The Sea

Like most people, the ocean has always fascinated me; its vastness, like the dark expanse of a star studded sky, always thoroughly immerses me in the knowledge that I am all too finite.  Yet unlike the sky, which fills with me with hope—as I marvel that the God who made the Cosmos knows and cares for me—the sea overwhelms me with a sense of mystery marked with a distinct undercurrent of fear.

In my mind’s eye innumerable hosts of myriad forms of life teem just beneath the churning surface, and my mind swims with the endless possibilities found in the massive breadth and depth of the sea.  Frankly, it terrifies me.

Deep water has always scared me and I know exactly why: there might be something down there.  I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the world isn’t as thoroughly explored, as completely known, and as neatly explained as the scientific establishment tells us.  The attitude that modern man has uncovered all the earth’s deepest secrets—that that are no mysteries left on earth—that is so universally displayed by the major scientific media is pure hubris.

I find it incomprehensible that every time a discovery is made of some entirely new species, every time an animal that had been label ‘extinct’ is found alive and well, every time a once legendary creature is found to actually exist, the scientific community somehow manages to spin the story to communicate that the last great mystery of the world has been found and that we know everything there is to know and that there can be no more new, undiscovered creatures anywhere in the world, when each and every instance of discovery proves just the opposite!

Thus it is that I have never outgrown the fervent hope and the niggling terror that one day I might encounter one such unknown entity.  That possibility has always seemed the most likely, and thus the most terrifying, when I’m in or on deep water.  I have never allowed this fear to stop me from enjoying the water, however.  Despite the ever-present fear that something dark, silent, and powerful might drag me under anytime I was in water over my head, I grew up fishing, swimming, and canoeing on the Tennessee River, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every trip I’ve made to and on the ocean.  The river grants a peaceful restoration of the soul through its serenity, and the crash of the ocean surf mesmerizes me into a restful, trance-like state of mind through its ceaseless shushing.

Tonight, though, something new happened to me.  The water, as nice as it is, is not a human’s natural habitat, and being on terra firma has always provided me with the sense of security which comes from being in one’s element. It was only when I was in the water that I feared that something might get me—until tonight.

It was quite late and I sat on the shore of Oak Island under the dark of an overcast and moonless sky watching the Elizabeth River surge into the sea as I silently and sleepily pondered life and enjoyed leisurely smoking my pipe.  Because of the current of the river and the shape of the bay, there was almost no surf where I was and the water was surprisingly calm—until the wake of a boat long since out of sight finally reached the shore.  The long wake lines were at an angle to the beach in front of me and as they crashed in they created an illusion of a long procession of great, dark fish rushing along the beach in the shallows, each one leaving behind a thin foam wake that slashed up the beach in front of me.  Without interrupting my thoughts, these huge, illusory ‘fish’ reminded my subconscious of the life teeming in those waters.

A cold fog rolled in across the water from my right, reducing visibility to a few feet and suddenly the constant, rapid pounding of the surf on the shore became the synchronized steps of thousands of feet, and the numerous, raising ripples of the boat’s wake became rank upon rank of soldiers marching forward out of the water to capture the beach after having been dropped, like paratroopers all is a line, in the shallows by the great fish speeding by me.  As the fog thickened the organic, steam-like sounds of a pod of porpoises blowing became the sound of mermen breathing and the phantasmal army was upon me.

Never before had the thought occurred to me that something might come out of the water and get me, but suddenly my comfortable illusion of safety disappeared as completely as my pipe smoke in the fog.

It required every ounce of my will power to refrain from running screaming back to the lodge.

 

As the wake passed up the beach the army marched inland until the sound of their footsteps was no more and the fog slowly cleared.  Never before had my imagination so completely terrified me and as the last patch of fog, which had seemed to linger around me feeding off my smoke, finally wafted away leaving me alone I sat perfectly still and trembled in the silence as I contemplated an idea for a new story.

© Andrew J. Goggans 2012

Loop-holes

I recently reread this passage from The Revolt of "Mother" by Mary E. Wilkins Freeman and it moved me (and convicted me) more than anything else has for quite a while. God help me--I want to be more like this woman.

"Sarah Penn's face as she rolled her pies had that expression of meek vigor which might have characterized one of the New Testament saints. She was making mince-pies. Her husband, Adoniram Penn, liked them better than any other kind. She baked twice a week. Adoniram often liked a piece of pie between meals. She hurried this morning. It had been later than usual when she began, and she wanted to have a pie baked for dinner. However deep a resentment she might be forced to hold against her husband, she would never fail in sedulous attention to his wants.

Nobility of character manifests itself at loop-holes when it is not provided with large doors. Sarah Penn's showed itself today in flaky dishes of pastry. So she made the pies faithfully, while across the table she could see, when she glanced up from her work, the sight that rankled in her patient and steadfast soul -- the digging of the cellar of the new barn in the place where Adoniram forty years ago had promised her their new house should stand."

Intimacy

I have recently read a few articles and blogs and heard several conversations that really bothered me. Not offended-bothered, just saddened-bothered. The subject was questioning whether or not homosexual emotions/lusts were at work in the relationship dynamics of characters and people who just about everyone is familiar with: whether it's David and Jonathan, Frodo and Sam, or Jesus and John, people seem to have a propensity for jumping to conclusions. While I will readily agree that in some instances the authors of some literary works did intend for that to be evidence in their work, I do not feel that it is the case with any of the above or many other examples, and I would like to offer an explanation, that I feel uniquely suited to give, for the actions and behaviors that people most often hold up as evidence of characters being homosexual.

Clearly from Scripture homosexuality is almost as old as time but to suggest that David and Jonathan, or Jesus and John, were bi- or homosexual seems absurd to me and the result of a lack of personal experience with being relationally intimate with some one whom they are not sexually intimate, and because of the sadly prevalent and thoroughly erroneous Freudian notion that everything is and must be connected to sex. As I have 6 brothers in my family with whom I am very close, and as a member to a group of guys who have all been very close friends from childhood, I think I can safely say that most people in our over-sexually-aware (and homosexually-aware) society read far too much into any instance of same gender intimacy. While it is true that most men are uncomfortable with prolonged physical contact (like holding someone while they cry, or putting one’s arm around someone), lots of eye contact, back rubs, use of pet names, overt verbal displays of affections or other similar actions, I firmly believe that this is simply because they strongly associate those actions only with the opposite sex interactions, and that if these actions are looked at objectively it can be seen that there is no reason for them to be viewed sexually.

