“Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life
Trying to make ends meet
You're a slave to money then you die”
---The Verve, “Bittersweet Symphony”
The first time I saw one of the many people in the “Occupy Wall Street” movement holding a sign that said, “We are the 99%,” I thought, “That has to include me. I’m certainly not in the 1%.”
There is some comfort in being in the 99%.; at least I know I am not floating all alone on a sea of economic uncertainty.
I remember reading about the Great Depression when I was in elementary school. Dad assured me it would never happen again, “…what with all the checks and balances we have since those dark depression days.”
“But what if it did happen again, Dad? What would we do?”
“In that case,” he tried to assure me, “everyone would be in trouble, and we would all be in it together.”
And now, we are all in it together.
At least the 99% are.
The 99% who occupied Wall Street did so at least in part to band together and find some comfort in a community of distress.
The “Occupy Wall Street” movement was conceived in a bed of dissatisfaction, birthed in economic hard times, and is struggling to take its first baby steps in the playpen of world crises.
Regardless of how one views its current status--- Is it primarily mainstream leftism? Just another example of radical extremism? A positive expression of progressive activism?--- what should concern us is its future, for the movement can be a shining light toward a better tomorrow, a dark cloud raining disorder upon an already disgruntled society, or an evaporating fog which when lifted leaves everything quite the same.
Whatever happens to it, the movement is itself symbolic of the culture of discontent that pervades the 99%: Opportunity has fallen far short of aspirations; expectations have exceeded painful realities; goals have evaporated on a horizon forecasting misery.
The United States economy creeps at an anemic growth rate of 2%; college students are graduating with abysmal prospects for jobs while saddled with burdensome college loans; the unemployment rate of people over 55 has doubled since 2007, and those over 55 who have lost jobs during the recession are less likely to find new ones and when they do, it takes 30% longer, according to a report on NBC nightly news; an AARP poll reveals that between 2007-2010, 24.7% of people over 50 exhausted their life savings; the 9.1% unemployment rate doesn’t even include the millions of jobless Americans who have been unemployed so long that they have lost hope and are no longer looking for work; and perhaps worst of all, the misery index---a combination of inflation plus unemployment rates---has risen to 13.0, the highest since 1983.
Whether the 99% includes both the Occupiers and the Tea Partiers, or more likely, a million different people from around the world, the fact is, people are clamoring for a change that’s deeper than mere cosmetic surgery on the way things are; they are seeking a revolutionary transformation of the way we do things economically; and they want the financial pain they feel to be addressed.
This will involve more than another job’s plan, or stimulus package, although that may be a place to start. But, both Washington and Wall Street should first listen rather than dismissing the 99% as too radical, or mistaken, or irrelevant. Then the White House and the Financial District should cooperate with the people in solving the fundamental problems in our broken economy. And until they do, the Occupiers must occupy.
Let’s hope the 99% can stay on track for positive change and that the 1% ---whether located in Washington, Wall Street, London, or Melbourne---will also see the need to occupy and help the rest of us as we together look for ways to create a new economy and give hope to the hopeless in a culture of discontent.
Otherwise, at least economically, much of the 99% will be left with a life that is, sadly---not much better than a bittersweet symphony.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Lost in a GOP Gameday Nightmare
While awaiting the Republican presidential candidates’ debate, I fell asleep, sitting there on my couch. I awoke with a jolt, glanced at my watch, and realized the debates had already started. Hurriedly turning the channel to CNN, I anticipated the debate, this one broadcast live from Las Vegas.
Instead I got College Game Day. I flipped the channel back and tried again: still College Game Day. I checked my clicker and tried once more: College Game Day again. In fact, every channel on TV was College Game Day.
I rubbed my eyes. “This can’t be,” I thought, “I must be in some kind of media warp.”
But there was Chris Fowler hosting College Game Day, “Live,” he was saying, “from Las Vegas.”
“What?” I asked. “The Republican debate on College Game Day?”
But the camera spanned the football stadium, and sure enough, right there on the field, the Republican presidential candidates were warming up in football uniforms.
