Athelus sat and opened the ledger at the library desk as she had for countless days in a row. Polaris had asked her to maintain the library in her spare time, and she loved the job, but things had been so quiet for so long. A part of her, despite her affinity with healing, craved battle simply for a change of pace. Dracona hadn't even blown anything up in over a month. She knew why, but preferred not to think about it: everyone knew the Tower would have to move again soon. She took a walk through the halls and floors of books, pleased to see that, as always, all was in order. The Tower inhabitants treated the books with deep respect, and that satisfied her immensely. She sat down to write in her journal when a silvery orb of magic appeared in front of her. Whim magic, from Polaris, she thought.
"Speak, orb. What message do you bring?"
Polaris' voice came out of the silver orb and she could barely contain her inappropriate excitement. The Tower now faces it's greatest threat, beyond what we could ever conceive. Be prepared for a meeting soon. She leaped up at the thought, and realized she ought to worry and feel displeased rather than excited. She sat back down, desperately trying to relax, when she felt an odd tugging at her soul, as if someone had summoned her. Perhaps the meeting is already happening, she surmised, and relinquished herself to the tug with closed eyes.
She opened her eyes to an all-white room with nothing in it but a pedestal of whitewood topped by a frosted glass orb. This was the Room of Recording, a room where all the memories of many worlds could be stored and reviewed. The room held all information imaginable, but the room allowed people in by summons only. Such levels of information were dangerous, so only the Room decided who got in, when, and what they would see.
The room's deep voice spoke out: "Athelus, Healer-Warrior, will you see what I have to show you?" She had to choose, in that moment, whether she would put her hand on the frosted orb and see the memories offered her or decline, and lose this moment. She had no reason to fear, but walking up to the orb still felt solemn, somehow auspicious.
The walls of the room swirled with color and scenes began to appear. Athelus saw scenes of old enemies approaching the tower: Maleficent and the Heartless, Sauron and his orcs, and many others.
"The danger now coming will cause far more pain than anything that's ever happened." The voice said.
The colors swirled again and the wall displayed the many friends and members of the Tower. Athelus painfully realized how many were gone. The Tower had fewer inhabitants than ever before, and the pain ran deep.
"How can we hope to win with so few?" she asked the Room.
The colors swirled and displayed a young boy - perhaps a man, but youthful looking. He lay on the grass with a bow in hand, aiming for a rabbit. Athelus felt pained as she saw the the rabbit's den nearby and baby bunnies inside. She suddenly saw the hunter also notice the den. He relinquished his shot, lowered his bow. He tossed a carrot into the den and walked away. Athelus smiled at his generosity, and then saw the mark on his wrist. She knew that insignia: it was the brand of a local guild of assassins.
"Why do you show me this being?" she asked.
"He needs help. If you help him, he can help in return. But you must go find him."
"Where is he?"
The colors swirled faster and faster until Athelus found herself back in the library. She began packing some supplies hurriedly, and paused only when she realized Polaris stood in front of her. "Whatever you're doing, I trust you," he said.
"Thank you," she replied. As she rushed out of the room, Polaris tried to stop her to give her the book she left behind. Polaris knew that even in such a rush Athelus never left books behind. He didn't catch her however, and glanced at the book.
"Curious, indeed." He put the book back on her desk, tracing the word 'Hyozanryu' as he released it.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Revelations and Ends: Episode 1
I keep thinking about how it must be almost over. The Tower has been here for four years, almost, and it never lasts anywhere long. Dark thoughts of leaving, of the end, keep cropping up in my head. A heavy sorrow fills my mind when I think about it, so I try not to. I have loved it here, have been so happy here, and refuse to consider leaving yet. Worse still, every time the Tower moves, some friends are left behind. Some always stay, as is their prerogative, but I cannot bear to leave any of these people who have worked and lived here. It would tear me to pieces. I will not think about it anymore.
