Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Conversions and De-Conversions – All the Messianic Prophecies

I felt lost and directionless.  I wanted to feel the Divine numinous power that I had felt years before, back when I was attending Calvary Chapel and on fire for Jesus.  But in that interval of time my Faith stopped making much sense.  I wanted to retreat back to the Christianity that I was familiar with, yet the closer I got to that, the less sense it actually made.  My devotions seemed to be trite and empty, my prayers unanswered and meaningless.  All through my life of Faith, there were signs and stumbling blocks that challenged my Faith.  My education in science, my exposure to different cultures, my increasing distaste of proselytizing, and my growing realization that fundamental tenets of the Christian creed did not always correlate  with real life around me, all presented challenges to the religious framework that I tried my mold my life into.  But finally, at the age of 42, the foundation that supported my Christian paradigm started to crack.  I found myself retreating into the type of Fundamentalism that I hated.  The old, comfortable, Fundamentalist faith that I understood so well, was making me frustrated and intolerant, my wife confused and angry, and was seriously endangering our young marriage.  It was all driving me crazy, but I did not know how to live without it. 

The bottom line was that I desperately wanted to be a good husband, which drove me closer to Jesus, which then frustrated me to no end.  Trusting everything to Jesus, as I knew how to do it, was not working.  Reading the Bible was not working.  Fervent prayer was not working.  40 Days of Community, or Service, or Purpose, or whatever it was that Rick Warren was wanting me to do for 40 days, was definitely not working.  I tried to speak to Rosemary about my concerns, but her Catholic background left her unequipped to deal with my Fundamentalist anxieties.  I wanted to talk about these things in my home Bible Study group, but fear kept me from knowing how to approach them with the topic.  There was no easy way to tell my fellow Believers that I was losing my own Beliefs, and worse, I had no real idea why I was losing my beliefs.  I did not doubt because I was angry with Church hypocrites, or because I suddenly came to disbelieve the Bible, or because my devotional time with Jesus was lacking.  Not at all.  In fact, I missed that kind of Faith in my life, and the personal intimacy that I had once felt with my Savior.  I still thought that I had Faith of some kind.  But the promises made to me by God, the promises that I relied on as a Believer, no longer had any efficacious power.  The Christian Faith was all I had, and all I understood, but it was no longer something that gave me any peace in understanding, hope for the future, or the joy of a happy marriage.  I needed something different but I was terrified of changing the religious beliefs that I had held my entire life.  I had no idea what it was that I was looking for, but I had been warned many times over the years that looking for something outside of Christ, when I should have been content with the grace that Christ provided, could only lead to trouble.  Truth be told, I was terrified of losing my Faith.

After one Sunday morning service at  , I found myself wandering into the old, empty church library.  Stacks and stacks of devotional books were lined up on the shelves.  I did not see any books newer than perhaps ten years.  It was as if the church had stopped collecting books, and the empty and unused library had turned into a giant closet.  I browsed the shelves while my some friends chatted with Rosemary in the main foyer.  I saw a book that I was sure would add some conviction to my floundering faith.  I pulled a thick book off the shelf, a book stuffed full of apologetics that I had once found convincing and powerful.  I was determined to read all 600 pages of Herbert Lockyer’s All the Messianic Prophecies of the Bible, and through that book allow the power of the Holy Spirit to renew my Faith.  Only twelve years previous,  I had found apologetic arguments for the divine nature and authority of the Bible to be powerful encouragement to my Christian Faith.  I figured that all I needed was to remind myself of God’s amazing prophetic power, and my Faith would flower back to life.  I needed the neglected assurance that I knew apologetics could provide.

I still had loads of old Chuck Missler sermon cassettes, or Briefing Packages as Missler called them, stored in shoeboxes.  I had practically memorized every one after repeated plays over the years.  He and many other ‘Bible teachers’ would astound their Calvary Chapel congregations with one Messianic Prophecy after another, and cite the overwhelming odds against them occurring by chance.  God had accurately predicted everything about the coming Messiah hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years before He was born in a manger.  Hundreds of prophecies were given concerning Jesus, I was told, and given the incredible odds, it was impossible not to believe in the divine origin of the Scriptures.  But those sermons were given in the late 1980s and early 90s.  I had not studied Christian apologetics in over twelve years.  I had wandered away in the intervening time.  I had stopped attending church to focus on my physics education.  I had gotten married, gotten distracted with other worldly concerns, and I just needed an avenue to find my way back to God.  Reminding myself of God’s power, through apologetics, was the answer.  There was once a time when studying Messianic Prophecies filled me with awe and wonder at God’s handiwork.  I viewed Messianic Prophecy as indisputable proof of the reliability of the Bible and the trustworthiness of Jesus.  A 600 page book detailing every known reliable Messianic Prophecy was just what I needed to again feel the magic and power of the Scriptures.  I had once believed that every page, every word of the Bible centered on the person of Jesus Christ, and that even the most obscure passage of the Old Testament had hidden meaning that pointed to the Messiah.  My job was to search through all the Scriptures, all of it, from beginning to end, and discover for myself how it all centered on the Person of Jesus Christ.  Scripture, through Messianic Prophecy, demonstrated itself to be true.  It was absolute certainty and divine verity!    If any bit of old apologetics was going to save my Faith, this was going to be it.  As Lockyer stated in his introduction, “Human oracles are fallible, but the inspired Word, containing divine oracles is different.  Instead of ambiguous and untrustworthy utterances, we find teachings distinct and definite, inspired and infallible, authoritative and authentic.” (p 17)

But I had changed in the intervening years since the time I had fervently believed everything I heard from the Calvary Chapel pulpit.  An education in the proper application of critical thought sharpened my discernment, and what I had one accepted at face value, I now had to look at some level of scrutiny.  The problems with the book started in the opening pages, in which Lockyer described the overwhelming odds against Messianic Prophecies occuring by chance.  Lockyer attempted to demonstrate the fantastic odds of any man fulfilling any number of the stated prophecies in the Old Testament.  I remembered Pastor Skip citing the same absurd odds, and I found them convincing years before I ever knew how probabilities were actually calculated.  Now, after receiving college instruction in the theories of probability and statistics, I actually had some competence to analyze some of Lockyer’s astounding claims – such as:

“The literal fulfillment of a prophecy is the seal of its divine origin.  Prophecies of centuries concerning the final sufferings of Christ were fulfilled during the twenty-four hours leading up to His crucifixion.  According to the law of compound probabilities, the chance that they all happened together by accident is 1 in 537,000,000.” (p 17)

I immediately knew there were going to be problems with this book.  According to Lockyer, who cites Arthur Pierson’s God’s Living Oracles, there are:

“over 300 predictions about the Messiah to be found in the Old Testament.  According to the law of compound probability, the chance of their coming true is represented by a fraction whose numerator is one, and the denominator eighty-four followed by nearly one hundred ciphers.  One might almost as well expect by accident to dip up any one particular drop out of the ocean as to expect so many prophetic rays to converge by change upon one man, in one place, at one time.” (p 17)

And just like Skip Heitzig, Lockyer never demonstrated how these fantastic odds were calculated.  I was very early into reading this book, and I was already disappointed with the approach that was being taken.  Reading Lockyer’s citation of precise odds of supposedly historical events, without even a hint of derivation, left me unconvinced.  How was Lockyer calculating the number of all possible events occurring, which is a fundamental necessity in any probabilistic calculation?  And how was Lockyer figuring that all the possible variables that would go into any calculation of these historical events occurring were actually random?  Are all possible outcomes of any of these prophecies equally likely?  Is making predictions of the coming Messiah the same as predicting which card I randomly draw from a shuffled deck?  Or is it possible for certain people and events to willfully interfere, and make calculations of non-random events nearly impossible?  Lockyer, like every other Christian apologist I had ever heard claiming proof from prophecy, never mentioned this or any other methodology to their claimed probabilities.  He just threw fantastic odds out at me, and expected me to accept them at face value.

I used to tell my freshman physics students that when I graded their homework, the answer to a given problem was one of the least things I was interested in.  Many students had a habit of presenting sloppy calculations but printing their answer as neatly as possible in a giant read circle.  The answer was not important to me, I told them.  Physics and math instruction taught me that the answer was not nearly as important as the process or methodology that produced that answer.  If a student demonstrated clever derivation, clear thinking and proper use of their problem solving skills, but somewhere in the long chain of reasoning slipped in a silly arithmetic error that resulted in a wrong answer, I was more likely than not going to give them full credit.  If a student gave a correct answer in a bright red circle with no demonstration of how they got that answer, they got no credit.  The answer is not interesting to me, but the process is interesting.  Herbert Lockyer committed the worst mistake he could have made had he been a student in one of my classes.  He just blurted out answers without showing his work, and expected full credit.

I could see immediately how my mind had changed in the last twelve years.  I had once accepted almost everything my beloved pastors said, with full acceptance and with no though to question their word.  I never thought to ask Skip Heitzig, after one of his sermons full of fantastic claims, how he knew those things were true.  There was once a time when I would have greeted Herbert Lockyer or any other author of apologetic works with no critical scrutiny whatsoever.  Now, after receiving a full university education, I understood better what critical thinking was, and how to scrutinize fantastic claims, to the best of my ability, if I cared at all how truthful those claims were.