My friends, siblings, and I grew up putting an arm over each others shoulders while standing or sitting next to each other in the car, watching a movie, or just talking, to show unity, to show that we were 'best friends,' and we still do it for those same reasons despite the fact that I am 25 and have two kids. We give each other back massages while standing around talking, or after working out, wrestling and sparring, hiking and climbing, fishing and swimming. We give long bear-hugs when greeting and when parting. We hold hands when we pray, and we've held each other and cried when life was shitty or when the Holy Spirit beat us into broken contrition over our sin. We call each other mean names in a playful, joking tone as a 'manly' way of calling each other by endearments, and we say "I love you" to each other every time we end a phone call or a visit.

We are all straight as arrows, most of us are married, and half of us have kids. We act that way with each other because we know that there is no hint of homosexuality to it, merely comfortable familiarity. We've all been friends for so long, been through so much together, hurt each other so deeply and worked through it so determinedly and thoroughly, that we know that we can trust each other with our very lives because we've shared our deepest failings and our greatest successes together; we know each others' dirtiest secrets and our brightest hopes. We are family: a band of brothers—some by blood, all by the Holy Spirit—that we know we can turn to for anything because no matter the time or space that separates us, we always have been and always will be committed to our relationships with each other.

Physical and relational intimacy between members of the same gender is not a sign of homosexuality, it is a byproduct of a relationship so deeply intimate, constant, and permanent, that unless a person in our over-sexed society has personally experienced it the only way they can interpret it is by miss-labeling it as sexual.

Again, I say all this not because I am offended, but because I feel saddened by and sorry for anyone who makes false assumptions about same-sex (particularly male) intimacy through ignorance and to offer, not only a different perspective, but the hope that so much more can be put into and gotten out of our interactions with other members of the Body of Christ if we are willing to move past the Freudian stigmas of our hyper-sexualized culture.

The Hibernian

The Hibernian

The Moon smiles at me like Chester the Cat.

A drag on my pipe, a puff of smoke later,

I smile right back as I tip my hat.

“Another Sweet Josie,” I tell the waiter.

I scribble, setting slip’ry thoughts solid.

Like ocean waves inside I ride my buzz.

Writing for posterity all that I did,

All that I thought and felt the world was.

In Luna’s light I write in deep delight.

The noisy pub, the greasy grub, only add

To the wellspring of words that fit just right.

A night all to myself thoroughly had.

Copyright: Andrew J. Goggans 2012

Book Review: Enchantment

I finished Enchantment by Orson Scott Card during my layover in Charlotte today and I loved it through and through. I have only read a few of his books but it's by far his best work. In fact, this is one of the best novels I've ever read, and that includes all the classics that I read in high school and college.

A very creative retelling of the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty, this novel is very well researched and very well written. The character development is intense, though gradual and very skillfully arranged so that it's believable and compelling. The plot is enthralling and the pace perfect (not too slow, not too fast, everything happens in due time).

There were no logical oversights, no loose ends, and though (since it's a retelling of a common fairy tale) you more or less know that the good guys win, the details of how and why are brilliantly executed.

Audience-wise it's definitely adult-focused: true to fairy tale form, there is a limited amount of (but graphically depicted) violence, and similarly Card makes no bones about being very frank about the human anatomy and human sexuality. However the language in the narration of the story is readily accessible to young adults, and it can easily be argued that Card's frankness is neither calloused nor is his discussion/depiction of violence and sex in any way gratuitous or titillation, but rather skillfully used and tactfully handled.

Finally, while the novel is a really good read with a wonderful blend of action, romance, and the wonder of fantasy, it also offers up many, many deep lines of thought on the nature and order of our universe and our limited understanding of it; the similarities and differences in Christianity and Judaism; and the roles of men and women, husband and wife, through the ages.

It's an excellent novel that I highly recommend to everyone.

Poetry for Creative Writing

I wrote these for my Creative writing class. I'm not a highly gifted poet, nor a highly skilled one, but I enjoy the challenge of writing it and I and determined to learn to be better technically to make up for my lack of natural skill. I'll try and post one (or several) of the posts I've been working on for some times soon, the only reason I haven't is because what with being an English major I have little time for personal writing after I make time for Melanie, work, and sleep. So here's this till I get something better up.

“Drunk Punk”

“If you got no pecs,”

He so proudly said,

“Then you get no sex.”

The ugly lug-head.

He’ll not talk that way

In front of a lady

If’n I’m around,

Or it’ll soon be found,

That he’s not so crass,

After I beat his ass.


“Mob Boss”

Walking to the city bank

Was like walking the plank.

I knew it would happen

When I got caught nappin’

First I heard the loud bang

Then I saw the big gang.

They took all the money,

But I tell you honey,

I would rather be dead,

Than hafta go face Ted.


“History”

Often times I sit and stare,

Looking at nothing but the air,

And ponder things both old and new,

And what they mean for me and you,

Of Good and Evil, of days gone by,

And of Men learning to fly,

Of things that may often seem plain,

Yet are so very hard to explain:

Small things we oft forget,

But are worth more than we would bet.


We had an exercise that told us to take a piece of prose we had written and turn it into a poem. I decided to take the “I know they are there because I have seen them” to “I know. I’ve seen them” example from the exercise and run with the ideas it gave me, and then rewrite that. This is what I came up with.

There are fairies all around us. I know they are there because I have seen them. You can see them out of the corner of your eye if you look for them. Little figures hiding everywhere you can think. They use camouflage to hide in flowers and trees, even books and machines. Pay attention when you’re out and you’ll be sure to find a surprise hidden right under your nose.

“Fairies are real!” I informed them.

“I know because I have seen them.

Look out the corner of your eye,

And little figures you will spy.

They are hiding almost everywhere,

They seem to melt into thin air.

Camouflaged as a tree or rose,

Often they’re right under your nose.”

