Slickrock Creek Hike Report

Four of us ended up going deep into the Slickrock Creek Wilderness Area Sat - Mon. We hit the Hangover mid-day and had a streak of luck. Few make it up there and are able to get a clear view. Much rain in that area. Vista was unlimited. Camped that night on Stratton Bald. It felt downright illegal to do that but it was fully permissable, even without a permit! There was not a chance of rain all weekend, but it rained hard for 40 minutes that evening after setting up. What a blessing though.
The spring was barely moving so we tanked up using run-off from a hammock tarp. The Father knows more than one way to supply water on a bald.
Next day we took an unknown trail down from Naked Ground (no nudists in
sight) which actually was the beginning of the Slickrock Creek trail. It has a reputation which was well deserved. It has other names going up.
We spent the night at Wildcat Falls and enjoyed the whole camping area
and the falls to ourselves. An afternoon dip was refreshing and
invigorating. We left camp at 9:00 AM and were back home by three even with a detour to A&W.

Self Esteem

“For God so loved the world…” -John 3:16

There is a new public service announcement out. It features Mariska Hargitay who says “If you like you, everyone else will too.” One of my high school students went to the national motivational seminar in Knoxville last week and took home a message about not listening to anyone else’s viewpoint about ones’ self, especially if it is negative. My wife and I recently reminisced about how many of our own college days were absorbed by our own insecurities and how much more we could have accomplished if we had only felt less afraid about who we were. And how often have adult friends shared stories about how their own parents filled them with feelings of insecurity and inadequacy that still continue to plague them?

Out of this fertile ground of our insecurities and self-doubts sprung the self-esteem movement. It tried to reassure us that both you and I were okay. It spawned numerous seminars, books, and self-help classes to say nothing of the efforts at building self-esteem among our school-age population. From there, it just seemed to be a natural progression to eliminating the sources of negative self-esteem. Grades were suspect, tracking was denounced, testing was dethroned, and everyone was encouraged to think they could do anything they put into their minds to do. Never was heard a discouraging word and the skies were not cloudy all day.

Like any humanistic movement and lie, there lay a kernel of truth at the core. Yes, we are born into this world as a 7-pound bundle of fears. We bear a terrible burden that we were never intended to bear: free, moral autonomy. And because it is an impossible load to carry, we wrestle with very, real guilt along with all the cast off remnants of parental and societal failings. The insecurities we feel are quite real, and the most, deservedly so.

But there is no healing power in a blind mantra that keeps repeating, “I’m okay. I’m okay.” Those who actually come to believe that often morph into arrogant monsters that no one can live with. I find little in myself to love so how can I truly love myself? There is ultimately only one means of reconciling myself to myself, and that is to see myself as God sees me. He knows it all, the failings and the filth, and yet he places great value on me. He comes and deals with the moral guilt, buries it in the deepest sea, and adopts me as His son. I am worthy because He said so, and the price of my ransom was high.

Next to that, the love of friends and family pales by comparison in its redemptive power. But because we are God’s body in this world, we can be the instruments of communicating His grace; “God’s love with fingers and toes.” I have to have God’s love and forgiveness, but that which comes through human agency is powerfully reassuring as well. It takes the form of the good Samaritan who picks up my battered spirit and nurses it back to health, reflecting the grace of God at work in us all.

I say all this to encourage parents to love your children with all the love that God puts in you. Your arms are a welcome flesh and blood embodiment of God’s love, and I think He meant it to be that way. I knew no one in my life as a child who could extend that act of grace to me. Many of our parents never experienced it given to them. How many sons have gone off seeking the reassuring love of their mothers in the arms of strange women? How many daughters have sought the love of their fathers in the embrace of young men? Love your children. Not blindly, but purposely, redemptively, and passionately. It grounds the spirit of a child like nothing else.

Blacksburg II

“Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?” -Gen. 3:1

With all the horror about us these days, someone is bound to ask the question as to how much do we share of this with our children and how much of the news do we block out? In the last week, even the leading media outlets have had to face this issue with how much of the news was actually fit to print or disgorge in video form. I venture out onto the thin ice of this question with fear and trepidation because there are so many variables involved. Each of us has a right and responsibility to decide the limits of propriety for our own family. Please allow me to stir up your pure minds for the purpose of reflection.