The book from first page to last was loaded with logical absurdities.  There was not a single prophecy that was stated as a clear and precisely stated prediction of something that would occur in the future.  Most alleged Messianic Prophecies were not even stated as predictions.  They were not even in the same genre.  They were Old Testament phrases ripped out of all context or connection with the poetry that surrounded it.  Worse, Lockyer never gave any indication that there was a context to even worry about.  For instance in one of the best known Messianic Prophecies, he claimed that there are specific predictions regarding the Messiah’s birthplace and childhood home.  He cited them as,

 “I…called my son out of Egypt” (Hos 11:1).  “But thou Bethlehem … out of thee shall he come forth” (Mic 5:2) (p 64)

Lockyer never bothered to explain any of the context that these were taken from.  It is as if Lockyer were not even using the Bible, just a scraps of paper from fortune cookies with snippets of verses without any contextual framework.  “I called my son out of Egypt,” stated as is, reminds the devout Christian of the Father lovingly calling the babe Jesus from Egypt back to the safety of Nazareth.  But a quick reading of the actual King James text from which Lockyer (sort of) quotes:

Hosea Chapter 11
1When Israel was a child, then I loved him, and called my son out of Egypt.
As they called them, so they went from them: they sacrificed unto Baalim, and burned incense to graven images.
I taught Ephraim also to go, taking them by their arms; but they knew not that I healed them.

First, Lockyer intentionally quoted only a portion of Hosea 11:1 in his book.  The carefully placed ellipses that Lockyer inserted in place of actual scriptural text, changed the entire meaning of the text to make it sound better than it really was.  In fact, his whole book was covered with only half quotes of verses.  There were sneaky ellipses in place of text everywhere!  This had to have been an intentional move by Lockyer to make obviously mundane verses sound more like actual predictions.  It was willful deception!  Second, it became clear that even if verses were quoted in full context, there was no prediction anyway.  None at all!  But for some reason that I could not then figure out, it was taken by the Evangelist Matthew as some kind of prediction.  Why?  I had no idea.  But I could see that it was not.  There was no way.

Lockyer went down the laundry list of what I call the usual suspects: those Messianic Prophecies that are well known amongst Fundamentalists and usually the only referenced to non-believers as evidence for the Faith. 

Jesus will crush Satan’s head.  Prophecy: Genesis 3:15 - Fulfillment: Galatians 4:4, Luke 2:7.
Jesus’s hands and feet will be pierced.  Prophecy: Psalm 22:16 - Fulfillment:  John 20:27

etc, etc, etc, with no discussion of context, genre, or any other critical analysis that would have made some sense of the texts.  It was just taken for granted that the reader would understand that the Old Testament said one thing, then the New Testament somehow mirrored it.  No, at the time I could not give any alternative explanation for how these supposedly prophetic scriptures came to be written or what their original intent was.  But to suppose that two similar passages of Scripture needed miraculous intervention to explain their existence was shooting a mouse with an elephant gun.  It just did not seem to be necessary.

The worst of the usual suspects came from Lockyer’s treatment of Matthew 2:23.  Lockyer went down his laundry list of fulfilled predictions, and without quoting Scripture, simply states:

He shall be called a Nazarene.  Prophecy: Isaiah 11:1 – Fulfillment: Matt. 2:23

OK, Matthew 2:23 is the fulfilled prediction:

And he came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, He shall be called a Nazarene.
But the actual prediction claimed, but never quoted, by Lockyer is:

And there shall come forth a rod out of the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots: (Isaiah 11:1)

What?  This made absolutely no sense to me.  How in the world could anybody, using any rules of grammar or logic, possibly conclude that Isaiah 11:1 was a prediction that the Messiah would be called a Nazarene?  Yet this was the best that Lockyer could come up with.  If Matthew 2:23 claimed it was a fulfilled prophecy, Lockyer was going to find any prophecy by hook or by crook, and not even quote the verse for his readers’ scrutiny!  He gave no argument or justification for his implicit claim that ‘a stem of Jesse’ or ‘a Branch shall grow out of his roots’ could be equated with being called a Nazarene.  Nothing!  Lockyer just placed the citation down without actually quoting the text, and having tricked the unsuspecting reader, moved right along.  This book was not made for any reader with an ounce of critical acumen.

It even got worse.  Not only were most of the alleged predictions not even stated as predictions, most would not be open to analysis even if they were genuine predictions.   Lockyer padded his book and the total number of Messianic Prophecies with types of prophecies that could never possibly be verified.  Lockyer had written an entire chapter, for instance, on prophecies concerning Jesusspreexistence.  “The Old Testament abounds in references to our Lord’s pre-existence”, gloated Lockyer (p 34).  So something like “In the beginning God created” (Genesis 1:1) was verified by Lockyer with something like “all things were created by him, and for him: and he is before all things, and by him all things consist” (Colossians 1:16).  How could I, a struggling Christian, desperate for any apologetic assurance to salvage what Faith I could, use this as evidence for anything?  Forget about me, how could anybody use this as evidence for anything?  There was no historical fulfillment of prophecy in something like this.  It was just one theological statement confirming another theological statement, and I was astute enough at this point to know that this could be done with any sacred writing.  Lockyer cited dozens more prophecies of Jesussdual nature that were unverifiable theological statements, and so vague in meaning that they could be interpreted to mean whatever Lockyer wanted.  There is not a single, unambiguous, clear, and certain prediction in the Old Testament like, “The Messiah will have a dual nature, fully human and fully divine”.  Instead I got cloudy statements like, “out of thee shall he come forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting” (Micah 5:2).  I had a hard time imagining a person reading this for the first time, a person completely ignorant of Christianity, who could possibly interpret Micah 5:2 as a prediction of a coming Messiah who would later be identified as Jesus, as He had come to be understood.  The Christian who is fully indoctrinated in Christian teachings will read passages like this and immediately see the Christian doctrine in it.  It is much like seeing the Face on Mars on a Viking Orbiter photograph, when it is actually a big pile of rocks on a heavily eroded Martian hillside.  But even if it was a clear prediction, it was a prediction of purely theological nature that could never be evaluated.  Lockyer gave page after page, entire chapter of nothing more than self-affirming statements of Faith!  It might as well have been one creed agreeing with another.   Self-affirming theological statements could be found in something as absurd as The Celestine Prophecy.  In fact, I knew plenty of people who were able to do just that. 

Another chapter was devoted to prophecies of the character of Jesus.  Like prophecies of purely theological character, there was no way to confirm or even evaluate prophecies of the person’s internal character.  Jesus was predicted to be Holy.  Prophecy: “Yet have I set my king upon my holy hill of Zion” (Psalm 2:6).  Fulfillment: “Thy holy child Jesus…” (Acts 4:27).  If some evangelical statistician wished to evaluate the fantastic odds of Psalm 2:6 coming true, how would he proceed?  What possible methodology could be used to evaluate this supposed ‘prediction’?  How could it even be called a prediction of anything – Psalm 2:6 is not even phrased as a prediction.  It is a statement in a different category from prediction.  It does not fit the definition.  It is just a line from ancient poetry, seemingly pulled at random from all contexts!  The quatrains of Nostrodamus were clearer than the puzzle ciphers that Lockyer was somehow able to decode.  Every prophecy concerning Jesusscharacter was just as unconvincing as the prophecies of Jesussholiness or preexistence.  Lockyer detailed for my edification predictions and fulfillments of Jesussrighteousness, goodness, justice, guilelessness, spotlessness, patience, and plenty more ambiguous, arbitrary, and unclear statements of Faith, read as prediction.

Lockyer set the standard for what he considered Divine prophetic fulfillment so low, I am not sure if he even had a standard.  He even counted personal affirmations of Jesus as evidence that He fulfilled something from the Old Testament.  When Jesus said of Himself, “I am the light of the world”, it echoed the words of God atop Mount Sinai.  When Moses asked God through the burning bush what His name was, God replied “I AM THAT I AM … Say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you (Exodus 3:13,14).  Sure, when Jesus said “I AM the resurrection and the life”, it seemed reasonable to me that Jesus was claiming to be the I AM behind the burning bush a thousand years before.  But was this recording of His words supposed to be taken as fulfillment of prophecy?  I mean, anybody could say or claim something.  To me, that is hardly miraculous, and certainly could not be considered a random variable for establishing a probability.  Yet Lockyer spent whole chapters on prophecies like these that could be fulfilled by a mere acceptance of a verbal claim.  There was no possible means of analysis or verification. 

This was bad.  In fact, this was devastating for somebody looking for justification to continue holding on to a life-long held Faith.  The holes in the logic were finally becoming obvious.  But as bad as it was, I was not even halfway finished with Lockyer’s collection of Messianic Prophecies.  I had only read the Messianic Prophecies that were solid enough to be classed in a section of the book called, ‘Specific Messianic Prophecies’.  Lockyer devoted the entire second half of his book, over 300 pages, to what he called ‘Symbolic Messianic Prophecies’.  At this point, any scrap of reason that Lockyer may have employed up to this point was spit on, trampled over and tossed in the compost bin.  Lockyer was finished with the firm ground of specificity, and was about to begin using types, allusions, models and metaphors as evidence of the Supernatural.  I was sunk.

