated and got married. At the start of the next year, he came back to visit. Sex is nothing like Hollywood, he said. It is much harder, but far better. He was right—and with the help of God, a solid church, and close friends, spouses can master the subject. Sex was His idea, after all!

Four Books: Great Journeys through the Human Condition

Book One

These are abnormal book reviews. And Thomas a Kempis was an abnormal religious person.

In his 600-year-old best-seller, The Imitation of Christ, a Kempis seeks to show people how they can follow Christ completely and constantly. Anything less, for any amount of time, he explains, is not only wrong, but it also should be out of the question. Jesus lovingly and willingly gave His all for us, and He asks the same in return. This is certainly not a normal human philosophy.

Highlighting books is a two-edged sword. When I highlight, I feel guilty for reading slowly. But when I do not highlight, I feel guilty for not recalling the book better. Life is hard!

Anyway, without regret I underlined a lot in The Imitation. In fact, my only regret, or confession, about this book is that I turned down a chance to give it to an imprisoned Christian brother in the Middle East. I wanted to keep my underlining for my own future reference. He had not asked for it, and I did give him several other good books. But I should have given him this one, too.

But since I did not, I need to share it with everybody else! Of course, a Kempis is not on par with the Bible, but here are some lines I really appreciated:

“A humble peasant who serves God is better than the proud astronomer who knows how to chart the heavens’ stars but lacks all knowledge of himself.”

 “Be willing to suffer a little for Christ…there are many who suffer far worse things to achieve worldly advancement.”

“I am unable to offer You the praise and gratitude I ought, even for the least of Your benefits.”

Book Two

My most recent reading adventure ended with my second bout with the Russian novel Crime and Punishment, by Fyodor Dostoevsky. I first read it in high school and hoped to reread it someday. At 505 pages, it is the shortest of three great Russian novels I have read, including Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov and Leo Tolstoy’s enormous War and Peace.

I am a slow reader, but worse, I can be lazy. I aged eleven months during Crime and Punishment. The exciting part is that I began it on a short trip to Oman with a friend—reading much in the hot hotel room where I could only sleep for one or two hours the second night—and I ended it in my new home in Montana, just miles from where I grew up in the gorgeous Crazy Mountains.

Perhaps my reading journey mimics that of the book’s protagonist: Raskolnikov. After his crime early in the tale, Raskolnikov starts seeing cracks in his worldview which had led him to murder. Someone whose own wrecked life God was redeeming, Sonia, patiently guided him toward truth and repentance.

In a remarkable passage, Sonia concludes reading part of John’s Gospel to Raskolnikov:

“‘That is all about the raising of Lazarus,’ she whispered severely and abruptly, and turning away she stood motionless, not daring to raise her eyes to him. She still trembled feverishly. The candle-end was flickering out in the battered candlestick, dimly lighting up in the poverty-stricken room the murderer and the harlot who had so strangely been reading together the eternal book.”

Book Three

My eight days in Rwanda were wonderful and terrible. It was a gorgeous country, to be sure! But I visited nine years after the 1994 genocide—which killed 1 million Rwandans in 100 days.

The sight and smell of death do not die as easily or as quickly or as human beings. I visited mass graves and killing sites, including churches. In the worst case, hundreds of butchered corpses lay on tables in room after room for all to see. They were preserved with lime powder.

Much of this could have been prevented had Rwandans resolved their own problems years before the outbreak of war and genocide in April 1994. But the international community also had a fatal hand in the catastrophe. Germany and Belgium exacerbated ethnic divides decades earlier. China and France armed those who carried out the decimation. And America refused to call it genocide (and thus respond forcefully) until it was all over.

In particular, the United Nations had troops on the ground when the killing began. But they were largely forbidden from stopping the violence. Canadian Lt. General Romeo Dallaire commanded this ill-fated U.N. force, and he shares his vivid story in Shake Hands with the Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda.

Book Four

You know a great book when it sways your thinking in specific situations five years after having read it. Charlotte Bronte has led me into, I hope, better living through her classic juxtaposition of honor, heroism, and humanity in Jane Eyre.

The first half of Jane’s life is anything but easy. She suffered abuse as an orphan, lost her groom-to-be under chaotic circumstances, and thereafter lost her job as well. But she overcomes, thanks to her philosophy that morals are worth maintaining—always:

“I will keep the law given by God, sanctioned by man. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and was not mad, as I am now. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation. They are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigor. Stringent are they, inviolate they shall be. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth? They have a worth, so I have always believed. And if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane, quite insane. Physically, I felt at the moment powerless as stubble, exposed to the draft and glow of a furnace. Mentally, I still possessed my soul, and with it, the certainty of ultimate safety.”

Four Books: Great Journeys through Travel, Marriage, and Faith

Book One

These are abnormal book reviews. And Wadi Rum was an abnormal trip to the desert.

One of my favorite days of 2004 transpired about one-third of the way around the world from my native Montana—in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. Thankfully, I was there in March, so the red desert was comfortable (in shorts and t-shirts), not impossibly hot.

The copper-colored sand, the steep mountains, the lifeless valley floor, the total lack of moisture, the awesome emptiness, the fearsome beauty, the Bedouin smiles and tents, the long saunter, the restful evening in another spectacular place—Petra—the late-night talk on the edge of a cliff, and especially the amazing friends who joined me through it all…Yes, it was a spectacular day.

