Prepare! The King Is Coming!

Merry Christmas, brothers and sister!

As we go about with our celebrations, remember the reason we celebrate: the babe in the manger who would die on the Cross in our place.

Often we get so caught up in the joy and wonder of His birth, that we forget all the toil those who believed went through while waiting for Him.  And we forget that baby was sent as a sacrifice in our place; a sacrifice for the Original Sin and all sins.

Our King was born humbly, without power, pomp, or ceremony.  He was not heralded, but scorned.  There was no grand palace for Him, nor a sprawling capital.  Instead He was born in a lowly farming community.  Jesus gave up so much to be with us.  Every step of His live was a sacrifice, a humiliation.  Especially the part we seem to cherish most: His birth.  We believe Him so innocent, meek, and even adorable.  But it was that part that may have been most humiliating.  He knew, since He is God, what would happen.  To willingly be confined to a human body that would one day die.  It was likely the most painful thing He went through; a pain, suffering, and humiliation that would last His entire earthly life.  And that is cause for joy.

Without Christ's sacrifice, without His comeing to earth as a human to do what was impossible for us to ever do in our wildest dreams, we would be lost to all eternity in our sin.  But our King, who had every right to damn us to Hell under the Law, chose instead to step down from His throne.  He laid aside His crown and power and took up the mantle of an ordinary human.  He lived, worked, toiled, laughed, cried, learned, taught, befriended, cared, healed.  He prayed for relief, accepted His task, suffered under Pilate, carried the Cross, bled, forgave, died.  He was burried.  He decended to Hell, not to suffer, but to conqure.  He rose from a grave that could never contain the Creator of the Universe.  Our King was alive again, ascending to His throne to prepare a place for us.

As we wait for our King to return, let us celebrate His first coming and rejoice that He will be back soon!

The peace of the Lord be with you and your family today and forever.  Merry Christmas!

Hi... Bye

Hey y'all, been a while.  The reason for the lack of activity here lately is because we've moved from Illinois back to Nebraska.  And I'm taking Hebrew tutorial online.  While writing introduction lessons for Sunday school.  And job searching.

Life's been crazy.  So I'll post a quick "hi/bye" so no one freaks out that I've fallen off the face of the earth.

I've been digging a little into some good and solid theology resources, so its likely that I'll post stuff like Bible studies, devotions, and "apologetic rants" in the future.

Oh, and we've gone to the dark side and bought costumes.  Nate wanted a football helmet, so the family is going as the Huskers.

So stay tuned!

Long time, no post.

Hello everyone.  Been awhile since my last post.  A lot has happened at home and around the world since then, but I don't intend on writing about any of that, at least not yet.  This is just a quick "Hi" to let you know I hadn't gone and disappeared.  Be posting again real soon.

Just a fun "Happy Birthday, America!"  Have a safe Fourth of July, and God Bless.

The War To End All Wars

On this day (28 June), in 1914, something insignificant happened.  A member of a second-rate European monarchy and his wife were assassinated by a teenage terrorist from a fourth-rate nation.  I'd be willing to bet that most Americans haven't heard of the nation Franz Ferdinand was from, though more probably know about where Gavrilo Princip was from.

Its almost funny how something seemingly insignificant now can be so life changing to millions.

I'm talking about the assassination of the Austro-Hungarian archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sophie, at the hands of Serbian terrorists.  The results may be best described simply: "well, that escalated quickly."

Escalated might be an understatement.

The archduke was assassinated on 28 June.  The Austro-Hungarian empire gave Serbia 30 days to comply with a number of demands.  Before going farther, it should be noted where this happened, because it is surprisingly important.

The archduke was Sarajavo, in modern-day Boznia.  Boznia, and a number of other modern European nations were part of an empire controlled by a branch of the Habsburg family.  I won't get into the "who's who," because European monarchial families are difficult to unravel.  The Austro-Hungarian Empire had been very powerful in its day.  That day was not 1914.  The archduke was the heir-presumptive, and had plans to increase the empire's power.  This was a problem for Serbia.  Serbia wanted to be the leading nation in the Balkans.  For those that do not know, the historic fact is that the Balkan region is the "powder keg of Europe."  There are a few dozen different ethnic, linguistic, cultural, and religious groups in an area about the size of Texas.  These groups live in relative close proximity.  And a few have hated each other for centuries.  Some hatred goes back to before the fall of the Roman Empire.  Regardless, the majority of people there are Slavic.  They are ethnic and linguistic relations to the Russians.  These "southern Slavs" have been fought over by a number of nations in the last two millennia.  In 1914, it was Serbia's turn.  They wanted to rule a unified nation of Slavs, thinking themselves the best of the group and worthy of leadership.  But it is difficult to take over nations owned by someone else.

So, terrorist group kills future emperor.  Current emperor threatens nation protecting terrorists.  Nation protecting terrorists ask for help.  Help shows up.  Emperor calls his allies.  And so on, and so on.  Soon almost every nation in Europe is involved.  Like dominoes.  Serbia calls up Russia, who later calls France.  The Austrians get aid from the Germans, and later on from the Turks, too.  Britain shows up, helping the French, on the flimsy excuse of "Germany invaded Belgium."  Italy started out helping Germany and Austria, but switched sides because it wanted a small piece of Austria's territory.  Soon there's a "great war."  Men were scrambling to enlist because they were afraid the "adventure" would be over by Christmas.  Recent wars up till that point, at least in Europe, had been relatively short.  Some barely lasted a month.  The "Great War" officially began on 28 July, 1914.  It did not end until 11 November, four long, bloody years later.

In the meantime there is the "race to the sea," a two front war, trench warfare, machine guns, unlimited submarine warfare, gas, convoys, tanks, no-man's-land, aircraft, barbed wire, and "shell shock."  Technology, especially the technology of killing, advanced almost twenty years.  And epic battles that lasted days, even weeks.  Battles like Gallipoli, Verdun, Ypres, the Marne, Lodz, and Tannenberg.  It was the first truly world war, since it was fought everywhere.  Fought in both western and eastern Europe, in Africa, in the Middle East, and on the Atlantic Ocean.  There were even a couple of minor battles in the Pacific and Indian oceans.  By the time the United States dragged itself to the war, millions had died.

All because one assassination.

During the peace treaty, Serbia got what it wanted: control over the southern Slavic nations.  Germany was demonized as the instigator, in the same way a video game designer is to blame for a shooting rampage.  And Franz Ferdinand?  Not mentioned.

There is a lot that can be learned from World War One.  How numerous treaties can cause a domino effect.  How minor political issues in one part of the world can have ramifications elsewhere.  How easily politicians can be blinded by their ambitions instead of seeking true justice.

On a lighter note, check this link for a simple explanation to the war.  World War One "Bar Fight"

Birthday Wishes

Happy Birthday 239th to the United States Army.

D-Day - Overlord: Overlord

70 years ago: the military term "D-Day" was made famous due to the amphibious landings in Northern France.