“Throughout our study,” explained Lockyer, “we are endeavoring to prove that Jesus is prefigured not only in events and in things but also in persons.  As to the true significance of a type, it can be defined as an illustration from a lower sphere of a truth belonging to a higher” (page 265)  But Lockyer also cautioned, “…in no other phase of Bible study is there so much need of ‘sanctified common sense’ as in the handling of types.  Fancy, absurd, exaggerated interpretations must be shunned.” (page 265)  The problem was that Lockyer never defined what sort of type was within the realm of sanctified common sense, and what was absurd fancy.  There was no method of following “sanctified common sense” when categories were named but never defined.  Lockyer justified his use of symbols by claiming that the search for symbolism made the Old Testament vibrant in understanding.  “The Eastern mind has ever been pictorial, and as the Bible is an Eastern book, it is but natural that it should abound in figurative language.  To read all the Old Testament books without seeing Jesus, not only in direct predictions and promises, but also in veiled pictures and parables, leaves our reading somewhat flat and insipid.  When, however, we keep looking for Him, even in most unexpected places, our meditation becomes most satisfying and profitable.” (page 211).

How do I go about finding veiled predictions of Jesus?  According to Herbert Lockyer, I could find them in the lives of ‘conspicuous persons’.  In this way, desired aspects of the lives of various Old Testament characters could be gleaned as prophetic of Jesus, that is, if a desired match could first be made.  “The blood of Abel cried out for vengeance; the blood of Jesus ever cries out for forgiveness and mercy … Murder did not silence Abel, just as Calvary did not silence Jesus.  Faith is endowed with immortality and cannot therefore die.” (page 214)  Good enough, Abel is, by virtue of his murder, miraculously prophetic of the sacrifice of Jesus.  Similarly with Moses, Joseph, Aaron, Abraham, Job, and many others.  If Jesus’s death allows us to take possession of what God has already given us, then for Lockyer that is close enough to, let us say, Joshua!  If God provided help for Moses when he could not handle the sole burden of leadership, this must be prophetic of Jesus since He can handle the terrible burden of our sin.

According to Herbert Lockyer, prophetic types could also be gleaned from prescribed offices.  If Jesus could reveal God to man, then Jesus must be a prophet.  If His sacrifice bridged man to God with an everlasting covenant, then Jesus must be a priest.  If some day He is to rule over His redeemed subjects, then He must be a king.  With these common offices proclaimed of Jesus, it is then easy to find their prophetic counterparts in the Old Testament.  No, Lockyer rarely named a prophet, and by virtue of his office, designate that prophet as a foretelling counterpart.  The prophet Samuel, for instance, was not a symbolic type of Jesus just because he was a prophet.  No, what Lockyer did was far worse than this.  Persons were not the prophetic type, but descriptions were.  For instance, “Priests were consecrated to office by an anointing with oil.  The term Messiah, meaning ‘the anointed One,’ is applied to the high priest (Lev. 4:3, 5, 16; 6:22; 8:12), and is prophetic of Him who is our high priest” (page 269).  “The Psalms appear to be fuller than any other section of the truth of the glory of His kingdom when He shall take to Himself His right and power to reign in millennial bliss over all the earth … All through the psalter we find the constant blending of sovereignty and sacrifice.  We see Him as king and priest; prophet and priest, with His offices being interdependent, and inherent in the one person.  While in some of the king-passages there may be a reference to Israel’s great kings, David and Solomon, the language used is infinitely more glorious and mighty than their respective reigns, and must be thought of as predictions of Christ as king, and His kingdom (Ps. 2:21; 24; 45; 72; 100) are evidence of One who is coming as
A priest greater than Aaron and Melchizedek
A prophet greater than Jonah
A king greater than Solomon” (page 271) 

So there you have it – prophecy by tautology.  If Jesus merely fits the described job office, then it must be miraculous!  If the job office is somehow more elevated than it should normally be, it must be miraculous!  In my mind, this was like claiming that the United States Constitution was somehow a supernatural prediction of the existence of President Barack Obama. 

But Lockyer was saving the worst for last.  For his next proof from prophecy, Lockyer moved straight into Chuck Missler territory.  Missler, once my favorite Bible teacher, often claimed that every word of the Old Testament somehow pointed to Jesus Christ, and it was our privilege as believers to hunt for that spiritual treasure in the pages of Scripture.  I was very familiar with how Missler dredged prophetic types and symbols of Christ out of Old Testament historical events, religious rituals and, most importantly, from the architecture of the Tabernacle and the rituals of Levitical feasts and festivals.  In this way, for instance, Noah’s Ark was a prophetic foretelling of Jesus, since both the Ark and Jesus were the salvation of the Faithful.  The Passover Lamb of Moses was slaughtered and applied to the doorposts of the chosen people.  The bones of the lamb were not broken, and it was to be memorialized as a justification for God’s chosen people.  After all, Jesus himself was called The Lamb of God, wasn’t He?  The pillar of smoke by day and fire by night led the Children of Israel through the wilderness; it went before them, it served as their shelter and defense, and remained with them until the end of their journey – all claimed as miraculous foretelling of the character of Jesus.  The parting of the Red Sea served as a pathway to salvation – need I elaborate?  Even the manna from Heaven was prophetic of Jesus.  The manna was provided miraculously to the people as a gift from Heaven.  Lockyer, despite his cautions to keep within the bounds of ‘sanctified common sense’, often presented evidence that would appear ridiculous to anybody not already obligated to believe.  Manna was small like a wafer, just like the town that Jesus was born in was “little among the thousands of Judah” (Micah 5:2).  The manna was round and easy to handle, which can be easily seen to “typify Jesus in the circle of His eternal being” (page 301).  Manna was the color of coriander seed, so it was easily discovered, just like You Know Who.  It was made with honey and had the taste of fresh oil, just like You Guessed It.  This is literally on the level of claiming that the banana must be a miraculous creation of God since it so easily fits in the human hand.  Oh good grief, apologists are not this dense, are they? 

I discovered that with Herbert Lockyer, Messianic Prophecy was boundless in ludicrous and one-sided logic. The Burning Bush of Moses is somehow prophetic of the whole history of the Jewish People.  Just like the Burning Bush, the Jewish people were continually tortured, tormented, scattered and destroyed; and just like the Burning Bush, the Jewish people could not be extinguished.  Aaron’s dead rod was resurrected by the act of budding, just as … well you get the idea.

Just like Chuck Missler, Herbert Lockyer took great zeal in dissecting the description of the Tabernacle, primarily from the book of Exodus, and giving mystical and prophetic application to its contents, construction, architecture and its associated rituals.  Which, Lockyer reasoned, made sense considering God spent only six days creating the entire universe, but a whole forty days explaining to Moses the details of the Tabernacle.  Lockyer thus set out to demonstrate that the symbolic meaning of the Tabernacle was an endless labyrinth of cipher codes and riddles.  Lockyer spent 140 pages of his 600 page book on the Tabernacle alone, and the illogical reasoning just got more absurd with each turned page.

Every detail of the Tabernacle, no matter how trivial, was used as some prediction of Jesus.  Lockyer never showed how the Bible itself specified that it was to be taken as prophetic.  He never demonstrated or described any methodology that the Bible specified, or that he was to use, beyond ‘sanctified common sense’.  Lockyer could claim that the very architecture of the Tabernacle, with its various courts and chambers, could all somehow typify Jesus, and since there were no rules to his procedure he had no rules to break.  He could easily say that everywhere the Bible mentioned silver, it actually meant blood – therefore if the ugly badger skins of the tabernacle were supported by silver pegs, then this must mean that Jesus, who had no beauty that we should desire Him (Isa. 53:2), and yet rested on a foundation of His blood, was foretold in this obscure description of the Tabernacle.  There was no reason to think that silver meant blood, brass meant judgment, or iron meant strength.  There was no reason to think I could sneak secret meanings into symbols.  Why is Jesus resting on blood?  Because it fits the typology.  If we wish silver to mean love or faith or justice or sacrifice or anything else we perceive as a virtue, it would fit just as well.  Lockyer was shaving the edges of the puzzle pieces to make them fit.

The sheer absurdity of Lockyer’s prophetic reasoning can be demonstrated with how he tortures a single aspect of the Tabernacle, and how he extrapolates and distorts it beyond all logic.  The gate of the outer court of the tabernacle is described in a total of three Biblical verses:

Exodus 27:16
16 And for the gate of the court shall be an hanging of twenty cubits, of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen, wrought with needlework: and their pillars shall be four, and their sockets four. 

Exodus 38:18-19

18 And the hanging for the gate of the court was needlework, of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen: and twenty cubits was the length, and the height in the breadth was five cubits, answerable to the hangings of the court.
19 And their pillars were four, and their sockets of brass four; their hooks of silver, and the overlaying of their chapiters and their fillets of silver. 

This is all Scripture describes of the gate of the outer court.  But Herbert Lockyer expounded on the typology of its prophetic elements for five full pages!  Lockyer saw the face of Jesus in gate to the outer court as much as a deluded believer will see the face of Jesus in a toasted tortilla.

