A False Start
The first thing to bear in mind is that we exaggerate the separation of the emotion and the will as two distinct faculties of operation—some kind of misshapen two-headed monster. Think, for example, of the caricature we make of one difference between men and women. We seem to think that women are more emotionally driven and men more cerebrally driven. If that caricature were true, why is it that more men fall into infidelity after marriage than do women? If women are more emotionally driven, should it not be the other way around? I think it more appropriate to say that women in general recognize the emotional ramifications of their acts better than men do. Men do feel emotion, but they do so selectively and fail to face the consequences of reality. Betray a man and you find out that his emotions surge to the top. I believe that a legitimate understanding of what is happening here can preserve the grand union between emotion and will.

Without the will, marriage is a mockery; without emotion, it is a drudgery. You need both.

We like the side dealing with emotion, not the will. I have now been married more than thirty years. I often look back at the time when I was on the other side of the marital line and remember how I thought about marriage then.

A Conversation
One particular conversation stands out. A year before I was married, I was sitting in a Christian education class when the professor quite dramatically started to philosophize about life. Commenting on the home, he said, “I want you students to know that love is hard work.”

I leaned over to my classmate and whispered, “I wouldn’t want to be married to anybody who goes around telling everybody how hard it is to love me.”

He said, “I agree with you. Why don’t you ask him about it?” Like a fool, I did.

I stood up and said, “Excuse me, sir . . . I am not quite comfortable with your categorization of love as ‘hard work.’”

The professor stared at me, evidently not taking too kindly to my challenge, and demanded, “Zacharias, are you married?” When I responded, “No, sir,” he said, “Then why don’t you just be quiet and sit down? You don’t have a clue what you are talking about.” I sat down.

Being married
One year later I was married. After being married all these years, I can unblushingly say, he was right. Love is hard work. I would carry it one step further. It is the hardest work I know of, work from which you are never entitled to take a vacation. You take on burdens and cares. You inherit problems. You have to feel beyond yourself. You have to think of things other than yourself. Your responsibilities are now multiplied, and you are trusted with greater commitments.

You see, the easiest part of our marriage was the wedding ceremony. I remember arriving at the church early. I could hardly wait. As the church filled with guests and the appropriate music was played for the ceremony to begin, I turned to see my bride enter the sanctuary. No, I did not think of all the weddings I had gate-crashed or of all the ceremonies I had witnessed. This was not someone else’s wedding; this was a special moment for us. It was one of the most ecstatic feelings the human heart could ever endure. There is no word in the English dictionary to describe it except the word Wow! It was the crystallization of my every romantic dream. That which was once far off was now near. That which I longed for was now in hand.

As Margie came up the aisle to join me at the front of the church, my heart was in a flutter. So much so that when the minister told me in old English to “salute the bride,” out of sheer nervousness I was on the verge of literally saluting her. There is nothing so magnificent as a beautiful, blushing bride behind a veil that cannot hide the radiant glow of a dream coming true. If the flutter of a heart were all that one needs to fly, the groom would soar to celestial heights. No! The groom does not need to soar at that moment, for God Himself comes near and says, This is My precious gift to you. Receive it with reverence and guard it with diligence.

The ceremony was followed by the reception. What a wonderful way to celebrate with friends. At the end of the reception we drove to the honeymoon capital of North America—Niagara Falls—where we stayed for the night at Michael’s Inn. (Thankfully, Michael wasn’t.) From there it was on to Cape Cod, Massachusetts. I remember carrying her over the threshold. My heart was as full as I had hoped it would be. I had an overwhelming sense of gallantry as I carried her into the room.

At about two o’clock in the morning, Margie got up. I thought, Surely the honeymoon couldn’t be over already . . . where is she going? So I asked, “Where are you going, honey?” She answered, “I’m going to get a glass of water.” I said, “Stay right here, I’ll get it for you.” That was May 6, 1972. I was thrilled to get up at two o’clock in the morning and get her a glass of water. My! What sacrifice!