This is one of the most studied and relived events of World War II. So much so that the term "D-Day" has become synonymous with Operation Overlord, specifically the invasions of Operation Neptune.  What about Operation Torch (North Africa), or Shingle (Italy), or Iceberg (Okinawa)?  The date those invasions started are all "D-Days."  Now, I'm not belittling the sacrifice of those who scaled the Atlantic Wall and liberated France.  No, I am trying to inform the masses in the official use of the term.  So consider yourself informed.  Will I yell at you if you say "D-Day" and mean Operation Overlord?  No, I can safely assume most who say "D-Day" mean Normandy.

Okay, I'm done ranting.  Enough of the side-show, let's get to the main event.  Based on the numbers and circumstances, it should not have succeeded.

The invasion of France, with the long-term goal to liberate western Europe, was titled Operation Overlord.

This operation had three parts: Operation Pointblank (bombing campaign aimed at halting the Luftwaffe's ability to react), Operation Neptune (the landing of troops on Normandy beaches), and Operation Bodyguard (deceptions and tricks used to convince the Germans the invasion would land elsewhere).

There were a number of operations within each of these operations.  Sometimes it seems like the military can't help but make things more complicated.  Adding to the complexity is that the targeted area, Normandy, was divided into American and British sectors.  And tasks within a sector was given a codename, like Tonga, Boston, and Epsom.  The use of the codenames was to keep opposition from discovering the truth.

One of the most impressive, is underreported, portions of the Normandy invasion was Operation Bodyguard.  The goal was simple: keep the Nazis in the dark.  The execution of this operation was anything but simple, but they pulled it off.  Fake military units were created, such as the First US Army Group (FUSAG).  Dummy equipment, such as inflatable Sherman tanks, were built.  (If you look up "Operation Bodyguard tank" you will find a picture of four men carrying what appears to be a 66,800 pound tank on their shoulders.)  Even double agents helped spread the lies.  George Patton was even put in charge of the FUSAG, in hopes of attracting attention with his record and attitude.  The Allies worked hard to make it appear that Calais was the target of the invasion.

The result of this massive shell-game?  The Germans spent a lot of time and effort to fortify the area around Calais, and the Fifteenth Army was delayed by several weeks, allowing the Allies to break out of Normandy.

One for three on the "Long Shot" list.

There was a major factor in the actual landings that the Allies could not control: the weather.  The planners wanted to be landing at night with a full moon when the tide was going in.  This allowed for the greatest chance to clear obstacles on the beach, and for aircraft and boat pilots to see.  Had Eisenhower postponed the landings, the next available time was two weeks later, without a full moon.  The weather available June 4-7 was bad, but it would have been worse.  On a plus side, the Germans believed that there would be two weeks of bad weather in early June, so many commanders, including Field Marshal Rommel, were not immediately available when the landings happened.  Sometimes it pays to play in the rain.

But the Germans had other reasons not to be worried.  The Atlantic Wall.

After raids in 1942, Hitler ordered the fortification of the Atlantic coast, from Spain to Norway.  Blockhouses, bunkers, pillboxes, trenches, and tank traps were build.  Thousands of tons of concrete were poured.  Hundreds of miles of barbed wire were strung.  Rommel, a brilliant leader the Allies dealt with in North Africa, realized Normandy was a key location for landing.  He tripled the mines in the area, had anti-tank and anti-boat obstacles placed at high-tide marks, and created Rommelspargel.  These "Rommel's asparagus" were 13+ foot tall wooden poles "planted" in fields.  The idea was they would damage gliders.  Some were placed on beaches, in hopes of ripping the bottoms off of boats.  A number even had mines attached to the tops.  By the time Rommel was finished, the Atlantic Wall appeared impenetrable.

The lead-in bombing campaign, Operation Pointblank, began a year earlier.  The goal, again, was simple: destroy the Luftwaffe, the German air industry, and any other industry that could be used against the landings.  The Combined Bombing Offensive, which Operation Pointblank was a part of, was a massive, if controversial, success.  But this isn't about that.  Operation Pointblank itself was tasked with destroying fighter bases, to establish air superiority and air supremacy over the beaches, and over Europe in general.  They succeeded in both.  Air superiority means you have total control of the air over your territory and substantial control over enemy territory.  From 1944 onward, few if any Luftwaffe fighters were seen over Allied territory.  And the USAF and RAF had near complete control of European airspace during the last two years of the war.  Sure, German fighters could still attack and harass bombers, but the Luftwaffe was a faint shadow of its former glory.  Air supremacy means you have total control over all airspace, both your's and your enemy's.  Nothing flies unless it has your insignia on the wings.  At the end of the war the Allies achieved that, but only at the end.  Regardless, the air superiority over Europe, especially over Normandy, allowed the landings to occur with less casualties.

Two for three on the "Long Shot" list.

Operation Neptune started at 0015 (local), 6 June, 1944, with the landings of pathfinders, whose task was to guide in 13,000 paratroopers from the US 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions.  Unfortunately, due to clouds, only 1 in 5 paratroopers reached their landing zone.  Some of these American airborne did not reach drop zones until afternoon.

The British got the first shots of D-Day, with Operation Deadstick.  Gliders landed near the bridges over the Caen canal and the Orne river.  This first operation of the landings was a success.

The amphibious landings started at 0630.  From the start, things did not go according to plan.

The first "boots on the ground" were at Utah beach.  Only they were not.  Gen. Teddy Roosevelt's 4th Inf. Division didn't land at the designated Utah beach, but 2,000 yards west.  The son of the famed president and Rough Rider said they would "start the war from right here."  The advantage was that there was less resistance at this Utah.  By the end of the day there were less than 200 casualties.  A stark contrast to the other American beachhead.

Omaha.

It was the heaviest defended beach.  It was the target of one of the most experienced Allied unit: the 1st Inf. Division.  Bombers were concerned with hitting landing craft, so many of the beach obstacles were not destroyed prior to landings.  Currents caused boats to drift east. Many boats hit sandbars 50-100 yards out, forcing the men to wade the remainder of the distance.  In full combat gear and packs.  Under fire.  The call at 0830 was to hold off on further landings, until some destroyers provided cover fire.  All told around 2,000 died on Omaha beach.

The British at Gold beach weren't having an easier time either.  High winds forced the boats off course.  A number of casemates caused trouble until cruisers or tanks were able to knock them out.  The British lost around 1,000.

At Juno beach, troops landed before tanks, and didn't have the support to defeat the un-bombarded batteries.  The three nearby towns became the sites of fierce fighting, and the airfield remained contested for a month.  But, on the day of the landings, less than 1,000 men died.

Because of wind, obstacles and mines, and a fast rising tide, Sword beach became congested quickly.  It was at Sword beach Free French forces landed, helping to capture at least one stronghold.  Here British troops moved towards Caen, coming within a kilometer of it.  German tanks also attempted to counterattack, and nearly reached the English Channel.  At the end of the day, around 1,000 died at Sword.

Five landing forces embarked.  Five beachheads taken.

Three for three on the "Long Shot" list.

