Two of my favorite movies are Ever After and The Dark Knight, and for the same reason: At some point during each movie, I say, "Oh, yeah; this is a {Cinderalla|Batman} movie." I honestly forget that each film is based on a modern-day mythological figure/story.

The interesting thing is that I don't forget what each movie is based on because they stray from their inspirations, but because they take a familiar story (a wicked step-family, a fairy godmother, a criminal clown, and a criminal hero) but because they take those elements and make them so compelling (an overlooked stepsister, Leonardo DaVinci, an ameture anarchist, and two vigilantes) that I feel like I'm seeing them for the first time. My "Oh, yeah" moment is filled with a new appreciation for a story that has grown familiar and commonplace in my mind.

I wonder if Christians' lives are supposed to be the same way. Perhaps it's a good thing when our coworkers & friends say, "Oh, yeah; [s]he's a Christian," not because we've strayed from Jesus's calling but because we've lived out that calling in a way that hasn't been seen before, and that brings a new sense of wonder.

...then again, maybe we are!

I got into a facebook debate last week with a friend of a friend who was offended by Protagoras' statement that "[hu]man is the measure of all things," often (as was the case that sparked this debate) used to open an introductory Humanities course. This friend-of-a-friend was consoling the mutual friend that he would just have to deal with it (presumably as part of Christian suffering).

I offered (with a glasses-smiley) that one could opt to be a Christian humanist.

The friend-of-a-friend retorted with a "challenge" for me to define "huminist" and "Christian."

I replied with the consideration (often employed by Christians in the academy) that "humanism" is simply a stance that humans are worth studying, and that Christians (of any definition) can join in this stance based on their belief that humans are created in the image of God.

The friend-of-a-friend has yet to respond.

But my answer still, of course, leaves the pesky first-day-of-the-semester quote hanging in the air. Christians have some reason to dislike it. After all, we believe that we are our favorite idols. And humanism without God (just like anything without God) can turn against God and, ultimately, against humanity. We might even be bold enough to say God sets the standards of the universe, and not humans.

Of course, I can never think of God's commandments without thinking of the two most important:

"1. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.

2. Love your neighbor as yourself."

Then it hit me: What is the "measure" employed in these commandments? How do you know you've kept them?

It's us. However big a human's heart, mind, soul, and strength, that is exactly how much that human is supposed to love God. However much and in whatever ways a human loves him/herself, that is how much that human is supposed to love his/her neighbor.

Are human beings the measure of all things? That might be an intractable question! Even still, it's an interesting hypothesis, and seems to be true (in some sense) when it comes to God's top two commandments.

Believe, believe, and believe

Happy 100th post!

It seems to me that Christians and scientists both become very upset around the word "believe." Here are three possible meanings that word can have:

1. "Do you believe in evolution?" In this question (presumably posed by a creationist), "believe in XYZ" means something like, "to think think idea XYZ is true." But the scientist's answer to this question is always, "No," because that's not what a scientist means when (s)he uses the word "believe." Because the scientist (typically) considers that the theoretical, observational, & experimental research that has gone into developing, confirming, and refining the evolutionary model has been sufficiently rigorous to justifiably warrant (nay, necessitate) a certainty in the model. Belief is not necessary, the scientist says (perhaps in a scoffing tone), because of sufficient supporting evidence.

2. "Do you believe in God?" In this question (presumably posed by a scientist), "believe in XYZ" means something like, "to hold idea XYZ to be true, regardless of a lack of evidence." A Christian would technically answer this question with, "yes," but this is not what Christians mean when they say they "believe in God"---or, if they're feeling specific---when they say they "have faith in God." To paraphrase James's warning, "You believe there is one God. Good for you! Of course, even the demons believe and tremble, and that faith does them no good!" Believing that God exists, Christianity says (perhaps in a chilling tone), gets you nowhere.