Polaris shut his journal, and forcibly shoved it into his desk drawer. He stood up and looked out the window of his study. Dracona and Link were working in the garden, others were playing tag. He knew Athelus was in the library, with the books, and that all the many friends of the Tower were around, living and studying, working and thinking, the body of creativity that the Tower was known for. Others were off, seeing the world and spreading the creativity. He wiped a single tear from his cheek, shook his head, and walked away. The pain, his alone to bear, would find no expression if he could help it. He left his study and headed up the stairs.
Life at the Tower had been quiet, peaceful, and wonderful for a long time. No sense of foreboding haunted the Tower, no concerns, no threats or enemies. He headed to the magic radar out of something like boredom, halfheartedly hoping that danger might come soon.
DANGER! DANGER! UNKNOWN THREAT OF LEVEL 7! DANGER! DANGER!
Convinced that he had misread it, he looked at the screen again. He had indeed read it correctly, however. The radar had never read a threat of level 7 before. Polaris calmly walked over to the transmitter and turned it on. "To all friends of the Ivory Tower. A danger we have never before conceived now threatens this world. Wherever you are. consider this your summons: the Ivory Tower needs your help."
Polaris walked to the window and waited to see who would come.
Polaris shut his journal, and forcibly shoved it into his desk drawer. He stood up and looked out the window of his study. Dracona and Link were working in the garden, others were playing tag. He knew Athelus was in the library, with the books, and that all the many friends of the Tower were around, living and studying, working and thinking, the body of creativity that the Tower was known for. Others were off, seeing the world and spreading the creativity. He wiped a single tear from his cheek, shook his head, and walked away. The pain, his alone to bear, would find no expression if he could help it. He left his study and headed up the stairs.
Life at the Tower had been quiet, peaceful, and wonderful for a long time. No sense of foreboding haunted the Tower, no concerns, no threats or enemies. He headed to the magic radar out of something like boredom, halfheartedly hoping that danger might come soon.
DANGER! DANGER! UNKNOWN THREAT OF LEVEL 7! DANGER! DANGER!
Convinced that he had misread it, he looked at the screen again. He had indeed read it correctly, however. The radar had never read a threat of level 7 before. Polaris calmly walked over to the transmitter and turned it on. "To all friends of the Ivory Tower. A danger we have never before conceived now threatens this world. Wherever you are. consider this your summons: the Ivory Tower needs your help."
Polaris walked to the window and waited to see who would come.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Creator’s Prerogative – Purpose and Intent Premise
Over several blog posts I have begun discussing this idea of the Creator’s Prerogative: that the inventor/designer/creator of any thing, including God creating us, has the right to place expectations on his/her/its creation. If this argument is biblically the case, then it has some severe weight as to why Christianity and evolution are irrevocably incompatible.
Here again is the Creator’s Prerogative argument:
P1: The Creator has invested everything needed to make their creation
P2: The Creator has a specific purpose and function intended for their creation
P3: The Creator continually provides everything needed for the creation to function according to the Creator's intentions
C: Therefore, the Creator has Creator's Prerogative, the right to expect and require the creation to function according to the purposes and intentions of the Creator, and even to create consequences in the event of failure to do so.
In my last post on this subject I proved that the Bible, from all corners, supports the first premise, the Investment Premise. Next, I need to show that the Bible supports the second statement, which I call the Purpose and Intent Premise.
So, did God have a specific purpose and function that He intended for us when He made us?
The Bible’s immediate answer, as you may know, is yes:
“Then God said, ‘Let Us make man in our own image, according to our likeness.” – Genesis 1:26
God made us in His own image; He intended us to be like Him. Many arguments have been put forward as to what this means, whether it means that God, as religious studies scholars would put it, is anthropomorphic, or whether we were supposed to be spiritual beings or creative or holy, or something else. What exactly in us is like God isn’t specific here, but it IS clear that God had intentions as he created us. Job asks, “Did you [God] not…clothe me with skin and flesh, and knit me together with bones and sinews” (Job 10:11)? If our sinews, muscles, and body systems work a certain way, then it would seem, based on this verse and others like it that God “assembled” us to work that way: He knit us this way on purpose.