Then I saw the Game Day crew: Fowler, Lee Corso, Kirk Herbstreit, and Desmond Howard. It was true; I could hear them speaking:
FOWLER: “This promises to be another wild one.”
HERBSTREIT: “No, doubt. And you’ve got to like Herman Cain as a favorite tonight. He’s rocketed like a meteor to the top of the polls and appears to be on a roll; his offense is really clicking with that 9-9-9 plan. It’s amazing, but this unlikely candidate could run the tables and find himself in a BCS bowl or even in the Championship Game with President Obama.”
CORSO: “Not so fast! Michelle Bachman has slipped, but she’s not done yet. The feisty little former IRS tax attorney has an aggressive offense that will shred that 9-9-9 plan by exposing its inconsistencies and mistakes. Cain better be ready! He could go down as quickly as he shot to the top. ”
HOWARD: “I don’t think any of you guys comprehend the efficiency and professionalism of Mitt Romney’s offense and defense. He may not be very exciting, but he’s paid his dues and has the experience to get the job done. And just look at him down there warming up. That uniform fits him perfectly. I mean, he looks sooo quarterbackish.”
HERBSTREIT: “Well, I tell you, Obama would love to face off with him; the clash between Obamacare and Romneycare could be revealing, an epic matchup.”
CORSO: “Not so fast, again! You’re forgetting Governor Perry. Remember, you don’t mess with Texas.”
FOWLER: “Where is the governor, anyway? I haven’t seen him on the field.”
HOWARD: “He’s just reentered the stadium. He was scheduled to appear at a pre-game prayer breakfast, and now he seems to be scooting away from a preacher who’s wearing a T-shirt that says, ‘Thank God I’m a Baptist,’ on one side and ‘Mormons Need not Apply,’ on the other.”
At that moment, President Obama himself joined the Game Day crew, smiling, wearing sun glasses, and sporting a ball cap that said, “It’s not my Fault.” (41% of the fans booed; 22% cheered; and 37% were chanting, “We want Chris Christie.”)
FOWLER: “Welcome, Mr. President. Hey, how much did you pay for that snazzy cap?”
PRESIDENT OBAMA: “$29.25, including tax.”
CORSO: “Taxes, ugh. That’s ridiculously high!”
PRESIDENT OBAMA: “You’ve got to remember the financial situation I inherited from my predecessor and what with this Republican Congress…”
CORSO: “Oh, I wasn’t being critical; I think you’re doing a fine job.”
PRESIDENT OBAMA: “You do? Really? Oh, well, sorry, in that case, I’ll just sit down and scout these candidates as they rip each other. And, haha, I don’t even have to get sweaty and dirty! I can just relax and enjoy the show.”
Everyone laughed; the College Game Day crew faded as the camera spanned the lights of Vegas from far above the city.
Then I thought I could hear someone call out my name: “David, David.”
It was my wife: “You must have fallen asleep again,” she consoled.
“You won’t believe it.” I said. “I went to a political debate and a football game broke out. Was it in a dream? Was it just a dream? I know, yes I know. It seemed so very real, seemed so real to me. You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one…”
“Sure,” she sarcastically quipped.
“She’s right,” I admitted, “that was just a dream.”
Walking away from the TV, I could barely hear David Gregory hosting Meet the Press. “Welcome to today’s program,” I faintly heard him saying, “our panel of political experts will continue our debate of which college football team will win the national championship…”
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com
Instead I got College Game Day. I flipped the channel back and tried again: still College Game Day. I checked my clicker and tried once more: College Game Day again. In fact, every channel on TV was College Game Day.
I rubbed my eyes. “This can’t be,” I thought, “I must be in some kind of media warp.”
But there was Chris Fowler hosting College Game Day, “Live,” he was saying, “from Las Vegas.”
“What?” I asked. “The Republican debate on College Game Day?”
But the camera spanned the football stadium, and sure enough, right there on the field, the Republican presidential candidates were warming up in football uniforms.
Then I saw the Game Day crew: Fowler, Lee Corso, Kirk Herbstreit, and Desmond Howard. It was true; I could hear them speaking:
FOWLER: “This promises to be another wild one.”
