Chip Shots

Wouldn't it be grand if everything always turned out great, if good guys always won, if it never rained on anyone's parade? But life isn't like that, is it? Great plans go awry, good guys seldom win, and rain falls on parades. What are we to make of that? What good is a God who can't get the little things right? Wouldn't we be better off in a purely naturalistic world? Hardly! Without God, we would have no reason to think that life had any purpose besides its own continuation; we'd have no one to look to for guidance and encouragement; we'd have no recourse when life didn't make sense. To be perfectly blunt about it, life would have no point. Disappointment itself would be pointless. And when you think about it, that's a pretty good point. Match Point.

Okay, it's time I started writing again. For several years I wrote a column for our weekly newspaper. It was well received by our community, and I enjoyed finding a way to gently communicate spiritual truths to a secular audience. Many of those articles found their way into this medium. When the paper closed a year ago, so did the pressure to write. I've missed it. I'm not making any resolutions, mind you, but at least, this is a start. "Beginning is half done," they say. We'll see....

Without the benefit of knowing the whole story, we are not sure what to think of Strider when first we encounter him. He lurks in the shadows of The Prancing Pony, keenly interested in the Halflings and their songs. It is evident he knows more than he reveals. Is he friend, or is he foe? We are unsure. In time, we learn that Strider is in fact a friend, and will be a trustworthy guide for the hobbits on their journey. His true name is Aragorn, and as the story unfolds we discover there is much more to him than meets the eye. He is the heir of Isildur. He will not always lurk in the shadows. Someday he will take his rightful place as King of Middle Earth. When J.R.R Tolkien first placed Strider in “The Fellowship of the Ring,” he wasn’t quite sure what he would do with him. Although he had already invested twenty months constructing what would become an epic story, only later would Strider, the vagabond Ranger, become the central character in the climax of “The Lord of the Rings.” At th...

It is our twenty-eighth Christmas as a married couple. Twenty-eight freshly-cut Christmas trees. Twenty-eight years of hanging stockings. Twenty-eight Christmas mornings waking up together. In the early days we traveled to someone else’s home for Christmas. But for the most part, Christmas has been our own private family tradition, a blending of the homes we grew up in, as well as those habits unique to our own family. Growing up in Chicago, my wife never had a real tree. Every year her father pulled it out of the basement and plunked it in the living room. Consequently, one of the traditions in our home has been the annual trip to secure a live (or rather, dead) tree. While I once bemoaned the annual expense and the loss to the environment, I have come to enjoy our trees as much as she does. The traditions evolve as our family grows up. In the old days, each kid took a turn being hoisted to the top of the tree to place the star. Nowadays, our boys are taller than me. They joke about h...

Although baseball and football were my passion in high school, I have always enjoyed competitive sports. If it requires skill and a ball, count me in. That is why I was happy to pack my tennis racket when my friend and I went to a summer camp together. He was an avid player, and I was happy to give him whatever competition I could muster. When we headed out to play, however, we were dismayed to discover that the courts were in disrepair. Massive cracks cris-crossed the playing area. Faded lines defined the boundaries. Worst of all, there were no nets. That’s okay, we decided. We’ll just hit the ball back and forth. It will still be fun. Wrong. After fifteen minutes of futility, we gave up and found something else to do. I have often thought about this incident. Why did the game feel so futile? Was it that we could not bear to play without winning? It is a fair question. I have been accused of being overly competitive more than once in my life. But it was more than that. A primary ski...

I’d like to introduce you to some fascinating folks. I wonder if you can recognize them. These people are fanatical about living a good life. Models of personal purity, and careful to live above reproach, they are among the most respected persons in the community. They’re honest, hardworking, and conscientious. They take their spirituality very seriously. They are scrupulous about attendance at religious events. They give generously. They fast regularly. They pray faithfully. They have the utmost regard for scripture. They study it, memorize it, and conscientiously seek to apply it to their lives. They frequently gather to discuss its meaning and its application to their lives. Do you recognize them? Are they Christians? Are they Mormons? Are the Muslims? No. None of the above. They are Pharisees. Are you surprised? Pharisees were one of the most prominent religious sects in Jesus’ day. They were precisely as I described them, distinguished from their peers by their religious sincerity...

Tony had polio. I presume he was one of the thousands of children who contracted the disease during the epidemic in the mid-twentieth century. Like most self-conscious adults, however, I never asked him about it. His right leg was stiff. He walked with a cane. Once I got to know him, I hardly noticed it. His quick humor and keen insight quickly captured my affection. As best I recall, he only spoke about his condition once. We were camping together on the Mogollon Rim. Have you ever noticed that stepping out of the world of asphalt and concrete, and into the world of trees and cool breezes opens your heart and clears your mind? It refreshes the spirit like a dive in a pool on a sweaty hot day. Anyway, Tony and I were having one of those philosophical discussions that typically emerge in such settings. He was an avid reader and excellent teacher; I always enjoyed our conversations. I related to him a discussion I had with another friend of mine, who a hard time accepting the existence o...