The largest amphibious invasion in human history was a success.  Operation Overlord, which ended August 25, 1944, was a success as well.  The Allies had the first stepping stone toward the liberation of Europe in place.  In a way, the hard part was over.  They had breached the Atlantic Wall and proven that "Fortress Europe" had weaknesses that would be exploited.

Next came the long road to Berlin.

On the way would be bitter cold, armored fortifications, massive airborne attacks, and some of the most disciplined, determined, and desperate soldiers in history.  The "Battle for Europe" had begun.

The goal: Liberation.  No exceptions.

***

To all the veterans of the Normandy Invasion:

Thank you, and God bless.

I Might Be a Dope

I can't believe I didn't realize what I missed. Monday was the anniversary of a big event, and I forgot. I knew June 2nd was important for some reason. Hmm... an anniversary... seven years... happiest day of my life... what could it be?

Okay, so I didn't forget the day Meg and I got married. I just forgot to remind everyone here. I was too busy giving her some diamond earrings.

I don't really have anything else to post today. But tomorrow's a noteworthy anniversary as well, as was yesterday. Care to guess what it was? Nothing about me or my family, but it was the 72nd anniversary of the Battle of Midway. I'd say something more about it, but I don't have anything right now.

Anyway, happy Thursday.

Graduation

Today was 8th Grade graduation at Trinity Lutheran.  Its bittersweet, for the students and teachers.  Most of the nine graduates had spent close to eight years together.  It was emotional watching my first, and last, eight grade class graduate.  Well, I say "last," but that is not entirely official.  It is without a doubt my last eight grade graduation as a teacher at Trinity.

After reviewing my year here, and lots of reflection and prayer, I have come to the conclusion that I cannot stay.  I'm also marginally sure that I am not "the right stuff" for middle level, and I am wondering if I might not even be meant for "conventional classroom" teaching.

So, I've got a visit to the St. Louis Seminary in the pipeline.  For the first time in a number of years I am (nearly) entirely at peace with the idea of going to Sem.  There are still a lot of questions, but they are "housekeeping" and "details" compared to the big issues.  Hence the visit.  I am scared.  What if I get all my questions answered and I come to the conclusion that its a case of "not right now?"  What if I get all my questions answered and I come to the conclusion that its a case of "too late?"  But right now, none of that matters.

What matters is this: my time as a 7th and 8th Grade teacher in S. Illinois is over.  I will miss my students.  They have been a handful, even frustrating at times.  Many a day I felt like I was talking to a bunch of rocks.  But in spite of all the headaches (literal and metaphorical) great things happened.  They weren't always big things, but great none the less.  My students learned.  I got an opportunity to teach to eleven fantastic students.

I also had eleven fantastic teachers.  There is no doubt who learned more this year in "Mr. B's" classroom: me.  I learned about how to (and not to) teach.  I learned patience.  I learned diplomacy.  I learned forgiveness.  I learned loyalty.  I learned friendship.  I learned differentiation.  I learned English.  I learned foreign language.  I learned to laugh.  I learned to be open.  I learned to be welcoming.  I learned to care.

This has been a great experience, but now it is time to move on.  I don't know for sure what God has in store for me next, but I am at peace with that.  That's how I know it will work out in the end.  There is no panic, no fear, no impatience.  What happens, happens in God's time.  I'm just along for the ride.

Trinity Lutheran 7th and 8th Grade, 2013-2014: Thank You.

US Army

"This we'll defend."

US Navy

"Non sibi sed patriae."

US Marine Corps

"Semper Fidelis."

US Coast Guard

"Semper Paratus."

US Air Force

"Aim high... fly, fight, win."

To all our brave young men and women, past, present, and future, who are called to defend this nation, thank you.

God Bless America, and may you have a peaceful Memorial Day.


If you wish to revisit my poem "Rest Well," you may do so here: http://baumann-intheloop.blogspot.com/2012/05/rest-well.html

Yom HaShoah

I have learned more this year about the Shoah (Holocaust) then ever before.

As part of the 8th grade class trip, we went to the Holocaust museum in St. Louis.  Having a tour guide was an option, so I offered my "expertise" to lead my students.  I researched from 1935-1945, discovering and rediscovering things.  I though I was prepared.

When we got there, one of the staff informed us that there was a speaker, and if we wanted we could sit in on the remainder of his talk, as long as we were quiet.  So we walked into this small auditorium and sat in the back.  Up front was a Lithuanian named Mendel Rosenberg.  We got to hear the last five minutes before the group already there moved on.  As they did, I walked up.  I introduced myself, explain my class and why we were there, and asked if we could ask some questions.  He said he would check to see if he had enough time.  When he came back, he said he could give a shortened version of his story.

My class had never been quieter.

Rosenberg had survived Dachau.  He tells his story so that we do not forget.

The same reason why I teach history.

My 5th and 6th grade students got to learn about the Holocaust as well.  They were given an option between two books, and six chose "Number the Stars."  Since most had read it before, I gave them history research projects.  When they presented them, I taught a very condensed version of the Shoah.  Most of that lesson was on the policies and events leading to the Holocaust.  I explained the concentration camps.  Of the extermination camps, all I showed were the names, the number killed, and the gate at Auschwitz.  I told them I would not take them any farther.

A few of the pictures and stories still haunt me.

As a historian, I can give more information than you could want on the topic.  And much of it exceeds what would be considered acceptable for even the most gruesome rated "R" movie.  But I am afraid.  I am afraid that people are forgetting it.  The "final solution" was over seventy years ago.  Many would believe that it means nothing to us now.  It happened so long ago and on the other side of the world.  And most of the people involved are long gone.  Why does it matter?

One lie: Arbeit Macht Frei.  "Work makes you free."

The motto, officially or unofficially, of historians is from George Santayana: "Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

There are things about one of the darkest parts of human history that I did not tell my students.  Some of those things they are not ready for, yet.  And some of those things I will never tell them.  But I will never hesitate to tell my students that this horror happened.

Survivors like Mendel Rosenberg tells their stories so that we would never forget.  I pray that never happens, and that we never allow anything like the Shoah to happen again, ever.

Shalom.

The Story of Salvation

In 2009, I was given an assignment to write the story of salvation from my perspective.  While most of my fellow student-teachers personalized the Passion Week account or spoke metaphorically about how Good Friday and Easter effect their lives, I took a broader approach.  I started my story of salvation when The Story of Salvation starts: Eden.  I strove to compose an account that not only tells my story, but the story of all humankind.

~

It started with sin; perfectly harmless and quite pleasing.  Listening to the lies that had been told, the child of God had eaten from a tree that had been forbidden.  It was not forbidden so as to punish the child, but rather to protect.  And yet, the child thought that the Father was being unfair.  Now, the Father, being fair, had to punish the child.  And the punishment: eternal separation from the Father. 

The child, horrified, tried to fix the problem with the means available.  Sacrifices, piety, fancy prayers, festivals, religious services, self-mutilation, fasting, solitude; no mater what the child did, the Father was not satisfied.  Then the day came for the Father to punish the child.  The Father led the child to a hill with a Tree.  The child knew that the Tree was where those who sinned were punished.