HERBSTREIT: “No, doubt. And you’ve got to like Herman Cain as a favorite tonight. He’s rocketed like a meteor to the top of the polls and appears to be on a roll; his offense is really clicking with that 9-9-9 plan. It’s amazing, but this unlikely candidate could run the tables and find himself in a BCS bowl or even in the Championship Game with President Obama.”
CORSO: “Not so fast! Michelle Bachman has slipped, but she’s not done yet. The feisty little former IRS tax attorney has an aggressive offense that will shred that 9-9-9 plan by exposing its inconsistencies and mistakes. Cain better be ready! He could go down as quickly as he shot to the top. ”
HOWARD: “I don’t think any of you guys comprehend the efficiency and professionalism of Mitt Romney’s offense and defense. He may not be very exciting, but he’s paid his dues and has the experience to get the job done. And just look at him down there warming up. That uniform fits him perfectly. I mean, he looks sooo quarterbackish.”
HERBSTREIT: “Well, I tell you, Obama would love to face off with him; the clash between Obamacare and Romneycare could be revealing, an epic matchup.”
CORSO: “Not so fast, again! You’re forgetting Governor Perry. Remember, you don’t mess with Texas.”
FOWLER: “Where is the governor, anyway? I haven’t seen him on the field.”
HOWARD: “He’s just reentered the stadium. He was scheduled to appear at a pre-game prayer breakfast, and now he seems to be scooting away from a preacher who’s wearing a T-shirt that says, ‘Thank God I’m a Baptist,’ on one side and ‘Mormons Need not Apply,’ on the other.”
At that moment, President Obama himself joined the Game Day crew, smiling, wearing sun glasses, and sporting a ball cap that said, “It’s not my Fault.” (41% of the fans booed; 22% cheered; and 37% were chanting, “We want Chris Christie.”)
FOWLER: “Welcome, Mr. President. Hey, how much did you pay for that snazzy cap?”
PRESIDENT OBAMA: “$29.25, including tax.”
CORSO: “Taxes, ugh. That’s ridiculously high!”
PRESIDENT OBAMA: “You’ve got to remember the financial situation I inherited from my predecessor and what with this Republican Congress…”
CORSO: “Oh, I wasn’t being critical; I think you’re doing a fine job.”
PRESIDENT OBAMA: “You do? Really? Oh, well, sorry, in that case, I’ll just sit down and scout these candidates as they rip each other. And, haha, I don’t even have to get sweaty and dirty! I can just relax and enjoy the show.”
Everyone laughed; the College Game Day crew faded as the camera spanned the lights of Vegas from far above the city.
Then I thought I could hear someone call out my name: “David, David.”
It was my wife: “You must have fallen asleep again,” she consoled.
“You won’t believe it.” I said. “I went to a political debate and a football game broke out. Was it in a dream? Was it just a dream? I know, yes I know. It seemed so very real, seemed so real to me. You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one…”
“Sure,” she sarcastically quipped.
“She’s right,” I admitted, “that was just a dream.”
Walking away from the TV, I could barely hear David Gregory hosting Meet the Press. “Welcome to today’s program,” I faintly heard him saying, “our panel of political experts will continue our debate of which college football team will win the national championship…”
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com
Lost in a GOP Gameday Nightmare
While awaiting the Republican presidential candidates’ debate, I fell asleep, sitting there on my couch. I awoke with a jolt, glanced at my watch, and realized the debates had already started. Hurriedly turning the channel to CNN, I anticipated the debate, this one broadcast live from Las Vegas.
Instead I got College Game Day. I flipped the channel back and tried again: still College Game Day. I checked my clicker and tried once more: College Game Day again. In fact, every channel on TV was College Game Day.
I rubbed my eyes. “This can’t be,” I thought, “I must be in some kind of media warp.”
But there was Chris Fowler hosting College Game Day, “Live,” he was saying, “from Las Vegas.”
“What?” I asked. “The Republican debate on College Game Day?”
But the camera spanned the football stadium, and sure enough, right there on the field, the Republican presidential candidates were warming up in football uniforms.