So when my mom brought me a little book in 2012 by Casa Editrice Plurigraf called Wadi Rum: The Desert of the Bedouin, I eagerly soaked it up, and let my memories flow. Plurigraf obviously spoke English as a second or third language—or else had a worthless editor—but the history and politics and culture of the Bedouins of southern Jordan were clear and intriguing.

I hope to return someday soon.

Book Two

I typically consider myself an optimist, although I can be dreadfully pessimistic, too. So I think it is often better to affirm good things (and good books) more often than avoid bad things (and bad books). That said, one book is atop my terrifying and never read again list: Brave New World by Aldus Huxley.

The only redeeming quality to this tale is its strong warning against cultivating a godless, amoral society—what one could call hell on earth. But for stout and faint-hearted readers alike, Huxley’s famous work just sits in that hell from start to finish and details every aspect of it in a horrifically nonchalant manner.

Not unlike a 9/11 memory, I still recall where I was and what I was doing when I heard the worst part of the book. (Are not unabridged audio books terrific?) I was delivering packages for FedEx Ground on a gravel road, Morrison Lane, on the western slopes of the Crazy Mountains in south-central Montana.

Huxley’s graphic imagination does not merit repetition. Suffice to say that depicting baby torture as morally neutral or even socially good is deplorable—even if only in the eyes of his characters. One part of Huxley’s book echoes back to earlier eras, when real literature, learning, and life still existed. But to me, even this was presented grimly and does not justify another trip into his awful new world. Hell is a hopeless destination, but mercifully God offers His creation eternal hope on this earth.

Book Three

A famous American preacher, Chuck Swindoll, once said he reads a book on marriage each year. He has been married for more than fifty years.

I do not read marriage books every year, and I have been married for just six years. But one book both my wife and I have read is The Five Love Languages: How to Express Commitment to Your Mate, by Gary Chapman.

We learned about the five ways in which humans typically give and receive love, and discovered some of each other’s (and our own!) preferences. We sometimes keep these differences / desires in mind as we seek to grow in our relationship and work through our cold moments. Most people like receiving all five languages of love, but they really only crave one or two.

Sometimes what a person needs the most is what the other person has the hardest time doing, but it is good to learn this for progress to be made. Seemingly offensive words or actions can quickly become innocent if we know more about what is really going on in our spouse’s heart.

So, what are the five love languages? Quality time, words of encouragement, physical touch, acts of service, and giving gifts. Which ones are mine? Ask my bride!

Book Four

Wadi Rum was no best-seller, and as a foreign book by a minor publisher, it probably even lacks an ISBN. Likewise, Alan Stringfellow’s Through the Bible in One Year has acquired a relatively small following. Two friends with Ph.D.’s in religious or theological fields knew nothing of him or it (although Stringfellow just republished it this year under a new publisher—and it does have an ISBN).

So why mention such a little known book?

Before getting to that, more caveats are needed. The book reads like a textbook outline. The very traditionalist approaches to the material are sometimes distracting. And I disagree with the author on several points—though we agree more often than not.

So really, why on earth do I highlight this book?

Quite simply, because of the Book to which it points. Of course, countless books guide readers to the Bible. But for me, Through the Bible in One Year became Through the Bible in Three Years. I used the book as a guide and a companion (but not a replacement) to my reading of the Bible in what became the longest and greatest walk through the world’s best seller so far in my life, from 2008-2011.

I absorbed the Scriptures and Stringfellow’s insights and summaries in exceptional ways. I began taking notes (he provides lots of room on each page), and my use of ink noticeably increased as I charged ahead month after month. My faith in God and enjoyment of His Word changed forever.

Four Books: Great Journeys through History

Book One

These are abnormal book reviews. And North Platte, Nebraska, was an abnormal town in 1942.

You would think that if an army of six million men took on a town of twelve thousand, the larger force would win. But in World War II, one such force never managed to overwhelm the little city it occupied for four long years. Only this happened in the center of the United States of America.

During the war, American troops rode on trains across the continent en route to the East or West Coast. From there they were shipped across the ocean to the Pacific or European theaters of war. North Platte, Nebraska, was right in the middle of all this, and its train depot recorded six million soldiers passing through in the first half of the 1940s.

What the townspeople did for these brave, fearful, eager, green, or experienced veterans brought tears to my eyes. They voluntarily manned and supplied a canteen for the soldiers nineteen hours a day, seven days a week, for more than three straight years. Troops could expect kisses, snacks, letters, and more in this town, which had chosen its own sacrificial path during that abysmal war.

I love to put myself in the shoes—as best I can—of people I meet or learn about. I try to think as they might think; feel as they might feel. Unfortunately, World War II abounded with awful tales to imagine. But this story, captured by Bob Green in his book Once upon a Town: The Miracle of the North Platte Canteen, must still enrich the hearts of those who experienced it.

Book Two

It was some 150 years after the fact, and frankly it was a dry historical survey. But The Civil War by Bruce Catton reignited my interest in that momentous period of American history like nothing else had in a long time.

I had forgotten about many battles, Andersonville Prison, and numerous generals and politicians. Also, I like to buck trends and study the understudied. For example, the Eastern Theater is better known than the Western Theater or the Southern campaigns in America’s Civil War. So a review of these and other lesser known aspects of the conflict was a treat.

