Thursday, August 20, 2009

Jesus vs. Some Rocks: My Feeble Apologetics



I was watching the Discovery channel the other night and saw a show that touched briefly on the whole debate centered around the age of the earth. Science's suggested older earth vs. the Bible's suggested (relatively) newer earth. And I certainly don't have the answer to that question. I know some folks get hung up with their belief when it comes to the age of the earth, evolution and other stuff like that, but for me, it just doesn't affect my daily life. Personally, I need Jesus because I am a sinner, not because I need some way to understand geology, biology, and the evolution habits of tiny fruit flies. I'm more interested in who made the earth and why.

However, one chain of logic that I hear often from the non-creation group that kind of irks me was featured in the show I was watching, and that's what I want to focus on here. I'm not blaming the show, you hear this explanation all the time. It goes something like this: When scientists discovered they could look at rocks and learn from their erosion and carbon dating processes they also learned that the rocks would have taken years to form their fjord or canyon-like shapes. They were roughly able to tell how long the rocks had been there. So the show claimed, as others do, that the Bible's description of a younger earth was totally proved wrong and the very idea that a creator was involved in making the earth began to be challenged more and more.

But that logic just doesn't work. The rock theory tells you how long it would take the rocks to form that way over time-- ON THEIR OWN. Creationism means there's a Creator involved, right? One that creates things. Makes them happen. Sure, it would take a stream or a river centuries to carve out a new Grand Canyon. But what if someone is causing it to happen? Forcing the river down into the dirt like an sculptor gouges his clay? Creationists assume there's another factor in the equation. God. You can't take that factor out in order to prove that it's not true. It's the very center of the Creationism argument.

I'm not saying therefore Creationism is right, I'm just saying that argument doesn't work for me.

Here's another way I sometimes look at it: God is the author of the world. Tolkien created Middle Earth in the 1930s. But it was created with a vast history of characters that spanned back for eons, ages and ages of folklore, and a well-lived in, ancient land. Why couldn't a creator create something new with a history that already exists? What if he wanted the rocks to look that way, so the best way to do it was to have them worn down for a long time, but since he's God and he can make an aardvark with wings if he wanted to, he could also skip the wearing down process. He could make new rocks that looked however he wanted them to look. A little far-fetched I know, and I don't think that's necessarily the way it happened, but how do I know? We live in a natural place that was supernaturally made, so the regular rules don't apply.

I'm not against science. And I understand why scientists often think they have to remove more intangible elements out of the equation. But one discipline alone is not enough to answer why and how we're here. And science is kind of strange in that it wants to exist on its own without religion or imagination, and gets mad if you like to mix it up with less touch-and-feel-based explorations.

I'm sure there are many levels to this age-old debate that I could never understand. But if you believe in a Creator, you might as well also believe he can create things. If you don't believe in one, then there's plenty of ways to judge the creation on its own and come away empty-handed.

Ironically, the show I was watching was called The Way the Earth was Made.

Monday, August 3, 2009

HOW TO SUCCEED IN ART: A project for someone else.

The other day I spent a nice afternoon in the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Walking around, I noticed something. If you want to be a successful artist, you kind of have to figure out what your “deal” is going to be. I guess that’s kind of obvious, but it was pretty interesting to see that truth coming across in all the different work on display. For instance, in his early days, Mondrian did some really amazing illustrations of chrysanthemums and people and whatnot, but it wasn’t until he focused in on two or three colors and a bunch of lines that folks really started to pay attention. It’s nice to have a hook.


An early Mondrian painting that you don't know about because it's boring.

So, I devised a hook of my own. I’m pretty sure it’s a foolproof way to become a famous artist. The problem with it is that it kind of requires you devote your life to the cause. And I’m pretty sure I’m a little more suited to not doing that. But let me tell you about it just in case you want to take it on as a project. If so, let me know, and we’ll come to some sort of monetary agreement.

Here’s how it would work. First, you would start by having a showing of some paintings in a small art museum somewhere. It doesn’t really matter what gallery, just somewhere big enough to get listed in the local artsy magazines. I think it would be a nice touch to call the show “Bait.” Maybe it’s even abstract renderings of fishhooks or something. It really doesn’t matter. The paintings don’t have to even be very good. The point is that you want someone to write a bad review of your show. And then… you find that critic, and spend the rest of your life painting him, photographing him, making sculptures of him, etc. Not necessarily derogatory paintings. Just him, eating a sandwich. Or sitting on a park bench listening to his iPod. Or surfing. The point is that you would have tons and tons of pieces of him doing tons of things throughout his entire life.