Then I saw the Game Day crew: Fowler, Lee Corso, Kirk Herbstreit, and Desmond Howard. It was true; I could hear them speaking:
FOWLER: “This promises to be another wild one.”
HERBSTREIT: “No, doubt. And you’ve got to like Herman Cain as a favorite tonight. He’s rocketed like a meteor to the top of the polls and appears to be on a roll; his offense is really clicking with that 9-9-9 plan. It’s amazing, but this unlikely candidate could run the tables and find himself in a BCS bowl or even in the Championship Game with President Obama.”
CORSO: “Not so fast! Michelle Bachman has slipped, but she’s not done yet. The feisty little former IRS tax attorney has an aggressive offense that will shred that 9-9-9 plan by exposing its inconsistencies and mistakes. Cain better be ready! He could go down as quickly as he shot to the top. ”
HOWARD: “I don’t think any of you guys comprehend the efficiency and professionalism of Mitt Romney’s offense and defense. He may not be very exciting, but he’s paid his dues and has the experience to get the job done. And just look at him down there warming up. That uniform fits him perfectly. I mean, he looks sooo quarterbackish.”
HERBSTREIT: “Well, I tell you, Obama would love to face off with him; the clash between Obamacare and Romneycare could be revealing, an epic matchup.”
CORSO: “Not so fast, again! You’re forgetting Governor Perry. Remember, you don’t mess with Texas.”
FOWLER: “Where is the governor, anyway? I haven’t seen him on the field.”
HOWARD: “He’s just reentered the stadium. He was scheduled to appear at a pre-game prayer breakfast, and now he seems to be scooting away from a preacher who’s wearing a T-shirt that says, ‘Thank God I’m a Baptist,’ on one side and ‘Mormons Need not Apply,’ on the other.”
At that moment, President Obama himself joined the Game Day crew, smiling, wearing sun glasses, and sporting a ball cap that said, “It’s not my Fault.” (41% of the fans booed; 22% cheered; and 37% were chanting, “We want Chris Christie.”)
FOWLER: “Welcome, Mr. President. Hey, how much did you pay for that snazzy cap?”
PRESIDENT OBAMA: “$29.25, including tax.”
CORSO: “Taxes, ugh. That’s ridiculously high!”
PRESIDENT OBAMA: “You’ve got to remember the financial situation I inherited from my predecessor and what with this Republican Congress…”
CORSO: “Oh, I wasn’t being critical; I think you’re doing a fine job.”
PRESIDENT OBAMA: “You do? Really? Oh, well, sorry, in that case, I’ll just sit down and scout these candidates as they rip each other. And, haha, I don’t even have to get sweaty and dirty! I can just relax and enjoy the show.”
Everyone laughed; the College Game Day crew faded as the camera spanned the lights of Vegas from far above the city.
Then I thought I could hear someone call out my name: “David, David.”
It was my wife: “You must have fallen asleep again,” she consoled.
“You won’t believe it.” I said. “I went to a political debate and a football game broke out. Was it in a dream? Was it just a dream? I know, yes I know. It seemed so very real, seemed so real to me. You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one…”
“Sure,” she sarcastically quipped.
“She’s right,” I admitted, “that was just a dream.”
Walking away from the TV, I could barely hear David Gregory hosting Meet the Press. “Welcome to today’s program,” I faintly heard him saying, “our panel of political experts will continue our debate of which college football team will win the national championship…”
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com
Instead I got College Game Day. I flipped the channel back and tried again: still College Game Day. I checked my clicker and tried once more: College Game Day again. In fact, every channel on TV was College Game Day.
I rubbed my eyes. “This can’t be,” I thought, “I must be in some kind of media warp.”
But there was Chris Fowler hosting College Game Day, “Live,” he was saying, “from Las Vegas.”
“What?” I asked. “The Republican debate on College Game Day?”
But the camera spanned the football stadium, and sure enough, right there on the field, the Republican presidential candidates were warming up in football uniforms.
Then I saw the Game Day crew: Fowler, Lee Corso, Kirk Herbstreit, and Desmond Howard. It was true; I could hear them speaking:
FOWLER: “This promises to be another wild one.”