The Roman Bible: The Roman Honor Code as seen in The Aeneid

The Aeneid, Virgil’s epic tale of the travels, trials, and triumphs of Aeneas and his men, has entranced readers for thousands of years with its marvelous tales: we read of the fall of Troy and see through Trojan eyes a war of mighty men and powerful gods, we read of long voyages and terrible monsters, of a journey to Hell and back, of great battles and the founding of the Roman Empire, yet The Aeneid is more than just the recounting of a mythical adventure. It was written as a piece of cultural propaganda and became to Romans what the Odyssey was to Greeks: a sure example of how to lead a moral and honorable life. Not merely a piece propaganda The Aeneid is an excellent work of literature containing many life truths that given the work a profound depth and the life philosophy that Virgil presents in The Aeneid still resonates with people today.

Being highly influenced by Stoic philosophy the aspects of honor in The Aeneid included courage in the face of death, skill in warfare, generosity, verbal eloquence and physical beauty, the respect of one’s peers, stoic self-control and adherence to duty, as well as having the favor of the gods. The cohesive moral code formed by these complimentary virtues provided a standard by which Roman individuals could achieve honor. Most of this code of honor we can agree with as Christians.

Virgil begins the story in media res with Aeneas and his men struggling with their ships in a terrible storm. Saved from utter destruction by the gods they arrive at Carthage. Virgil then wastes no time in beginning to form his honor code in the minds of his readers with the events and actions surrounding Aeneas’ arrival at Dido’s court.

When Aeneas is lead by his mother Venus to Dido’s court in a cloud of fog, Virgil shows us the importance of physical appearance. As Aeneas steps out of the cloud to address the Queen, the narrator tells us that “Princely Aeneas, / Stood and shone in the bright light, head and shoulders / Noble as a god’s” (1.799-801). His physical beauty and obvious strength are important for several reasons. Virgil, or at least the narrator and the characters in this story, holds the understandable but partially erroneous and potentially dangerous idea, seen in countless works of literature from the dawn of time to the present, that a people’s physical form is an outward symbol of the strength and character of their spirit. Thus because physical beauty has a meaning beyond the purely physical realm, it is an important part of honor: Aeneas’ physical beauty and prowess go hand in hand with his courage, skill, and ability to lead, and it speaks to those around an honorable man and draws them to him.

In this same passage we also see the importance of hospitality and generosity. When Aeneas captains straggle into Dido’s court from their ships which were scattered along the coast, she listens graciously to their pleas for refuge for their men and in generously offers to send them on their way with plenty of provisions, or for them to settle there saying, “The city I build is yours; haul up your ships; / Trojan and Tyrian will be all one to me.” before she even meets Aeneas (1.768-779). Similarly after Aeneas makes his appearance and accepts her offer to stay there in Carthage she Dido throws a lavish feast for Aeneas and his men (1.865-69). In thanks for her hospitality Aeneas tells one of his men “to fetch gifts” of gold treaded clothing, jewelry, and a scepter from the ships (1.882-92). Thus Virgil shows the importance of generosity, particularly for leaders.

When at the bequest of Dido and her court, Aeneas tells of the tragic fall of Troy we see again the principle of courage in the face of death. Though woken from a deep dream Aeneas says “To arms was my first maddened impulse—not / That anyone had a fighting chance in arms” (2.420-421). When the alarm is raised Aeneas’ first impulse is to rush into battle, heedless of death. He says that as he fought “it came to me / That meeting death was a beautiful thing in arms” (2.424-425). Realizing the Trojans’ utter defeat Aeneas is not afraid to die a valorous, and thus glorious, death in a last defense of his king and country: “Come, let us die,” he says to his friends “/ We’ll make a rush into the thick of it. / The conquered have one safety: hope for none” (2.470-72). This belief that it is glorious to die in the midst of some great deed or in adherence to duty; this value of courage in the face of certain death, is seen throughout the epic from the ships in the storm, to the trip to the underworld, and the battles that ensue during the conquering of Italy.

Almost synonymous with this ideal of honor in a glorious death is valuing skill in warfare for courage in battle is good, but a man must have the skills needed to survive in battle to even be alive to claim the honor of being brave. Thus this skill and aspect of honor is twofold: it includes not only the skills in personal combat that enable a man to survive many encounters, but also the skills of strategy and command that are gained, in part, through the experience of living through multiples battles. In lines 523-527 of Book I Aeneas and his men disguise themselves in Greek armor turning the element of surprise against their enemies and fighting valiantly they vanquish almost every foe that comes against them. In this passage we see that it is not only because Aeneas and his friends were so skilled in hand-to-hand combat that they were able to cut their way through the hordes of Greeks, but also because of Aeneas skill as a strategist and commander.

Another skill that brings Aeneas honor is verbal eloquence. Whether he is talking with his mother, comrades in arms, important gods and spirits in the underworld, or his enemies, Aeneas’ eloquence shows that he is an educated and refined man, intelligent and thoughtful. His skill with words impresses those to whom he speaks bringing him greater honor. We see this as Aeneas tells of the fall of Troy and his travels thus far and speaks with such craftsmanship that not only the cupid-struck queen and her court who have not yet heard the tale, but even Aeneas’ own men—who lived the story—are enthralled by the his words. Virgil tells us that “The room fell silent, and all eyes were on him, / As Father Aeneas from his high couch began.” (2.1-2)

In these two short lines Virgil concisely and cleverly shows us that an honorable man has the respect of his peers. Aside from showing the rapt attention of the people to Aeneas’ words Virgil gives us two other signs of the high regard which those in the hall—and the narrator—hold for Aeneas. Aeneas is called by “Father” and this sign of veneration, used multiple times through the passage by the characters and the narrator alike, is followed by the statement that they have placed Aeneas on a “high couch” likely raising him above the level of all others but the queen.

This high level of respect for Aeneas is held by others is because of his reputation which is formed by several key elements: remembrance of his accomplishments, the strength of his person and the integrity of his character, and the favor of the gods.

When Aeneas still shrouded in cloud explores Carthage we see that word of great deeds travels fast and is remembered forever in the way in which the Phoenicians not only already know the story of Troy’s fall but have rendered it in pictures upon the walls of their temple to Juno (1.615-622). One of the major reasons Aeneas’ name is remembered by people the world over is because of his accomplishments in the war: other people see him as worthy of their attention and admiration because he has done great things that prove he is above average and worthy of their regard.