Zeroing in on a narrow topic—such as the North Platte Canteen—provides powerful insight to an epic event. But understanding the entire picture—such as America in 1861-1865—is crucial, too.

This seems clearer to me from my last interaction with this book. As I was finishing it, one of my colleagues expressed interest in reading it. I knew he knew little about the war. I knew he was an intelligent person. I knew an overview would be a great place to start. And I felt proud to share it with him. Why?

He is an Egyptian—and the Arab Spring was underway. He really was interested in my country’s history, but I cannot help but think he was pondering his own nation’s past and future as well.

Book Three

While flying to Uganda for my final college semester, I did not guess that a novel about colonial South Africa would fast make my top ten list. But Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country did just that.

I had never heard of the international best-seller, and I knew and cared little about South African people or politics. But I got hooked after I began engaging the story’s forgiveness, integrity, and self-sacrifice.

A favorite passage:

“Therefore I shall devote myself, my time, my energy, my talents, to the service of South Africa. I shall no longer ask myself if this or that is expedient, but only if it is right…I do this not because I am courageous and honest, but because it is the only way to end the conflict of my deepest soul. I do it because I am no longer able to aspire to the highest with one part of myself, and to deny it with another. I do not wish to live like that, I would rather die than live like that. I understand better those who have died for their convictions, and have not thought it was wonderful or brave or noble to die. They died rather than live, that was all.”

The story is somewhat Christological in nature, and it still plays itself out in my mind years after I read it. That reminds me, of the four books in this article, Cry, the Beloved Country is the only one I have read twice…so far.

Book Four

I earned a history degree in 2005. Since then my study and love of history has continued in book after book. One of the best was entitled, simply, Truman. The 1,120-page masterpiece by master historian David McCullough consumed scores of hours of audio-book listening for me in 2009.

But then I moved overseas—halfway through my library’s tapes. I felt flummoxed, but resolute. One year later, on my first vacation home, I re-borrowed it from the library and took it with me to finish it. Have you ever mailed a library audio book back to your local library from the other side of the world? A great book can be worth it!

Truman examines the life and career of President Harry S. Truman. From childhood to marriage, from World War I artillery missions to atomic warfare against Japan, from county courthouse to U.S. Senate, from vice president to whistle-stop reelection campaign as president, from quirks to beliefs, and from heritage to legacy, McCullough portrays Truman as a great, but human, leader.

Oh yes, and Truman was a dedicated, life-long Democrat. I am a dedicated, life-long Republican. But that mattered little as I rolled through this incredible biography.

Oliver-isms: Part 1

So I completely love being a dad...still.  At 12-48 months, Oliver has been simply adorable, sweet, clever, fascinating, fun, hilarious, and--we hope and it seems--on a lifelong pathway toward God.

My beautiful bride captures many of his moments on video.  So I wanted to record a bunch of his phrases so that we don't forget them.  His baby book has space for his first word, which certainly was memorable.  But what he has communicated since then has often caused much admiration and / or laughter.

These are in no special order.  But he has said nearly all of them multiple times -- whether recently or months ago.  ALL CAPS indicate his own pronunciations.  I will write what he says followed by the translation.  Oh, and I may update this from time to time.  :)

(As of his fourth birthday, I will begin a new post of Oliver-isms.)

WORDS:

cow
tracTOR = tractor - possibly his favorite thing in 2014
Goggy = Lamby - his ultimate stuffed animal friend from about 6 months onward, necessary for sleep and owwies
kee-kee = kitty
DAA-dee = Daddy
Ma-MAA = Mama
Oh-we = Ole
yuck = truck
kitchup = pickup
choo-choot = train
yucker = sucker
boagol = bagel
buu-dee = birdie
beep-beeP = beep, beep (car noise)
hay-hay-hay (with head and voice shaking heavily) = neigh
pease = please
yucky = bug / garbage
hay-yo = hello (he says this whenever he plays with a telephone...and every time he sees the scoreboard at the baseball field, as if it's a phone, too)
aay-men = amen (said loudly, with a rising tone and his face lifting higher and higher on "aaaa" and down sharply on "men" -- most frequently follows an adult praying "in Jesus' name")
cow = moon (he had a round white cow clock in his room in Doha, plus he loved the cow jumping over the moon picture in "Goodnight Moon"; he and I would go back and forth, saying cow, moon, cow, moon, when we saw the moon in the sky -- second half of 2013)
HAnim = M&Ms (mid-2014)
Gamma = Grandma
Gampa = Grampa
yay-yer = 4-wheeler / ATV
Nay-Nay = Uncle Nathan
buffaffo = buffalo
yo-yo = radio
bee = bottle / sippy cup (2013 and 2014)
tee = tree
oFF = off (he emphasizes the "f" sound loud, long, and with a great facial expression)
nosy = noisy (many, many things are noisy for him, and get the semi-serious critique quickly!)
sisasaur = dinosaur
'gen = again (said whenever he wants to hear or see or experience something again...which is often!)
fan = the famous clock in the Old Faithful Inn
self / Ole's self = referring to himself -- often in an insisting or frustrated tone because he wants to show that he can do things by himself (mid-2014)
[Mommy] Do you need a spanking?  [Oliver] Yeah!
baboon = balloon
ni-night = goodnight (can also be said to the Sun or Moon when they go behind mountains or clouds)
big = from 18 months onward, he uses the word "big" with intense and hilarious intonation
gun shooters = nerf bullets for his first little dart gun
copcorn = popcorn


PHRASES:

Bye-bye the Mama = bye-bye Mama
Airs-za Daddy = there's the Daddy
Hi the kee-kee = hi kitty
Ear-za car = here's the car
Wa wu = I love you
da potty = the potty

Kee-kyu = thank you

Ezaat? = what's that?