3. "Do you believe God?" I am eternally thankful to a good friend from summer project (hosted by what was then known as Campus Crusade for Christ) for pointing out this distinction. When Christians (usually) say that they believe in God, they mean that they "believe God"---"trust God." Far from "belief" in evolution (which is no belief at all), and from ascent to God's existence (which even the Father of Lies admits), Christian belief is an orientation of the heart, mind, and will. Christian belief is "banking our hopes" (thanks to John Piper for that one) on all that Jesus is and all that He has done for us. Trusting God, Christianity says (definitely in a hopeful and eager tone), changes everything.

So, how can we (Christians, scientists, those in the intersection of those sets, and those not in either set) be more careful with the concept of belief?

What do we need from campus ministries?

On Wednesday of this week, I had a great chat with a good friend of mine who is heading up a city-wide campus ministry under the auspices of the United Methodist Church. He asked a question I've not been asked:

How can our ministry serve the faculty at this university?

The sky's the limit! I thought in response, with a quirky smile. I told him I would dream up possibilities and let him know.

I have some ideas of how I'd like to answer this question, but I'd like to hear what others think. How do you think a campus ministry can serve the faculty of their university?

Not supposed to be here

I've been greatly enjoying the Bible reading plan for slackers & shirkers. I find it gives me time to think about what I read, since I don't rush through each book but still have something to read every day.

A few weeks ago, I read about the Gibeonites, crafty fellows who conned their way into the Israelite community to avoid being destroyed. These were people who weren't supposed to be there. Joshua had orders from God to eliminate the people of Canan---a hotly debated topic that seems tempered by the striking observation that God never seems to condemn the Israelites for letting them live or the Gibeonites for deceiving Joshua.

Granted, Joshua 9:14-15 says that "The Israelites... did not inquire of the LORD. Then Joshua made a treaty of peace with them to let them live." But if this is supposed to be a condemning commentary, it sure is weak (especially given the many scathing indictments of some of Israel's actions).

Also granted, the Gibeonites played a pretty mean trick on Israel. But again, there's not really any condemning commentary on their actions.

In fact, Joshua 21:44 concludes the military campaign with, "The LORD gave them rest on every side according to all He had sworn to their fathers. None of their enemies were able to stand against them, for the LORD handed over all their enemies to them," making it seem like the Gibeonite deception was how God delivered His people from them as an enemy.

Regardless of one's take on how the Gibeonite debacle could have/should have unfolded, the point is that these folks were not supposed to be there. And once they were in the community, they were in. (Consider God's vengeance for the Gibeonites that Saul killed.) They may have spent the rest of their lives feeling like and being treated like outsiders, but they were in.

I think Christian faculty often feel the same way---both in their universities and in their churches (though hopefully none of used any trickery to get here!). We're not "supposed" to be in either place, but we are, because this is where God---just as sovereign as He was over the Gibeonite incident---wants us to be.

The kind of books we need right now

I receive a number of wall posts on facebook with recommendations or queries about whether I’ve read a certain book relating Christianity to science. Some are theologically conservative, some liberal; some are Scripture-based, some science-based, and some philosophy-based; some address the higher education setting, and some grade school; some take the tactic of setting up a conversation between “science” and “religion,” while others take a very hostile stand behind their well-drawn lines.



I’ll admit: I haven’t read most of these books. But I do think they all have something important in common: They’re not what we need right now.


Take, for example, a recent recommendation: Tipler’s The Physics of Christianity. The book description on amazon reads:

A highly respected physicist demonstrates that the essential beliefs of Christianity are wholly consistent with the laws of physics.


Frank Tipler takes an exciting new approach to the age-old dispute about the relationship between science and religion in The Physics of Christianity. In reviewing centuries of writings and discussions, Tipler realized that in all the debate about science versus religion, there was no serious scientific research into central Christian claims and beliefs. So Tipler embarked on just such a scientific inquiry. The Physics of Christianity presents the fascinating results of his pioneering study.

