My Christmas Carol

Some Christmas movies can be watched several times throughout the season; the light ones, the funny ones. But usually just once a year I get out a DVD of A Christmas Carol. I have seen and enjoyed the animated version and I know there are untold renditions, but my favorite version of the miser is portrayed by George C. Scott.
Scott sinks deep and dark into the role. The first version I ever heard was the Disney version with Scrooge McDuck and Goofy as Jacob Marley (some of the quotes are still stuck in my head) and perhaps set the tone for what I thought of as the character of Ebenezer Scrooge: cranky, miserly and in need of an attitude adjustment and some perspective.  But Scott gives us a usurer who has grown first flippant, then arrogant, then bitter and as we find him snarling at his nephew, we find that bitterness has metastasized into a malignant malevolence that glitters in his eyes and crackles in his mirthless laugh. The timeless words "If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips should be boiled in his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart." are relieved of their gruff humor and tinged with an almost sinister ill will.  And when Fred extends his Christmas dinner invitation, Scott's Scrooge does not brush him off with the air of someone who is ill at ease, but with a cool contempt, "I'd sooner see you in hell."
His interaction with the gentlemen collecting for charity has that same active hostility, and his dealing with his colleagues at the exchange show his greatest joy in life is conniving and squeezing.
Even as he begins his baptism by fire into the world of spirits with the arrival of Jacob Marley, he is defiant and sarcastic. Marley's overwhelming overriding of Scrooge's analytical dismissal as he screams "MAN OF THE WORLDLY MIND, DO YOU BELIEVE IN ME OR NOT??!!!"" is quickly forgotten, like a man who quakes at fire and brimstone in the pew while the last verse of There's A Great Day Coming plays and then finds the sweat quickly cooling on his brow after the dismissal in the foyer.   He goes to sleep uncomfortable, but hopeful that it was, after all, an undigested bit of beef.
He is brusque with the Ghost of Christmas Past. His coal-fired exterior does begin to show some cracks when presented with his days as a young man. You see him trying to make something of the coldness of his father, and you see him pitying his young neglected self. You even see him express surprise at the Ghost's strategic dismissal of Old Fezziwig and insist that his old employer was a kind taskmaster. Such are the memories of the bitter. The irony never presents itself to them. And then, when she begins to press him to make the hypocrisy apparent, he grows angry and demands to be left alone.
The stroke of two finds him a bit more apprehensive, but as the tone dies away, and no spirit presents itself, he begins to sneer at Old Marley's promise of a second visitor. He is slightly more sheepish in the company of the Ghost of Christmas Present. As their voyeuristic travels take them through the homes of his clerk Cratchit and his nephew Fred, he is dismayed at how people see him, then defensive. A positive sense of pity begins to invade his empty soul when he is shown the homeless family cooking potatoes that fell from a produce wagon, and then the sneering, mocking Ghost eviscerates him with his own words "Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses??"
As the Ghost of Christmas Present leaves him in the dark, Ebenezer begins to do what we have all done with our Creator at some point. He begins to bargain. He is no longer the one calling the shots at the exchange, he now has something to lose. He has had to admit to himself that he has been self-centered, and myopic, and needs to do better. His offers of meeting the Spirits halfway, however, fall into the empty blackness. The Spirit of Christmas Present isn't coming back, and he is alone.

And then comes grace, the amazing grace that the slaver John Newton tells us taught his heart to fear.
The black, hooded skeletal herald, lacking only a scythe, stands motionless and mute as Ebenezer turns, knowing and dreading what will he will behold. The Ghost of Christmas To Come holds every card, and Ebenezer obeys his silent bidding, quaking with an almost paralyzing fear. As he witnesses the callous, but perhaps justified, reaction of his colleagues at the exchange at the passing of a peer, as he expresses distaste and outrage at the auction of his worldly goods in a seedy pawn shop, we know he must know. But he refuses to follow logical conclusions. 
It is only at his own tomb that the bitter, hateful, selfish old man sees he has nothing to give in exchange for his soul. It is only now, that his ultimate fate is sealed, barring the death of himself, that we find him, and he finds himself, on his knees. The pride has melted and is literally gushing from him in sobs and pleas. I remember that moment. I remember when I first had to die. There is no agony like it. No humiliation equal. And there is also no shorter measurement of time between agony and relief, no equal comparison between night and day, than when Scrooge awakens to find the snow covered tombstone to be the rug on his bedchamber floor and the night of his death to be the morning of his and his Savior's birth.
I tear up. Every time.  The weightlessness of his unburdened soul threatens to release him from the surly gravitational bonds of earth to soar to the face of God. And I remember just how amazing grace really is.