The boldest statement made to this end may just come in Proverbs, when the Wiseman writes that “The LORD has made everything for its own purpose, even the wicked for the day of evil” (Proverbs 16:4). What a claim of intention! However, we must remember that God is omniscient, which means He was allowed to plan a lot in greater detail than a more shortsighted creator would be capable of. Finally, Romans 8:28 tells us that those who love God are “called according to His purpose.”
Clearly, if God did create us, then He did indeed have and still has intended functional qualities and purposes for us, thus supporting the Purpose and Intent Premise.
Here again is the Creator’s Prerogative argument:
P1: The Creator has invested everything needed to make their creation
P2: The Creator has a specific purpose and function intended for their creation
P3: The Creator continually provides everything needed for the creation to function according to the Creator's intentions
C: Therefore, the Creator has Creator's Prerogative, the right to expect and require the creation to function according to the purposes and intentions of the Creator, and even to create consequences in the event of failure to do so.
In my last post on this subject I proved that the Bible, from all corners, supports the first premise, the Investment Premise. Next, I need to show that the Bible supports the second statement, which I call the Purpose and Intent Premise.
So, did God have a specific purpose and function that He intended for us when He made us?
The Bible’s immediate answer, as you may know, is yes:
“Then God said, ‘Let Us make man in our own image, according to our likeness.” – Genesis 1:26
God made us in His own image; He intended us to be like Him. Many arguments have been put forward as to what this means, whether it means that God, as religious studies scholars would put it, is anthropomorphic, or whether we were supposed to be spiritual beings or creative or holy, or something else. What exactly in us is like God isn’t specific here, but it IS clear that God had intentions as he created us. Job asks, “Did you [God] not…clothe me with skin and flesh, and knit me together with bones and sinews” (Job 10:11)? If our sinews, muscles, and body systems work a certain way, then it would seem, based on this verse and others like it that God “assembled” us to work that way: He knit us this way on purpose.
The boldest statement made to this end may just come in Proverbs, when the Wiseman writes that “The LORD has made everything for its own purpose, even the wicked for the day of evil” (Proverbs 16:4). What a claim of intention! However, we must remember that God is omniscient, which means He was allowed to plan a lot in greater detail than a more shortsighted creator would be capable of. Finally, Romans 8:28 tells us that those who love God are “called according to His purpose.”
Clearly, if God did create us, then He did indeed have and still has intended functional qualities and purposes for us, thus supporting the Purpose and Intent Premise.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Silence Between
Following is a scene derived from my creative writing exercise that will hopefully make it into my novel:
The morning after he left, when raindrops fell like melodramatic tears from a clichéd grey sky, I decided to take a walk. Water, after all, symbolizes purification, cleansing, and – most importantly – healing. The cool rain sounded like a percussive symphony of whimpers, calling him back, begging his sympathy. It begged my mourning, too, but that would not come for many weeks. The newest batch of spell-flowers were in bloom, a raucous cacophony of fiery red, ponderous blue, mellow purple, and a whole litany of other colors. Each flower would produce a new spell, a new magic, and even in his absence, research would continue.
The raindrops became cymbals to a weary mind, and the horrendous memories came flowing back. A rotted body: alive and well only two hours previous. The potion, insidiously clever and maliciously effective, had killed him at some undetermined time after consumption. He could have drank it a week earlier, or been fed it at birth for all that was certain about its dormancy rate. A team of twenty high-ranking mages had investigated the murder, and no results had come forth. For once, the music that guided everything had stopped, had been silent, and the crushing pain was a solitary one.
The memories slip away as the surrounding gardens awaken. A snake slithers into its warm hole, avoiding the rain curtain soaking the ground. Two animals race up a tree to hide in its branches, away from the cold water’s death-like reach. It’s amazing to realize that every creature instinctively runs from the rain. Like the animals of this garden, the mages are running from the truth that falls on their faces even now; they continue to tell themselves that it must have been an accident, that it must have been a mistake. After all, who would kill him? But they knew the answer to that question. They knew it all too well, like a violin concerto that haunts the soul, there could only be one answer to that question.