Tipler begins by outlining the basic concepts of physics for the lay reader and brings to light the underlying connections between physics and theology. In a compelling example, he illustrates how the God depicted by Jews and Christians, the Uncaused First Cause, is completely consistent with the Cosmological Singularity, an entity whose existence is required by physical law. His discussion of the scientific possibility of miracles provides an impressive, credible scientific foundation for many of Christianity’s most astonishing claims, including the Virgin Birth, the Resurrection, and the Incarnation. He even includes specific outlines for practical experiments that can help prove the validity of the “miracles” at the heart of Christianity.


Tipler’s thoroughly rational approach and fully accessible style sets The Physics of Christianity apart from other books dealing with conflicts between science and religion. It will appeal not only to Christian readers, but also to anyone interested in an issue that triggers heated and divisive intellectual and cultural debates.

Aside from the Babel fish argument, here's my issue with works like this: "he illustrates how the God depicted by Jews and Christians, the Uncaused First Cause, is completely consistent with the Cosmological Singularity, an entity whose existence is required by physical law." Physical law "requires" the existence of just about (and probably absolutely) nothing. I'm no cosmologist, but a quick literature search for "cosmological singularity" (whatever it is; again, I'm no cosmologist) shows that its necessity is far from certain in the physics community, but this author thinks it sounds like Christianity, so he latches onto it with unwarranted certainty. (Granted, Tipler has published about the cosmological singularity, so his subscription to it as a true idea is understandable to some degree.)

(By the way, Reasons to Believe does the exact same thing with Scripture: Whatever verses sound like physical law, they say, must have definitive physical significance, while neighboring verses that almost seem to contradict physical law must be metaphorical.)


What I think we really need at this point is an agreed-upon framework of Christian scholarship that can direct our investigations and undergird our discussions. Is it Christ-like, for example, to co-opt an uncertain and unproven physical theory (in this case, the cosmological singularity) to give the Christian masses an artificial sense of certainty? What happens, then, when that physical theory is definitively disproven? Didn't the church do the same thing when it latched onto Aristotelian astronomy that placed the earth at the center of the universe and the planets and sun in perfectly circular orbits? That certainly didn't end well.


I'm not saying a study like Tipler's isn't worthwhile, and I'm not saying you shouldn't buy his book. I applaud what I think are his genuine intentions to encourage Christians and heal some of the damage between Christianity and science. But I think that a healthy framework of Christian scholarship is a prerequisite to studies such as this one. The damage is not just a conceptual discord between a few tenants of Christianity and a few scientific principles; there is also a vast intellectual, emotional, and cultural rift between the university and the church (which are both rifted from the main culture) that requires some serious structural undergirding if it's ever going to be bridged. I think that framework can be developed (if Christian scholars will put their minds and hearts and publications to it) and I think that rift can be bridged with that framework as a foundation.
 
What needs to go in that framework? What kinds of foundational questions about Christian scholarship do we need to address to make works like Tipler's timely? Well... what do you think?

Pray for us... on October 15

So glad to get back to the blogosphere! As the fall semester ramps up (mine starts this week), I'm asking for readers to pray for Christian faculty, and faculty & teachers in general... on October 15.

Why October 15? Well, let's take a journey...

I once asked for prayer for effective first impressions for the sake of the gospel just before the semester began. I might ask for the same thing this semester, but since then, I've come to realize two things...

1. While many Christians will pray for professors & teachers at the beginning of the semester, there's at least a small sentiment among non-academics that says something like, "Pray for them? Didn't they just have the entire summer/all of December off?" (Granted, anyone who has talked to me over the last four months knows I didn't have an easygoing summer after being asked by my university to serve as Blackboard administrator.) I'm not going to address the issues of nine-month versus twelve-month contracts and hourly pay versus salary and limited classroom access and the need to catch up on scholarly expectations that impact teachers' and professors' lives, but I will acknowledge that, to an outsider, it probably does seem a little odd for us to feel such a weighty need after summer, and that we typically do come at the beginning of the academic year with renewed energy.