In Further Defense of Respect For the Individual

It may seem counter-intuitive in a world where there is so much entitlement, but I believe too little is made of the individual. As always, my views on this are rooted in my belief in God. I believe that God created us with a free will. Consider free will. It is a terrifying, bewildering, exhilarating power. God has endured much questioning from Man through the Ages as to why He would endow such a hapless creature with such a power, seeing the trouble it has caused. But that power is our crowning glory. Without it, we would be indistinguishable from the rest of the biological organisms on this planet. God had His reasons, which are not to be confused with our finite "reason", for creating a biped out of dust and giving him and her such a liability. And He has profound respect for the free will He gave us. In fact, He will not override us when we make the ultimate bad decision, and reject Him.
It seems to me that if God respects the power of our choices, we should do no less.
But in so many ways, we are quick to try to save individuals from themselves. There is absolutely a place for concern, and advice and possibly intervention when an individual is on the wrong path.
But this is not, or should not be, in the wheelhouse of the state.
We live too large, having opinions about things that do not affect us, whether it's halfway across the country or halfway around the world. We earnestly discuss foreign policy, foreign aid, with most of us having no firsthand perspective of that which we speak. There are very real problems, certainly, across the globe, and it is not as if our opinions have no effect. In fact, the average American voter probably hasn't considered how much their opinion, or their apathy matters. Opinion polls drive politicians to do the things they do, and voting, although it seems like frustrated impotence at times, does have an effect. It plays a part in electing officials who will make decisions that will actually directly affect those halfway around the world, or maybe just in the next state.
But the problem is, the more removed you are from the consequences of your opinions or your votes, the easier it is to be careless. The well-intentioned Republican voter may insist that an omnipresent American military presence is best for the world, but that would in many cases involve disregarding the aforementioned respect we should have for other individuals, even if they are halfway around the world, and even if they do often behave in a manner that perplexes us. We may at times offer assistance where an obvious grievous crime such as genocide is being committed, but the exit strategy should be immediate.
Now, the principle of making decisions about situations that don't directly affect you has another side. A well-intentioned liberal may insist that our aid to foreign, especially undeveloped nations should be large and perpetual. How could generosity ever be wrong? Once again, if you disrespect an individual, in this case by insisting they are helpless, you will, in the long view do more harm than good. Teach a man to fish and all that. You need only consider the widespread view of America as "arrogant." Many conservatives sneer that foreign countries are happy to take our money, but hypocritically see our military interference in their localities as arrogant. But I would argue that it IS our aid, as much as our interference, that they view as arrogant. That doesn't mean they won't take the money, but how many people on welfare here in America have no opinion about intrusive government? Very few. Just because it's ironic, doesn't mean they don't hold the two contradictory ideas and never consider the contradiction. Here in America, many of the areas of the country that receive the most government assistance often vote in a way that could be and is interpreted as anti-government.