Similarly Aeneas’ incredible strength of will and unwavering moral integrity sets him apart as being worthy of honor and adds to his reputation so next Virgil begins to show us the aspects of his honor system—control of one’s emotions and desires, and adherence to duty—that are drawn straight from Stoic philosophy and how these effect man man’s reputation and honor. As time passes Aeneas and Dido both grow completely obsessed with each other to the detriment of her kingdom and the hindrance of his destiny and they both begin to lose honor in the sight of the gods and men. The narrator tells us that Jupiter “turned / His eyes upon the tower and the lovers / Careless of their good name” and then sends Mercury to rebuke Aeneas for being a kept man saying “Is it for you / To lay the stones of Carthage’s high walls, tame husband that you are, to build their city?” (4299-301, 361-635). In the following scenes Virgil makes it quite clear that Aeneas not only does the right thing by following the direct order of the gods to sail away and leave Dido, but that Aeneas regains any of the honor he lost through the way in which he leaves Dido. Aeneas “by Jove’s Command held fast his eyes / And fought down the emotion in his heart” and tried to comfort Dido by telling her that he did still love her but that he must leave and obey the gods (4.456-499). Whereas Dido shows herself a fool as she rails at him and allows her violent emotions to destroy her, Aeneas gains greater honor by following the Stoic philosophies of reason over emotion and duty over desire to remain in complete control of himself, not allowing his emotions to stop him from doing what is right.

The last aspect of Aeneas’ honorable reputation is his having the favor of the gods, which in itself is multifaceted. Being a demigod, the son of Venus herself, Aeneas inherently has a certain amount of favor from the gods which is clearly seen in the special destiny given to him by Venus and Jupiter. This special calling on his life has two effects on the people around him. One is that as the gods work in his life, providing, protecting, encouraging, and rebuking him as needed, he gains even greater honor in the sight of others: if he is such a great man that even the gods pay attention to him, then surely he is worthy of their respect. The second effect is that it gives his men, and all those who know him, a special reverence for and trust in him: because Aeneas has a calling greater than that of average men, because of this special favor of the gods, they can count on him to be successful in his endeavors and thus they are given an even greater reason to follow him.

Yet Aeneas’ favor with the gods is not due to his birthright alone; just as any other man may, Aeneas shows himself through his actions—particularly through his stoic self-control and adherence to duty—to be a man of integrity and valor worthy of honor, and so the gods show him favor, guiding him through life so that he might accomplish the destiny that has been set before him.

The idea that any man’s actions can cause the favor or displeasure of the gods is clearly part of the honor code proposed by Virgil as demonstrated by what Aeneas sees in the underworld. In the underworld there is a direct correlation between a person’s actions and where they spend eternity. The innocent are vindicated and the guilty punished (6.218-23, 365-66). Those who are wicked and deceitful, traitor, liars, and cheats, those who maltreated their parents or servants, are placed in a inescapable dungeon of horrid suffering at the hands of Monsters and demons but and those who lead an excellent life are placed in a sort of heaven, in a green and sunlit land that contains all the best things of mortal life and none of the bad (6.451-476, 493-528).

Looking at Virgil’s code of honor we can see that little has changed in the western man’s honor system over the past several millennia, that there is something inherently part of being man, something ingrained so deeply into us as human beings that we cannot help but see and value many of these same traits regardless of race, culture or creed. While as Christians we may take issue with placing such a strong emphasis on physical beauty (just as scripture warns us that Satan masquerades as an angel of light, good looks does not necessarily mean a person is noble or righteous) there is much we can agree with when studying Virgil’s literary master piece. Since we are to see ourselves merely as stewards of what the Lord has given us, and not owners, generosity and hospitality should be two of the first marks of a Christian to nonbelievers. Skill in speech, or arms, or leadership, or anything else, should certainly be sought and valued by believers as Scripture tells us to do all thing heartily as unto the Lord. We should seek excellence in all we put our hand at so as to best represent our Lord to the world. Courage as well should be the mark of any Christian; if we truly believe that God is watching over us then we have nothing to fear, especially when it comes to standing for what is right and sharing our faith with others. This goes hand in hand with adherence to duty: we are called to serve Christ above all and to do what is right no matter the cost and this often requires courage and self-control. James and many other authors of the Bible repeatedly tell us to control our tongue and actions, and to guard against rash actions made why in the heat of emotion, whether anger or lust. While it must be clearly stated that since God created us with these emotions they cannot be completely evil as the Stoics would tells us, it also must be acknowledged that we must learn to control them so that we do not allow them to cause us to sin. If we as Christians can learn to follow these principles of life that we see in both Scripture and Virgil’s Aeneid there is little doubt that we will not only receive honor from our fellow men, but honor and eternal rewards from God.

Works Cited

Lawall, Sarah. “The Aeneid.” The Norton Anthology of Western Literature. 8th ed. New York: Norton. 2006. 930-1023.

© Andrew J. Goggans 2008

(Not) A Big Suprise.

Written by Wesley Pruden for The Washinton Times:

Turn up the heat, somebody. The globe is freezing. Even Al Gore is looking for an extra blanket. Winter has barely come to the northern latitudes and already we've got bigger goosebumps than usual. So far the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) reports 63 record snowfalls in the United States, 115 lowest-ever temperatures for the month. Only 44 Octobers over the past 114 years have been cooler than this last one.

The polar ice is accumulating faster than usual, and some of the experts now concede that the globe hasn't warmed since 1995. You may have noticed, in fact, that Al and his pals, having given up on the sun, no longer even warn of global warming. Now it's "climate change." The marketing men enlisted by Al and the doom criers to come up with a flexible "brand" took a cue from the country philosopher who observed, correctly, that "if you've got one foot in the fire and the other in a bucket of ice, on average you're warm." On average, "climate change" covers every possibility.

This is similar to the science practiced by Dr. James Hansen at NASA's Goddard Institute for Space Studies, the source of much of the voodoo that Al Gore has been peddling since the doctor showed up at a Senate hearing in 1988 and told ghost stories that Al swallowed whole. Only last month Dr. Hansen's institute announced that October was the hottest on record, and then said "uh, never mind." The London Daily Telegraph calls this "a surreal blunder [that] raised a huge question mark about the temperature records that underpin the worldwide alarm over global warming."