2. While the beginning of the year is important, as I mentioned above, we do generally come at it with a relatively high level of energy. And here's the second thing I realized: The other time (besides the beginning) that Christians typically call for prayer for teachers & professors is at the end of the semester or academic year. "Lord, help them to finish well," I've heard more than one pastor/elder pray. This most recent year, though, it occurred to me, "I started finishing around the middle of the semester. That's when I needed prayer and support."

The middle of the semester is when the despair sets in, when you stare down the gaping chasm of how ineffective you've been this semester (prompted by mid-term grades, students asking the same questions every week, students asking no questions every week, receiving last semester's course evaluations, realizing that you haven't budged on that to-do list on your board while tenure evaluation creeps closer), leading to the existential crisis of wondering if this pursuit is worth spending your life on. The situation never really is as bad as you feel, but that feeling (as my wife likes to remind me) is real. The end of the semester actually has a natural burst of energy thanks to the relief of escaping that chasm once more, such that the low point in motivation and energy and faith is somewhere in the middle.

So, this semester, I'm asking you to pray for teachers & professors... on October 15. If you want to pray for them now, that's super! But around about October 15 is when we'll need it in a very poignant way. So, go ahead and open your calendar, create a new appointment, set the date for October 15 (If you make it an all day event, be sure to set the reminder for a non-integer number of days, so it won't ding at midnight.), and maybe even paste in the link to this article.

And if you feel like it, maybe set aside some time that day to take out a teacher or professor you know (whom you probably won't have seen very often when October 15 rolls around) for lunch or dinner or coffee. (Breakfast is great, too, but be prepared to wake up early...) There's a major criticism of prayer these days that those who believe in prayer don't actually do anything to help the situation they're praying about. (I have a good deal of empathy for this criticism, but that's another topic for another day.) If you're praying for teachers & faculty to be encouraged and energized, offering time with a friend outside the academic world is a great way to be an answer to your own prayer request.

Well, I need to go open my calendar to October 15...

Here's what I said...

Earlier this week, I posted about how I was given the opportunity to deliver the invocation and benediction prayers at my university's faculty recognition dinner. I appreciate the feedback and prayers that so many friends supported me with.

Below is the text of what I prayed. The invocation is mostly selections from Ecclesiastes; I wrote the benediction as a response to the question, "What do I want to pray for?" After writing them, I realized that they are almost exactly what I would have prayed at a Christian event, which encouraged me that I was being genuine. I received a lot of positive feedback and thanks from my colleagues afterward, which encouraged me that I had served them and honored them. (Of course, if anyone was offended, I doubt they would have said so right at the end of the event!)

Invocation:

A person can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in their own work. This, I see, is from the hand of God, for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment?

What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race [and university faculty in particular]. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their work—[all their teaching, all their scholarship, and all their university service]—this is the gift of God.

And so, God, I pray that tonight would be a time of encouragement, rest, and renewal, so that we could bring to a satisfying finish this academic year of opportunities that You’ve given to us. Amen.

Benediction:

God, I thank you for all of the reasons we have to celebrate tonight.

Thank you for colleagues like Captain Terrell* and [new POY]** who exhibit such care for their students and enthusiasm for their fields.

Thank you for our administrators and staff who guide this university.

And thank you for the opportunity to interact with the world you have created and the students that you have brought our way. Give us a weekend of good rest and the strength and passion to finish this semester well. Amen.

*2010-2011 Professor of the Year

**2011-2012 Professor of the Year, named just minutes before the benediction

What would you say?

This week, I was asked to deliver the invocation and benediction at my university's faculty recognition dinner (taking place Friday, 3/25). This honor typically falls to a Dean/VP/someone-way-higher-up-than-a-pretenure-faculty-member.

Such an activity always presents an interesting choice (for people of all faiths or no faith): If I pray specifically after my own faith, I run the risk of alienating and/or offending others; however, if I make a vague "catch-all" prayer, I feel personally insincere (and run the risk of alienating and/or offending those of my faith).

To describe it another way, I have to ask myself the questions: Have I built up enough trust with my colleagues that, if I pray specifically to my own faith, they will trust me to not be proselytizing? Or do I still need to build up their trust by not running the risk of offending them?