HERBSTREIT: “No, doubt. And you’ve got to like Herman Cain as a favorite tonight. He’s rocketed like a meteor to the top of the polls and appears to be on a roll; his offense is really clicking with that 9-9-9 plan. It’s amazing, but this unlikely candidate could run the tables and find himself in a BCS bowl or even in the Championship Game with President Obama.”
CORSO: “Not so fast! Michelle Bachman has slipped, but she’s not done yet. The feisty little former IRS tax attorney has an aggressive offense that will shred that 9-9-9 plan by exposing its inconsistencies and mistakes. Cain better be ready! He could go down as quickly as he shot to the top. ”
HOWARD: “I don’t think any of you guys comprehend the efficiency and professionalism of Mitt Romney’s offense and defense. He may not be very exciting, but he’s paid his dues and has the experience to get the job done. And just look at him down there warming up. That uniform fits him perfectly. I mean, he looks sooo quarterbackish.”
HERBSTREIT: “Well, I tell you, Obama would love to face off with him; the clash between Obamacare and Romneycare could be revealing, an epic matchup.”
CORSO: “Not so fast, again! You’re forgetting Governor Perry. Remember, you don’t mess with Texas.”
FOWLER: “Where is the governor, anyway? I haven’t seen him on the field.”
HOWARD: “He’s just reentered the stadium. He was scheduled to appear at a pre-game prayer breakfast, and now he seems to be scooting away from a preacher who’s wearing a T-shirt that says, ‘Thank God I’m a Baptist,’ on one side and ‘Mormons Need not Apply,’ on the other.”
At that moment, President Obama himself joined the Game Day crew, smiling, wearing sun glasses, and sporting a ball cap that said, “It’s not my Fault.” (41% of the fans booed; 22% cheered; and 37% were chanting, “We want Chris Christie.”)
FOWLER: “Welcome, Mr. President. Hey, how much did you pay for that snazzy cap?”
PRESIDENT OBAMA: “$29.25, including tax.”
CORSO: “Taxes, ugh. That’s ridiculously high!”
PRESIDENT OBAMA: “You’ve got to remember the financial situation I inherited from my predecessor and what with this Republican Congress…”
CORSO: “Oh, I wasn’t being critical; I think you’re doing a fine job.”
PRESIDENT OBAMA: “You do? Really? Oh, well, sorry, in that case, I’ll just sit down and scout these candidates as they rip each other. And, haha, I don’t even have to get sweaty and dirty! I can just relax and enjoy the show.”
Everyone laughed; the College Game Day crew faded as the camera spanned the lights of Vegas from far above the city.
Then I thought I could hear someone call out my name: “David, David.”
It was my wife: “You must have fallen asleep again,” she consoled.
“You won’t believe it.” I said. “I went to a political debate and a football game broke out. Was it in a dream? Was it just a dream? I know, yes I know. It seemed so very real, seemed so real to me. You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one…”
“Sure,” she sarcastically quipped.
“She’s right,” I admitted, “that was just a dream.”
Walking away from the TV, I could barely hear David Gregory hosting Meet the Press. “Welcome to today’s program,” I faintly heard him saying, “our panel of political experts will continue our debate of which college football team will win the national championship…”
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. at davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Always a reason for hope, even with cancer
The words had inadvertently found their way on the printed page; they were obviously not meant for anyone to read. Only two words: “No hope.” But they said so much. Too much.
They were printed next to the name of a cancer patient for whom we prayed. I flinched when I read them. No one is beyond hope--- not even those who appear to be victims in the last stages of cancer.
Cancer is indeed a powerful foe. It’s taken down the tough (Lyle Alzado, Mickey Mantle, Walter Payton), the entertaining (Bette Davis, Milton Berle, Jack Benny), the rugged (Yul Brenner, U.S. Grant, John Wayne), and the brilliant (James Baldwin, Steve Jobs, Enrico Fermi), just to mention a few. There is no vaccination against cancer, and no society is cancer free. You have a relative, or a friend, or a neighbor with cancer.