When the child and the Father reached the top of the hill, both were brought to tears when they found the child’s Brother already there, hanging in the place of the child.  He had accepted His sibling’s punishment, even though He had not sinned.  Remorseful, the child knelt at the base of the Tree, vowing to follow in his Brother’s footsteps.  Both the Father and child left the hill, their hearts broken.  When they reached the bottom, the child looked up at the Father and asked why his Brother sacrificed Himself.

“Because I love you.”  The child turned to see his Brother standing there, alive yet scarred.  Embracing Him, the child begged for forgiveness, apologizing for the sin he committed.  His Brother simply smiled and said: “All is forgiven, left at the foot of the Tree.  Now, let Me teach you of a new Life.”

That day the child’s name was changed to Christian, the bearer of Christ.  The rest of the child’s life was spent taking Christ, his Brother, to everyone he met, so that everyone might know of the wondrous act of love that occurred that day on the hill with the Tree.

~

Happy Easter!  Χριστός ἀνέστη!

The Time Splice

What do H. G. Wells, Dr. Emmett Brown, and your's truly (Adam) have in common?

We've all invented (or discovered) time machines.  Yes, that's right, I have a time machine.  Two of them, in fact.  And they both work differently.

Okay, so one of them is actually just a pen.  Specifically its a Zebra F-301 Compact.  That might not seem important, but you'll see (maybe) that it is.  Anyway, yes, my time machine is a pen.  Why a pen?  How can a lowly pen be a time machine?

Well, with my pen I can write stories.  Stories about any time and place.  So, metaphorically, my pen is a time machine.

"But Adam, you said you have two time machines?"

Yes.  Along with occasionally speaking to myself in the third person, I do have a second time machine.  Actually, that's not entirely accurate.  I have a second method of building a time machine.  It's actually really nifty.

Now, I am an amateur internet archeologist and part-time mad scientist, so it should come as no surprise when I say this: I found the long lost and supposedly fictional notebooks of the infamously famous Quattrocento alchemist Eliseo Uroboros.

No, really, I did.

Eliseo Uroboros is the guy who claimed to have discovered time travel.  His notebooks include numerous techniques for using esoteric elements such as janusite, chronosite, aionite, and horaeum.  For centuries, most scientists, and even a few alchemists, dismissed work with these elements as dangerous.  Especially chronosite, which is know to spontaneously spark and even occasionally explode, if in large enough amounts.

But Uroboros was determined to prove that chronosite could be a power source for something.  What he discovered was completely by accident.  According to his notes, on January 13, 1432, he was conducting an experiment with aionite.  He was heating a piece the size of his thumb over a charcoal flame when the piece exploded.  One of the shards shot out and struck a piece of chronosite that was sitting on the workbench nearby.  The collision resulted in a very strange explosion.  Everything within ten feet of where the chronosite rested disappeared.

When Uroboros picked himself off the floor, he went about cleaning up the mess made by the explosion.  Well, he would have, if there was anything left by the explosion.  You see everything within ten feet was gone.  Not destroyed, but, poof, gone.  His notes, experiments, tools, and workbench were all gone.  What was left of his workbench had a ten foot wide circular hole.  The stone floor even had a dent in it, as if a giant sphere had fallen.

Without an explanation, Uroboros returned to his other experiments.  Nearly two years passed before he figured out what had happened that day.  He was trying to see if chrysoberyl could be used as a lens for a heat ray when a flash of bright light stuck his workshop.  At first he thought it was lightning, or that the local Dominican friar was right and God was trying to strike him dead.  As soon as the blurry spots left his vision he was greeted with the most amazing sight: a perfectly circular cutout of his old workbench, complete with all the tools, experiments, and notes that were on it.

Perplexed and intrigued, Uroboros investigated.  Everything that he had placed on the bench two years prior was right where he left it.  Except the chronosite.

After a bit of thinking (and a fair amount of his neighbor's wine to settle his nerves), Uroboros determined that, somehow, the combination of chronosite and aionite was able to transfer things through time.  Over the next five years Uroboros experimented with a variety of quantities and collision methods, determining how this time travel worked and how to control it.  His work was crude, but he was able to figure out that the combination of chronosite and aionite has a "range" of between 100 to 2,000 years.  His first device was designed to work like a gun.  After setting the date all one had to do was press the button.  Uroboros crafted many Time Splices, each using a different method of colliding chronosite and aionite.  A few of these were successful, while others were spectacular failures.

In his lifetime, Uroboros never figured out how, exactly, the Time Splice worked.  All he knew was that the explosive combination of the two elements allowed a person to travel through time.  Very few have tried to study his device.  But I figured out how it works.  What Uroboros did not know was astrophysics and nuclear weaponry.

What happens when a nuclear bomb goes off?  (Besides saying "it explodes, duh.")  The explosion creates a runaway fission or fusion reaction, depending on the type of bomb.

What happens when a star dies?  Sometimes, the matter collapses into a super-dense area that has immense gravity - a black hole.  Other times the star explodes, creating a supernova.

What happens when the Time Splice is activated?

The Time Splice is a nuclear fusion device.  Yes, a Renaissance era alchemist accomplished what numerous modern scientists cannot.  Don't start thinking that this can be used for the making of unlimited electricity.  Time Splices are both inherently unstable and self-destructive to a degree.  Let me explain how it works.

The combination of aionite and chronosite in the core acts as both the fusional material and the “portal” for time travel.  When engaged, the Time Splice will go through a near instantaneous four part process.

1. The Time Splice core is “spun up,” with the aionite colliding with the chronosite.  This creates a “point” of nuclear fusion in the form of a micro star less than 1 cm in diameter.
2. The micro star reaches critical mass and collapses, creating a micro black hole, roughly ten feet in diameter.  This black hole is what severs the traveler’s timeline.
3. The micro black hole self-detonates and expands outwardly, creating a white hole.
4. The white hole collapses, splicing the traveler’s timeline.

The black hole is what “destroys” or “collapses” the local space-time, thus severing the traveler’s timeline.  The white hole is a “reversed” black hole that “explodes” outward in the local space-time, thus “splicing” the traveler’s timeline sometime else.  Everything within the ten feet of the time splice is transported.  This makes using the Time Splice somewhat problematic.  For example, if you were to use a Time Splice while in the back seat of a car, the driver will be upset that his car looks like a shark tried to eat it.

There are three types of Time Splices: gun, torus, and globe.  These types are similar to nuclear weaponry.  Gun, or rod-type, is similar to the "Little Boy" bomb.  An aionite "bullet" is "shot" at a cylindrical chronosite crystal.  This is most similar to the accidental Time Splice created in Uroboros's lab.  Torus, or ring-type, is like the current experiments for nuclear fusion.  It uses a circular shaped chronosite crystal.  The aionite is collided in the same way as a particle accelerator.  Torus-type Time Splices tend to be the safest.  They have more range than the gun-type, which are often "one-way."  The collision of aionite and chronosite, like almost all things nuclear, results in the destruction of the material.  This means that either the time traveler needs to bring extra fuel along, or use a gun-type as a "back up" device.  Torus-type Splices can be used more than once before the chronosite is fully depleted.  The globe, or ball-type, is rare.  They have the longest range, due to being similar to implosion-method nuclear weapons.  Also, since they are large, they are less convenient to use.