Amen! = let's pray (often several times per meal, and he usually wants to hold hands, and wants everyone to sit down; sometimes he prays softly out loud for everyone, starting with the words "Dear God" and then we cannot understand until "aay-men!")
Prayer update: by 2.5-3 years old, we can understand much of Ole's prayers. It sounds something like "Dear God...babble...doggy...babble...Mommy...babble...Esus' house...babble...tractor...babble...mac and cheese...umm...truck...babble...etc.

E-sus = Pastor Bryan
E-sus' house = church

two, tree, tree, treeee = counting to three

two, tree, twooo = counting to three
Oh wooow = oh wow
Daddy, be hush = Daddy, be quiet (usually with emphasis!)

buttons = Post Office -- which has automatic doors operated by pressing buttons

Ozzie = Adventures in Odyssey
Alldone = all done (he says it so fast it sounds like one word)
Ole laughed and laughed one day when we tried to get him to say "mountains."
Sisasaur nosy, sisasaur nosy = Noisy dinosaur, noisy dinosaur
a, c, d, x = His abc's
one, two, four, six, seven, eight, seveeeeen = counting to eight (or maybe ten)
Kiss...better = I want a kiss...it feels better (he often wants a kiss where he has an owee -- often amid tears -- then his tears end and he quickly informs us that he feels better...yes, it really does work!)

Deers...beep = he sees deer (with an "s" added), and wants me to honk at them...even if we're walking through the woods

Paisey no! = Paisley, no! (Ole often tells our dog no for no reason -- even when she's not in the same location or even the same state!)
Paisey come! = He also tells Paisley to come; this can follow right after "Paisey no!"
Paisey ok? = Checking sweetly to see if Paisley is ok when she whines in the back of the car
Buffaffo come! = He wants a very close buffalo to come to us in Yellowstone, when we accidentally come upon it while walking in the woods!
Moon on / off = The moon is visible / invisible (as in behind clouds)
Oh-we's turn = Telling Mommy and / or Daddy that it is Ole's turn to go down the stairs by himself, turn off the light, shut the door, etc.
Daddy sit! Paisey sit! = Telling Daddy and Paisley (the dog) to sit down before we pray at dinner
Dear God, thank you asdf Daddy, asdf Paisey, asdf eggs, asdf Daddy, asdf, Amen! = Praying before dinner one night (asdf ~ words I didn't understand)
Ar, ar, ar! = Bang, bang, bang! (Ole shooting a toy gun.)
Hap Birdday to you! = Happy Birthday to you!
Ride horsey, Daddy...dis fun! = Him wanting to be a horsey for Daddy, then he says we're having fun
Rub da back a yittle more = Rub my back a little more (typically in bed at night, after I have already given him a back rub and then try to stop and say goodnight)
Ole often says or does something, then immediately tells us what he just said or did.
Oh, my Paisley! (with great intonation)
Berry owwie = Very painful
Yes, but no, but yes! = Often when he's trying to decide something; often just as a joke
Ole: Hey Mommy, you splashed me! Mommy: Oh, I'm sorry. Ole: Do it again!
You're Nik? = (usually with a grin, to Daddy)
Dear God, Thank You for Mommy and toast and Mommy's coffee...and Ole's not going ni-night. In E-sus' name, Amen.
Dear God, Thank You for Mommy and Daddy's toast, and Paisey, and lots of grandmas, and Ole's toast. In E-sus' name, Amen.
A yittle tiny, tiny more. = Often spoken when he's almost done with his sippy or his medicine
Daddy, where's Mommy go? = With a big smirk, when Mommy is right in front of him or next to him.