First, explained Lockyer, the very fact that a gate to the outer court actually exists speaks of God’s gracious generosity in providing the sinful Israelite with a way to enter into the Tabernacle for cleansing.  Lockyer uses this bare fact as an excuse for a little preaching.  “What a world of misery and woe our would have been had the Lord Jesus not have come!  Think of the world with no church, no Bible, no Gospel, no holy men and women!  Why such a world would be but a reflection of hell!  But let us ever be grateful to God that there is a gate divinely provided whereby mankind can enter in and be reconciled to God.” (page 365)  Not only this, but Lockyer explains that the gate to the outer court was the only gate, and follows this simple observation with another full page of preaching on Christ as the only gate to salvation.  The gate to the outer court was 20 cubits wide which, Lockyer observes, is wide enough to admit any sinful Isrealite who wishes cleansing, which Lockyer followed with another half page of preaching.  Lockyer locks onto the width of the gate, leans over the pulpit at his faithful audience and preaches, “Think of the Width of God’s love – Think of the Width of Man’s need – Think of the Width of Christ’s Redemption”! (page 367)

Lockyer was far from finished with dissecting the symbolic meaning of the gate to the outer court.  The gate to the outer court was a strong gate, composed of four pillars and kept secure by sockets, pins and cords.  Needless to say, Lockyer tied this to the salvation of Jesus which is also strong, but that was just the beginning for this bit of typology.  The gate was strong because the way into the outer court was composed of four pillars, just like the work of Jesus is supported with the four infallible pillars called the Gospels.  Not content with being predictive of the four Gospels, Lockyer then claimed that the number four was the number that connected the threefold Trinity of God with the oneness of the world.  There are four pillars supporting the outer gate, just like there are four … fill in the blank.  Lockyer claims the four pillars represent the four great elements of the earth, the four principle divisions of the day, the four seasons of the year and the four cardinal points of the compass.  The methodology of this kind of reasoning was apparent to me.  Find a number in the architecture of the Tabernacle, any number that we run across, and find something in the life of Jesus make it predict.  If we can not find anything in the life of Jesus, try something else even tangentially relevant, in this case, even mistaken attributes of the natural world!  Lockyer makes the number of Gospels fit in his description of the gate to the outer court - maybe the number of disciples, the number of years in Jesus’s ministry or the number of people Jesus took with Him to witness His transfiguration would fit in other places.    Lockyer not only pulled this trick with the number of pillars supporting the gate to the outer court, he did this with the number of spaces between the pillars!  With four pillars, we get three spaces between the pillars, which “clearly illustrates the Saviour who Himself declared that He was the Way, Truth,  Life (John 14:6).  Across these three openings we can also write His threefold title, so fragrant to sinners saved by His grace – LORD JESUS CHRIST.” (page 368) Of course, with this golden opportunity of the number three presented to him in this most contrived manner, he cannot pass up an opportunity to use this as predictive of the Trinity.  Three spaces between the four pillars?  This is a clear and unmistakable reference to the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.  Sure, why not?  How could anybody miss this?
 
Lockyer continued for page after page, wrenching every drop of meaning he could out of the gate to the tabernacle’s outer court.  The gate was illuminated since it was pitched toward the East – therefore Jesus.  After entering the outer court through the gate the first thing one sees is the brazen alter, brass symbolizing judgment and water symbolizing washing – therefore Jesus.  The sheer beauty of the gate, the warming rays of the sun shining upon the four pillars with a curtain of fine needlework, colored in blue, purple and scarlet – therefore Jesus.  The colors of the linen somehow represented divine attributes.  Lockyer explained that the blue in the linen curtain represents Heaven, the scarlet of course is a symbol of blood.  The purple, which intertwined the linen with the blue and scarlet, is naturally and mixture of those two colors.  The heavenly mingled with fleshly blood must be prophetic of the dual nature of Jesus; He who came to earth from Heaven, fully God, yet paradoxically fully Man.

Lockyer continued his exposition of the gate to the outer court by considering the brass sockets, which for some reason represent the judgement of Jesus, and the silver hooks, which somehow represent His blood – therefore Jesus.  “What a beautiful gate we have in Jesus!  How miserable would have been our lot had he not come and combined all that the colors of the gate suggest in that wondrous life of His?” (page 372)

In the previous few paragraphs, I described Lockyer’s absurd prophetic extrapolation from a single piece of tabernacle architecture.  Lockyer continued in this vein, dissecting and mysticizing every dimension of the tabernacle, every piece of furniture, every feast, every offering, every ceremony, even pulling prophetic meaning from the tassles dangling off priestly garments.  No minutia was too small for Herbert Lockyer.   I could not believe that into this book was packed all this irrationality, especially considering that Lockyer lead off each chapter with warnings not to get carried away with the imagination when studying Messianic Prophecy.  What was the boundary between ‘sanctified common sense’ and fanciful imagination?  Whether Lockyer used his ‘sanctified common sense” or not, Messianic Prophecy simply had no rules to follow.  It’s logic was as bogus and fraudulent as using the architecture of Stonehenge or The Great Pyramid to predict the future.  Come to think of it, Chuck Missler did that too.

My old Calvary pastors constantly told their faithful congregations that apologetics was useful for defending and justifying the Gospel of Jesus to unbelievers and skeptics.  They told me that Messianic prophecy could be a great witnessing tool!  Non-Christians were willfully repressing their innate knowledge of the True God, but they showed their true reprobate nature by denying the obvious signs that were given to us by God.  Christianity, I was constantly told, was a reasonable and rational Belief, not a blind leap of Faith, and apologetics evidences like Messianic Prophecy was clear evidence of the truthfulness of the Gospel.  I still remember that tearful evening when I converted to Christianity and devoted my entire life to His purpose.  I converted because at the time I was miserable and desperate for answers that I thought Jesus could provide me.  I did not convert to Christianity because of apologetic arguments and evidence.  But if an unbelieving skeptic were to ever ask me why I was a Christian, I could confidently claim that it was due to rational evidence.  But Lockyer let the cat out of the bag.  According to him, instead of using Messianic Prophecy as a witnessing tool for unbelievers, it was to be used as cement for a Faith that was already there.  After demonstrating a prophecy of the Virgin Birth of Jesus that was, like all others, a statement ripped out of all context, Lockyer confessed:
In the presence of such a holy miracle, ‘there can be no fitting attitude of the human intellect save that of acceptance of truth, without any attempt to explain the absolute mystery.’  With this ‘mystery of godliness’ in mind, we should give heed to this dictum:
I will seek to believe rather than to reason;to adore rather than to explain;to give thanks rather than to penetrate;to love rather than to know;to humble myself rather than to speak - page 61
I was dumbstruck at this confession of something that I think I already knew deep down but was afraid to accept.  The Christian apologists that I had placed so much trust in had no real interest in reason, rationality or evidence.  The Christian apologist was not spending vast amounts of their time and energy into cooking up these evidences for the Faith to convince anybody.  It was a front.  The Christian, Lockyer confessed, was to believe first, and fit reason to that belief later.  In over 600 pages of Lockyer’s text, I could not find a single ‘Messianic Prophecy’ that I could imagine any non-Christian would find convincing or even merely plausible.  Not a single one.  And I, a Christian struggling desperately to hold on to any kind of Faith that would keep me within the Christian fold, was finding each and every one of these astounding prophecies to be strained contrivances at best.  There was no nice way of saying it.  I discovered that I was being lied to.  These claims of Messianic Prophecies were not misstatements.  I was not missing some slippery nuance of interpretation in the Scriptures.  I was being told the Bible contained things that were simply, blatantly not there.  Effort was being made by this Christian apologist to deceive me into believing.  It did not take me long to correlate the lies of Herbert Lockyer with lies of every other Christian apologist I had ever heard.  I recognized the same tactics and strategies used by Christians like Skip Heitzig, Chuck Missler, and other apologists that I had trusted and respected in the past.

I do not remember praying after reading this book.  I was too furious.  I thought of my Josh McDowell books, the countless apologetic cassettes that I had practically memorized, and the endless assurances from my pastors that Christianity was a Faith of evidence and reason.  All I could think of was that I was lied to.  Herbert Lockyer’s book All the Messianic Prophecies of the Bible single handedly did more damage to my Christian Faith than any book I had ever read before or since. 

-----------------------------------------------

At some point, I decided to bring my doubts up to the Christians that I felt closest with at the time – my home Bible Study group.  I did not tell them that I was having doubts about my Christian Faith; I was afraid to expose too much.  I simply told them about the disappointment that I felt reading Lockyer and his giant book of Messianic Prophecies.  “They felt so contrived to me.  I mean some of them made sense, but most of them just seemed so far flung.  It was like reading stuff into a Nostradamus prophecy to make it look true.”

They had just the reading material for me!  New paperbacks were making the rounds in popular Evangelical circles and they suggested that I read them to rejuvenate my Faith.  “I know how you feel”, the group leader’s wife told me.  “We all sometimes feel tired from the burdens of the world.  It is spiritual burnout.  Nothing to be ashamed of, but it can really affect your Faith.  Have you ever heard of this new book called, Blue Like Jazz?  You should read that!  It is really good.  Another good one is Velvet Elvis.  They are written for Christians who are exhausted by their own Faith.  They sort of give a new and fresh way to look at Faith.”

So on that recommendation, I read the new and popular paperback by college student Donald Miller called Blue Like Jazz.  I could tell that my Bible Study home group had no idea why my Faith was dying.  I read Blue Like Jazz in a single evening and found it to be condescending tripe. 

Another girl in my recommended a new, in-depth Bible Study course being offered by La Puerta del Cielo Baptist Church.  This wasn’t just the same thing I had always heard before about the Bible, she assured me.  The elderly couple who taught the class were engineers, and were surely able to relate to my scientific reasoning.  So on her recommendation, I joined her for the inaugural first session in the new in-depth Bible Study course.  I sat in the outdoor patio on a cool Monday evening with about a dozen other thirsty students of the Bible.  The elderly engineer said that the Bible could withstand the scrutiny of honest doubters.  We knew it could handle scrutiny because we knew it was the inspired Word of God.  The entire Bible, this engineer told us ala Herbert Lockyer, pointed to Jesus Christ.  After all, it could be demonstrated that the center of the Bible was THE LORD.  Literally – the center of the Bible!  Psalm 118:8, the very center of the Bible, tells us, “It is better to trust in the LORD than to put confidence in man.”  The very center of the Bible warns us to trust God over man.  And what is at the very center of Psalm 118:8?  THE LORD, with six words before and six words after!  The entire Bible surrounds THE LORD!

