Musings on Minecraft and Heaven

I bought Minecraft for Paul, and he loves it, but being a Sim fan myself I have discovered that I love it, too. There is a lot of potential for an entertaining game, whether you are playing in Survival Mode or Creative Mode. It was in the Creative Mode, however, that I started to philosophize about the afterlife—the real one, after life on this earth. Many people wonder what we will do in a world where we don’t have to worry about death and suffering, where we won’t get sick or hurt or have survival needs. Actually, I think the answer of what we won’t do is shorter than what we will do. We won’t die. We won’t get sick. We won’t do wrong or hurtful things to others. We won’t hurt ourselves. We won’t be jealous or mean or sad. But what will we do?

The Dark Sides of Voodoo

                Recently I saw a travel article giving tips on how to get out in the world and “experience” some voodoo. Voodoo sounds pretty cool, with interesting-looking artifacts, music and dance, and an ancient connection to African culture. But as a missionary, I have learned some things about voodoo that go beyond the curious, into a dark and destructive world.

Why I Don't Love My Husband More Than My Kids (or vice versa)

                Lately I've read some articles where people explain that our society has it backwards: instead of loving our kids so much, we should love our husbands more. After all, you chose your husband, and he'll be around when the kids are gone, but you didn't choose your kids. As people say, if we don't have a strong marriage, the kids will suffer, so loving your husband more is good for your kids. (Try to tell that to someone whose husband beats her and the kids. I'm sure the kids in that family appreciate that the wife put her husband above them.) It's also good to make sure your kids know they're not the center of the universe, as bloggers these days are convinced that everyone else is doing with their kids. From a Christian perspective, some people even say putting your husband above your kids is the "biblical" way. I don't see it that way, and let me explain why.

A Few Ramblings on the Nature of Faith

                I haven't yet watched the debate between Ken Ham and Bill Nye, but I hope to be able to do so soon. This morning, though, I felt compelled to write a note about my own understanding on what faith is and when we ought to have faith. I remember years ago watching a documentary on PBS telling why creationism was dumb. They interviewed a kid who had been raised in a Christian family and went to college, where he was taught about evolution and came to question his faith. Then the interview shifted to his parents, who basically said, "Faith isn't supposed to make sense! It's not based on logic or reasoning; you're just supposed to believe it." Let me tell you: according to that logic, faith really would be pretty dumb. So would creationism. If evidence pointed out that something was not true, and you believed it anyway, that would be pretty dumb of you.

What was it like to have a baby in Africa? Part Three

I am not completely sure whether Paul was born at 37 weeks or 40 weeks. Before we left for Africa, I had an ultrasound in America. We found out that Paul was a boy (yay!) and that based on his size, his due date should be December 27. When I got to Africa, the doctor told me that they didn't base due dates on the size of the baby according to ultrasound, but on the menstrual cycle alone. That put my due date at December 9. We had an ultrasound in Africa, and the doctor said that his size, although not very big, was perfectly fine for a healthy birth. The doctor even told me that if I didn't go into labor by December 9, he was going to induce. It made me a little nervous, wondering if it was really too early to be inducing, since the American doctor had given me a different due date. That last week the doctor also gave me a prescription for a pill that was supposed to help me have contractions, which I obediently took without thinking too much about whether or not that was a good idea.

What was it like to have a baby in Africa? Part Two

July, 2007. Five months pregnant. Getting on the plane to the tiny country of Togo, West Africa--not for a visit, but to spend years, perhaps a lifetime, building a life there. I was excited, nervous, afraid; not sure what to expect. I felt like I was jumping off a high dive (not something I normally like to do.) I had an idea of what difficult struggles I would face when I got to Africa: things like dangerous snakes and spiders, demonic activity, angry thieves with machetes, etc. I was wrong.

Why should we discourage people from gaining or losing assurance of salvation, based on how they live?

I do not EVER question my salvation. I say that boldly, with assurance, and with absolutely no pride attached. I do not look at my works to determine whether or not I am saved. I am 100% confident that when I die, I will go to heaven. No question. Why?