Take a picture. = I just gave him a bath, and wrapped him up in his favorite tiger towel. This time he requested a picture -- knowing that he himself is so cute!
Look at meeeee! = Multiple times when he's naked after changing clothes or whatever.
Last night / Last year = any event in the past, whether three hours ago, "last night," or three months ago
Oliver always sings songs. Sometimes with a few discernable words, other times with just singing sounds. He often sings whatever song over and over again in the span of 5-10 minutes, alternating words or volume, but not the tune or the beat -- which, by the way, he usually gets quite accurately!
Jesus' house pants/shirt = Church clothes (usually his, but sometimes he mentions it for Mommy or Daddy's clothes, too)
Ole can't [x] because Ole can't, because Ole can't.
I want to not to have.../I want to not to go... = I don't want to have/go (he always says these words rapidly and with determination)
No, it's not pretty. It's bad! = Mommy sang a song in the car purposefully off-key or out of rhythm or something, then she asked Oliver if he thought it was pretty; he gave her more of an answer than she wanted -- though all three of us were laughing.
When's my next birthday? (first time he asked anything so specifically about his birthday -- at 3 years 5 months)
Ole: It's ok Ole has a skittle please? (Daddy: No, not right now.) Ole: Why? (Daddy: Because.) Ole: I can brush my teeth first.
Ole addressed Mommy as "Miss Faye" (his preschool teacher), and burst out laughing.
God's in heaven, God's in heaven; praise His name, praise His name. Thank You for my food, thank You for my food. Amen, Amen. = Song / Prayer Miss Faye taught Ole, and that he taught Daddy on our little boys' weekend trip to the Lewis and Clark Caverns (tent camping) and then Virginia City the next day -- Mommy was in Toronto at her cousin Brittanie's wedding.
My brain hurts / My brain is not on.
Mommy: Bite or bed, bite or bed, bite or bed!
You can sit next to me. / You can play anything whatever you want / You can play with me. etc. (Just him being sweet.)
Mommy, are you pooping? / Daddy, what is that? (in a public bathroom stall!)
Daddy / Mommy, I love you! (All of us always say "I love you" in response to each others' "I love you," And Ole initiates that more than us -- conviction?! -- and usually several times a day.)
Daddy / Mommy, I forgot to give you a hug. (Also frequent and seemingly unprompted -- and convicting.)
She's so, so pretty. = Usually refers to Mommy, but can be other things / people.
Mommy: Are you excited to show [your cousin] Caleb your room tonight? Ole - without hesitation: He's not going to get my [stuffed animal] cow, is he?
Soccer bubbles = bubbles he makes in the bath from tooting
I don't been there in a long time / I don't remember this book in a long time / etc -- or "a long, long, long, long, long, long, long time." Sometimes it was an hour or a day ago, otherwise it was weeks or months ago, and other times it has never happened at all!
This book is too long, because I don't want to read it. (Ole says this sort of thing all the time -- he knows the meaning of "because," but he nearly always says it in the wrong order.)
It looks like a dinosaur. = Four-weeks pregnant Mommy had just shown Ole a picture of what baby looks like in her tummy.
It's a little bit not dark outside. = Ole wanting to come out of his room at first light in the morning.
Uncle Rachel

Give you stuck hug = Ole's nearly nightly ritual -- all his own idea -- of announcing the kind of hug he is giving at bedtime. He locks his fingers around your neck, often tells me to "go night-night," and then insists that you kiss or tickle him until he can no longer hold on.
Daddy, I want you to meet me in Heaven.
It's ok I...? = His frequent, and polite, way of asking permission.
Store clerk to Ole: "See you later alligator." Ole to Daddy as we walk out of the store, somewhat concerned: "Ole's not a alligator. Ole's just Ole."
Mommy told Ole he could learn how to change a flat tire with Daddy because that's what a man does. Ole's response: I'm not a man. I'm a little boy. I'm a little person.
Yes, I am! / Yes, I did! (Often a cheerful response to a compliment like "Ole, you did a great job hiking today," or "Ole, you are being so nice to Mommy!"  The tone isn't arrogant, even though coming from an adult the words might seem so.)
It's ok, Mommy. (In the sweetest possible voice, Ole often tries to comfort Mommy if she's upset.)
Mommy, be nice to my daddy! (or vice versa -- This can come during conflict or even during teasing between Mommy and Daddy)
After Daddy explained what a fire hydrant was, and why one was by the edge of the city park, I asked Ole, "You wouldn't want a fire in a car, would you?" He replied, "No, because it would be hot."
As Daddy drove Mommy's car down a steep hill, Ole reminded me not to fall off..."because Mommy would punish you."
"Dear God, Thank You for our food, and hands, and coffee, and all our body, and apples, and Baby Elliot (in Mommy's tummy), Baby Moses (10 Commandments), and pictures, and spoons.  In Jesus' name, Amen."
(At our supper table on a normal night...i.e., not going anywhere.) Mommy: Ole, where did you get that blood on your thumb? Ole: It was from a big rock. Daddy: Maybe you can go wipe your hands off. Ole: Yes, and then I can get my pjs on and we can go to the big hotel with a clock way up high.
I smiled at you. (and / or) I gave you a kiss. = Ole often tells us what he just did or told us. This seems particularly important (and precious) when he is going to bed, and we leave his room with the door cracked open, and he wants to be sure we know he just gave us one more little love offering.
Ole: Mommy, my feelings got hurt. Mommy: Oh no, I'm so sorry. Ole: Yeah. (His sighing "yeah" face is adorable!) Mommy took a shot in the dark: Where are your feelings? Ole: Right here, behind the ankle (pointing to his knee). They got hurt when I was sitting for so long.
Ole: Is that calf still dead? Daddy: Yes, it's still dead. Ole: I hope it goes to heaven. Daddy: Me too; that would be nice. Ole: Maybe a lion or a bear or a dinosaur killed it.
Ole: Daddy, I want to show you my owwee. Daddy: Ok. Ole: Let me find it (as he looks up and down both arms).
I found an injured owl on the ranch one day, and named it "Jacob." We dropped it off at the vet, then Ole asked, "Why did we leave Jacob there?" I said, "Because he had an owwee." Ole replied, "Is that why he couldn't talk?" I laughed and said, "No, that's why he couldn't fly."
Let's go walk to space. It's going to be a long walk. Let's go find it! And we need our rain hats, and when I see rain we need to put them on. And when I see thunderclouds, we need to put our thunder hats on. Let's go; you're taking a little long time (as I'm typing these exact words). Daddy, Daddy, can you come, please. (repeated, and singing nicely)
I dreamed about dinosaurs, lions, and hoteeeeels -- my hotel -- and about mountains, and more lions, and Boppa, and Mommy. That's all I dreamed about.
On 3/31/16, the day before his fourth birthday, which we celebrated last night in the La Quinta hotel in Billings with kid water slides and pools, rather than doing presents...I told Ole he is four years old now, and I said Daddy is thirty-four years old.  Ole's response: I'm almost your age!