I felt like Herbert Lockyer himself was teaching this in-depth class.  The session of the class was not even 10 minutes old and I had heard more illogical nonsense than I cared to hear.  I turned around and saw the dozen or so other students furiously taking notes as they absorbed every absurdity the instructor told them.  My mind shut down and I daydreamed until the class was over.  I never went returned.

I did not know what to do.  I was angry, frustrated and disgusted.  I felt like I was being made a fool of, and I did not know where to turn.  I had never in my life read anything related to my Christian Faith that was not first approved in some way by my Church.  Any book I read was from the Church library or bookstore.  Teaching pamphlets and cassettes were not read until first recommended by church friends.  I never encountered anything that deviated from the Orthodox.  I never knew of anything that was not first filtered by the Party Line of Orthodoxy.  Of course I knew that such things existed.  One of my favorite science writers, Isaac Asimov, had his Guide to the Bible in the old university library, but I always felt unsure about checking books like that out.  I had always loved his science writing, but I knew that he, along with other favorite writers like Carl Sagan, were definitely not Christians.  What could non-Christians possibly know about the Bible or my Faith?  I almost felt queasy at the thought of reading books by ‘pseudo-intellectuals’, as Pastor Skip Heitzig had called them.  They may have known the Bible, but they did not know the Author of the Bible, and thinking themselves wise, they would make themselves out to be fools.  But if I was not going to tell my Christian friends about the true dire condition of my Faith and Doubts, then I had to remove all fear and forge ahead.  I went to the public library and started browsing the section few Christians venture into – Religion

I no longer cared about only reading safe, orthodox opinions that I knew I would agree with before I even read it.  I had done that for years.  But the Master Physician’s diagnosis was not working and I needed a second opinion.  I grabbed the first thing that looked challenging, hence, heretical to my Faith.  The thin book by David Penchansky had a title that I would keep hidden from my fellow believers like a secret issue of Penthouse.  I opened Twilight of the Gods: Polytheism in the Hebrew Bible, and immediately read the opening, shocking words, “Many texts in the Hebrew Bible assume a polytheistic universe...”  It was scholarship.  It was damnable heresy.  And I could not put it down.  I read it like a parched animal laps water in the oasis.

Previous Chapter


Friday, April 12, 2013

A Perfectly Normal Baby

I remember long ago, when I was 14 years old listening to the news on the radio with my mom.   The big news on this particular day was that some doctor in England had delivered a baby, since named Louise Brown.  Louise Brown was special.  She was the first baby ever conceived outside of the mother’s womb.  The popular press called her a ‘test-tube baby', I suspect as a way of denigrating the controversial procedure.  I was not exactly sure at the time quite what this news meant, but I do remember my mother’s shocked reaction.  “This is not right.  You have to wonder if that baby even has a soul!”  The future was already coming too fast for my young mother.

This morning, I learned of the death of the pioneer of in-vitro fertilization.  Dr Robert Edwards, along with his partner Dr Patrick Steptoe, were responsible for the conception of Louise Brown outside of her mother’s womb.  The concern of my mother, that the conception of a baby inside the womb is somehow the only means of imparting to that baby an immortal soul, was echoed by the pastor of our church.  Although I never heard the implication express aloud, I suspect that the logical conclusion was drawn that this child may not even be human.  Every human child in the history of the world, from the creation of Adam some 6000 years before until July 24, 1978 was conceived as God Almighty had designed, purposed and intended – inside the natural and fleshly womb of the mother.  The conception of every baby, without a single exception, was through this mysterious procedure, and the fecundity of the mother was viewed as a blessing and gift from God.  The reproduction of the child, especially as viewed by the Catholic Church, was only possible through the whim of God, and administered through the authority of the Church.

Suddenly, on July 25, 1978, this natural order of the world was changed forever.  Louise Brown, conceived in some cold, clinical and unnatural laboratory, was born surrounded by the curious press.  Denigrating terms like ‘test tube baby’ were used for their fearsome impact.  I imagined a near future in which women would never again be pregnant, and babies would be born in factories.  An army of fetuses, swimming in some kind of alkaline solution in labeled petri dishes and lined up on an automated production line was the image put in my mind.  The world was becoming more godless and soulless, more artificial and superficial, and this was just one more sign that Jesus would soon return to our lost and dying world.

Women, unable to conceive for whatever reason, are now able to transcend what was once the whim and will of the Almighty.  In-vitro fertilization, once the procedure begins, is never a certainty, and may come with certain risks to mother and child.  But there is now hope of conception where there would otherwise be none.  Before 1978, the woman was left in the hands of God as ‘barren’.  In-vitro fertilization is just one more piece of claimed territory by lustful and prideful humanity that was once the sole domain of the Almighty.

The fear of ‘test tube babies’ in 1978 did not last and the worry of soulless babies was quickly forgotten.  Now, 35 years and some 5 million ‘test tube babies’ later, it is almost impossible to imagine that in-vitro fertilization was once met with such fear and skepticism.  I have not heard a single sermon against the procedure since 1978.  In fact, I do not recall ever hearing a single word of condemnation from a single Christian since those early, fearful days.  I never heard my mom mention it again and today she would never think twice about it.  What was once a shattering of the natural order is now routine.

According to their catechism, the archaic dinosaur called the Catholic Church still considers in-vitro fertilization to be “morally unacceptable”.  What else is new?

2376 Techniques that entail the dissociation of husband and wife, by the intrusion of a person other than the couple (donation of sperm or ovum, surrogate uterus), are gravely immoral. These techniques (heterologous artificial insemination and fertilization) infringe the child's right to be born of a father and mother known to him and bound to each other by marriage. They betray the spouses' "right to become a father and a mother only through each other."
2377 Techniques involving only the married couple (homologous artificial insemination and fertilization) are perhaps less reprehensible, yet remain morally unacceptable. They dissociate the sexual act from the procreative act. the act which brings the child into existence is no longer an act by which two persons give themselves to one another, but one that "entrusts the life and identity of the embryo into the power of doctors and biologists and establishes the domination of technology over the origin and destiny of the human person. Such a relationship of domination is in itself contrary to the dignity and equality that must be common to parents and children."  "Under the moral aspect procreation is deprived of its proper perfection when it is not willed as the fruit of the conjugal act, that is to say, of the specific act of the spouses' union .... Only respect for the link between the meanings of the conjugal act and respect for the unity of the human being make possible procreation in conformity with the dignity of the person."

I could comment on the questionable ethics of that bit of religious instruction, but that is going a bit off course of what I started writing about.  A rememberence of Dr Robert Edwards and the hope he helped give millions of women.  Well, not really much of a eulogy for Dr Edwards, and probably not one he would even approve of.  But these are the thoughts that ran through my head when I thought of his death.  We seem to quickly recover from our shock and hysteria, once we realize we can actually get away with reclaiming one more small piece of the Almighy’s turf.  It is almost as if He were not even looking.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Have you lost your mind?

I awoke this morning before the sunrise.  It was still dark in the house, and mindful not to wake Rosemary, I felt around for the clothes I had left out the night before.  I put on a ragged flannel shirt to protect me from the morning chill, and a wide athletic belt around my waist to carry a water bottle and a baggie full of peanut brittle.  I laced my favorite running shoes on, and left the house.  Still dark, I drove 15 miles north to the border of New Mexico where there is a stretch of road over a pass in the Franklin Mountains called Anthony Gap.  I parked my truck on the side of the road and looked ahead to where I intended to run.  A little less than 8 miles uphill and over the pass, then back down until the road meets with I-10.  The skies behind me in the east were slowly starting to brighten.  I figured the sun would be above the horizon in a half hour or so and warm me on my jog up.  I did not want to run on the shoulder of the road.  There was far too much traffic to make that a comfortable option.  Besides, I have always found jogging on the pavement to be boring and tedious.  There was a maintenance road of rock and dirt that ran parallel to the highway.  It was more of a trail really, since only the sturdiest 4-wheeler would be able to navigate through the numerous arroyos that were bridged by the main highway.  Even though it was rough and uneven, I figured I would run on that trail to avoid traffic and not allow the smooth pavement to make my run monotonous. 

I placed the bottle of water in my belt holster after taking a sip, and bit into a generous chunk of peanut brittle.  I looked at the trail ahead of me.  A few miles uphill before disappearing over the mountain pass.  My hands were freezing, and I could not wait for the sun to rise and warm me up.  I blew my nose, muttered to myself, “Have you lost your mind?” and headed uphill on the uneven, rock-strewn trail.

I started running almost 12 years ago, in July 2001.  Although I have always been an avid mountain and desert hiker, the extent of my athleticism ended there.  On the contrary, I did not feel that I was in very good health.  I had struggled more or less, mostly more, with cigarettes since Air Force Basic Training way back in 1982.  Cigarettes were part of Air Force culture.  Half my Basic Training squadron was composed of fresh-faced, innocent kids, first time out of mom’s house, and had never before touched tobacco.  While conducting drills or policing the grounds, our drill instructor set aside five minutes every hour or so for the smokers’ benefit.  “Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em!”  Half the squadron, myself included, started smoking just so we could take a break from the drudgery.