Even the fortifications of this castle of endless wonders couldn’t keep that greatest enemy away. Envy causes countless murders every day, why not his? Just because these beautiful flowers, these symbols of sheer brilliance and unbound creativity, were created by the castle inhabitants, are the castle inhabitants necessarily free from guilt? He himself had envied, on more than one occasion, the work of others. Of course, ethics and reason kept him from stealing their work or killing them, but still he envied. Mages may be the world’s solution to catastrophe, but no one here is flawless, just the same.
A pool is forming in the corner, around the place where he fell off the wall, just last season, after deciding that he had gone far too long without being childish. If something comes along – and who knows what force could actually achieve this – and threatens this community of scholar artists, who will save them? Music saves man from insanity, but if music is in danger, who saves it? If the notes stop coming and the strings stretch and snap, will someone play in the cello’s place? Or is the cello doomed to insignificance and the world doomed to silence? If no one attends his funeral, has magic become irrelevant to the world?
The branches above, as if in disagreement, shake, and a deluge falls from their fingers. The rain soaks to the bone, but it feels good. Like something new has been planted that will someday blossom and bloom. The rain deposits life where, only moments ago, there was only blankness. Today will not be the end.
The morning after he left, when raindrops fell like melodramatic tears from a clichéd grey sky, I decided to take a walk. Water, after all, symbolizes purification, cleansing, and – most importantly – healing. The cool rain sounded like a percussive symphony of whimpers, calling him back, begging his sympathy. It begged my mourning, too, but that would not come for many weeks. The newest batch of spell-flowers were in bloom, a raucous cacophony of fiery red, ponderous blue, mellow purple, and a whole litany of other colors. Each flower would produce a new spell, a new magic, and even in his absence, research would continue.
The raindrops became cymbals to a weary mind, and the horrendous memories came flowing back. A rotted body: alive and well only two hours previous. The potion, insidiously clever and maliciously effective, had killed him at some undetermined time after consumption. He could have drank it a week earlier, or been fed it at birth for all that was certain about its dormancy rate. A team of twenty high-ranking mages had investigated the murder, and no results had come forth. For once, the music that guided everything had stopped, had been silent, and the crushing pain was a solitary one.
The memories slip away as the surrounding gardens awaken. A snake slithers into its warm hole, avoiding the rain curtain soaking the ground. Two animals race up a tree to hide in its branches, away from the cold water’s death-like reach. It’s amazing to realize that every creature instinctively runs from the rain. Like the animals of this garden, the mages are running from the truth that falls on their faces even now; they continue to tell themselves that it must have been an accident, that it must have been a mistake. After all, who would kill him? But they knew the answer to that question. They knew it all too well, like a violin concerto that haunts the soul, there could only be one answer to that question.
Even the fortifications of this castle of endless wonders couldn’t keep that greatest enemy away. Envy causes countless murders every day, why not his? Just because these beautiful flowers, these symbols of sheer brilliance and unbound creativity, were created by the castle inhabitants, are the castle inhabitants necessarily free from guilt? He himself had envied, on more than one occasion, the work of others. Of course, ethics and reason kept him from stealing their work or killing them, but still he envied. Mages may be the world’s solution to catastrophe, but no one here is flawless, just the same.
A pool is forming in the corner, around the place where he fell off the wall, just last season, after deciding that he had gone far too long without being childish. If something comes along – and who knows what force could actually achieve this – and threatens this community of scholar artists, who will save them? Music saves man from insanity, but if music is in danger, who saves it? If the notes stop coming and the strings stretch and snap, will someone play in the cello’s place? Or is the cello doomed to insignificance and the world doomed to silence? If no one attends his funeral, has magic become irrelevant to the world?
The branches above, as if in disagreement, shake, and a deluge falls from their fingers. The rain soaks to the bone, but it feels good. Like something new has been planted that will someday blossom and bloom. The rain deposits life where, only moments ago, there was only blankness. Today will not be the end.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Creator’s Prerogative – The Investment Premise
Last summer, I began a project to show how evolution and Biblical principals were incompatible, focusing on the ethical side of things. My project didn’t get very far, but I did develop an idea called Creator’s Prerogative. (For those who want to know where the argument came from, look to the post titled “Evolution’s Ethical Problem: Creator’s Prerogative” from July 19th, 2010.)