Thank You, God, for my wonderful boy...and for letting me be one of Your boys -- despite all my Nik-isms!

A New Strategy

You probably know one of my top career goals is to be a writer.  You might know that I want to do that for God and with God and through God.

Well, as such I sure do not want to cheat along the way.  But maybe some borrowing (from myself) here and some repeating (of myself) there differs from cheating, especially if I give credit whenever necessary, right?

So here's my new strategy:

Whereas my top (overall) writing goal is to be useful to God;
Whereas my second (overall) writing goal is to grow closer to God;
Whereas my third (overall) writing goal is to be faithful to God;
Whereas my fourth (overall) writing goal is to maintain my priorities, especially to my family;
Whereas my fifth (overall) writing goal is to provide for my family...

Whereas my top (normal) writing goal is to be published by WORLD Magazine;
Whereas my second (normal) writing goal is to be published by The Presidential Prayer Team;
Whereas my third (normal) writing goal is to be published by Yahoo! Voices;
Whereas my fourth (normal) writing goal is to post on Blogger;
Whereas my fifth (normal) writing goal is to Tweet all my publications @montananik82...

Whereas my top (dream) writing goal is to be read by millions;
Whereas my second (dream) writing goal is to be syndicated by The NY Times and Wall Street Journal;
Whereas my third (dream) writing goal is to write quality best-selling books;
Whereas my fourth (dream) writing goal is to be paid to travel wherever I want for my material;
Whereas my fifth (dream) writing goal is change and / or save at least one life and / or soul...

Therefore, since Yahoo! Voices, Blogger, and Twitter each accept non-exclusive material, and since various publishers restore rights to writers after a period of time, I plan to submit as much of my non-Yahoo! Voices material to Yahoo! Voices as I can, and as much of my non-Blogger material to Blogger as I can, giving due credit as required.  Then I will tweet each and every new re-publication and re-posting as well.

My hope, of course, is to boost my online presence and readership.  It may all be a flop -- or at least cheap.   And I certainly do not want it to replace the habit of actual fresh writing.  I hope to create unique blog posts (like this one) that I do not plan to republish elsewhere, and I hope to craft exclusive articles that I cannot re-post here.

Ultimately, if I do pen works that God wants to use for His glory, and if I can execute this strategy to multiply His glory ever so slightly, then nothing else matters.  If my plan bears no fruit, then my losses will be minimal.

Who Is More Normal: Humans or God?

The word “normal” can have positive, neutral, or negative connotations. For example, if you call your day “normal,” maybe you were pain-free for the first time all year, possibly nothing strange happened, or perhaps you were bored.

Well, to call humans or God “normal” might sound insulting. American kids learn in school that everybody is unique. In a medical or psychological sense, “normal” is an acceptable label. But in terms of peer pressure or intelligence or talent, normal may not be your favorite adjective. As for God, the Bible sings His praises so boldly that calling Him “normal” could sound blasphemous.

To answer the title question, juxtapose the common activities of man and God with their original or actual nature. If man is normal, then his thoughts, words, and deeds often or always match his nature. The same goes for God. In this sense, “normal” relates more to accurate versus inaccurate than positive versus negative.

What about Man?

Is he normal? Do his common practices and habits reflect his moral and physical nature? A non-Christian might say “yes”—we mess up occasionally, but most of our actions are morally sound. Further, as evolving creatures, our physical exercise, inventive minds, and modern society mimic our generally progressive status.

A Christian might also say “yes”—we are fallen and sinful people, in great need of God’s mercy; see Romans 5. Moreover, our efforts to fight disease, raise living standards, and end violence and bad governance are simply evidence of the Fall; see Genesis 3.

I agree with the latter points, but I think they fail to answer the question. I believe man is entirely abnormal. In the creation story of Genesis 1-2, God called His work “very good” after He created Adam and Eve. They had never sinned, there was no curse, and life and reality were as similar to heaven on earth as we ever knew.

No one knows how long the first man and woman followed God’s original plan for their lives—a day, a decade? But until that first transgression, they were not only innocent—they were normal. Their actions matched their nature, which was both moral and immortal. Through wickedness we became permanently abnormal. Death and danger threaten every soul—except those whom Jesus Christ glorifies in heaven following repentance and faith in Him.

What about God?

Is He normal? That is, does His conduct match His character? If normal means living out exactly who oneself is supposed to be, then God is the embodiment of normalcy! The Bible supports this in Numbers 23, 1 Samuel 15, Nehemiah 9, Isaiah 46, Malachi 3, Romans 11, and Hebrews 13. A favorite of mine is in James 1: “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.” Were He less than normal, the universe would be in chaos—if it would exist at all.