But five years go by. Someone has wryly quipped, “Sacrifice in America is when the electric blanket doesn’t work.” So one night I find myself comfortably tucked in bed, and about two or three o’clock, I hear the rustle of the sheets. She’s getting up again, and the temptation is to pull the covers over my face and cease to hear anything at that moment—for at least one reason. She looked different. You see, on May 6, 1972, she looked grand. Absolutely grand! But five years later, she had some funny things in her hair at night that generally prompted one question, “What stations are you able to get under that influence?” I have been chided for that remark many times so I should add that she no longer wears them. Times have changed. But I do recall that sight. Somehow the first word that leaped into my mind was not the word Wow! But I still do the right thing, because the tug of love is a commitment stronger than merely the flutter of the heart.

Chivalry in love has nothing to do with the sweetness of the appearance. It has everything to do with the tenderness of a heart determined to serve. That is the first hard lesson to learn. You do not act under the impetus of charm but out of a commitment to make someone’s life the joy you want it to be. In the early days of marriage, joy precedes the act. Tragically, as the years go by joy can be severed from the act until finally, the act itself is no more. This ought not to be. Over time it is the companionship that brings joy, and service is the natural outworking of the joy of commitment. Failure to act kills it.

William Doherty begins his excellent book Take Back Your Marriage with a powerful illustration. His office is located in St. Paul, Minnesota, not far from the farthest point north on the Mississippi River. He describes the river’s formidable but silent current that drives its waters southward. “Everything on the water that is not powered by wind, gasoline, or human muscle” heads south. Then he adds these words: “I have thought that getting married is like launching a canoe into the Mississippi at St. Paul. If you don’t paddle, you go south. No matter how much you love each other, no matter how full of hope and promise and good intentions, if you stay on the Mississippi without a good deal of paddling—occasional paddling is not enough—you end up in New Orleans. Which is a problem if you want to stay north.” 1

But this kind of commitment does not come easily. Only if it is taken seriously does it become a sheer delight of the heart. I will also add that this kind of commitment is not seen much in the times in which we live. The reason we have a crisis in our gender relationships is not that we are culturally indoctrinated but that we would rather be served than serve. We would rather be the head than the feet. The Christian faith stands unique in pointing out that the Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost. The Son of Man came to serve. This means that the service He gave to humanity was given even when we least merited that sacrifice. There is a joy in service that transcends emotional temporariness.

to be continued….

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Sun, 14 May 2006

May 14, 2006, 17:23 [top]
Parents want religion for their kids, but not themselves

From the Washington Post:
Some Parents Who Shy From Religion Want Their Children to Taste Its Psychological and Spiritual Comforts

FULL STORY HERE

Q&A about psychological faith
Click Here

- Mystery Blogger


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Tue, 09 May 2006

May 09, 2006, 23:30 [top]
Hymn Series 3: Jesus Paid It All
On New Year’s night, 1886, some missionaries were holding open-air services in order to attract passers-by to a near-by mission, where meetings were to be held later. “All to Christ I owe” was sung, and after a gentleman had given a short address he hastened away to the mission. He soon heard footsteps close behind him and a young woman caught up with him and said:

“I heard you addressing the open-air meeting just now; do you think, sir, that Jesus could save a sinner like me?”

The gentleman replied that there was no doubt about that, if she was anxious to be saved. She told him that she was a servant girl, and had left her place that morning after a disagreement with her mistress. As she had been wandering about the streets in the dark, wondering where she was to spend the night, the sweet melodies of this hymn had attracted her, and she drew near and listened attentively. As the different verses were being sung, she felt that the words surely had something to do with her. Through the whole service she seemed to hear what met her oppressed soul’s need at that moment. God’s Spirit had showed her what a poor, sinful and wretched creature she was, and had led her to ask what she must do. On hearing her experience, the gentleman took her back to the mission and left her with the ladies in charge. The young, wayward woman was brought to Christ that night. A situation was secured for her in a minister’s family. There she became ill and had to be taken to a hospital. She rapidly failed and it became evident that she would not be long on earth. One day the gentleman whom she had met on New Year’s night was visiting her in the ward. After quoting a few suitable verses of Scripture, he repeated her favorite hymn, “All to Christ I owe” and she seemed overwhelmed with the thought of coming to glory. Two hours afterward she passed away.