Here is the Creator’s Prerogative argument as a refresher:
P1: The Creator has invested everything needed to make their creation
P2: The Creator has a specific purpose and function intended for their creation
P3: The Creator continually provides everything needed for the creation to function according to the Creator's intentions
C: Therefore, the Creator has Creator's Prerogative, the right to expect and require the creation to function according to the purposes and intentions of the Creator, and even to create consequences in the event of failure to do so.
My purpose, here, is not to disprove evolution – I am not a scientist. My purpose is to show that the tenets of evolution, at a fundamental level, are wholly incompatible with Christian philosophy. In order for this argument to help me, then, I must prove that the Bible supports its premises. Over the next few posts, I intend to do this very thing, premise by premise.
We start with the first premise: the “Investment Premise.” I argue that the Creator (God, in this case) has provided/invested everything needed to make His creations.
Here’s what the Bible has to say about this point: Genesis 1, of course, points it out clearly. God speaks, and the authority and power attached to His command bring the things He names into being. Sounds like investment to me! What about Psalm 148:5, where David says that “He commanded and they were created,” after listing the things of creation. Isaiah tells us in 42:5 that it was God “who created the heavens and stretched them out, Who spread out the earth and its offspring, Who gives breath to its people and spirit to those who walk in it.” God not only made us, but He is the source of our breath and our spirit! Paul claims boldly in Ephesians 3:9 and Colossians 1:16 that God “created all things.” When God selects the chief craftsman for the Tabernacle, we are told in Exodus 35:31 that God “filled him with the Spirit of God in wisdom, in understanding, and in all kinds of craftsmanship.” It seems God has a hand in helping us to do what we do every day, as well. 1 Chronicles 22:12, it is proposed that only because God gave discretion and authority does the king rule. This idea is echoed by Jesus in the Great Commission, that all authority comes from God, and is mentioned again by Paul in Romans 13:1.
The Bible resoundingly states that God invested everything needed to make us, and make our world, and it would seem even our societies and technology. If this is the case, then the Bible indeed supports and points to the Investment Premise.
Objections? Counter-examples? Suggestions?
Here is the Creator’s Prerogative argument as a refresher:
P1: The Creator has invested everything needed to make their creation
P2: The Creator has a specific purpose and function intended for their creation
P3: The Creator continually provides everything needed for the creation to function according to the Creator's intentions
C: Therefore, the Creator has Creator's Prerogative, the right to expect and require the creation to function according to the purposes and intentions of the Creator, and even to create consequences in the event of failure to do so.
My purpose, here, is not to disprove evolution – I am not a scientist. My purpose is to show that the tenets of evolution, at a fundamental level, are wholly incompatible with Christian philosophy. In order for this argument to help me, then, I must prove that the Bible supports its premises. Over the next few posts, I intend to do this very thing, premise by premise.
We start with the first premise: the “Investment Premise.” I argue that the Creator (God, in this case) has provided/invested everything needed to make His creations.
Here’s what the Bible has to say about this point: Genesis 1, of course, points it out clearly. God speaks, and the authority and power attached to His command bring the things He names into being. Sounds like investment to me! What about Psalm 148:5, where David says that “He commanded and they were created,” after listing the things of creation. Isaiah tells us in 42:5 that it was God “who created the heavens and stretched them out, Who spread out the earth and its offspring, Who gives breath to its people and spirit to those who walk in it.” God not only made us, but He is the source of our breath and our spirit! Paul claims boldly in Ephesians 3:9 and Colossians 1:16 that God “created all things.” When God selects the chief craftsman for the Tabernacle, we are told in Exodus 35:31 that God “filled him with the Spirit of God in wisdom, in understanding, and in all kinds of craftsmanship.” It seems God has a hand in helping us to do what we do every day, as well. 1 Chronicles 22:12, it is proposed that only because God gave discretion and authority does the king rule. This idea is echoed by Jesus in the Great Commission, that all authority comes from God, and is mentioned again by Paul in Romans 13:1.
