Vox Lucens

There are times when I wonder why God, in His sovereignty, would allow the things He does. Now is one of those times.

Mahjoub was a man of God, living as a light in the midst of the darkest culture known to man. Surrounded by the violence of his home country, the Sudan, he somehow managed to exude love and encouragement to all around him. He loved his country, he loved God’s people, and he loved the work that was his calling.

He gave up everything for the cause of Christ. He was a man of political power, but he gave up his parliamentary seat to minister to and through Nuba Mountain pastors. He loved being a bit of a celebrity, as we could see in our time with him, but he used every ounce of influence to glorify Jesus Christ. He ministered out of his poverty to the widows in his church, giving them hope.

And now he is gone. While his physical body returns to the earthly dust that covered every scrap of clothing he owned, his new body worships at the throne of God’s glory. We are not positive the cause of his death, but it appears that the work that consumed his life ended it, as he died ministering to God’s people, probably as a result of a heart attack.

Though I only met him for a couple of days, already I miss him. I miss his big smile, and his laughter as he saw my feet hanging off of the short Sudanese cot. I miss his fist-pumping encouragement that transcended all language barriers. I miss the pride that was so evident in his eyes when he showed us a copy of the Bible in his own native tribal tongue.

I would imagine his orphaned children miss him, too. Please pray for them.

But I have a strange feeling that he would not have had it any other way. His cause was worth living for–and it was worth dying for.

God’s creation is truly unbelievable, even when viewed by the dim gloom of a flashlight far underground. It is made even more wonderful by the fact that one had to crawl through narrow, wet passageways to get there, and yet more so by the bodily exhaustion upon exiting.

So much for eloquence. Pictures, anyone?

The team at the entrance (minus our guide, taking the picture).

A little friend at the entrance. It was later that I was following one of the other team members down a narrow passageway, and noticed that he had a little bat hanging on his back pocket–must have scraped it off of the roof on on of the low spots!

Said narrow passageway. Notice the steam: Those of you that know me know I sweat a lot. Well, in a cave perspiration turns to steam–and you have no idea how many pictures failed to be good because the light flashed off of the cloud of steam I was constantly generating.

And then we got to the big room. It was unbelievable.

One of the things about caving is that you never know where you’re going to find amazing things. We got up into the bit room by a tunnel that came up through the floor, and then I leaned on this wall. It was only later that I saw what I had been leaning on!

This is the same shot–the first is with the flash, and the second is what it looked like with a flashlight.

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A few parting shots.

I would mention, in closing, that some of the pictures that did not turn out were of the 25 -foot underground waterfall that was little short of mind-blowing.

Whoa, lookout–it’s another week coming!

It has often been said that Einstein’s famous equation constitutes the “speed limit of the universe,” which is to say that the speed of light is the fastest anything can go. His amazing theory allows for the theoretical possibilities of all sorts of fun–time warps, for instance, wormholes, and alternate universes.

I’m no physicist, so arguing with these possibilities is beyond the pale of my expertise, but if there can be alternate universes I would argue that there can be alternate theories, and I therefore postulate the following.

The equation being solid, I won’t modify it, but I will assign new values to the variables. Since e=mc(squared), I will designate (e) as “everything” and (mc) as “mega crazy.” According to my theory on life, then, everything = mega crazy multiplied by itself. Under this theory, the closer everything in one’s life gets to the mega crazy (squared) point, the closer one is to the speed limit of life.

Under Einstein’s theory, mass increases the closer one gets to the speed of light. Similarly, the closer one gets to my speed limit of life, the more one’s head feels like it is expanding to the exploding point. And as Einstein’s theory allows for time warps, mine offers tangible proof of the relativity of time, which speeds by ever more quickly the closer one gets to mega crazy (squared). If my theory allowed for instantaneous travel through wormholes, it would be complete.

Now that finals are over, I can sit back and ponder such deep truths. However, my quest to reach the speed limit of life continues: I moved my last final ahead by two days in order to leave momentarily for West Virginia, where my two-fold purpose is to try the art of spelunking and to speak on Remember’s ministry. I shall look forward to sharing these experiences with you, dear reader, and sincerely hope they shall not include stories of my bulk trapped in some subterranean passage.