Random Post

So I like to think about abstract stuff. This is not necessarily indicative of any great capacity to understand or even communicate what I don't understand, but it's where my mind constantly goes; just beyond the limit of my credulity.
I suppose that many (possibly most) thinkers on things mysterious are so inclined because they have a need to understand, almost a need to gain a measure of mental and/or emotional control. In fact, this is likely the very reason for so many of the landmark logical concepts, creeds, rules, laws, syllogisms and premises that give topography to the epistemological map that exists thus far. Many of the men whose thought processes I treasure and admire were problem solvers.
But that's not me.
What I dread most is a world that makes complete sense.
Often simple observations about a personal quirk of mine are what leads me to self-discovery and this is no exception.
I lay here on the living room couch in the wee hours, having fallen asleep early and thrown off my inscrutable REM cycle.
The Christmas tree is up, and is swaddled in lights that twinkle. I love these kinds of lights. It makes a Christmas tree interesting in and of itself. But I found myself trying not to notice whether there was any particular pattern to the twinkling. Even now I don't know but I sincerely hope there is no pattern (which I realize is unlikely ((electricians, hold your peace)) ) because then this peaceful thought provoking icon would become something I would probably begin to avoid.
I find the twinkling comforting, probably because it's evocative of the unpredictability of flame or lightning. If I were to discover a pattern to it my neuroses would feel manipulated. I don't like being manipulated. I like nature sound white noise UNLESS I can detect a loop. Then I'd much prefer to listen to a live chainsaw. I don't mind the faucet dripping if it's irregular. If it becomes predictable, it will drive me to extreme measures, such as fixing it, or putting in earbuds.
I have also often thought how refreshing it would be to be picked up by a passing tornado.
This is what excites me about the remote outdoors. When I can get in a place that is ruled by randomness, my mind can rest. Trees aren't planted on a grid. Rocks are not arranged. I thank God for wind, and feel at peace when I think of the Spirit of God brooding over the face of the deep, stirring the dead waters, or marching in the treetops as a covert signal to King David.
Chaos comforts me, because I don't understand it.
My soul can find peace, not always on the surface, but in the Mariana Trench, because I know my God is fierce, often brutal to my finite sympathies, far beyond my heavens and earth, limitless, eternally just beyond the limits of my understanding.
The song says We'll understand it better by and by.
May it please God, I sincerely hope not.

Thomas Wolfe Was Only Half Right

I just got back from my hometown. When you haven't been home for 16 years, and you're the least bit introspective, you expect various and sundry epiphanic moments. The problem with expecting them is that they are predetermined to a degree, and influenced by years of gathering nostalgia, and nostalgia is notorious for it's sepia saturation filter. The traumatic times aren't forgotten, but they are appropriated to your attempts to make sense of your life, a tone or direction to the narrative of you.
So intellectual, emotional honesty can be elusive, or at least, if, as I said, you are the least bit, or as in my case, overly introspective.
But Duncan, Oklahoma is, naturally smaller, and also flatter than I remember.
Hills as landmarks was a sometimes misleading method of navigation.
My memory seemed to adopt the same effect as binoculars, as when you raise the glasses to your eyes to examine a distant hill and find it dramatically steeper.
This is disappointing.
It also makes me wonder what a West Kansan prodigal experiences upon his arrival back home.
That particular area of Oklahoma, though, is unique. In fact, you leave the exact terrain and flora to which I refer by traveling 30 miles in any direction. The post and blackjack oaks that I knew were small even as a boy seem to lose their stark  peculiarity toward Lawton, or Texas.
The hills are the same. They seem deliberately miniaturized, like a 1:2 scale model of the greater Great Plains.
I did some walking in the fields, remembering sharp smells of weeds and soil. In vain I looked for the specific weed that often held a small ball of foam in the crook of trunk and branch that was home to an even smaller caterpillar. I remembered trying to duplicate this phenomenon by spitting on many a weed, only to see it drip away, revealing no caterpillar.
I heard bluejays and crows predominate the fowl of the air. Wished it was night long ago before the whippoorwills vanished, leaving a vacuum of audial lonesomeness against the white noise of crickets and tree frogs, like percussion with no melody.
I drove through a town whose streets were shortened and whose houses were subtracted from my bigger memory.
Memorially, downtown was an almost endless parade of individual storefronts, many of which I remember walking past in the dead of night, with my Dad on his downtown security route.
Now, as I drove slowly  by, irritably aware of the irritated drivers behind me, I realized that all my remembered significance would pass by in a disinterested blur for anyone who wasn't born here or who never moved.
The library, shrouded in my remembrances as a venerable, benevolently haunted edifice with aisles as distinct and definitive as the Great Wall of China, delineating children's fiction from inscrutable reference tomes, physically haunted by an elderly bald man with a waxed handlebar mustache against which all handlebar mustaches I have ever seen are measured, is now an insurance agency. Ironically, it houses the agency that once resided in the much larger building out on Highway 81 that now hosts the library. Happily, it seems that apparently books have multiplied in an inverse proportion to insurance agents.