I hear the Savior say,
“Thy strength indeed is small;
Child of weakness, watch and pray,
Find in Me thine all in all.”

Jesus paid it all,
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.

For nothing good have I
Whereby Thy grace to claim,
I’ll wash my garments white
In the blood of Calv’ry’s Lamb.

And now complete in Him
My robe His righteousness,
Close sheltered ’neath His side,
I am divinely blest.

Lord, now indeed I find
Thy power and Thine alone,
Can change the leper’s spots
And melt the heart of stone.

When from my dying bed
My ransomed soul shall rise,
Jesus died my soul to save,
Shall rend the vaulted skies.

And when before the throne
I stand in Him complete,
I’ll lay my trophies down
All down at Jesus’ feet.


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May 09, 2006, 00:35 [top]
Marriage: Part 1
Mystery Blogger’s note: This is an excerpt from Ravi Zacharias’ book I, Isaac, take Thee, Rebekah.

I have heard it said that the longest journey in life is from the head to the heart. Others say that the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Yet another aphorism of our time is that beginning well is a momentary thing; finishing well is a lifelong thing.

All of these point to one reality: our knowledge and our response are not always in keeping with each other. We put asunder what God intended to remain joined together. Solomon proved this centuries ago. He made a fascinating statement in the Book of Ecclesiastes. He relates all the areas in which he searched for meaning, pleasure, riches, power, fame, and everything else one could imagine.

Through all of these forays into a search for fulfillment, he says, “My wisdom stayed with me” (Ecclesiastes 2:9). How is that possible, we ask, when his day-to-day life was a colossal mess? I understand him to mean that in the midst of his duplicity, his theoretical knowledge of right and wrong never left him. He knew how to discern. But he was volitionally weak and unable to resist the tug of attraction into wrong behavior.

The Role of the Will in Love
I have shared the following story many times over the years. Those from parts of the world to whom this is foreign shake their heads in disbelief, wondering how this can even be theoretically plausible, let alone practically workable. But read the reasoning first and then I will try to explain.

I give you an example of my older brother, who lives in Toronto, Canada. The story dates back to the late 1960s. At that time he was a systems engineer with IBM. Since that time, he has gone on to do several very mentally impressive things in the world of computer software.

In other words, he is mentally all right. He doesn’t have any major problem as far as his IQ is concerned. I say that because you may begin to wonder as I tell his story.

When he was in his mid-twenties, my brother came to my father and said, “You know, Dad, I’ve always maintained even when we were in India that I’m only going to marry the girl you choose for me. I guess I am ready now. Would you please begin a search for a girl for me to marry?”

I really didn’t believe he’d go through with it. We were living in Toronto, thousands of miles and a cultural planet away from the land of our birth. But this was his choice. He wanted my parents to help in “The Search.”

My father and mother said, “Fine. Tell us the kind of young woman you’re looking for.” He gave his “ideal partner” speech and proceeded to describe the kind of person he would choose to marry.

Thus began his quest and what I called our family entertainment hour every night around the table. My father wrote to his sister in India who was doing the ground work, and in response came numerous letters with suggestions, photographs, and information sheets ad nauseam.

Oh! The jokes that would fly! The unsolicited advice from every member of the family was profuse.

He narrowed the “applicants” to a short list and, finally focusing on one person, began to correspond with her. Then they advanced to telephone conversations, but not many because that was “too expensive.”

One could tell that reality was closing in. Finally, believe it or not, they both felt this was it. The dates for the engagement and the marriage were set with these two never having met.

My brother and my father flew from Toronto to Bombay. More than one thousand wedding invitations were sent before my brother and his bride-to-be had ever seen each other. Two days after his arrival was the engagement date and a day or so later was the wedding date. He would then bring his bride back to Canada, all within a week, and they would live “happily ever after.” That, at any rate, was the plan.

I thought to myself, Oh my! You know, this is faith. Maybe it is even less than that. This is credulity! I began to get really concerned, so before my brother left for Bombay I mustered up the courage to caution him.