In this account, the institute had to make the humiliating climb-down after two leading skeptics of the global-warming scam, Anthony Watts, an American meteorologist, and Steve McIntyre, a Canadian computer analyst, discovered that temperature readings from September had been carried over and repeated for October.

We should sigh, shrug and give the scientists at NASA the benefit of the doubt that this was a mistake and not a deliberate howl at the moon. A spokesman for the institute explains that readings borrowed from Russia, which had been described as 10 degrees higher than normal for October, distorted the figures but, after all, the data had been obtained from others. So we should blame someone else.

This is the science we're expected to take on faith. The false figures - we must be generous and not say "faked" - were supplied by the United Nations International Panel on Climate Change. These are the most widely quoted readings, and consistently show higher temperatures than other "data sets." Would the United Nations lie? (No giggling, please.)

This sets a new standard for hubris, arrogance and haughty self-importance. Skeptics of the global-warming scam, even those with unquestioned academic and real-world credentials, are treated as ignorant pariahs by pundits, presidential candidates and other politicians who know better, or ought to.

This is not the first time, writes Christopher Booker in the Daily Telegraph, that Dr. Hansen's methodology has been sharply questioned. Two years ago, Messrs. Watts and McIntyre, the bloggers who caught the October fiasco, forced him to withdraw his published findings on surface temperatures in the United States, to correct his claim that the hottest decade of the 20th century was the 1990s. It was the 1930s, when the much-maligned sport utility vehicle was still a truck and Detroit made economical cars everybody wanted.

Man's notion that his science can realign the stars, adjust the orbit of planets and reorganize the universe leads him to say silly things and assert goofy claims. Saying silly things and asserting goofy claims is usually harmless as entertainment, so long as the claims are subjected to rigorous analysis and debate. But contrarian arguments about global warming, climate change and freezing heat are not tolerated by the scientists with an uneasy grip on the research money.
It's clear now that the earth has been cooling for the past decade, to the sorrow of the special pleaders and despite everything Al can do about it. The solar cycle peaked, the sun is quieter, the sunspots have faded and everybody but Al is cooling off.

Even the United Nations says so. The director of the U.N.'s panel on climate change concedes that nature has overwhelmed everything man can do and it might even be another decade before man can rally and the warming resumes. Until then, like it or not, nature rules the cosmos.

Writing

Around ten o’clock the other night, I began mentally gearing myself up for the challenge that lay ahead of me. I was stuck on this one essay, that was already late, and I had several other essays I needed to get cracking on, but I was just so tired and brain-fried from being sick that I quailed at the prospect of writing again that night. I almost despaired at the challenge of slogging it out with that paper again for even the thought of returning to my computer and once again to forcing my brain to form the knowledge and ideas in my head into correctly spelled words that would make up make complete sentences, coherent paragraphs, and a cohesive essay was exhausting. Then whilst thinking about what hard work writing could be and how difficult and perhaps even begrudging it can be even for one like myself who loves to write, indeed cannot keep from writing a thought struck me that allowed me to set to work undaunted.
I was suddenly reminded again of one of the weird qualities of my craft, one of the strange aspects of writing, one of the paradoxes of art itself: it may be easiest to write when I am inspired, the words well up inside me like the tide and come pouring out through my fingers with an unstoppable energy, and that may well be some of my best work ever, yet some of my best work on my stories has come during the times were I felt like I was getting nowhere, when I felt like slamming my head against the computer screen, when I had to fight for every word. There is a certain sense of awe and wonder and joy that comes when the words and ink fly but without a doubt that there is nothing quite like the pride that comes from having wrangled your brain eight ways from Sunday, having twisted and stretched and slammed your brain against the mat hour after hour until you have forged the words into something beautiful, just as there is nothing like the satisfaction that comes from standing bone-tired tired looking upon all you have accomplished in a day’s work.

The Obama Birth Certificate Scandal

A friend recently posted an article on Facebook about the recent court case brought by attorney Philip J. Berg (who is a life long Democrat and former Democratic Party County Chair) involving the court investigation of Presidential Candidate Barack Obama's American Citizenship. A debate ensued between a friend of hers and myself.

He posted this:

"Why hasn't Obama provided anything to the court? Probably because the case was dismissed for lack of subject matter on October 24. Meaning, Berg didn't have enough burden of proof to warrant the obvious damage the allegations would cause if they ended up being false.

http://news.justia.com/cases/featured/pennsylvania/paedce/2:2008cv04083/281573/

It's still pending appeal, so anything can happen I guess."

This was my answer:

"First: That the case was dropped "for lack of subject matter" is false. According the the article you cited, but evidently didn't read, Judge Surrick dropped the case because he felt "that Berg lacked standing to bring the suit because he did not face direct harm even if the allegations were true."

That ridiculously sad excuse of a technicality doesn't even hold water! Anytime the Constitution is violated by anyone in a government office and it is ignored, or worse yet encouraged, every American suffers. The judge should have his license revoked for hindering the public outcry for reassurance that our Constitution is not being trampled with such a terrible distortion of justice!

On the other hand, if, as you and several other articles say, the judge dismissed the case because it was potentially too damaging to Sen. Obama that also is a terrible slap in the face of the law and the American people.

Sen. Obama, and anyone who has ever run for the Office of President, knew going in that every aspect of the life, from birth to present, is up for investigation by the media, individuals, and the law. He knowingly opened himself up to such questions and attacks and should be ready and willing to face them with hard facts and good answers, not avoid the searing light of truth by exploiting weak legal technicalities.

Second: The whole point is that it's potentially damaging! To say that the case is potentially too damaging, is to say that Sen. Obama's feelings and reputation are more important than upholding justice and the rights of the American people. We deserve to know the truth!

The only reason for Sen. Obabma to fight this investigation is if he truly has something to hide! If he is a true American citizen he as nothing to hide: all he has to do is release his certificate to the court and he gets exonerated, and Mr. Berg looks like an idiot. That's a win-win situation for him!

By hiding from the inquiries like a coward he has only further damaged his reputation by giving people just cause to be suspicious of him."