Maybe you have cancer.
According to Dr. Siddhartha Mukherjee, author of The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer, because we are living longer, cancer has more time to strike us, making it a “new normal,” in our lives. In advanced nations, cancer attacks two to three people during their lifetime. But we are making progress in the fight against cancer. Although the incidence of cancer is rising, cancer mortality is actually going down, says Dr. Mukherjee.
And so we hope.
Yet even as we hope in advances of medical technology and the benefits of healthier lifestyles, we know our time is limited. As cancer victim Steve Jobs said in his commencement address at Stanford University shortly after his cancer diagnosis in 2003: “No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one had escaped it.”
I’m not sure what Jobs’s concept of the afterlife was. A convert to Zen Buddhism, perhaps his hope was in an enlightened state of rebirth, or a dissolving into a blissful nothingness. Or maybe Zen provided the underpinnings for a more secular form of hope with no need of dogma or revelation, where this world is all there is and all we need. Christianity Today editor Andy Crouch’s observation in The Wall Street Journal seems quite correct: “Mr. Jobs’s Apple is a religion of hope in a hopeless world---hope that your mortal life can be elegant and meaningful, even if it will soon be discarded like a 2001 iPod.” As Crouch notes, for many in this secular age, that’s enough.
But for others it’s not.
For the one whose future was mistakenly labeled, “no hope,” it wasn’t. He clings to hope---a hope that he, still in the prime of young adulthood, will by God’s mercy overcome cancer and avoid death, at least for a while, at least until he can leave the hospital where he has been confined for more months than he cares to count, imprisoned in a bed where he hears of life on the outside, of days other people enjoy, days of sunshine and fun, of breathtaking sunrises and glowing sunsets, of weddings and parties with friends, days stolen from him by cancer’s curse; days forever gone, dissolved by the slow drip of chemotherapy.
As I conclude my prayer, he signs the cross---a motion of his faith--- and I join him, as we both hope in something more than a miracle cure, something that’s beyond death, something grounded in the hope expressed by the apostle Paul, “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”
In the hope of that eternal glory we can rest, finding within it reason to live in a world bounded on its four corners by death, breathing the oxygen of a hope that survives the misery of our happenstance because it’s a hope in the One who takes us by the hand now and promises to carry us home then.
In that hope, we find reason enough to live for another day.
And rest in peace forever.
Contact David B.Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com. David is Pastor at Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon, Ky. He also teaches as an adjunct professor at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky.
They were printed next to the name of a cancer patient for whom we prayed. I flinched when I read them. No one is beyond hope--- not even those who appear to be victims in the last stages of cancer.
Cancer is indeed a powerful foe. It’s taken down the tough (Lyle Alzado, Mickey Mantle, Walter Payton), the entertaining (Bette Davis, Milton Berle, Jack Benny), the rugged (Yul Brenner, U.S. Grant, John Wayne), and the brilliant (James Baldwin, Steve Jobs, Enrico Fermi), just to mention a few. There is no vaccination against cancer, and no society is cancer free. You have a relative, or a friend, or a neighbor with cancer.
Maybe you have cancer.
According to Dr. Siddhartha Mukherjee, author of The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer, because we are living longer, cancer has more time to strike us, making it a “new normal,” in our lives. In advanced nations, cancer attacks two to three people during their lifetime. But we are making progress in the fight against cancer. Although the incidence of cancer is rising, cancer mortality is actually going down, says Dr. Mukherjee.
And so we hope.
Yet even as we hope in advances of medical technology and the benefits of healthier lifestyles, we know our time is limited. As cancer victim Steve Jobs said in his commencement address at Stanford University shortly after his cancer diagnosis in 2003: “No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one had escaped it.”
I’m not sure what Jobs’s concept of the afterlife was. A convert to Zen Buddhism, perhaps his hope was in an enlightened state of rebirth, or a dissolving into a blissful nothingness. Or maybe Zen provided the underpinnings for a more secular form of hope with no need of dogma or revelation, where this world is all there is and all we need. Christianity Today editor Andy Crouch’s observation in The Wall Street Journal seems quite correct: “Mr. Jobs’s Apple is a religion of hope in a hopeless world---hope that your mortal life can be elegant and meaningful, even if it will soon be discarded like a 2001 iPod.” As Crouch notes, for many in this secular age, that’s enough.