The Bible resoundingly states that God invested everything needed to make us, and make our world, and it would seem even our societies and technology. If this is the case, then the Bible indeed supports and points to the Investment Premise.
Objections? Counter-examples? Suggestions?
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Spiritually Secure, Intellectually UNimpressed
So I've been reading Sam Harris' Letter to a Christian Nation. I heard that it was a leading book in the New Atheist movement, that Ravi Zacharias had written a response, and that the book was sweeping the nation. So, I bought the book to see what all the fuss as about.
I'm twelve pages from done, and I don't know, honestly what the fuss is about. Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennet, they're forces to be reckoned with, who have legitimate arguments that need to be dealt with. But Sam Harris has constructed a leaning Tower of Pisa out of toothpicks and mini-marshmallows and is trying to pass it off as the latest Pentagon-designed weaponry against Christian thought.
Of course, no new atheist writing will ever "undermine" Christianity; that would be saying that someone could write a book that would destroy the law of gravity. It's not possible, from my point of view. Christian thought (which is not an oxy-moron, as Harris claims) will always be able to defend itself, assuming it's truth, as I do. Hence, I am spiritually secure at the end of the letter, despite the countless promises by critics(Christian and non-Christian alike) who say that the letter will shake the very foundations of my faith.
Intellectually, though, I'm disappointed with the work. I wanted something deep, something strong, an argument that would take real think power to undo. Sam Harris, if he's as smart as the NAs believe him to be (and I think he is), could easily undermine his own arguments with a little iota of thought. The only daunting part is the sheer number, but careful inspection belies their flimsy, faulty construction. I wanted a challenge, I got a fuzzy lollipop stick (how disappointing).
What I'm wondering, though, is how wrong I am for feeling that way. Is it arrogance that craves the chance to debate NAs? Am I being humble when I can see on every page how his Atheism argument can't hold a candle to my Christianity? The answer to both is yes. If I "love my neighbor as myself," should I want Sam Harris to be a powerful NA? If I care about the fate of his and all immortal souls, should I be disappointed with the flimsy nature o his argument? The answer to these, is no. Balancing intellectual pursuits with spiritual duties is always hard, and I've fallen.
And in that simple realization I'm grateful for the 100 millionth time that God is real, is gracious, and that He loves me.
I'm twelve pages from done, and I don't know, honestly what the fuss is about. Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennet, they're forces to be reckoned with, who have legitimate arguments that need to be dealt with. But Sam Harris has constructed a leaning Tower of Pisa out of toothpicks and mini-marshmallows and is trying to pass it off as the latest Pentagon-designed weaponry against Christian thought.
Of course, no new atheist writing will ever "undermine" Christianity; that would be saying that someone could write a book that would destroy the law of gravity. It's not possible, from my point of view. Christian thought (which is not an oxy-moron, as Harris claims) will always be able to defend itself, assuming it's truth, as I do. Hence, I am spiritually secure at the end of the letter, despite the countless promises by critics(Christian and non-Christian alike) who say that the letter will shake the very foundations of my faith.
Intellectually, though, I'm disappointed with the work. I wanted something deep, something strong, an argument that would take real think power to undo. Sam Harris, if he's as smart as the NAs believe him to be (and I think he is), could easily undermine his own arguments with a little iota of thought. The only daunting part is the sheer number, but careful inspection belies their flimsy, faulty construction. I wanted a challenge, I got a fuzzy lollipop stick (how disappointing).
What I'm wondering, though, is how wrong I am for feeling that way. Is it arrogance that craves the chance to debate NAs? Am I being humble when I can see on every page how his Atheism argument can't hold a candle to my Christianity? The answer to both is yes. If I "love my neighbor as myself," should I want Sam Harris to be a powerful NA? If I care about the fate of his and all immortal souls, should I be disappointed with the flimsy nature o his argument? The answer to these, is no. Balancing intellectual pursuits with spiritual duties is always hard, and I've fallen.
And in that simple realization I'm grateful for the 100 millionth time that God is real, is gracious, and that He loves me.
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