Time Splices can be made to look like anything.  Except perhaps a DeLorean.  Most gun-type Splices look like a pen, such as a Zebra F-301 Compact.  Torus-types often are seen, ironically, as watches.

There is a catch to using Time Splices.  Unlike the fictional time machines, the Time Splice cannot change date or hour, only the year.  So, if you want to see the opening of "Macbeth" in the original Globe theater, you will need to travel to London and be there on the correct date.  Once there, select the destination year and go.

When Time Traveling, there are no sights or sounds.  It is instantaneous.  One second you're in 2014, the next your in 1492.  The most often side-effect is a sense of vertigo.

That's what I've discovered so far.  I'm not sure what all the limitations are yet, but I did find a note that suggests that time travel only works from a later time to a lesser time.  What I mean is I can travel back to the past but not forward to the future.  I am also cautions because of the possibility of changing the past.  Under no circumstances am I going to try to go back in time and stop (insert significant historic event here) from happening.  If "Back to the Future" has taught us anything it is to not keep your parents from meeting.  The consequences could include erasing that one random photograph of you and your siblings that you have, and even having your hand start to disappear.

If you want, I can write about my adventures across time.  Or even better, I can tell you the adventures of a friend of mine.  He was researching the Second World War.  Maybe I'll write a story about it some day.

(In case you were wondering, yes, this is fictional.  Except the metaphorical "pen as time machine."  I've said that before.  All of this is foundational stuff for a story about a time traveler researching the Holocaust.  I don't know, I felt like writing something, and this is what was open on the desktop at the moment.  See you all next week, maybe.)

Erin go bragh!

(That means "Ireland forever!")

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

For those of you who don't know, I am, ashamedly, mostly not-Irish. I know, how dare I not be. Instead I ended up as a mix of mostly German and Italian. But there is some Irish blood in me. That means that I am very precise and efficient (German), tomorrow (Italian), and how dare you call me lazy (Irish)!

I don't really have anything specific to say today, I guess. Except that the story of St. Patrick is much more interesting than green colored beer.

Patrick was born in England around AD 385. Just so there is no doubt, here's why that's is significant. The Council of Nicaea, where the church sat down and composed the creed, was only 60 years earlier. The church had only recently found favor with the Roman Empire. Our faith community was still young and "untested." We were going through growing pains. Christianity was new. Radical.

Patrick was born in what was the Roman equivalent of the "wild west." To the east was Scandinavia with its pagans, who would soon become the Vikings. To the southeast was Germany, with the original "barbarians." To the north, a cold sea of ice. And to the west, a land of green hills and tenacious people. The locals called it Eire.

Ireland.

As far as we know, Patrick was the son of a deacon and grandson of a priest. (Yep, at this time there was still not an "official" stance on priestly marriage. Or at least not a well enforced one. I'm still looking into it. Early Church history is fascinating!) Anyway, Patrick, like any pastor's kid, was not a "devout" Christian growing up. Then, when he was sixteen, pirates kidnapped him. (Robert Lewis Stevenson, where are you?) They sold him as a slave in Ireland, where he served for six years.

While as a slave, Patrick fell back on his faith, especially prayer.  After six years, he felt lead by God to leave Ireland.  Somehow he convinced a ship to take him home. Once back in England, he joined the church and began studying the Word. He felt called to be a missionary to Ireland.

Now, remember. Ireland is where he was a slave. And the Irish are not known for being the most friendly to people who invade their nation (though, no one is). This little island is one of the extreme points of the known world at the time. As far a Patrick knows, you cannot go any farther west.

Patrick had his work cut out for him. It wasn't like Ireland today. Their religion was a form of paganism, led by druids. Since none of them wrote anything down, we're not entirely sure what their religion was about. Not that it matters too much. What we do know are the stories that have survived. Patrick chose to preach in a place with a mythology as rich and diverse as Greece or Egypt. But he had an advantage.

Remember I mentioned the Council of Nicaea? Yeah, Patrick heard about it. Especially the parts where they talked about the Trinity. Bet you know where this is going. Its a well known story Patrick using the shamrock to explain the Trinity. But, like I said, he had an advantage. You see, Irish mythology had something that most religions did not have: a tipple deity. Three goddesses, Brigid, Eriu, and the Morrigan, were not simply one person, but three. Not simultaneously, but still, three distinct persons. So teaching the Irish that God is really three persons in one was not so much of a shock for them.

Isn't it funny how God works sometimes? Sets the foundation for a lesson generations in advance, and only in hindsight do we see it clearly.

Oh, well, I've had my ramble. If you want to know more about St. Patrick, there's a lot available, but much of it is a bit of conjecture and assumption, since we don't have official date and documents and such. And if you want something kind of silly and great for the kids, Veggie Tales made a version of his story. Its a short on one of their videos: "The Sumo of the Opera." Its also on "Tales From the Sock Drawer."  It is both fun and accurate.

I'll leave you with this final thought:

May God be with you and bless you. May you see your children's children. May you be poor in misfortunes and rich in blessings. May you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.

When Being Banished Is A Good Thing

One of the first things we learn in Bible class is the difference between Law and Gospel.  The basics are in their names: Law is rules, Gospel is good news.  Now, where in the Bible is the first example of Law and Gospel?

Most people can easily figure out that finding Law is easy.  Simply look for rules that God gave us.  Gospel seems more challenging, but it isn't.  Many think that we don't see Gospel until the New Testament.  "The Old Testament is Law, and the New Testament is Gospel."

But is it that clear cut?

No.  The entire Bible is Law and Gospel.  That's how it works.  You cannot have the joy of Gospel without the realization that we cannot live up to the Law.

It can be argued that the first Law occurs shortly after the first Gospel.  Hold up!  Am I seriously saying that the Gospel came first?  But doesn't it work the other way around?  Didn't I just say that you need Law telling you how much you suck to know the Gospel of how much God loves you?

This may seem like a bit of chicken-egg controversy, but hear me out.  In Genesis 3 we read about the Fall of Man.  In that chapter is a lot of important stuff, so I'll take us through it first, then explain why I think Gospel came first.

The first character in this drama is Satan, the serpent.  And what is the first thing he says?  A lie?  No.  The first thing he does is ask a question.  Remember, all good liars use this method: Question, Half-truth, Unfulfillable Promise.  So he asked "did God really tell you that?"

And who does he ask?  Eve.  The reason why is simple.  Eve is the "younger" of the two first people, and was not as aware, I guess we could say, of what the exact rule or reason for God's instructions were.  Adam told her, no doubt, but when put on the spot, her memory falters a bit.  She explains it correctly, but adds too much.  Maybe God said "just to be safe, don't even touch the tree."  But, using child-like logic, Eve connects "don't eat" with "you're gonna die."