By 2001, a stressful and sedentary study environment in grad school gave me a two pack per day habit.  I was not picky.  I smoked whatever JB’s Smoke Shop had on sale.  That usually meant something called Premium Basic, which I could get for $1.15 per pack.  A lit Premium Basic was the perfect companion during countless all-nighters spent buried in school work, and I puffed constantly while struggling with insanely difficult physics problems.  But my breathing was getting more labored, and my throat burned more and more often.  I knew I had to quit.  I had managed to quit for over four years back in the early 1990s, but had started up again soon after enrolling in University.  Since then, I could never completely stay off the cigarettes.  I managed a day or two numerous times before finally caving in to the lure of nicotine.  The first puff after two days deprived of cigarettes always made my head spin.

In July 2001, I was walking in the marshlands by the Rio Grande with my dog Comet.  For some reason, on this particular day, I felt full of caged energy.  It must have been the coffee.  I walked along a dirt road atop a dammed up arroyo, and for no good reason just started running.  I ran with soaked water shoes as fast as I could, with Comet happily following close behind.  I managed maybe 100 meters before I stopped and keeled over out of breath, wondering what had just come over me!  The next day my legs, especially my inner thighs, were quite sore.  I had awakened muscles I had not used probably since the Air Force.  I ran again though, this time a little further.  Just a little.  I was a runner for only one day, and I was already hooked.  I would trade in one habit for another.  My last cigarette was in October 2001, and I have been running ever since.

I continued to run almost exclusively on dirt trails.  This was easy for me since I lived in a rural area.  Every powerline that crossed the desert was sure to have a rugged maintenance road running with it.  The desert was full of sandy arroyos that made for difficult but satisfying running.  And of course, the Rio Grande had dirt roads running parallel on both banks for as far as anybody could possibly run.  I was soon running over 10 kilometers every day.  Running was the perfect escape after a long day filling my head with theorems and equations.  If the day was too busy, if my emotions were running amok, if personal dramas were overwhelming, I could easily renew myself with a run in the open air.  Running in the desert felt nearly like a primal instinct.  I felt unleashed from the world when running around in the desert with nothing between me and the harsh environment but the thin cloth of shorts and T-shirt.  I loved the rush of adrenalin after a long run along some cattle trail.  Running to the top of the Chupaderra Hills and looking down from when I came was almost like spiritual epiphany.  Every time I hit the trials, I felt young, unencumbered and free!

I still get occasional surges of breathless emotion, even after 12 years of running.  I sometimes run several miles into the desert, maybe on the top of a ridge, far above the desert floor.  I have left the mundane city far behind, and as I climb in elevation, listening to nothing but my own footfalls and labored breathing, I can feel the air cool, I can see the desert flora change, and the horizon widen below me.  When I reach the top, spent from the exertion of miles of uphill running, I can turn back to look at the seemingly endless expanse of desert that I ran through to get to this spot.  I can see the tangled maze of arroyos and notch canyons that carve through the mountain’s alluvial fans.  The wind may pick up, and I see that a monsoon cumulonimbus has suddenly formed over the horizon.  Rain is threatening, and I have a long way to run to get back to my parked truck.  But for this moment, this special place where few people tread, a place deep in the desert and far above civilization, for this moment this place is almost Holy.  To think that I reached this place with nothing but the power of my own two feet, I sometimes feel a need to be grateful.  There may be nobody to be grateful to, but running to places where I am surrounded by the vastness of the desert wilderness leave me feeling joyous, humbled, even awed at my total insignificance in the midst of the whole.  I still cannot help feeling grateful at my ability to run into this momentarily sacred place under my own power, before I run back downhill, out of the desert and back into the more familiar, trivial, mundane world.

Yes, I do occasionally feel these moments of epiphany.  Can you tell that I love to run?  

The only time I stopped running for any length of time was when I had to nurse an injury.  I stopped for three weeks when my left knee hurt.  I stopped even longer when my calf muscle was strained.  I stopped for a couple of months when I was forced to rest my painful hip.  Deprived of running, but compelled to continue exercise of some kind, I decided to ride a bicycle instead.  I could never get used to the bicycle.  I crashed every time I tried off-road riding in the desert.  I found cycling on the highway with the traffic to be nerve wracking when I was not bored stiff with the monotony and tedium.  I was too used to my slow humping over the desert rocks and brush, with eyes glued to the ground lest I step on a camouflaged rattlesnake.  But cycling was better than nothing.  I found that if I did not run, or at least strain my breathing and heart rate once every few days, I would become cranky.  I had too much pent up energy.  I needed to move!

Running is a low maintenance activity.  It requires no special equipment.  It can be done nearly anywhere and at any time.  Along with eating, sleeping and sex, it is as basic, primal and natural an activity as I can imagine.  There is something about the simplicity of it that I find aesthetically attractive.  There is almost an elegance and ease to running.  There are no rules to follow, and the form seems to come naturally.  Unlike most athletic events, the runner is unencumbered with gear.  All that is required is to get up and propel oneself forward.  I have learned to keep the intense desert sun off my bare skin.  My sleeveless, bare-skinned days are long over.  On sunny days I will run with plaid cowboy shirt with long sleeves to cover my arms.  If it is not too windy, I will jog with my wide brimmed cowboy hat to keep the sun off my face.  I am the only person I know who regularly jogs with a cowboy hat and shirt on.  You can’t say I am not fashion forward!

I recently started wearing my stopwatch again after years of going without.  I found that I suffered as a result of going without – I was running much slower than I imagined I was.  As I get older my comfortable pace gets slower and slower, and without my stopwatch I never realized just how slow I was going.  I have not challenged myself in a long time.  I entered a half marathon at a friend’s request two years ago, but I loped along at such a slow pace I never even noticed I had jogged over 13 miles.  Besides that event, I have not been in a competitive race since 2005.  I say competitive, when the truth is I have no chance of ever winning any race I enter.  I can barely even place in my age group.  For me, if I enter a race, I can only truly compete with people who are going at roughly the same slow pace as me.  At the first 10k race I ever entered, I was 1 kilometer from the finish line and I was simply pushing myself to pass the two people just ahead of me.  Just ahead of me to my left was a kid no older than 12.  Just ahead to my right was a man no younger than 70.  C’mon!  Surely I can go faster than an old man and a little boy!  Nope.  They both passed the finish line just ahead of me.  That is about the extent of my ‘competition’.

Since I started wearing my stopwatch again, my times have improved.  I even started keeping a log again, and I found myself running more to meet my weekly goals.  I still do not find most races intriguing enough to enter, but I will be making a single exception next Sunday.  Throwing all reason aside, I signed up to run in the Bataan Memorial Death March, held annually at White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico.  It is not officially a race, but a commemorative march to remember and honor the veterans who endured a forced march at the hands of the Japanese during WWII.  I considered joining a team and marching the entire route with a heavy pack on my back.  But I decided instead to run the entire route, which runs mostly on sandy desert trails with very little pavement.  That is my kind of race.  I am a little nervous about the distance.  It is marathon distance, just over 26 miles, and well beyond my comfort zone.  I have entered two marathons in the past, and both ended in terrible knee pain.  What makes me think this will be any different?  Who was it that said repeating an action and expecting a different outcome was the definition of insanity?  I cannot remember, so whoever said that must have been wrong.  Of course he was wrong.  Obviously.

So I have been logging extra miles in preparation for the Death March.  That is why I woke up before dawn this morning, to hump over the Anthony Gap.  The first 4 miles was pretty easy, even though they were all uphill.  Anything less than 10 kilometers is a routine distance for me.  Suddenly the trail disappeared in a tangle of creosote and cactus, and I was forced to run downhill to I-10 on the shoulder of the highway.  Monotonous pavement running, and all downhill!  The pounding on my knees began.  Then I could feel my thighs start to chaff.  What?  My thighs have never chaffed before!  My mind raced to think of what I could wear in the Death March to avoid painful chaffing.  Assuming I could survive this one.

After running just shy of 8 miles, I reached the on-ramp of I-10.  I was half way finished, and now I would have to turn and go back the way I came.  I stopped and gave my legs a good stretch.  They still felt fine, even though I knew they would be stiff as rods by the time I reached my parked truck.   I placed the bottle of water in my belt holster after taking a sip, and bit into a generous chunk of peanut brittle.  I looked at the road ahead of me.  A few miles uphill before disappearing over the mountain pass.  My hands were warm but slightly swollen, as they tended to get during a long run.  The sun was well above the horizon, which brought warm weather along with a seasonal stiff wind.  I would be running into the wind for the remaining 8 miles until I reached my truck.  The chaffing on my thighs was beginning to burn.  Great.  I blew my nose, muttered to myself, “Have you lost your mind?” and headed uphill on the smooth shoulder of the highway.

Monday, February 25, 2013

middle age

I never got my PhD in physics.  I stopped at a M.S.  I do not mean this to complain.  It was my choice to leave grad school at the age of 39 and enter the job market.  I left my studies, knowing that academia, at least in physics, views an M.S. as an incomplete PhD.  But despite that,  I have had a fulfilling career ever since, and I have no regrets.  Until…

…until I found out that one of the 1st year undergraduates that was enrolled in my university physics course 11 years ago, is soon to get his PhD in mathematical physics.   I remember him.  He was an unbelievably sharp kid.  I knew he would go far.

But my former student has now attained a level that I will, in all likelihood never attain.  He has reached a goal that I will never reach. 