Am I the only one who finds it highly suspicious that there are two differing and equally sketching looking copies of Sen. Obama's birth certificate to be found on supposedly dependable websites (including his own official site) yet he refused to vindicate his name by simply showing the hard copy to a judge?

Am I the only one who feels indignant that some judge decided tha I and the rest of the decent, law abiding, tax paying citizen's of this nation don't deserve to know the truth? That some random judge decided it doesn't matter if Senator Obama may not be an eligible candidate for President because we might damage his reputation by even investigating that fact?

Am I the only one incredulous that the major media has completely ignored this issue? That all of the high and mighty journalist out there who pride themselves on bringing the people the truth don't give a flying fig that it's two days till Election Day and we still have reasonable doubt as to the popular candidates eligibility of the job?

Sometimes I wonder what this nation is coming to. If in a few weeks or months Mr. Berg's appeal does go through, I'm going to laugh in bitter irony and shame as America becomes the laughing stock of the world for having not made sure our President was even eligible before we elected him.

Of course this it investigation probably never will be reopened because if you begin to consider the two absurdly flimsy reasons for this law suit's dismissal one has to start wondering who paid off the judge...

Humbled Anew

I often wonder,
I so often muse,
After I blunder
And my way thus lose,
Or "My will!" thunder
And Thy love abuse,
How Thou doth show me
Exactly where and
How I so failed Thee:
A touch from Thy hand
Bends my stubborn knee,
Shows me chilish, and
Doth wholly suffice
To melt my hard heart
And make me realize
Just how great Thou art.

© Andrew J. Goggans 2008

Spring is Coming

I apologize to whatever readers I have for my dreadful lack of writing lately. Life circumstances have conspired against me to leave me with little time for writing and this means that though I have been writing there has been little visible fruit. I have been working on some of my stories (they aren’t ready for the light of day yet) and a rather lengthy blog entry on the course of my relationship with Melanie to share some of the lessons I have learned, blessings I have received, and to answer all of the questions people have had about our betrothal. So despite whatever craziness or daily drudgery I may face in the next few weeks I promise the new post, and perhaps eventually the stories, will be presented for you.

I must say though that my life has been quite good of late. I had a good summer, an amazing trip to spend time with my girl and her family in Slovakia, I have my money for school, I have a good job I can work half time during the semester, I have housemates, and I have good friends and family. God is good.

On the other hand my immediate and extended family could use a lot of prayer right now. I shan’t go into all the details now but your spiritual support will be felt and greatly appreciated because sometimes in life you have no idea what is going on, sometimes you have absolutely no clue what God is doing or why. At times like these I often fall back on one simple phrase.


“Aslan is On the Move!”


It is repeated amongst my family and friends as an encouragement, a rally cry, a prayer and a benediction, almost as if it were a magic spell. This simple set of five paltry words, never fails to inspire in my body and soul a profound effect, but rather than trying to explain it to you myself I shall give you the words of the one who coined the phrase.

‘Here the Beaver’s voice sank into silence and (…) it added in a low whisper- “They say Aslan is on the move (…) the moment the Beaver had spoken these words everyone felt quite different. Perhaps it has sometimes happened to you in a dream that someone says something which you don’t understand but in the dream it feels as if it had some enormous meaning—either a terrifying one which turns the whole dream into a nightmare or else a lovely meaning to lovely to put into words, that makes the dream so beautiful you remember it all your life and are always wishing you could get into that dream again. It was like that now (…) At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in its inside. Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her. And Lucy got the feel you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.’

So when the world looks bleak, and hope seems dim, take up the cry “Aslan is on the move!” Remind yourself and all around not to lose heart because: “It’s no good, Son of Adam, (…) no good your trying, of all people. But now that Aslan is on the move (…) He’ll settle (things) all right (…)

Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of His roar, sorrows will be no more,
When He bares His teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring
again!

“You’ll understand when you see Him.”

To the King!

It's summer.

Bryan is a ghost town and my house, full of people noise and fun during the school year, is empty and quiet.
One would think that this quiet would give me more time to think and write but I haven't written anything in months. The last post on here was about three weeks ago and it only half-way counts as writing something. I keep telling myself I need to get back to writing, that it's good for me, that it will help me feel better, think clearer, and function better, but I have been unable to bring myself to thus far.
Part of it is that I am so tired when I get home from work that I don't feel like getting started on something. Half the time knowing I'm to tired to accomplish anything and part of me afraid that with all the stuff bouncing around in my head I'd mess up an existing story, or get started on something new and be up all night, which is the last thing I need when working ten hours days every day. Partly I'm too tired to put the work in wrestling through a story line or editing old stuff, I work on stuff in my head throughout he day, but I have just can't seem to actually put pen to paper. I'm not sure why.
I've done a fair bit of reading but not what I hoped too, I couldn't for the life of me find my family's copy of Pride and Prejudice and the other books i want I can't yet afford to buy. I hate being broke.
I need to just make myself get back to it.. I need to write out a lot of what I've thought up in the way of stories and essays this summer. I really do need to. I know I need to, I know it's good for me, I know I'll regret it if the whole stinking summer goes by and I wrote nothing before the insanity of school starts.
I need to get in the habit of writing on a regular basis and there is no reason why I can't start that this summer. So that's my goal for this next week, slowly and surely I'm pushing myself to be more self-disciplined A year ago I was far more so, it's a lot easier to be when things aren't so insane, This past year has required a lot of flexibility, something I'm very good at, but I know that forcing myself to be disciplined in my daily routine makes me more efficient and productive, I can always deviate when I need to but if there's no need to then, it's best to stick to the schedule so I don't wast time or leave things to the last minute.

And now I'm rambling so I'll stop.

Brokenness

Aslan spoke to me today.

"If you desire, oh Son of Adam, to see how true your lineage runs, and how aptly that name befits you, then find yourself a wife. Your wretched state will soon become painfully clear when you yourself bring her sorrow and pain, as you hurt the woman you love through your selfishness and pride."

I understand my dad so much better these days.

What's that quote from Lewis? It's either in Out of the Silent planet or Paralandra that Malacandra or Peralandra her self says something along the lines of: "If, oh little one, we thought even the highest and purest of your thoughts our lights would be extinguished."