Maybe it was the fact that tax time this year falls right at the same time as finals. Maybe it was the fact that I have to do three returns this year, two of which are the annoying part-year kind. Maybe it is the fact that I am overwhelmed with stuff to do.

Or maybe it is just that I hate taxes. At any rate, I wimped out this year and had an accountant do them for me, and went and picked them up today. I am now firmly convinced that there is nothing more sublime than walking in to his office, watching him retrieve a manilla file, and then hearing him rattle off the figures for the three refunds I will be receiving. And to be honest, I hardly believed him when he told me the total price I would pay for this joy–less than I would have paid for TurboTax and the agony of doing it myself. But he took my meager check with a smile and thanked me for my business.

I must admit, the pain of tax season is much abated when your only task is waiting for three refund checks.

And finally, lest I forget again, I would like to thank you for your prayers on my test-taking. I found out this week that there will be no reason for me to re-take the MPRE exam, for which I am very grateful. But if you don’t mind, I have finals coming up on Monday and Friday, and would greatly appreciate your continued prayers for my academic proficiency!

My talented Remember webmaster has just added a significant amount of information to the website, which I hope and pray will bless you!

Here are some highlights–

–Meet the four widows that Remember supports.

–Read Remember’s memorandum to the Department of State on the issue of resettlement, via Christian Freedom International.

–Get Country Focus bulletin inserts:

Burma

Sudan

Egypt

Iraq

Let me know if you would like copies of any of these, especially if you want to distribute them to friends, family, or your church!

Ever since I was a little kid, I wanted to be a hero. That desire is one of the things that has not changed as I’ve gotten older, but what has changed is my idea of what a hero is. Perhaps my young self was too influenced by “King Arthur and his Knights,” but my idea of a hero was slightly tilted towards powerful men singlehandedly saving cities, children, and of course, beautiful women.

My idea of heroism has gone through a dramatic shift over the past many years. Heroes, I realized, may never see the limelight, even in this day and age of constant media presence. Some see only the barred boxes of light that come in from their prison cell. Some just live their lives in ways that glorify God, and are taken for granted by everyone around them. (I wrote about one such hero here.)

And sometimes heroes come from the most unlikely of sources. With all the news the past few years coming out of the Anglican church, in my mind that is unlikely source for heroes. And yet, men like John Sentamu arise. Born in Uganda, the Most Reverend John Sentamu is the second-highest cleric in the Anglican church. I know very little of his personal beliefs, but I admire any hero who can defy convention in his own ranks and preach this truth:

The mistake of many is to treat the Christian faith like an ideology - looking, as it were, for Jesus Christ among the dead. Beyond doubt study is necessary but Jesus isn’t only someone to be studied; he is someone to be met and lived with every day. He isn’t only a figure in a book - the Bible - even if that book is the greatest in the world; he is a living presence. There are those who regard Jesus as the greatest man who ever lived - but who then died. That won’t do. Jesus isn’t dead - he is alive. He isn’t merely a hero of the past - he is a living reality, the Lord of the present.

Perhaps, when everything is said and done, the definition of a hero is one who lives life for the commendation of the Father. Perhaps true heroism is what I wrote about in today’s Weekly Reminder:

In the parable of the feast in Luke 14, as you recall, all of the people invited to the feast found excuses as to why they could not come - one was recently married, another had to look at a plot of land, and a third had to investigate a new yoke of oxen. They were all too engrossed in their own lives to go to the meal that had been prepared for them.

So the host sent out his servants to the “highways and hedges” to find people to come to his feast. I used to wonder why such a big deal was made of this relatively small part of the plotline - and then I realized that it was not a small part of the plotline at all. It was, in fact, the heart of the story. And in this case, the heart of the story is the essence of God’s heart for His people. In the same chapter he makes this promise:

“But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind: And thou shalt be blessed; for they cannot recompense thee: for thou shalt be recompensed at the resurrection of the just.”