I think, some 50 years later, it would be a must-see exhibit. “Some dude got one bad review and then spent his entire life making art and paintings about the critic who wrote the review. There was even a mobile of the critic making various faces while playing Nintendo.” You would go see it, right?

Anyway, it sounds hard. But kind of awesome. So do it for me, please. I’m fine if you just mention me in the description copy that goes on the wall of the museum. You know, the stuff that only really slow-going museum types will read.

Sunday, March 1, 2009

Lost Mindgrapes

Well, obviously I've been using most of my posts for Lost purposes lately, so I've decided to go ahead and start a separate Lost blog. So those of you who don't care about Lost don't have to read my Lost theories amidst the personal stuff, and vice versa. The new site is:

lostmindgrapes.blogspot.com

Having this site will also allow me to post smaller Lost thoughts without feeling self-conscious about posting so many thoughts about Lost on my personal blog. So, there it is. Check it out and vote on my first poll, too.

Friday, November 14, 2008

Daughter Stories

Robin's into secrets right now. So the other night Erin was tucking her in and told Robin, "I've got a secret." And Robin said "What is it?" And Erin whispered "I love you" in her ear. Then Robin said, "I've got a secret, too". And leaned over to Erin's ear and whispered, "You're the best. AND, if you poo poo in the potty I'll buy you a big present."

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Diary of the last five days.

Wednesday.

One of my best friends is moving away.
Drive to his house to say goodbye, return sunglasses.
Glasses returned; given a speaker for rock shed, manly side hug.
Truck won't start, extending awkward goodbye.
Jumper cables.
Drive to truck repair place.
Sad, stoic.

Thursday.

Hitch ride to work.
Think about L.L. Bean.
Learn truck repair is expensive.
I don't want to think about L.L. Bean.
Have good idea involving mannequins.
Truck is ready.
Hitch ride to truck, ride truck home.
My daughters like to pretend I'm a horse.
Bedtime stories.
Talk with Erin until we're too tired and should be sleeping.
Erin tells me there's two Africa-related events she wants us to go to this weekend.
I'm not 100% into that plan, but have no good reason.
We both fall asleep, kind of grumpy.

Friday.

Five in the morning.
Erin lying on floor in pain.
Erin pacing the house in pain.
I head to the computer.
Google: appendix.
Google: kidneys.
Learn kidney stones cause you to pace in pain.
Erin paces past the computer in pain.
Google: south austin hospitals
Dark outside, neighbor runs through lawn to come watch the girls.
Six in the morning; emergency room.
Pain.
Pain medication.
Momentary relief.
CAT scan.
Must leave wife here to check on girls at home.
Remember girls have school today, thankfully.
This is my first time driving the girls to school.
Robin tells me I'm doing it wrong.
Drop Lucy off at little playground.
Drop Robin off at big playground.
One of the teachers has a fat green caterpillar, hanging from a stick.
Drive back to hospital, call work on the way.
Back at Hospital.
Cat Scan results.
Kidney stone.
Wife rests.
Wait for doctor.
Overhear horrible emergency room conversation snippets:
"I couldn't get my finger out of my neck."
"Well, sometimes you have to laugh because you can't cry anymore."
Loud beeping.
Wife asleep.
A man curses his foot.
The doctor arrives.
The kidney stone is on the borderline of being too large.
Recommends operation, tomorrow.
Time to get the girls from school, leave wife again.
Pick up Robin.
Pick up Lucy.
"Lucy's not feeling well, she soiled her clothes."
"We're having her sit on the toilet in case it happens again."
Lucy sitting on tiny toilet next to the teacher's assistant.
Sees me, smiles: No diaper, no pants.
Drive girls home.
Feed them lunch; Word Girl is a rerun.
Lucy has another dirty diaper.
Take them to neighbor's house.
Drive to hospital.
Erin moved into her own room.
Sit next to her while she sleeps.
Surgery tomorrow AM.
Drive home.
Put girls to bed.
Fall asleep, dream about missing the surgery several times.

Saturday.