But for others it’s not.
For the one whose future was mistakenly labeled, “no hope,” it wasn’t. He clings to hope---a hope that he, still in the prime of young adulthood, will by God’s mercy overcome cancer and avoid death, at least for a while, at least until he can leave the hospital where he has been confined for more months than he cares to count, imprisoned in a bed where he hears of life on the outside, of days other people enjoy, days of sunshine and fun, of breathtaking sunrises and glowing sunsets, of weddings and parties with friends, days stolen from him by cancer’s curse; days forever gone, dissolved by the slow drip of chemotherapy.
As I conclude my prayer, he signs the cross---a motion of his faith--- and I join him, as we both hope in something more than a miracle cure, something that’s beyond death, something grounded in the hope expressed by the apostle Paul, “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”
In the hope of that eternal glory we can rest, finding within it reason to live in a world bounded on its four corners by death, breathing the oxygen of a hope that survives the misery of our happenstance because it’s a hope in the One who takes us by the hand now and promises to carry us home then.
In that hope, we find reason enough to live for another day.
And rest in peace forever.
Contact David B.Whitlock, Ph.D. at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com. David is Pastor at Lebanon Baptist Church in Lebanon, Ky. He also teaches as an adjunct professor at Campbellsville University in Campbellsville, Ky.
Your Cheatin' Heart Will Tell on You
So begins the first line of Hank Williams Sr.’s classic hit, “Your Cheatin’ Heart.” And if your own cheatin’ heart won’t tell on you, someone else’s cheatin’ heart will. Or someone will connect the dots that place your cheatin’ heart in the crosshairs. It’s almost certain.
Almost.
It’s that lure of the “almost,” the bet on the card that says, “You’re an exception; you can get by with it,” that entices the moral gambler to roll the dice.
But the odds are not in lady luck’s favor.
Just ask the recently arrested former and current students at the prestigious Great Neck North High School (ranked among the top 100 best high schools in the U.S., the school boasts of Nobel Prize-winning biologist David Baltimore, filmmaker Francis Ford Coppola, and Olympic figure skating champion Sarah Hughes among its graduates) in Long Island, New York.
These students allegedly paid Sam Eshaghoff, 19, a Great Neck North graduate and now a student at Emory University, between $1,500 and $2,500, to take the SAT exam for them. He did so with great success.
But faculty at the high school had heard rumors that some students had paid another student to take the SAT for them. Then administrators noticed large discrepancies between these six students’ academic performance and their SAT scores.
I could almost hear ol’ Hank Sr., crooning, “Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you,” when I saw the handcuffed Eshaghoff and the other students covering their heads with their jackets as they were being led to the police station.
A cheatin’ heart lurks within each of us, and given the right circumstances, it emerges, muddling our decisions, dragging us into the murky moral mire that begins comfortably enough with dismissing caution, gradually descends into covering mistakes, and ends with perfuming the stench of wrong doing. And stench inevitably draws flies, flies that are attracted to a decaying, cheating heart, a cheating heart that will tell on you, sooner or later.
Cheating rivets our culture to the degree that you may feel cheated if you don’t cheat: If everybody in your reference group is doing it, you may feel left behind if you don’t, penalized for playing by the rules. “If the opportunity is there, take it,” our culture tells us, “regardless of whether it’s right or wrong or who gets hurt.” One of the students at Great Neck North High School said in a report on the NBC Today Show, “If they (the accused students) had the money on hand, and I guess they can, if they have the opportunity, it’s just not that surprising.”
I feel for those students who buckled under the pressure to achieve. They wanted something good, but went about it in the wrong way. They were trying desperately to be something they weren’t by claiming something they did not deserve.