If I can avoid sounding blasphemous once more, God is so consistent with His nature—of which thankfully He has revealed so much in the Bible—that He is even predictable! Think about it…if you have a perfectly normal day, you can essentially forecast what will happen when you awake. If God always does what He says He will do, you can trust in everything He says all the time.

None of this is meant to demean God, only to glorify Him. He is so abnormal to our mindset that He is supremely normal. His power and sovereignty are so unpredictable to us that God exercises them in ways that are altogether predictable and awesome at the same time.

God’s perfect track record includes offering love, grace, mercy, and justice to all of His creation, particularly in sending Jesus Christ into this world as “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14). Yet when the Son of God died on the cross and rose again on the third day—the least imaginable but most powerful event in history—Jesus also did something greater than extend salvation to all who believe in Him. John 17 cites Jesus and God, His “righteous Father,” as giving glory, one to the other…and that is the most normal thing the biblical Triune God ever does!

How Much Can We Know God? (Part 4)

I have tried in parts 1-3 to show we cannot really know God because of His infinite nature.  Mathematically, God would be less than infinite if we could really understand Him, not unlike the person who tries counting to infinity.  If he makes "progress," he is in fact not counting to infinity at all, and if we achieve knowledge about God, then it is not really God we are discovering.

But this is where the great surprise comes along -- God writes and controls the laws of mathematics, just like He authors unconditional love, perfect holiness, and total sovereignty!  And if the infinite God controls, and is in fact the source of, these infinite wonders, then He can transcend His own incomprehensible nature to allow us to see and hear and know and love Him.  Indeed, only an infinite power who is beyond understanding can create a portal, so to speak, by which finite creatures even have a chance to recognize His infinite nature.

By the way, just to differentiate between the infinity of God and of the numerical continuum, numbers have no power to reveal their infinite nature to us -- and have never done so.  They and their nature exist just because God lets and wills them to exist.  But God can and has bridged the gap of knowledge versus ignorance about Himself.

How can we know this?  The Bible offers many answers.  Recall my first post in this series.  Passages on the "knowledge of God" include the following:

~ Proverbs 2: "Search for [wisdom] as for hidden treasures; then you will understand the fear of the LORD, and find the knowledge of God."  Now, I have long been trying to figure out what exactly "the fear of the the LORD" is, but suffice to say that gaining wisdom + fearing God = having knowledge of God.
~ Hosea 6: "I desire mercy and not sacrifice, and the knowledge of God more than burnt offerings."  Though we can never know God without His help, He does desire to be known!
~ Romans 11: "Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God!  How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out!"  This passage practically summarizes this entire four-part series.  He is so far beyond us, yet -- or maybe therefore -- knowing Him (through His grace, as other parts of Paul's writing amply demonstrates) benefits us beyond measure.
~ 2 Corinthians 10: "For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ."  The world and the powers of darkness would not directly attack the knowledge of God unless it felt threatened by them, which happens anytime anyone pursues or acquires such knowledge.
~ And Colossians 1, which relates Paul's prayer "that you may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all wisdom and spiritual understanding; that you may walk worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing Him, being fruitful in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God."  These verses show that it is both possible and advisable to grow in our understanding of God.  They also go on to say that this happens through Jesus, "in whom we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins."

What does this look like?  Consider how the Bible describes several of God's saints, or His interactions with them.  2 Chronicles 20 and James 2 call Abraham God's "friend."  In Exodus 33, God and Moses conversed "face to face, as a man speaks to his friend."  David was "a man after [God's] own heart," explains 1 Samuel 13 and Acts 13.  Jesus Himself calls His disciples "friends" in John 15.  And Romans 8 explains that whoever is led by the Spirit of God "are children of God, and if children, then heirs -- heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ." These designations are reserved for those who know God.  One cannot be a friend, a son, or an heir if he has no knowledge of the other party.

That is it: God is too great to be known at all; yet He has made Himself known to whomever repents of their sins and follows Him.  He has made the impossible possible through the improbable!  It is much like salvation in general.  While we were "still sinners" and "enemies," Romans 5 says, "Christ died for us" and "reconciled" us to God.  God bridged the infinite gap between His holiness and our sin, through the least likely path of all.

I do not know the entire answer to the title question.  But looking into the future via Revelation 3 provides an amazing glimpse: "Behold, I stand at the door and knock.  (Note God's initiative.)  If anyone hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and dine with him, and he with Me.  To him who overcomes I will grant to sit with Me on My throne, as I also overcame and sat down with My Father on His throne."

Now, that is knowledge!

How Much Can We Know God? (Part 3)

Man is finite, yes, and God is infinite.  But I think this logically means we cannot know God at all!  Allow me to explain.

Say I want to count to ∞ (infinity).  I count as fast as I can for three days straight: no food, water, or sleep, and I keep counting in the bathroom.  Maybe I get to 1 million, which would be about four cardinal numbers per second.  Not bad (but a waste of time, and no, I've never tried it).  But at 1 million, despite all my effort, I am not the tiniest fraction of the tiniest percentage closer to infinity than I was before all my hard work.  If I were, then infinity would not be infinity.  It simply would be a really big -- but knowable -- number!

Now, if I really want to achieve infinity, studying and counting as fast and often as I can (i.e., trying hard) is a great way to do it.  I might even use an advanced calculator that does not give up at 9.99 to the 10th power.  I will gain more knowledge about numbers, and my own counting will get larger and larger.  But I cannot get there.