I'm starting to see that we're all screwed up, far more than we like to admit. Or perhaps more accurately, far more that we even realize.

Thank you Dad, for always setting a good example, for doing so much right, and letting me see you learn and grow and make things right when you failed.

I AM DONE!!!

Having finished my last test about two hours ago I am officially done with this semester! Hooray!

I am so glad it all over, it's been a really hellacious semester, but y'know what's weird? I can sit here, and look back on it, and honestly say it was a good semester, hard as hades, but good. I've been pushed, and pulled, and broken eight ways from Sunday this semester, and I have failed to live up to the pressures and responsibilities like I should have. I have failed my professors, my friends and family, and my girlfriend.

But I've also learned so much. When I look back on my actions I can see where I chose wrong, or allowed exhaustion to breed confusion, apathy, and selfishness. I can see where I failed to help my girlfriend, where I was selfish or failed to lead and plan well enough in our relationship; to keep my actions, or inactions, from causing her extra stress, where I put unnecessary pressures on her because of my selfishness or laziness.

At the same time though I feel like I can honestly say I did my best, I fought so hard this semester, it just wasn't good enough. It never is, and never will be. It is by His grace and strength alone that we make it through this life. I cannot speak in words what He has done for me this semester. How He has forced me to rely on Him even more fully. How he has blessed me through friends and family, and through Melanie. So many times when I was completely a drained after sickness and/or ministering to family and friends she was there to minister to me. I don't think I would have survived this semester if it weren't for her. Not that I would have committed suicide, I would never do that, but I think I would have been such an emotional and physical wreck I would have had to drop out of college.

Perhaps I overstep my bounds. I will not say God could not have gotten me through it all, just Him and me, but I am inexpressibly thankful that He brought Melanie into my life. Even the extra stress of caring for her while she has been sick has been a blessing: to minister to her and meet her needs has been such a joy. Caring for her has become my greatest source of pleasure and satisfaction.

Y’know what else? I’ve learned a ton academically too. The combination of taking Western Civ II and Brit Lit II at the same time provided me an even deeper sense of the details of history and the gradual flow of it, of the story of the western man humanity, of his growth and development. My grasp of history was already deep enough that I never bought or read our textbook and I’ll have an A or B in the class, but I’ve immensely enjoyed seeing more clearly how the events affected the philosophers and writers, and how the philosophers and writers affected the events.

If it’s any sign of what I’ve learned in Advanced Grammar this semester, or any consolation to Dr. Impson, the moment I got on here to type this out I saw how atrociously written my last post was (that’s what I get for writing when exhausted), and became so OCD, I had to fix it right then.

(On a personal note: Dr. Impson, I was parsing sentences in my sleep last night!)

Now begins the summer. This week I will be clearing house, washing clothes, paying bills, seeing returning friends, and saying goodbye to those that are leaving. On Monday I leave for NJ for a week. First I’m taking Mel to meet my Aunt Debbie and my Mimi, and I get to meet her immediate and extended family at her sister’s wedding. On the 19th we return to Chattanooga long enough to repack and fly to Slovakia. I shall return by the 1st of June for family vacation, and some much needed sleep.

And then I shall spend the rest of the summer working my tail off because despite how hard I’ve worked this semester it still won’t fall off….maybe I should talk to a doctor about it…

A Poem

I've been working on this for a few weeks. Feeling it out--no, wrestling it down to paper, trying to make it work and express what I felt. I'm not sure if I'm going to add a third stanza or not, but here it is:

Deep to my soul it clings,
A wordless thought I cannot speak
A heavy tangle of feelings
which I've wrestled for many aweek.
As verbose as I can be,
Still my tongue fails me.

It's not quite depression
That eats and eats away in me:
A pent up frustration
Oh so slowly poisoning me.
It sickens to the bone
as I struggle alone.

Time Management

A friend asked: "Query: Are we, as Christians, required to do our best in everything we do?"

And this was my answer:

"I think that we ought to try to do "our best" but that "our best" doesn't mean our best in everything. We live in a world with responsibilities and consequences and we have to do our best to balance everything out. You can spend tons of time on any one thing, such one of several papers or HW assignments, and do really well on it but that means doing not as good on something else. One most apply the principle of diminishing returns because there is always a certain point where, because of lack of sleep or whatever other reason, that the amount or improvement gained is no longer worth the amount of work put into a project. When you reach that point, or because of time restraints before you even reach that point, you have to say 'I've done my best to put good work into this and balance everything out and I only had x amount of time to work on this so I'll trust God with whatever the consequences are.' and move on to whatever project is next."

What do you think?

Dreams

Dreams are funny things and for years I had no idea what to make of them. Are they are gifts from above? Are they the out workings of my inner thoughts and my subconscious? A pointless amalgamation of the random sensory data my body collects while I sleep? Or the newest theory in the scientific arena: my mind's attempt to process the data piled up in my short term memory and learn from the day's experiences; simply a method of sorting through everything so can my brain can log important stuff away in long term memory and forget the rest?

I have come to the conclusion over the years that sleep is all of the above. At times I have relived the events of the day before and seen them in a new light as I slept. I have dreamt events and conversations that, knowing myself and the people in the dream, never happened but very well could have. When I have been burdened greatly by some thought, prayer, or desire my dreams have given voice to that stress in one way or another. I know that just as my writing often reflects my subconscious and semi-conscious thoughts, feelings, and beliefs, so have my dreams. At times I have been able to label each of these occurrences, each of these uses and purposes for my dreams but several times in my life I have been left wondering, without ever really making up my mind fully, if certain dreams were gifts of spiritual insight that I should heed. I am always hesitant to assign such divine weight to my dreams but I sometimes wonder if I should be. If my dreams encompass and incorporate all of the physical, mental, emotional, and psychological elements of my life then why not the spiritual too? Though as human beings our need for physical rest is the most obvious reason and purpose for sleep Scripture promises that God will speak to His children in dreams and visions.