I have an idea of how I'll take this opportunity to "be all things to all people;" please pray that I'll have a clear sense of how to do so and deliver honor where honor is due.

I'd also like to see what the blogosphere thinks. (Yes, this is a can of worms, but you need those to catch fish.) So, what would you say?

Writing Season

("Wighting Season," for Elmer Fudd?)

For me, this semester has been the Semester of the Paper. Not the Semester of One Singular Paper (if only life were that simple, anymore), but the Semester of the Idea of the Paper. I am teaching a Physics Seminar course, with the goal of publishing an article with the students; I have worked on two versions of a paper (one addressed to a research mentor and one written with that mentor as a coauthor) about the same project (whose pilot study I haven't yet finished); I have reviewed a paper (on a completely different type of topic) from a collaborator in another state; I've written & submitted a grant proposal about a third project and am preparing a paper proposal about that same project; and, the Monday after Spring Break, I have to submit an abstract (and oversee a student's abstract) to a summer meeting. If you take a look at my whiteboard at home (well, one of my whiteboards at home), you'll see an even longer list of writing projects for the summer.

It always amazes me how the writing process does not necessarilly mirror the research process. A project that failed miserably at each step and was salvaged at the last minute by switching around research goals can sound like a masterpiece; on the other hand, a project that was well planned, well researched, and conducted exactly as scheduled can still come to a screeching hault at the very end and prove to be unsalvagable and unpublishable.

We as Christians base our faith on the result of many individuals' writing processes; no Christians I know of believe that the Bible's authors were somehow mystically guided through some perfection-inducing trance. It would seem that the biblical authors were very much themselves when they wrote these texts. What was Paul's planning & revision process (either on paper or in his head) like when he wrote his letter to the Romans? (Or, given his predeliction for interrupting himself to venture onto tangents, did he not plan & revise at all?) How often did Luke have to revise his outline & thesis as he interviewed witnesses? What kind of sifting process did Solomon go through to pick out & organize Proverbs?

It's amazing to think that, in all of these different writing styles & personal approaches to writing, God crafted together a set of materials for us to base our faith & lives on.

Broadening our sympathy to deter hopelessness

Last week, I posed the question of what motivation leads to withdrawal (and ultimately dissipation), based on the thesis of The Fabric of Faithfulness that a burden of responsibility leads to engagement (and ultimately multiplication).

The answer (as usual) was to keep reading...

[T]he years between adolescence and adulthood are a tumultuous time, anywhere and everywhere. Many students, perhaps most, emerge from their university experience ready to take on the world; the idealism of youth, we call it. But then somewhere along the way the reality of life in the fast lane of adult responsibility hits--sometimes like a ton of bricks, sometimes like acid rain. In a thousand ways they see how hard it is to be faithful to family, at work, in politics. Day in an day out they experience disappointments in every part of life--every part of life--and see how hard it is to be hopeful (and therefore responsible) actors in human history as they try to be neighbors to those next door and to those around the world. --The Fabric of Faithfulness, page 33 (italics is Garber's; underlines are mine)

So, it would seem that disappointment (bred by hardship) leads to hopelessness which induces an abandoning of responsibility--AKA withdrawal.

And it seems to me that we make the disappointment more painful and the hopelessness bleaker when we are sensitive only to hardships that are similar to those with which we are familiar. How often do we hear of someone's struggle in life, only to respond with, "Well, you're not as far along as I am, so you've got it easy?" (And how many times have we used that response on a student!)

Garber says that cultivating responsibility requires a community who cares. So, how can we expand our range of sympathy to include those in our community whose struggles seem foreign to us?

Responsibility leads to engagement, ??? leads to withdrawal

The Emerging Scholars Blog is hosting a discussion of Steven Garber's The Fabric of Faithfulness. I read this book a couple years ago, and am enjoying a reread.