Satan follow this question with his half-truth and promise together.  "You will not die."  Well, technically we won't die.  We have an eternal soul, which will live forever.  And we won't die immediately, it will take time.  He then promises that we will be "like God."  Again, technically, we are like God, but in a different way.  Before the Fall, we were more like God, since we were perfect and sinless.  After the Fall, we were no longer innocent, but now we could know the full truth.  We weren't children anymore.  We understood what "evil," "selfishness," and "corruption" are.

It didn't take God long to figure out that we messed up His garden.  In fact, He knew how it would happen even before He breathed life into Adam.  So why did He make us so that we could sin, and why did He allow us to do this?  God loves us.  Always has, always will.  And because He loves us, He gives us the choice to love Him back.  God gave our First Parents to choose to remain His, or try to go our own way and be "like" Him.

God asked the three culprits what happened.  Adam blamed Eve, and God.  Eve blamed the serpent.  Satan was too smart to blame anyone.  Besides, he wanted them to know it was all his master plan.  You see, he told Adam and Eve they could be "like" God.  He wanted to be God.

So God passed the first sentences.  Adam would have to work hard to provide for his family.  Eve would have to work hard to care for children.  And Satan… he was cursed with the First Gospel.

"And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head and you will strike his heel." (Genesis 3:15)

If you've seen the scene at the end of "The Passion of the Christ" then you know Satan's reaction to this.  This wasn't a curse.  It was the announcement of Victory.  Satan did something so heinous that God would be forced to either concede defeat or the most unspeakable thing possible: provide a sacrifice.  Someone would have to die.  It was either us, or God.

Abraham was prepared to sacrifice his son, but God provided a replacement: a ram.

Aaron and all the high priests sacrificed goats, sheep, oxen, and doves.

Gideon slaughtered his father's oxen and sacrificed them to God.

Solomon dedicated the Temple with a sacrifice of twenty-two thousand cattle and one hundred and twenty thousand sheep and goats.

Elijah sacrificed a bull on Mount Carmel.

Mary and Joseph brought two doves when they dedicated the infant Jesus at the Temple.

God set up a plan of repayment.  In a way, all these sacrifices were like paying off the interest.  But one sacrifice tops them all.  The Sacrifice.

"Carrying his own cross, He went out to the place of the Skull (which in Aramaic is called Golgotha)."  (John 19:17)

Jesus Christ, the Only Son of God, died.  He was the ultimate Sacrifice.  When God told Satan that He would "crush your head" the liar knew God was speaking of this event.  Satan could not win, any more than an ant can win in a fight with a tank.  Satan knew he was doomed, that his bluff was called and God would follow through.  So he set about making sure he could hurt God as much as possible.  And since you can't kill God (not permanently) he had to find a different way.

Any psychopath from a crime drama knows the best way to hurt your enemy is to hurt your enemy's loved ones.  So, Satan began targeting humans.  First it was simple embarrassment at being naked.  But it soon escalated.  Now is the first Law.

"He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever."  (Genesis 3:22b)

God could not allow us access to Eternal Life while we were Sinful.  To do so would be devastating.  It also would allow Satan to win.  Because if we could live forever while in our corrupt nature, we would be miserable.  Always dying, never dead.  Living forever in our pain, agony, strife, and hatred.  To keep us safe, God had to kick us out of our first home.  Harsh.  But at the same time, grace.  This rule, like so many others, was not to punish, but protect.  We were not thrown out of Eden because He was mad at us, but because we could not safely stay there.

This banishment was not punishment, but grace.

And it wasn't the end of the story.  Adam and Eve knew that God promised to send a savior.  And they looked for him.  As did their children.  Millions of people searched for Him, listening to prophecies, hoping and praying to see Him restore the world.

We are still technically banished, but we have also been repaired.  God promised Abraham that through him would come a blessing to the nations.  That blessing was, and is, Jesus Christ.  And with His death and resurrection, our banishment officially ended.  So why are we still here, in prison?

To minister to those who do not yet know that full pardons are available to them for free.

Are You Some Kind Of Zombie?

I finished re-reading my noted and underlined copy Mere Christianity by the renown C. S. Lewis.  At the end of the last chapter it says:

"Give up yourself, and you will find your real self.  Lose your life and you will save it.  Submit to death, death of your ambitions and favourite wishes every day and death of your whole body in the end: submit with every fibre of your being, and you will find eternal life."

There are two songs by two long serving Christian bands that I was reminded of while reading.  The first is a new song by Newsboys: Save Your Life, specifically the line in the refrain "If you surrender, you will live."  The other is an older one by Audio Adrenaline: Some Kind Of Zombie.  The whole of this song fits the idea of dying to ourself, our sinful nature, our Old Adam.

Lewis says the same thing a couple times in his book.

"They [the world] keep on killing the thing that He [Jesus] started: and each time, just as they are patting down the earth on its grave, they suddenly hear that it is still alive and has broken out in some new place.  No wonder they hate us."

Sounds a lot like a zombie scene out of a classic monster movie.  Its midnight vista of an old and overgrown graveyard, complete with fog and a full moon.  The camera pans to a freshly dug grave.  The view zooms in on the tombstone to read the name.  As it focuses, a gnarled and ashen fist burst out of the dirt.  Slowly the occupant of the grave unburies themselves.  Free of their earthen prison, they trudge off camera, mumbling something.  Cool?  Scary?  Unbelievable?  A good metaphor for Christianity?  Exciting?

Wait?  How can zombies, which is a bit of voodoo myth, be a Christian metaphor?  The quote from Lewis should make it obvious, as does the song from Audio Adrenaline.  But what Paul wrote in Romans is better.

In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus.  (Romans 6:11)

Christians are metaphorical zombies.  Prior to the infusing, or infecting as Lewis would say, of the Holy Spirit, we were dead.  Dead to God.  Dead to humanity.  Dead to ourselves.  We were a worthless pile of self-centered humanity.  Then Jesus came along and "bewitched" us.  He offered to bring us back to life.  And not just any life, but one different, better, than our old one.

But we cannot remain independent if we want to allow Him to change us.  By relinquishing control in this one area, we submit ourselves to God's will almost as slaves.  Almost.

Slaves, and zombies for that matter, in common understanding have absolutely no freedom.  As a slave you have no rights, no voice, no power.  You are not a person, you are property.  As a zombie even more so, since you are not even alive.  You would be essentially "living" on borrowed time.

Lewis compared humans to statues in an sculptor's workshop.  Like a statue, I am not truthfully Alive.  Sure, I breath, and eat, and sleep, and do all the things a living creature does.  But am I Alive?  Perhaps the more important question is: What is Life?

I know that science has very specific answers for that question.  So does philosophy.  And religion.  But what is the right answer?

What do I, a living creature, have that a dog, another living creature, does not have?  You could probably think of a number of things, like opposable thumbs, but are those things important?  Are they distinguishing enough?  No, they're shallow differences.  Like comparing a brand new sports car and a beat-up pickup truck.  They are both automobiles.  Both carry people.  Both have four wheels.  So, what is the difference?