I had a dream last night.  I rarely remember dreams anymore, but I remember this one.  I dreamt that I was back in my old University at a department pizza social.  All the young freshmen from my 11 years old class were there, and none had aged a single day.  They all asked if I was there as the new professor.  No, I replied, I was just there for pizza, and to cheer them on for their dissertation defenses.

I think it is no coincidence that today is my birthday.  I am 49 years old today.  Well into middle age.  I am not consciously thinking about aging, but it somehow snuck into my dreams last night.  

I realize how trite, immature and selfish this sounds.  I realize that I have a wonderful and fulfilling life.  I realize that I am rich beyond my wildest imagination.  I have no right to think such pitiful thoughts.  But there they are - I am a mere human weakling after all.  I think that this is a mood that will only last through today.  After all, I swore to myself a long time ago that I would never let myself sink into a mid-life crisis.

Lift a glass.  Here’s looking forward to tomorrow!

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Conversions and De-Conversions - The final straw

When I review the nearly thirty chapters that I have written in this Conversions and De-Conversions series, I discover that my real de-conversion from Christianity began in 1993 when I left Calvary Chapel.  I remained a Christian for about 13 years after I made the decision to leave that church, but the single event of leaving Calvary Chapel was the first trigger that led to my eventual exit from Christianity.  It had been a slow accretion of assimilation into the worldly environment, a progressive education in the scientific method and critical analysis, and acquaintance and accommodation of people and cultures that were vastly different from my own.  It was a slow progression away from Christianity.  My ‘spiritual journey’, if I may call if that, may have stopped at any point since that time.  I might have received my education in Physics, and from there lived a perfectly happy life, ambivalently believing in God.  I might have gotten a career in private industry, with a vague belief in some kind of Heavenly reward for a life well lived, while privately chuckling at my naive days as a Fundamentalist.  I might have been content marrying a Catholic girl from the Philippines, nominally converting to her religion, and lived as a Sunday Morning Catholic.  I could have remained, as so many do, believing that God does not care what religion I follow, as long as I have Faith in something, and that is ultimately all that really matters.  This story could have ended at any one of those points.  In fact, I do believe that many, if not most, of the people who leave a Fundamentalist brand of Christianity usually do end at one of those points.  I do think that there are many refugees of Fundamentalist Christianity, who are now content as nominally Christian believers.  They managed to escape from their cultish environment of religious fanaticism, only to live with the vaguest idea that God does not care what they believe, as long as they gain their moral behavior from a belief in some nebulous something.

What turned it around for me?  Why did I not rest content with vague spiritual beliefs?  I can think of two primary reasons:

I have always taken my reliance on faith and belief very seriously.  If I am to believe in something, I want to know what it is.  I at least want to have a pretense of thinking I know what it is.  I could never understand how people could simply change their core religious beliefs and convictions, simply as a matter of personal taste or convention.  I did not understand that as a Fundamentalist Christian, and I do not understand it now as a de-converted Christian apostate.

I loved my wife, and I desperately wanted to be a good husband.  I had been led to believe by my religious indoctrination that religious beliefs were the only acceptable standard of morality.  The only way to be good was through belief in God.  Jesus set the standard in His many discourses, notably the Sermon on the Mount.  If I wanted the strength of the Holy Spirit, which was necessary to achieve a more Christ-like life, I had to return to my Christian roots.  I had no desire to ever become an ignorant Fundamentalist as I was in Calvary Chapel, but by starting a home Bible Study group and devoting more of my time to prayer, I was inevitably being drawn back into that brittle Fundamentalist mindset.  At the same time, I was being influenced by my wife’s Catholic beliefs.  I was being pulled in three separate directions, the Scientific method and secularism, Fundamentalism and Catholicism.  Nominal believers may be able to rest content in vague religious beliefs.  I could not rest content.  Something had to give.

I mentioned the initial trigger that occurred in 1993.  There was another trigger.  There was a single incident that pushed me from my comfortable but tense ledge of ambivalent Christian belief, into full apostasy.  In fact, that single trigger, that single incident, was actually something that I said.  The trigger that led me out of Christianity was a single sentence that I barked at Rosemary in anger and confusion.  It began with a conversation with Rosemary, my wife of a single year.

We were lying in bed.  She could not sleep.  She was forced awake by the riveting suspense of a popular best-seller.  I have never been one to keep up on the latest pop culture phenomena, so while I had seen plenty of people reading the novel The Da Vinci Code, I had no idea what it was about.  Just a popular thriller, I had thought.  Rosemary was up in bed, unable to break her attention from the gripping story, and its mind-bending revelations.

She sat up, eager to talk with me.  “This book is so interesting!  It is a thriller about a professor who is investigating the Bible and the family of Jesus.”

“Jesus?”  She had my attention.  So this was what the popular best-seller was about.  "It is a story, but it is one of those stories that is based on real facts.  So this professor of symbology is talking with his older friend, another professor, about the Bible. “

“Symbology?  What is that?”

“I guess he studies symbols.  Anyway, listen to what this book says about the Bible.”  Rosemary picked up her novel and read a fictional conversation between two professors:

"…More than eighty gospels were considered for the New Testament, and yet only a relative few were chosen for inclusion - Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John among them." 
"Who chose which gospels to include?" 
"Aha! The fundamental irony of Christianity!  The Bible, as we know it today, was collated by the pagan Roman emperor Constantine the Great." 
"I thought Constantine was a Christian…" 
"…Hardly.  He was a lifelong pagan who was baptized on his deathbed, too weak to protest.  In Constantine's day, Rome's official religion was sun worship - the cult of Sol Invictus, or the Invincible Sun - and Constantine was its head priest.  Unfortunately for him, a growing religious turmoil was gripping Rome.  Three centuries after the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, Christ's followers had multiplied exponentially.  Christians and pagans began warring, and the conflict grew to such proportions that it threatened to rend Rome in two.  Constantine decided something had to be done.  In 325 A.D., he decided to unify Rome under a single religion.  Christianity…" 
"…Constantine was a very good businessman.  He could see that Christianity was on the rise, and he simply backed the winning horse.  Historians still marvel at the brilliance with which Constantine converted the sun-worshipping pagans to Christianity.  By fusing pagan symbols, dates, and rituals into the growing Christian tradition, he created a kind of hybrid religion that was acceptable to both parties…" 
"…The vestiges of pagan religion in Christian symbology are undeniable.  Egyptian sun disks became the halos of Catholic saints.  Pictograms of Isis nursing her miraculously conceived son Horus became the blueprint for our modern images of the Virgin Mary nursing Baby Jesus.  And virtually all the elements of the Catholic ritual - the miter, the altar, the doxology, and communion, the act of 'God-eating' - were taken directly from earlier pagan mystery religions." 
"…Don't get a symbologist started on Christian icons.  Nothing in Christianity is original.  The pre-Christian God Mithras - called the Son of God and the Light of the World - was born on December 25, died, was buried in a rock tomb, and then resurrected in three days.  By the way, December 25 is also the birthday of Osiris, Adonis, and Dionysus.  The newborn Krishna was presented with gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  Even Christianity's weekly holy day was stolen from the pagans…" 
"…During this fusion of religions, Constantine needed to strengthen the new Christian tradition, and held a famous ecumenical gathering known as the Council of Nicaea … At this gathering, many aspects of Christianity were debated and voted upon - the date of Easter, the role of the bishops, the administration of sacraments, and, of course, the divinity of Jesus." 
"Until that moment in history, Jesus was viewed by His followers as a mortal prophet ... a great and powerful man, but a man nonetheless.  A mortal" 
"…Jesus' establishment as 'the Son of God' was officially proposed and voted on by the Council of Nicaea." 
"Hold on.  You're saying Jesus' divinity was the result of a vote?" 
"A relatively close vote at that … Nonetheless, establishing Christ's divinity was critical to the further unification of the Roman Empire and to the new Vatican power base.  By officially endorsing Jesus as the Son of God, Constantine turned Jesus into a deity who existed beyond the scope of the human world, an entity whose power was unchallengeable…" 
"…Because Constantine upgraded Jesus' status almost four centuries after Jesus' death, thousands of documents already existed chronicling His life as a mortal man.  To rewrite the history books, Constantine knew he would need a bold stroke.  Form this sprang the most profound moment in Christian history.  Constantine commissioned and financed a new Bible, which omitted those gospels that spoke of Christ’s human traits and embellished those gospels that made Him godlike. The earlier gospels were outlawed, gathered up, and burned."
     -P231 – 234

“Well, what do you think?”

“I don’t know.  It is fiction isn’t it?  Just a story?”

“Yes this is a story, but it says at the beginning of the book that the facts about the Bible and history are all true.”

I did not know what to make of all this new information.  It was obviously blasphemous nonsense.  But if this blockbuster novel was based on real facts about the origins of the Bible, as if claimed, then I had no answer for it.  The trouble was, I was 41 years old.  I had been a Christian with greater or less intensity, for almost my entire life.  I was taught to revere to the Bible.  The word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.  It was the foundational cornerstone of my Faith, and the only sure means of God’s revelation and communication to me.  And despite my shock at the blasphemy of that silly novel, the truth was, I had no idea where the Bible came from.  Sure, the apostles wrote the Gospels.  Paul wrote his epistles.  A few other apostles and close associates of Jesus wrote some other epistles.  But I had never even entertained the idea of how the various writings were assembled and collated into a unified Canon.  As I mentioned in a previous chapter to this series, I had never heard a single sermon or lesson that described exactly how the Biblical Canon was decided on and assembled.  I have repeatedly emphasized how Calvary Chapel viewed ignorance as a virtue, and if Pastor Skip knew this information, he never shared it with his congregation.  The only information that I had on this shocking information was a few short bullet points in my Thomson Chain Reference Study Bible, about how certain apocryphal books were left out of the Canon.  But I had never in my life heard of such shocking things such as some eighty extra gospels that were intentionally suppressed by a Roman emperor.  I could not believe that the divinity of Jesus was voted on in a political maneuver to unify the Roman Empire.  Where did our Christian Canon come from?  Who wrote our Christian Creeds?  I had no idea.  But it sure did not happen the way Dan Brown’s novel was presenting it.  That was certainly a lie. 