Christian Libertarianism

Worldviews change. I prefer to say mine has distilled. Whether or not that is an obfuscation you can only decide for yourself. I have always called my self a conservative, and reluctantly allowed that such a designation, for better or worse, meant I was a Republican. That reluctance is retroactively telling. My reluctance had little to do with the usual accusations leveled at the GOP of being white, rich and out of touch. It had more to do with distrust of any large organization, whether political, civil, ecumenical, etc. And it also had a lot to do with the lack of conviction that was obvious to me. As I grew older, and the ebb and flow of politics became apparent to me, my disgust and distrust mounted. Nothing actually changed, or if it did, it didn't stay changed. It became obvious that survival was the primary aim of almost every politician in which I placed any hope. And for survival, compromise was necessary, usually at the critical juncture, when something decisive was in play. Show votes, faux outrage on the floor of the House and Senate; that was as far as even the most passionate ideologue was willing to go.  I lost it when the Republicans wasted a huge majority in both houses. That was when the meme of Republicans out of power (Rottweiler) and Republicans in power (Chihuahua) became popular. I didn't find it funny. I changed my voter registration to Independent; a symbolic gesture, to be sure, a fist into a brick wall, impotent rage. (Although it does help to announce it on Facebook.) In the year following, with every passing month, my vindication was more and more obvious.
But other things began to dawn on me. Some may find it funny, and it is, in a way, that a battle of wills with our HOA was the beginning of the crystallization of my creeping libertarianism. To make a long story short, at the one and only meeting I attended, I heard about things like uniform mailboxes, not using a sheet in your window, and this was so other people in the neighborhood wouldn't have to look at something unpleasant. It's funny, but it's also a small scale view of how most people think. My neighbor shouldn't do something that makes me unhappy. (Needless to say, the people at that meeting who weren't there because they were mad, were quite likely over-representing this busybody mentality. It was sleeting, and most people were at home, watching the Wildcats play basketball. There were two demographics there. Busybodies, and people mad at the busybodies. The hot-button issue was pushed to a mail-out ballot. Almost no one in the neighborhood responded. The policy stood, but the administration wisely read the mood of some of the more ticked off residents, and neglected to continue to try to enforce it.) 
But the point is, that there was a minority of busybodies, and a vast majority of people who just didn't care. But the idea that I should be forced to accommodate easily offended neighbors even INSIDE my own home got under my skin. When we first we moved to that neighborhood, I was even somewhat enamored of the idea that there were rules that would keep rednecks from trashing the place up. A few years later, I had made a complete reversal. There was a house down on the corner that went months without lawn maintenance. I told my wife that once upon a time, I might have considered bringing this up with the HOA. Now, I told her, I'd cut my own head off before I'd do that. She said she hoped it didn't come to that.
This simple microcosm of the country pushed my limited government views far past the politically expedient neocon views and all the way into a cautious libertarianism.
Events conspired to distill my views on foreign policy, criminal justice, government surveillance, gun control, and even abortion.
I now feel I am more consistent. I will explain as best I can.
I think it's important that a worldview be as consistent as possible an outgrowth of your most deeply held beliefs. I am a Christian before I am anything else (which, by the way, precludes any unchristianization of professing Christians who hold other political views, within reason).
Jesus died for me. Jesus died for you. Jesus did not die for us. God created individuals. God did not create Adam and Eve as prototypes for mass production. He knits each of us together in our mother's wombs; a true original, every last one of us. We are born to immortality, an astounding thought of God. That should be humbling as well as inspiring. Every person is as valuable to God as Adam, His first image. Your self worth is entirely dependent upon your Creator, and as such, is beyond estimation.
In materialism, or physicalism, a person's intrinsic value is dependent on another. In a vacuum, the individual is worthless. He/she must have some consciousness or self-awareness apparent to another person, and thus, have an effect on someone else. Materialists feel that they have the collective intellectual authority to establish personhood. If a man lived and died alone on an empty planet, he was pointless, and effectually non-existent, like the tree in the forest that was not heard falling. A person, theoretically, is of no value or consequence. Only people matter. People can impact one another. People can agree, if only tacitly, on very basic concepts of acceptable and unacceptable. People can have morality. People can have knowledge. People are an end in it's collective self, with no reason for being, other than perpetuation. But that is enough, for them.
There need be no transcendent Cause for the effect of Being.
There can be no denying the fact that God created us as a social animal. We are dependent on others for companionship, for love, for goods and services, but not for intrinsic value. This is the key difference. And this is the foundation for my views, which I will be trying to address, and address "individually."