One of the main themes (or, at least, how I would word it) of the book is that a burden of responsibility leads to engagement. My wife Amy and I were discussing this theme last night, and considered how such responsibility-based engagement, when pursued in a healthy community of fellow engagers, leads to a multiplicative cascade. The "community of fellow engagers" is one of the three goals that Garber encourages his readers to pursue (along with a worldview that inspires responsibility and a mentor to nurture that worldview).

We pictured the process as:

responsibility --> engagement --> multiplication/cascade

Yet many Christians and churches seem to exhibit disengagement, and feel their energies being sapped and dissipated. We came to the question of, "If a burden of responsibility leads to engagement, what kind of motivation leads to withdrawal?" In other words, what would replace ??? in the picture:

??? --> withdrawal --> sapping/dissipation?

What do you think?

Encouragement Mistiming

It's Week 8 of the semester - The week when...

• ...my students have learned all the skills they need to learn, but have to be reminded daily that they still apply.
• ...I have to lay down the law with some students and challenge them to manage their time better.
• ...I have to tell some students that they should consider withdrawing from a course.
• ...any special projects I wanted to start but haven't will have to wail until another semester.

This is the point in the semester when I have the greatest need of encouragement...

...and yet it's when encouragement is at its lowest. The irony is that those outside the educational world tend to think of offering encouragement at the very beginning of the semester (when we're running on the steam of excitement) or at the very end (when we've given up steam on the present semester and are hoping for a better run next time).

When have you experienced an encouragement mistiming?

Have we been here before?

This past weekend, my wife and I discussed our level of interaction during the day, concluding that it was not enough. I pointed out that I have a good fifteen minutes in the morning during which I eat breakfast, get dressed, and gather my things for the day--during all of which she could interact with me if she woke up about half an hour earlier than has usually her custom since she started law school.

This morning, she got out of bed as I was fixing for myself a bow of cereal. I offered to fix her a bowl, but (with one eye opened) she replied that it was too early for her to eat. So, I ate my breakfast while she sat beside me with one eye opened.

Suddenly, I heard the "whooshing" sound of a LOST flashback. "We've been here before," I said, "only last time, it was in reverse."

Five years ago, when we first got married, I was the one in graduate school and she was the working stiff. She asked me to wake up early enough to eat breakfast with her. I would wake up, but usually felt it was "too early to eat" (granted, this was 7:15 instead of 6:45), and so I would sit silently next to her while she (wide awake) ate her breakfast.

I pointed this out to her this morning. Suddenly (five years later), we understood each other.

When have you seen roles reversed, leading to a greater understanding of another person from earlier in your life?

Emotional Flashcards

I've posted a couple times about my emotional flashcards project. Here are some pictures of the cards in action...

I see this card more often than I'd like--but at least they're not frustrated!

This student often has trouble making up her mind how she feels... At least she's not bored or anxious!

Emotional Flashcards, Take 1!

Here's a picture of my first batch of emotional flashcards:

The front side lists the emotion; the back lists a short definition, a three-letter summary (e.g., "Grr!" for frustration). The students hold up the appropriate card when they feel its emotion.

The students used them in class on Tuesday. A few observations...

1. I cannot describe how deeply my heart sank when I got my first white card ("BORED")!
2. I cannot describe how high my heart jumped when I got my first purple card ("CURIOUS")!
3. Some students try to hold up three at a time! The use of clickers will alleviate that possibility...

Trying a second round on Thursday...

[Back after a while] An exciting new project!

Wow--what a whirlwind few months I've had. I'm glad to finally have some time to post again, and I'm hoping to post more regularly this semester.

I'm very excited for tomorrow: I'm going to try out a new in-class strategy that came to me last week during the American Association of Physics Teachers meeting. I'll post pictures later, but I've created a set of emotional/affect flashcards (or "emoticards" as I'm calling them for now) that depict the top 6 emotions that students seem to experience while studying physics. The students will be able to hold up these cards during class discussion to indicate to me how they're feeling about the material. (Fans of The Big Bang Theory will find this idea strikingly familiar.)

I'm looking forward to seeing how it goes!