No doubt exists now that last week brought us face to face with pure evil. A better picture has emerged, and the most disturbing questions that I have seen raised deal with the now past decision of society to abolish taboos and definitions of “normal” which have effectively disarmed the self-defense mechanisms of good judgment that could have derailed the obvious and the apparent (Diana West, Wash. Times, 4-24-07). Regardless, do we let our children read and study the face and behavior of such a killer? Do we talk about it in their presence? Do we let them know it even happened? I have not seen the video footage mailed in by the killer and am not sure I want to. I think I have enough information already without imprinting his voice and video image in my mind. There is a point at which news worthiness turns into a fascination with the macabre. I avoid it for the same reason I do not stop to peer into wrecks on the road where the victim still lies trapped within. Those who must deal with it do so out of professional duty. Even these steeled professionals must carefully exercise themselves to purge their minds of the horror lest they become ineffective either as professionals or as fathers, mothers, husbands or wives.

On the other hand, I do not think we need fear exposure to the fallen-ness of this world for we can gain a truer picture of what sin is than anything the enemy throws up to us with his constant deceptions. Let me share with you the following quote which so concisely captures this point. “Imaginary evil is romantic and varied, full of charm; imaginary good is tiresome and flat. Real evil, however, is dreary, monotonous, barren. Real good is always new, marvelous, intoxicating.” (Simone Weil, 20th century French mystic) The evil we need to fear and protect ourselves from is that which flows so profusely from Hollywood, TV comedies, romance novels, and, yes, our own imaginations. Sinful acts springing from fantasies of the mind are incredibly alluring. The evil one graciously assists us in painting wonderfully exciting pictures of what delicious fun a little sin might be. It started in the garden and continues today. And yet, when we do see actual sin for what it is and what it does, we see nothing but barren-ness, destruction, and wreckage. Imaginary good, however, is easily mocked either in our minds or in the media as being trite and tiresome. But when we participate in actual deeds of kindness and mercy, we experience incredible joy. This helps explain why Christian fiction is so hard to write without becoming formulaic and flat while tales of sinfulness easily pull at our curiosity and quickly become best sellers.

I do not think we need fear the effect of the news from W.Virginia or the daily body count stories from our own Knoxville backyard. They simply tally up and highlight the cost of sin that eventually comes due. The wages of sin is death. Satan would much rather feed us titillating stories of desperate housewives, tales of cavorting doctors, and chronicles of clever and romantic criminals. I say, fear those who can dress up folly as creative frolic rather than the drumbeat of brutal headlines and coarse crimes. The one is real. The other is not.

Blacksburg

“if thou doest not well, sin lieth at the door.” Gen. 4:7

More bad news. Just when we thought it couldn’t get any worse, it does. Blacksburg has now put itself on the map as the latest and worst of anger gone amok. I am thinking of you with young children. How do you relate this news to them? Some are too small to even ask. Others are terribly perplexed. How is it possible to feel safe anymore? I struggle to think of anything comparable when my children were small.

Security is a deep felt need in us all. Yet events like this reveal how vulnerable we all are to such pointless and random violence. This is terrorism of the worst kind. There seems to be no agenda, no ideological grievance or injustice to blame or to try to understand. It appears to be pure fury unleashed from the troubled soul of a madman. But even worse, it could turn out to be not the rage of a madman in the sense of some deeply deranged lunatic. It could be that he was just an angry man.

Angry young men have been with us ever since Cain slew Abel. But the circles of violence have grown, the means more available, and the precedents established that break old barriers of civility with callous impudence. These cause us to question our society, our culture, and our values as a nation. And so they should. These events do not happen in a vacuum. They are symptoms of forces deep, dark, and disturbing within our civilization as we know it. Hundreds of opinions will be forthcoming shortly reflecting upon causes and solutions by philosophers and columnists alike. It is becoming a tiresome task, however, as we seem to be revisiting this deep, dark well with increasing frequency. Despair at finding an answer is, in itself, a symptom of our arrival in some perplexing new age.