So, too, with God -- and even more so.  He is infinite not only in time and space, but also in holiness, power, glory, love, and even knowledge...to name a few.  We can (and should) try our best to get to know Him, but mathematically, at least, we can never know Him one little bit.  If we could, then eventually we would be able to get to know Him two little bits, then three, then fifty, then -- if God did not destroy us first -- we could get to know Him completely.  In all these cases, He would be less than infinite.

Just like those in Genesis 11 who tried and failed to build a tower to heaven, somehow rivaling or surpassing God, nor can anybody else do better.  (By the way, God did not confuse their language and stop the building of the Tower of Babel because He feared them.  They never would have made it anyway!  He simply forced them to recall their humanity and humility, and upheld the glory of His name and presence in their midst.  "Do not be deceived," Galatians 6 affirms, "God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap.  For he who sows to his flesh will of the flesh reap corruption, but he who sows to the Spirit will of the Spirit reap everlasting life.")

The Bible frequently reveals God's awesome greatness (so inadequate a word!).  Genesis 1 and 45, Exodus 33 and 34, Deuteronomy 4 and 10, 1 Kings 8, Job 38-41, Psalm 8, 99, 103, 104, 121, and 139, Isaiah 40, 55, and 64, Ezekiel 1, Joel 2, Luke 2, 7, 9, and 24, John 1, 8, 11, 17, and 20, Romans 1, Colossians 1, and Revelation 4, 19, and 22.

These and other chapters of God's Word show us how vast and unapproachable God is -- unmatchable and unassailable.  He is called holy, loving, merciful, gracious, faithful, powerful, and so much more.  But we toss these words around so easily and so casually.  We have no idea what it is like to have any, let alone all, these traits perfectly.  Absolutely without flaw or hiccup or gap.  Ponder this example.

In English, what is a common way to describe another person whom we like or respect?  "He's a good guy."  Remember what Jesus said in Matthew 19: "No one is good but One, that is, God."  No one!  Maybe Jesus was echoing Psalm 14 (also quoted in Romans 3), "There is none who does good, no, not one."  Perhaps He recalled Isaiah 64: "But we are all like an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are like filthy rags; we all fade as a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away."

So, following the numerical infinity logic: a) God is [perfectly / infinitely] good; b) we are not good and do not do good -- because "good" by God's standard is so high; therefore c) we can (and should) try our best to be good, but all we will achieve is a bigger and bigger pile of rags.  In other words, we cannot really know what God's goodness is like because its very nature is utterly unique, just as infinity's nature precludes us from ever counting to it.  And supreme goodness is just one of God's unfathomable characteristics!

Ok, are you ready for the final surprise?  I pray this will be a grand finale well worth the wait...

How Much Can We Know God? (Part 2)

Okay, so it is 2 a.m. again -- oh well!  As a good friend of mine once said, I will aim to "exhaust the subject, not the reader."

Knowing God.  Very possible, because of how available God has made Himself to humankind -- such as via creation, salvation, and ultimately, glorification with Him forever.  But whether here on earth, or in heaven, do you ever ponder how much, quantitatively, we can ever know God?

Take your spouse, your sibling, your child, your parent, your your best friend.  What percentage (for lack of a better abstract quantitative concept) of their beliefs, dreams, feelings, personalities, skills, and schedules do you think you know?  Fifty percent sounds pretty good.  Maybe more, maybe less?

Let's try a quick test.  Whether you last saw that person a minute ago or a month ago, where is he or she this instant, what are they doing, and how is their day going?  How many times today, and at what intensity, have they prayed or reminisced about anything great or terrible in their past?  Maybe you know their biggest fears, sins, talents, and hopes: but do you know the last five times each of those things permeated their minds?  Are you aware of the minute they woke up today, the last time they coughed, where they were when they last ran out of breath, when they plan on their next physical activity and what tiny goals they may have about it, which book they want to read next, or the most recent time they felt 100% secure in a close relationship -- possibly even yours?

Ok, I assume your imagined percentage has shrunk...perhaps to five or ten percent?  Still, what you know of that person is likely far greater than what most other people know about them, right?  So how well we know another person reflects how close we are with them.  This goes for how much we know God as well.

Side note: Many of us think we know certain people well even if we are distant or estranged from them.  We tend to think that because he or she is "that way" (a claim to knowledge), we want little to do with them.  For the sake of argument, I will say we may know certain things about that person, but if the relationship has long been damaged or broken, our knowledge may be less than we think...and far less than the five or ten percent mentioned above.

Onward, then, to how much we can know God.

The math may seem pretty simple in one of two ways.  First, we might assume we know a certain percentage of the Bible, as well as a certain amount of any other history and philosophy we can learn about God.  These numbers would be difficult to pinpoint.  But since Earth physically holds a limited, albeit fluctuating, amount of information about God, a theoretical percentage of knowledge of all that material is possible.  Thus, we might conclude that if we can know our best friend at ten percent, maybe we can know God at one percent.

The second formula is simpler: man is finite; God is infinite; therefore our knowledge of Him is infinitely small.  This is much closer to what I think.  Indeed, I may even have thought it prior to my bathroom inspiration two weeks ago.  But now I believe a third, more glorious, option exists as well...