In Scripture God speaks in dreams that seem to be baffling riddles until explained by His chosen servant (Joseph, Daniel, Samuel...) to both kings and peasants alike. Throughout the history of Israel we are told that the men of one family or another, one tribe or another, had dreams and visions or were good at interpreting them. (I have often wondered if there is a distinction there or simply two names for the same thing.) On the other hand God seems to almost always speak to His servants directly. If He doesn't speak vocally to them in their waking hours He speaks to them with spoken clarity in a dream, or sends an angel to vocalize His message in waking or in sleeping. There have been times in my life where I have heard God speak to me with audible clarity. At times I have listened to Him and to my eternal shame at times I have ignored Him. As far as I know the only dream, given to a servant of God, that was allegorical and thus left open for interpretation was Joseph's dream about the twelve sheaves of wheat and sun, moon, and the twelve stars bowing before him. The only other time I can think of where the recipient of the message is confused as to its origin and meaning is when a very young Samuel hears God calling his name and thinks that it is Eli and Eli tells him, until the third time, he is dreaming.

These two events give me encouragement and frustration at the same time. They leave me wondering if God is speaking to me subtly and even directly but I am missing it. They encourage me that perhaps I am right when I think there is more to a dream, that I should take the spiritual hints, or obvious overtones, in it very seriously. And yet since I lack the overwhelming conviction that I have recieved a message from the Lord that is seen in almost all of the Biblical occurances I, perhaps like Eli, can't help but wonder if it really was "just a dream" and if I should "go back to sleep".

I wish I knew for sure whether there was more to a dream or not. I wish there was some authority I could turn to, but almost everyone I have ever heard talk about dreams and visions was either completely naturalistic about it, ended their discourse sounding as vague and undecided as I already felt, or sounded like a complete nut that based their beliefs off personal feeling and not scriptural evidence. Maybe I’ll ask some of the Bible professors here. I really respect several of them for how well they have thought through all the various ways to interpret things even if I disagree with them on exactly what they choose to believe. I guess aside from asking them, my parents, and pastor, the only thing to do is what I always end up having to do, wrestle it out for myself: search the scriptures and ask the Lord for answers.

I'm Taken

I want you all to meet my girlfriend Melanie!Melanie and I are now officially a couple since we talked to her parents earlier today/yesterday! I really can't tell you how excited I am 'cause she's pretty much amazing!

I Said "No."

I will never forget that night. God spoke to me with almost audible clarity and I ignored Him; to my eternal shame, I deliberately disobeyed Him.

My family was on vacation in Florida. Were almost to the condo we were borrowing from some friends and we stopped for dinner. It was just a little Chinese buffet, nothing special but we were all starved after traveling in the van all day. My parents ordered the food while my sister and I got some tables pulled together and sat the younger ones down. After acquiring a stack of napkins and straws I decided I should wash my hands before getting everyone’s drinks. The place was one of those where the bathrooms are right next to the kitchen and as I came out from washing my hands I glanced into the kitchen, what I saw made me sick.

The workers having already taken my family the food were standing around talking, one girl had her back to me and I don’t know if she waited at a “gentlemen’s club” or what caused them but I could see grooves in her back. Pressed into her back a quart inch wide and a quarter inch deep they came out of the front of her shirt, over the top of her should and down her back disappearing once more inside her shirt. The halter top made them hard to see from the front but painfully obvious from behind her.

I couldn’t move, none of them noticed I was there, and I could help but stare as a little whisper with the strength of the ocean behind it spoke inside me. “Go talk to her.” I heard Him say.

My entire being revolted at the idea. “No!” was my immediate response, “Why? What would I say?” I internally flinched at the awkwardness I would feel.

“Tell her she’s worth more than that.” He answered simply.

I stood there and, like Jacob, wrestled with God. “No.” the thoughts tore through my mind, “What would she say? What would her friends think? What would my family think?” I turned and walked away. I went and eat my meal in misery.

God wasn’t giving up. The girl stood behind the checkout counter, right where I could see her, for the entire meal. Then we sat in the parking lot for at least a half an hour waiting on my parents to get down shopping for groceries at the Publix next door while she and her friends stood around their cars talking after they closed the store for the night. The entire time God was wrestling with my heart, and I wrestled back. That wrestling match of me verses God ended that night after I went to bed, and it ended for the last time.

That night was a turning point in my life, but I didn’t know it at first. I thought everything was going to be fine, I’d repent later and everything would go back to normal but it didn’t. God pulled back and over the next few months I almost never felt His presence, not even at church. He was sending me a message and slowly I understood it, “You promised me your life, you promised to do My Will, but apparently you’ve changed your mind. So you want to do your own thing now? You think you know what’s best? Fine go head then, I won’t get in your way again. When you decide you want to stop playing games and do this from real I’ll be here.”

After that it was no longer God vs. Me, He left me to myself, it was Me vs. Me: the Old Me against the New Me. I had a choice to make: was I going to choose to follow Him, or was I going to choose to live for myself? I had to decide which things I really wanted, a girlfriend, a car, a life of fun in sin, or what He promised, the incomparable sweetness of communion with Him, the provision of all my needs in due time, lasting and meaningful pleasure. I couldn’t have both it ways, I had to choose one or the other, and I spent two years sitting on the fence unable to decide.

I was still a dutiful son to my parents, followed their rules and worked in the family business, I still went to church and worked as an AWANA leader, but I was cussing when around people who didn’t care, I used pornography, I went to good Christian school that forbade drinking and smoking, and I directly violated the contract I signed saying I wouldn’t partake in their use. I didn’t really run off whole-heartedly into sin but neither did I really seek God, and as living a lie always does, it really started to hurt.

The application is, I hope, obvious: we are all faced with this choice. As college students finally out from underneath our parents’ protective umbrella most of us are faced with this choice more pointedly than ever before. I’m not saying smoking cigars or drinking alcohol are inherently sinful activities and I’m certainly not saying girlfriends or cars are bad either, I don’t know what it is in your life that is an idol for you, what issues you struggle with; I simply present my story as an encouragement.

I can tell you first hand that the things of the world become empty and contemptible very quickly, and that nothing can compare to the amazing richness of a life lived in actively pursuing God. Choose Him and you will never regret it.

"And if it seem evil unto you to serve the LORD, choose you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD." Joshua 24:15 (KJV)

~ Andrew J. Goggans
"He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the LORD require of thee, but
to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?" Micah 6:8

- add Go Play With Fire!