My nominee for an explanation to this deadly scourge of disasters upon our national stage of horrors is simply that we have forgotten God, which Solzhenitsyn once said propelled Russia’s slide into Communism’s dark age. How many of these mass killers are children of the age; aimless, detached from normal families, seekers of meaning in a material culture, suckled by the exciting panoply of virtual media violence, and most significantly, totally devoid of sexual mores which lead them into destructive relationships that collapse of their own dead weight? I vote that lesson one is that there is no such thing as victimless sin. Somewhere, someplace, bad choices will bring forth bad fruit that kill and destroy and stink up the neighborhood with the smells of decay. It is true for our culture and true for us as middle class Christians. Secondly, ideas have consequences. Moral relativism breeds a revolution whose offspring will self-destruct and take the innocent with them. Sin destroys and the resulting destruction can ignite anger that knows no bounds.

The reports I am hearing indicate that our younger generation is playing at sin with frightful ferocity especially in the area of intimate relationships. This is true within the church and without. I continue to believe that God’s laws were planted in our midst for our own protection and not simply to spoil our fun. It is our duty to testify to that truth, uphold the law without embarrassment, and name sin for what it is. We must share the bad news before the good news of God’s love and forgiveness makes any sense. I am becoming convinced that this is an important step if we are to reach a generation which has lost its sense of shame. In the meantime, living in this increasingly insecure world demands we stay prayed up each day and rejoice in each day’s blessing of life. Life is worth living, and death only promotes us to glory.

Callings IX

“We pray always for you, that our God would count you worthy of this calling, and fulfill all the good pleasure of his goodness, and the work of faith with power” - 2 Thess. 1:10

Some years ago, John M. Hancock, a Knoxville lawyer, wrote a tribute for man who passed away at the age of 98. His name was Tennyson Walter Dickson, but he was known to his friends as “Slim” because of his tall, lanky stature. Mr. Hancock wrote that Slim “was as much of a positive influence on me as any of my teachers in public school or Sunday School, college professors, ministers, attorneys, judges or anyone else I have ever known in my 41 years of life.” Who was this man who exerted such influence?

John’s first recollection of Slim was as a boy when his whole family went to the S&W Cafeteria on Gay Street for dinner every Thursday night. Slim was one of the waiters there who wore a suit and bow tie, balanced trays on his arms, and poured up glasses of water and milk. In addition to his years of service at the cafeteria, Slim worked as a yardman and gardener for several families in Sequoyah Hills and Holston Hills before donning his suit coat for his regular job at night. Slim worked as such for John’s parents and grandparents and John grew up watching “his meticulous attention to detail, his dedication to service, his humbleness, his gratitude and, most of all, his Christian witness.” He was a deacon and usher at Mt. Zion Baptist Church, but John felt privileged “to see how he lived his life daily the other days of the week, how he sang, prayed, and praised God for the privilege of being able to work. Work to Slim was a true pleasure and opportunity.” Slim worked hard all his life, was never known to complain, and always wanted to find more to do. He worked in the heat of summer and cold of winter, no matter what the weather. “He mowed yards, trimmed bushes, pruned trees, dug ditches, planted flowers, raked leaves, and whatever else was necessary.” He asked for wages so low that most times he was paid twice as much as he asked but which was still lower by far than anything anyone else would work for, if, indeed, you could get them to work at all.

Slim became a part of the family sometimes coming as honored guest and friend. “He prayed many prayers with us in our kitchen when family health problems beset us.” He was there when John’s grandma died and gave the benediction at Grandpa’s funeral. He was the only black man at that funeral and demonstrated that ability to bridge those racial, social, and economic divisions within our society that so trouble us. “I never saw him unless he had a smile on his face. He had that rare quality that allowed him to get along with anyone in any situation.” Just a few years before his death, a roast was held in Slim’s honor at Ramsey’s, a tribute normally reserved for the elite. It was a mark of how deeply his life had impacted the community. Slim came to ask John to speak at that affair with his head bowed and a humble voice. When John said it would be an honor, Slim had to fight back the tears.

Stories like this stir me deeply. It is the story of a man who worked in his calling under the most humble of circumstances and did it as unto the Lord. To him, work was “a pleasure and opportunity.” His character showed through and deeply affected the lives around him. John Hancock, the lawyer, looked to Slim, the waiter and gardener, for inspiration in his daily life and counted it a privilege to know him. And in the end, both city and county officials, pastors, etc. gathered to honor Slim “not for his longevity of life but for the quality of it.” This is the mark of a person who is content and faithful in their calling and who understands that one’s legacy is defined by their character and not their calling. This is in stark contrast to a world blinded by the prestige, power, and pomp of office and station. How often I need to be reminded of this. How much more our children.