Indulge my nerdness for a moment.  In Star Wars, the characters that are most often heroes are people like Luke Skywalker.  The catch all term for them is "Force Sensitive."  They have the ability to "plug into" a celestial power source, giving them abilities far beyond the norm for mortals.  Their power is genetic, but they have to train for many years to fully wield this power.  There are many people in the Star Wars universe who cannot use the Force, and never will be able to.  It is not something you can learn.  You cannot get a "Force transplant."

Being Alive, not just having life, is similar, except in one major way.  True Life is an immense power, as it is able to completely change a person from being a stupid, selfish human to a Child of God.  It requires practice, patience, and sometimes skill to accomplish the most with it.  Without proper care it will die.  And you cannot get a simple "transplant" of life.  Read that last sentence again.  A "simple transplant."  Unlike the example of the Force, True Life is not genetic.

What powers a sports car?  Gasoline.  What powers a Christian?  The Holy Spirit.  We can, and are, filled with the Spirit.  We sometimes have to "top off the tank," which is what worship is.  And gasoline is compatible with both sports cars and pick-up trucks.  Just like the Spirit is compatible with all humans.  But this Spirit is not from within ourselves.  It is a free gift that we can allow to take over.

It is very similar to an organ transplant.  Doctors have to work very hard to make sure the body does not reject the new organ after surgery.  In baptism, God performs spiritual open-heart surgery.  He cuts out our old, selfish, corrupt, broken heart, and inserts a new heart.  One that loves Him and His creation, if we let it.  But, unlike any organ transplant patient, we can choose to reject this new spiritual organ.  We can choose to remain dead, instead of letting the Creator remake us as some kind of God-serving zombie.  A zombie that does its master's bidding not out of coercion, but out of love.  We are under the false impression that we have this nebulous thing called "free will," and that we can actually choose to let the Holy Spirit come to us.  The truth is simpler: until we relinquish all free will, we have no free will.  Without God's Spirit living in us, giving us True Life, empowering us to follow God's Will, without all that we are dead.

Nothing.

Powerless.

To live we must die and be willing to let God resurrect us as some kind of zombie.


(Why is it that whenever I write something theological that I end up rambling?)

Psalm 23: The Valley

It's probably one of the most read portions of the Bible.  Psalm 23, also known as "the Shepherd's Psalm," is one of the most well know of King David's songs.

David, being a former shepherd, wrote about what he knew: a shepherd leading his dumb sheep.  Only this time, it's David who's wearing the wool coat.  Which is fair.  God is the shepherd; we are the sheep.

In the psalm, David writes about safe and restful places that God leads him to.  The green pastures and quiet waters sound pretty nice, don't they.  Positively restful.  Like the picture at the top of the post, right?  It appears to be quite an idillic oasis nestled in the midst of natural fortress.  Perfect for a shepherd to rest... right?

But what if it rains?

What you see in the picture is called a wadi.  Basically it translates to "valley," but may be a dry riverbed.  Usually in the desert anywhere with water is prized.  But wadis can be very dangerous due to the very thing that makes them a haven: water.

Two words: flash flood.

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,"  (Psalm 23:4a)

If you are standing in the lowest point of a wadi, especially one with steep sides, and it starts raining very heavily, it is not a question of sink or swim.  You won't have time to swim.

The valley David writes about is not a literal one, though I have no doubt he dealt with the dangers of wadis in the rainy season.  No, David's "valley of death" is life.

Our life can be seen as a journey.  There are parts of our journey that looks like the "easy road," so we take it.  It has plenty of cool water and shade and looks like exactly what God wants for us.  Then we look up and see the hills.  They looks a little rocky, and getting to them will be difficult, but we might be able to see where we're going from there.

Beyond the hills, we can see storm clouds.

If we stay in the valley, we could drown.  If we try to climb to reach the hills, we might give up because it's too hard.

We feel trapped.  And maybe we are.  Trapped by our own doing.

"I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."  (Psalm 23:4b)

"I lift my eyes to the hills - where does my help come from?  My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth."  (Psalm 121:1-2)

In the study, practice, and ministry of faith, there are times we label as "mountain top experiences."  These are the "good times" with God.  The times when His will is clear, or we are in close fellowship with fellow believers.  They are times when our faith is energized and recharged.  Times when we realize that our struggling and toiling on our own was foolish and we should have gone to our Father at the first sign of trouble.

We long for these mountain top moments.  We chase after them sometimes.  But we cannot stay on the mountain.  Peter tried that at the Transfiguration.  But the point was not to stay and "hang out" with Jesus on the mountain.  The disciples had to descend into the valley so that they could find the sheep that have gone astray.

God needs us in the valley, because that is where the work is.  But that doesn't mean that is where we are supposed to stay.  The clear water and green pastures God is leading us to is not in the valley, or even on the ridges and hills we can see.  No, God is leading us to a high plateau far from the valleys.  First seen on this earth as the bedrock threshing floor Solomon built the Temple on, then finalized here as a spiritual plateau we journey to each week in worship.  But even this is a mere rest stop on our journey.  No, the peaceful place the Good Shepherd is leading us to is not on this earth, but our Father's mansion.  Our home: heaven.

While the valleys we travel through are still dangerous and tiring, we can hold our heads high, knowing that while we are not home yet, the Shepherd will see us safely there.

So don't fret about the valleys.  God holds the high ground.

A Long Time Ago...

I am a major Star Wars fan.  I've seen the original trilogy enough times that I can recite every line, from that first shootout on the blockade runner to the victory celebration on Endor.  I've read many of the Rebellion era books.  In fact, Star Wars is what got me interested in recreational reading and in novel writing.  I was in fifth grade when I started reading Star Wars.  The stories are not only exciting and engaging, but also nostalgic.

So it should be no doubt that I am excited for the upcoming Episode VII.  Or should it?

I have a feeling that unlike some hardcore fans, I am optimistic about this trilogy.  I've read rumors about who will and won't be cast, and what plot elements won't be included.  Wisely, Lucasfilm and everyone involved is being extremely tight lipped.  And because of this, fans have their theories.  Even me.

While I would love to see Thrawn's campaign or the invasion of the Yuuzhan Vong brought to life, I am pretty sure that the Sequel Trilogy will take place after the latest published books.  Why?  Simple.

First, we have to assume one of two things regarding these movies:
1) Lucasfilm is willing to negate almost thirty years of marketing and storytelling to make these films.  They are willing to "kill off" thousands of characters that we have come to know and care about.  They are willing to ignore hundreds of battles, including the end of the war, and the invasion of a new race.  They are willing to deny the development of the major characters from the original Trilogy.
Or…
2) Lucasfilm will be setting this story after the Fate of the Jedi series and will incorporate some of the things from the Expanded Universe novels, but will not make too much mention of them unless absolutely needed.

I believe the second option is the correct one, and for one very undeniable reason.

Coruscant.