We’ve all been there, more or less, in greater or lesser degrees. David Callahan maintains, in his book, The Cheating Culture, that more Americans are cheating and feeling less guilty about it. And Dan Ariely’s research in behavioral economics reveals that when people in our reference group cheat, we are more likely to cheat. Both truths are causes for concern: Those youth maturing in a culture where cheating is increasingly becoming the acceptable norm will be the ones leading change--- for good or bad--- in American politics and government, as if it could get worse than it already is.
Cheating didn’t begin with the United States; it’s as old as the oldest story in the Hebrew Bible. Eve bought the lie that God was cheating her of pleasure, and in seeking an end run to gratification, she tried cheating God of forbidden fruit, a choice that Adam seconded, landing them both outside the garden of gardens, hiding their shame with fig leaves.
We would do well to remember those original cheaters whenever we are tempted to cut corners in wrong ways. For if you’ve been there and done that (and bought the T-shirt with a capital “C” emblazoned on it), or if only you’ve seen the harm it does to others---you surely don’t want a cheatin’ heart to tell on you.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
Almost.
It’s that lure of the “almost,” the bet on the card that says, “You’re an exception; you can get by with it,” that entices the moral gambler to roll the dice.
But the odds are not in lady luck’s favor.
Just ask the recently arrested former and current students at the prestigious Great Neck North High School (ranked among the top 100 best high schools in the U.S., the school boasts of Nobel Prize-winning biologist David Baltimore, filmmaker Francis Ford Coppola, and Olympic figure skating champion Sarah Hughes among its graduates) in Long Island, New York.
These students allegedly paid Sam Eshaghoff, 19, a Great Neck North graduate and now a student at Emory University, between $1,500 and $2,500, to take the SAT exam for them. He did so with great success.
But faculty at the high school had heard rumors that some students had paid another student to take the SAT for them. Then administrators noticed large discrepancies between these six students’ academic performance and their SAT scores.
I could almost hear ol’ Hank Sr., crooning, “Your cheatin’ heart will tell on you,” when I saw the handcuffed Eshaghoff and the other students covering their heads with their jackets as they were being led to the police station.
A cheatin’ heart lurks within each of us, and given the right circumstances, it emerges, muddling our decisions, dragging us into the murky moral mire that begins comfortably enough with dismissing caution, gradually descends into covering mistakes, and ends with perfuming the stench of wrong doing. And stench inevitably draws flies, flies that are attracted to a decaying, cheating heart, a cheating heart that will tell on you, sooner or later.
Cheating rivets our culture to the degree that you may feel cheated if you don’t cheat: If everybody in your reference group is doing it, you may feel left behind if you don’t, penalized for playing by the rules. “If the opportunity is there, take it,” our culture tells us, “regardless of whether it’s right or wrong or who gets hurt.” One of the students at Great Neck North High School said in a report on the NBC Today Show, “If they (the accused students) had the money on hand, and I guess they can, if they have the opportunity, it’s just not that surprising.”
I feel for those students who buckled under the pressure to achieve. They wanted something good, but went about it in the wrong way. They were trying desperately to be something they weren’t by claiming something they did not deserve.
We’ve all been there, more or less, in greater or lesser degrees. David Callahan maintains, in his book, The Cheating Culture, that more Americans are cheating and feeling less guilty about it. And Dan Ariely’s research in behavioral economics reveals that when people in our reference group cheat, we are more likely to cheat. Both truths are causes for concern: Those youth maturing in a culture where cheating is increasingly becoming the acceptable norm will be the ones leading change--- for good or bad--- in American politics and government, as if it could get worse than it already is.
Cheating didn’t begin with the United States; it’s as old as the oldest story in the Hebrew Bible. Eve bought the lie that God was cheating her of pleasure, and in seeking an end run to gratification, she tried cheating God of forbidden fruit, a choice that Adam seconded, landing them both outside the garden of gardens, hiding their shame with fig leaves.
We would do well to remember those original cheaters whenever we are tempted to cut corners in wrong ways. For if you’ve been there and done that (and bought the T-shirt with a capital “C” emblazoned on it), or if only you’ve seen the harm it does to others---you surely don’t want a cheatin’ heart to tell on you.
Contact David B. Whitlock, Ph.D., at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com or visit his website, www.davidbwhitlock.com
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