I said, “I don’t want to challenge anything you’re doing, but I do have a brief question. What are you going to do when you arrive in Bombay, come down the Jetway and see a young woman standing there with a garland in her hand, and say to yourself, Good grief! I hope that’s not her. I hope that’s somebody else! Or she looks at you and thinks to herself, I hope that’s not him, I hope that’s his brother! What on earth will you do? Are you going to take her aside, talk it over, and then make an announcement saying, ‘We have met . . . we will not be proceeding with our plans’? Will you get on the telephone or write letters to everybody and say, ‘Folks, we’ve met. The wedding is off.’”

My brother just stared at me. He said, “Are you through?” I told him that for the moment I was just awaiting his answer.

Then he said something that was absolutely defining for him: “Write this down, and don’t ever forget it”
“Love is as much a question of the will as it is of the emotion. And if you will to love somebody, you can.”

to be continued…

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Fri, 05 May 2006

May 05, 2006, 00:01 [top]
Hymn Series 2: My Jesus I Love Thee

A famous actress, walking down the street, passed an open door, through which she saw an invalid girl laying on a couch watching people pass by. Thinking to cheer her up, she went inside. The sick girl was a devout Christian. The actress, impressed with her words, her patience, her submission, her heaven-lit countenance, and the manner in which she lived her religion, was lead to seriously consider the claims of Christianity. She was thoroughly converted and became a true follower of Christ. She told her father, the leader of the theater troupe, of her conversion and her conviction that she could not live a consistent Christian life and still be an actress. Her father was upset, attempting to convince her that their living would be lost and their business ruined if she persisted. Because she loved her father dearly, she consented to fill the published engagement set for a few days from then, of which she was the star. The play was set to go on. That evening came and the father rejoiced that he had won back his daughter and their living was not to be lost. However, as the actress came out on stage to the applause of the large audience, she stepped forward. A light beamed from her beautiful face. To the now-silent audience she repeated:

‘My Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine;
For Thee all the follies of sin I resign;
My gracious Redeemer, my Savior art Thou;
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ‘tis now.’

Through Christ she had conquered. She left with the audience in tears, and retired from the stage, never to appear on it again. But through this, her father was converted. Through their combined evangelistic labors, many were led to Christ.

- Ira Sankey

“My Jesus, I love Thee” was written by a sixteen year old boy, William Ralph Featherston, at the time of his conversion to Jesus Christ. He sent a copy to his aunt who encouraged him to have it published. It appeared anonymously in The London Hymn Book in 1864. The original copy of the hymn, in the author’s handwriting, is still a cherished treasure in the family.

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Mon, 01 May 2006

May 01, 2006, 02:11 [top]
Hymn series #1: It is Well with My Soul
In 1871, tragedy struck Chicago as fire ravaged the city. When it was all over, 300 people were dead and 100,000 were homeless. Horatio Gates Spafford was one of those who tried to help the people of the city get back on their feet. A lawyer who had invested much of his money into the downtown Chicago real estate, he’d lost a great deal to the fire. And his one son (he had four daughters) had died about the same time. Still, for two years Spafford—who was a friend of evangelist Dwight Moody—assisted the homeless, impoverished, and grief-stricken ruined by the fire.

After about two years of such work, Spafford and his family decided to take a vacation. They were to go to England to join Moody and Ira Sankey on one of their evangelistic crusades, then travel in Europe. Horatio Spafford was delayed by some business, but sent his family on ahead. He would catch up to them on the other side of the Atlantic.

Their ship, the Ville de Havre, never made it. Off Newfoundland, it collided with an English sailing ship, the Loch Earn, and sank within 20 minutes. Though Horatio’s wife, Anna, was able to cling to a piece of floating wreckage (one of only 47 survivors among hundreds), their four daughters—Maggie, Tanetta, Annie, and Bessie—were killed. Horatio received a horrible telegram from his wife, only two words long: “saved alone.”

Spafford boarded the next available ship to be near his grieving wife, and the two finally met up with Dwight Moody. “It is well,” Spafford told him quietly. “The will of God be done.”

Though reports vary as to when he did so, Spafford was led during those days of surely overwhelming grief to pen the words to one of the most beautiful hymns we know, beloved by Christians lowly and great.
It is well with my Soul
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.


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