In the 1991 novel Heir to the Empire, it was established that the capital planet of the Empire, the New Republic, and the old Republic, was called Coruscant.  This name was allowed, then later elevated to canon status in Episode I.  To completely deny the Expanded Universe will result in the denial of the Prequel Trilogy.

And that's not going to happen.

So, what's going to take place in the "galaxy far, far away?"  Who knows.  The only rumor that seems solid enough to believe is that R2-D2 and C-3PO are to be in all three movies.  This may not mean much at first until you consider the comic series Legacy.  It takes place 130 years after the Death Star was destroyed over Yavin.  R2 is, as usual, working with the Skywalker family.  3PO is nowhere to be seen.  What does this mean?  Maybe that the story's timeline is set between 45-120 years after the events of the first movie.  And that opens up a huge amount of possibilities.

Regardless of what the movies will be about, I am confident that it will be well written, and have great music.

There are rumors that Luke, Han, and Leia will be back, and perhaps for the first movie they will be.  I'm guessing we'll get to see the reestablishment of the Empire, under the leadership of a former hotshot starfighter pilot named Fel.  And with it the founding of the Imperial Knights.  Perhaps under the command of the oldest Solo child.

Anyway, this is all personal speculation.  Except the theory on Coruscant being proof the EU is not being discarded.  Logically, that's more than just plausible.

Though it is fun to theorize who will play which character.  I saw today that Dwayne Johnson want's to be in the movies.  My first thought was "I could see him being Talon Karrde, if he had more hair."  Then I thought, "Maybe some of the Wraith alumni, like Face or Piggy."  Picture the Rock with a scar and goatee, then compare that to the cover of Enemy Lines II: Rebel Stand.

Okay.  I've gotten that out of my system now.  Its a nice day here, so I think the kiddos should go and run around outside.

May the Force be with you.

Dawn

Its funny where we find inspiration.  Most of the time, while writing, I find it in music.  I've got a number of stories I'm working on, and each as a "playlist."  While working on one, and listening to the background soundtrack, I got this mental image of the sun rising over a rocky ridge.  In the valley was a garden.  Well… perhaps you should read it.  If you want, listen to the song while you do.

Dawn

Adam Baumann

28 August 2013

(composed while listening to “Victory of Life” from Future World Music)

Dawn cascades over the Kidron’s ridge,

Preceding the sun’s daily arcing journey towards night.

The light bathes the valley in shadows

Before finally breaking over the face of the mountain.

In the valley beneath,

Two silent fishers dart,

Rushing through the last pools of shadow,

Expecting to find what they know to be there.

Hoping to find that nothing awaits them.

The first stops short,

Unable to continue past the stony barricade.

The other more boldly continues.

He stoops to see if the sight matches the words

That inspired an impossible hope in his very soul.

The bed lay bare just as they said,

Without a single shred of evidence

That the three-day-old ghost had ever been there.

Bewildered the fishers turn to leave,

Sure of nothing but the empty evidence.

Now dawn creeps up the walls of the House,

Glinting of the very pillars of faith

Where faith spoke aloud for all to hear.

But in the shadow of the sun

A simple sound is heard.

One of the messengers the fishers followed

Remains near the room

Where no one resides.

Distraught she loiters without purpose,

Except to add to the morning’s dew.

One of the few to have seen the pain

That was put to rest in that room,

Her tears speak not of hope but of despair,

For it is clear that someone had stolen

The once living hope:

The only son worthy of calling the dawn,

Who was laid low and cold

In a manger of rock and dust.

In the only room left.

As the dawn climbed higher

To light on the rooftops

Of the city that passed the sentence,

She stood without a sound

Except for the silent sobs

Of a broken heart and hope.

They were sure that they had found it:

The incredible promise of rescue

Given to their parents

Long ago in a lost paradise.

They had watched as the incredible happened

More times than could be numbered.

Nothing had stood in their way,

Not darkness nor storms nor illness.

They had been brave soldiers

Until that night when the light was captured,

And they scattered like glass

Shattering on stone.

Too afraid to believe in hope anymore.

The dawn finally breaks

As the golden orb make a final leap above the mountain.

But in the valley the shadow remains

Awaiting vanquish,

Though it does not wait long.

Abandoned by the fishers,

She collapses in anguish

Only to find a most unexpected comfort:

A pair of worn and scared feet.

Slowly but surely the shadows depart

Allowing light to ripple out

And envelop the garden.

The dawn embraces her

And invigorates her,

Like the breaking of a fever.

Unable to move she stares

At unshod feet so familiar

Yet so foreign with their piercings.

Finally she looks up,

To see dawn’s gentle reflection in the smile of Jesus.

To Put Pen To Page

Just a little free-verse poem I wrote on writing.  Enjoy.

To Put Pen To Page

The blank sheet glares up at me

as if challenging me to put pen to page,

daring me to violate its pure white face.

To expose my thought and feelings upon it.

To build a world made of words.

A world where the greatest fantasy

or coldest dread can come to life.

A grand journey can begin 

with a simple stroke of a pen.

In my mind swirl images:

of a thousand warriors on horseback

charging down a hillside;

of a lone pilot,

deftly weaving his vessel

through debris and enemies;

Of a couple’s final kiss shared on bridge

before taking the last step in a journey together;

Of a solitary figure standing guard over a white marble tomb

where true honor rests;

Of a new father holding his child for the first time 

and realizing that this is his ultimate task.

It is that emotion that I feel 

moments before the first time the pen presses into the paper.

The knowledge that I am stepping out of my world 

and into another. 

A world where my thoughts, 

hopes, 

fears, 

and dreams, 

can become a reality.

And all I must do, 

to take the first step 

of my epic journey, 

is to put pen to page.

Feeling Down?

Have you ever felt alone?  Abandoned?  Lost?  Without hope?

Well, I've been struggling with a bit of that lately.  Things here in southern Illinois have been challenging.  And it looks like it will only continue.  I know, its been quite a while since I last posted, and it really isn't fair that I am posting something a bit depressing.  In a way I'm not posting it for you to read, though you should.  Instead I'm using the blog as a vent.  I wrote the following devo a while back, but its fitting at times like this.



Psalm 34:18
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.


Sometimes, in our most desperate times, God seems far away.  We know He can swoop in and rescue us from our trials.  And we know about His promise that we are saved.  Yet we still feel abandoned.  Even Jesus felt abandonment when He was on the cross.

But are we really alone?

David had moments when he felt abandoned by God.  On the run from a possibly insane king out to kill him, David sought refuge.  He went into hiding, pretending to be crazy.  Yet in all this, he recognized and acknowledged that despite his feelings, God was not missing.  He was still there, comforting and protecting David.

Just like He’s still with us.

It’s a simple fact, but easy to forget.  No matter what struggles we go through, God has not abandoned us, even if we feel He is.  Because that’s just it: we feel He’s far off.  Perhaps we are the ones who have moved.

Father,
Sometimes we wander off and get ourselves in predicaments that are painful or demoralizing.  We feel abandoned by You.  Help us to realize that it is us who did the leaving.  Despite this, stay close, comfort and save us.
Amen