Talk to wife on phone, surgery happening soon.
Take kids next door to neighbors again, they've bought them donuts.
"We're here!" yells Robin.
"Donuts!" yells Lucy.
Forgot My Little Pony DVD.
Go back home, find it, go back next door.
Kiss girls goodbye, neighbor hands me a kolache.
I learn what a kolache is.
Eat kolache as I drive to the hospital.
Wife in surgery.
Wait in room.
Doctor calls my cell, all went well.
Hour passes.
Wife comes back into room, looking tired but happy.
Stay with her while she rests.
She orders cheeseburger, she didn't eat yesterday.
Cheeseburger looks good.
Time to get girls.
Kiss wife, drive home.
Get cheeseburger on the way.
Pick up girls, put them in car.
Promise of going to library to get new books in the process of being fulfilled.
Road to library is out.
Take detour.
At Library finally; getting kids out of car.
Cell phone vibrates in pocket.
Erin to be discharged from hospital soon, come get her.
Try to put kids back in car.
Rebellion ensues.
In library, quickly and frantically picking children's books.
Lucy yelling in library.
Robin punching keyboard in library.
Accidentally check out one about Henry David Thoreau.
$10.50 in library fines.
How many minutes have passed?
Who writes a children's book about Thoreau?
Erin calls, waiting outside hospital.
Packing kids in car quickly; dropping library books.
Forgot to fasten Robin into car seat: "Daddy, I can move!"
Lucy: "I don't wanna go to the hospital"
Fasten Robin into car seat.
Crank car again, driving fast.
Forgot about construction detour.
Take detour.
Erin waiting outside hospital.
PIck her up, she's doing much better but uncomfortable.
Go home, take a nap.
Sleep like a dead man.
Wake up groggy.
Wife doing great, ready to attend first of the weekend's two Africa-related events.
Argue about wife's recent surgery vs. going to event.
Wife wins, promises to stay seated and not move around.
Africa event 1: Meet friends in Ethiopian adoption group at restaurant with playground.
Erin forgot to take off hospital bracelets. Surprised looks.
Have great time on playground.
Kisses from Robin and Lucy in return for spinning them in the air.
Drive home.
Sleep hard.

Sunday.

Lucy yells "Yoo Hoo" from crib.
Lucy wants pancakes.
Robin wants waffles. And chewing gum.
Chewing gum denied.
Erin in bed, eats pancakes too.
Erin gets up, gives Robin chewing gum.
Robin shows me the chewing gum.
Take girls to church so Erin can rest more.
Lucy yells "IT'S ME!" when she sees her Sunday school teacher.
Robin is shy.
Target on the way home for water and orange juice.
Home: Erin in pain again.
Lots of pain.
Call doctor, put on hold.
Lucy breaks her spoon.
Robin needs more milk.
Erin in pain.
Operator says doctor will call me back soon.
Robin wants more ketchup.
Lucy wants more ketchup.
Wipe ketchup off hands, put girls to bed.
Doctor calls back, tells us what to do for Erin.
Erin does it, feels better instantly.
Clean up before babysitter comes over, second Africa event occurs in 2 hours.
Erin dresses for church, a local church is hosting an choir made up of African orphans.
Babysitter arrives.
Erin has pain again, can't go, asks me to go alone.
I don't want to go.
She says please, she thinks it will be good for me.
Her pain is not bad, she just needs to rest.
Drive to nearby church alone.
See neighbor who cared for my girls.
African children run onto the stage.
I don't see any adults with them.
Children dance and sing.
Boy from Uganda talks about watching his parents die from AIDS.
He sings a beautiful song, smiling.
Girl from Nepal is sweet.
15 million orphans in Africa.
40 million by 2010.
Only 15% of Christians in America surveyed think we should do something about it.
The children sing and dance loudly, louder than the room full of white people.
I decide I am one of the 15 percenters.
White people clap like white people.
Children finish, run through the pews hugging elderly unsuspecting Methodists.
America is rich but poor.
I forgot to bring a checkbook.
CD table takes visa, I buy Erin a CD and a DVD, and grab a sponsorship form.
Erin was right, again. It was good for me.
Drive home.
Read books to girls.
Put girls to bed very late, 9pm.
Robin still awake, 9:45 pm.
Read her a book in the dark.
She gives me a kiss.
Type overlong blog entry in difficult to read, short sentences.
Go to bed.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Wes Whitener's Reservations

Hello and thanks for taking the time to meet with me today.

The TV show proposal I'd like for you to consider producing is entitled: Wes Whitener's Reservations. It would be a travel show, but the twist is this: The guy featured on the show is not very world wise and would actually prefer not to travel. In fact, he kind of hates it. He doesn't like nice wine, he's a bit shy and awkward when meeting new people, and he would prefer to go see a movie than to engage in outdoor adventures of any kind.

The excitement and humor would come in seeing this skeptical traveler attempt to eat various exotic dishes, repel off the side of mountains, hanglide, run into celebrities at nice hotels, etc, all while mildly complaining, reacting awkwardly, and not really knowing which fork to hold or how to swim, etc. He would need some sidekicks along who are actually good at outdoor sports and enjoy that kind of thing to egg him on and convince him to actually cliff dive, or whatever. Kind of the Ricky Gervais podcast model where two dudes mock an awkward guy as they go.

I think it will be a hit. Thanks for your consideration.