I would have brushed this off as just another pop culture attack on my Christian Faith except for one thing.  Rosemary, along with the rest of the book reading public, was finding this book irresistible.  I was fearful that the ideas of who Jesus was in that book would deceive her into a heretical version of Christ’s Divinity.  I privately expressed my concern to some of my friends in our home Bible Study group.  “It would not be so bad if it was just silly fiction,” I said.  “But Dan Brown is presenting the background history as fact!”

“Yes, yes.  It is a tragedy.  A lie from the pit of Hell,” my friend agreed with me.  “The World hates the truth of God’s Word, and they will always attack Jesus.”

In all the years that I attended Calvary Chapel, they may have never given a single sermon about origins of Christianity, but in anticipation of the upcoming Da Vinci Code movie starring Tom Hanks, refutations of The Da Vinci Code along with mini-lessons in early Christian history were suddenly coming out of the woodwork.  If I was shocked by what Rosemary read in the book, I am certain that there were plenty of other Christians who were just as shocked as I was.  We were isolated from any investigation of Church history by a tradition of simply accepting unquestioned dogma.  For all our church pastors were concerned, I could have believed that the Bible simply and miraculously appeared out of thin air 2000 years ago.  The laity of the Evangelical Church was uncorrupted and innocent from the taint of knowledge.  But The Da Vinci Code tantalized Christians with knowledge of a hidden past, suppressed Gospels and secret councils.  Pastors suddenly had to act fast.  For a couple of months adjacent to the release of The Da Vinci Code movie in 2006, it seemed every church marquee in my neighborhood boasted an upcoming sermon that would debunk Dan Brown and reveal the real history of Biblical origins.

Rosemary has always loved a good thriller.  She loved reading The Da Vinci Code and could not wait to watch her favorite actor Tom Hanks play the lead in the upcoming movie.  I was seriously concerned.  I had to show her the error in her thinking.  I had to demonstrate that reading such blasphemous trash would lead to errors in her Christian beliefs.

There was a Baptist Church near our house that I passed every day, but we had never as yet attended.  During this crucial time, their marquee was one of the throng that promised to debunk The Da Vinci Code during their next Sunday morning service.  In one of the most despicable and conniving tricks I pulled on Rosemary during our marriage together, I decided to trick her into attending that Sunday morning service, in a tiny, unknown Baptist Church near our house, and get her educated. 

“Rosemary, there is another Baptist Church I have been wanting to attend.  It is very close to our house, and it is also very small.  Let’s go there next Sunday and see what it is like.”  I never mentioned that I knew very well what the sermon would be dedicated to.  Nope.  I just randomly happened to want to go there.

We sat in the pews amongst the tiny congregation.  The elderly pastor was overjoyed to see a younger married couple visiting his church, and he warmly welcomed us.  I actually enjoyed singing from old hymnals the likes of which I had not seen since I was young.  Then the sermon began.  It was a terrible sermon, but its intent was to be a lecture and as such it was actually quite well done.  It contained information about Christian origins that I had never heard before.  Rosemary was used to homilies during her morning Mass, not history lectures.  But the Evangelical Church suddenly found these lectures necessary to face the emergency crisis that The Da Vinci Code was challenging the Church with and deceiving believers.  The pastor had an overhead projector to place his transparent slides on, and Rosemary got pummeled with names, dates and other details about the origin of her Faith.  She did not know what hit her.  She was not used to listening to lectures on Sunday morning and vowed to attend Mass afterwards to make up for lost time.  The Pastor, to my satisfaction, completely destroyed the specific claims made by Dan Brown in his blasphemous novel.  Rosemary might have hated the Sunday morning lecture that debunked her stupid novel, but at least she now knew the truth.  It was tough medicine that she needed to swallow. 

We never again attended that tiny Baptist Church.  As far as I was concerned, it had done its job.  I was too cowardly to tell Rosemary the truth of why I wanted to go there.  But I thought that I lied to her for her own good.  Rosemary challenged my Christian Faith with The Da Vinci Code, and rather than investigate those claims and learn something from the experience, I let religious instinct drive my reactions.  My Faith was being attacked, so despite my growing liberality, despite my years of education and lessons in critical thought, I circled the wagons and retreated to the safety of my long lost Fundamentalism.  I had once hated the Fundamentalism that I escaped from, but it was something that I at least understood.  I had no idea how to evaluate the challenges posed by The Da Vinci Code, but I knew I always had a home in the familiar territory of Fundamentalism.  I was still too easily offended when my beliefs were scrutinized.

Finally, the moment came that I teased at the beginning of this chapter.  The trigger that finally led me out of Christianity was a single sentence that I barked at Rosemary in anger and confusion.  The movie premiered.  Rosemary was excited to see it.  Despite all my warnings to her, despite taking her to a Sunday morning lecture about the lies in that story, she still wanted to see the movie.  What was I doing wrong?  Why wouldn’t she listen to me?

“Can we go see The Da Vinci Code today?”

“No.”

She knew what I thought of the book.  “But I want to see the movie.  Can’t we go?”  Yes, she asked for permission at that time.  On certain occasions, Filipino custom was still a habit with her.

“No Rosemary, we can not see that movie,” I said as forcefully as I dared.  Then the sentence that I will never forget.  A sentence that changed my life:

“Dan Brown will face God some day, and he will have to answer to Him what he has written.”

Rosemary’s eyes watered.  She was probably wondering what in the world was happening to her husband.  She replied very quietly, in an almost pleading tone, “It is just a story.”

End of argument.

I could not believe what I had just told my wife.  I was dishonest to her, and deceitful.  I had tried to trick her into making her think and believe exactly as I did.  I knew that my beliefs were the correct beliefs, and there was no longer any room for compromise.  There were all sorts of movies and books that I was not allowed to view when I was younger, and The Da Vinci Code would simply just have to be part of that long list.  But then I had to step back and reflect on what I had just told Rosemary.  I was falling right back into the Fundamentalism that I had so vehemently repudiated.  I had damned Dan Brown for writing a novel that I deemed blasphemous.  I had bullied my wife into not viewing things that I did not think were good for her.  My wife.  A woman who was a grown adult and who was capable of making her own decisions.  A woman who I had sworn to be honest and faithful to.  I knew at that moment that there was something drastically wrong.  I could not continue to have a marriage like this.  I could not be the Spiritual Leader of the household if it meant ordering Rosemary to honor my own personal banned items list, attempting to mould her spiritual thoughts and beliefs by subterfuge and trick and lie to her for the sake of believing in God as I saw fit. 

I was turning into the Fundamentalist asshole that I had hated so much when I was younger.  I thought Pastor Skip Heitzig was a disgusting liar for filtering and suppressing knowledge to make me believe as he saw fit, but I caught myself doing the exact same thing with Rosemary.

The words that I said to Rosemary repeated in my head.  Dan Brown will face God some day, and he will have to answer to Him what he has written.  As if I was God All-mighty, and could pass judgment with the same Divine authority.  But in those words, I also caught myself retreating to the Fundamentalism that I had repudiated.  I thought I had escaped the poisonous belief in Divine judgement and damnation.  I thought I had matured with more enlightened, Post-Fundamentalist beliefs.  But my new enlightened beliefs were just as unjustified as my more dogmatic beliefs, and when threatened with even the slightest of challenges, I became just as dogmatic, rigid and intolerant as I had ever been.  I knew that Dan Brown was a deceptive heathen, and I had the certainty that he would have to face God with his blasphemy.  But then I realized what an arrogant prick I really was.  I was so certain about what God thought of Dan Brown, that I was willing to railroad my own wife into believing exactly as I did.  I was disgusted with myself.  I was such a fool.

After several rounds of embarrassment and apologies, I agreed to watch the movie with Rosemary.  When the house lights went up and the end credits scrolled, I realized that she was right about one thing – it really was just a silly story.  But our marriage would not survive if I was to continue acting in this way.  My Faith could not survive either.  I did not know whether to be more liberal or conservative in my religious beliefs, and they seemed to change based on how I reacted to others, not to any deep conviction of religious Faith.  I no longer knew what to do, and my home Bible Studies and Rick Warren’s 40 Days of Purpose videos were no longer meeting my need.  I decided that if The Da Vinci Code, silly story that it was, was still able to force Evangelical churches to dispense otherwise suppressed history about its own historical foundations, then there had to be much more out there that I needed to learn.  Was my Faith correct?  Was Christianity really something worth believing in?  I had to get to the bottom of it.  I had to do it for the same reason I left Calvary Chapel 13 years before.  I had to do it for my own sanity.

Graduate school had taught me how to research topics, but astrophysics was so different from religious topics.  I had no idea where to start, but I had to start somewhere.  So I visited the La Puerta del Cielo Baptist Church library and started browsing the books.

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