Psalm 15

Between the ineffable spiritual truth and mere legalistic literalism is a place of moral commitment in the soul touched by eternity. In the Hebrew mind, spiritual birth was not necessary for obedience when the entire cultural slant assumes feudal obligations — everyone serves someone. Further, that feudal awareness includes a tacit understanding that one must be committed to God’s peace (shalom) in terms of social stability. So David describes here what makes for that moral peace of God through moral commitments.

Who would be welcomed as a resident foreigner in the tents of God? Who should be allowed to hang around Zion? This assumes David had already purchased the plot of land he dedicated for the future Temple. The person who is welcome in God’s domain is one who is morally solid, firmly committed to Jehovah as Sovereign Lord.

The earmarks of such a commitment would include several things. English translations vary, but the idea is confessing frankly what one has embraced. When you honestly care about God’s stated interests, you tend to operate accordingly. Sometimes speaking is a euphemism for action; if your actions and words don’t match, you have a problem.

This man has no political agenda. He’s willing to put up with unpleasant neighbors who aren’t outright criminals. He’s not a busybody trying to provoke the community or the authorities against someone for petty stuff. On the other hand, he won’t do many favors for someone who has rejected God’s moral standards. He reserves his resources for those who cling to God. This isn’t legalistic perfection as Westerns might measure such things, but a moral commitment that recognizes human frailty because he sees plenty of it in the mirror.

He’s willing to carry through on promises when his mouth overloads his capabilities. He loans without interest because he knows how destructive interest is. He’s willing to make loans he knows can never be repaid. He’s willing to engage in the social fiction to preserve the dignity of his neighbor when poverty forces that one to come calling for a loan. He doesn’t bother to record that loan, but trusts God to repay it. Indeed, money is just a tool for justice in his eyes; you can’t bribe him to lie.

People like this are God’s people. The whole world could collapse, but God would stand next to such a man.

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Context: Angels and Demons

I refuse to dispute with Scripture. You can bet I’ll dispute over Scripture. That is, I will debate with you what it actually says, but I’ll never hide or confuse the issue intentionally. I can point to a wealth of consistent scholarship about Hebrew intellectual assumptions and how they differ from what we have around us today.

In Hebrew literature, context is everything. For example, in the Ancient Near East (ANE), you would never stick your nose into something without good intel. That means you have your people on the ground at the scene, or close enough to observe. You would further insist on having things evaluated by people you trust, people who have taken the time to know what you value and how their mission fits into your broader agenda. It was all intensely personal and labor intensive. Whereas we make a demigod of objectivity, they would have sneered at the mere possibility of being objective about things in this world. God could remake reality on-the-fly, so don’t waste your time.

God made all things. There are no useful details on that because it’s beyond our comprehension. That’s partly because we are fallen. Again, the details are sketchy how that came to be, but that’s not important. What matters is the painful truth that we don’t operate on His level; we are stuck inside a very flawed and constrained false reality. Indeed, God said He would not enter this sphere of existence because simply touching it would destroy it, in the sense that His holiness would dissolve the whole thing as we know it. He has some peculiar and unknowable reason for keeping things as they are for now. So He’s personally involved through proxy agents, many of which are not human.

Those agents are described in Scripture as angels, beings who can manifest in a more-or-less human form when necessary. However, they are hardly human. Perhaps in more modern terms, they are moral abstractions that express God’s divine will. The whole point of Hebrew literature as revelation is to offer a working model of reality. The point of revelation is to bring attention back to Himself, because nothing will do more for us than to reach out to Him. What we have now is not what God had mind, not what He wanted for us. Whatever it was that we could have had, and could some day recover, requires first that we make Him Lord.

So it stands to reason the angels would not suffer our limitations, but understand them fully. For them to enter our realm of existence means entering a system of constraint not native to them. They don’t have to be visible nor have any particular form at all, but have been known to appear in a human form. Their essence is to express God’s moral intent within the context of our fallen state. They represent a redemptive presence, a personal expression of His compassion on our foul estate.

What we see in Scripture narratives about the appearance of angels is more about meeting the people where they were than about expressing any kind of absolute truth. Don’t read that sort of thinking back into Scripture, because it’s foreign to the mindset of the writers. There is no such thing as objective reality and no body of objective truth extant separately from God’s Person. What you see around you is deception itself, in a sense. This is the damaged and broken remains of something real, a collection of shadows. The Hebrew worldview is naturally closer to reality, being the product of divine revelation itself, but not obligatory upon us in every detail. Rather, it is obligatory to become familiar with that worldview if you plan to understand Scripture.

Our minds are designed to handle multiple frames of reference. From that basis you can shape your own approach to making God Lord of your life. You can create your own system, but don’t you ever pretend your system is somehow binding on others. Just because it makes sense to you doesn’t mean it should make sense to someone else. For all our vast attempts to formulate a standard system of logic, we cannot possibly all see things just alike. There is sure to be some overlap, but you can’t possibly rise to anything more than a functional grasp for your own use. It’s not that we can’t rise to logic, but neither we nor the logic is capable of discovering ultimate truth. It as to be revealed, and revelation is inherently personal. It’s moral, not factual.

You aren’t required to think of angels as literal truth. Seeing actual agents from Heaven is rather what the Hebrew people would expect; it wouldn’t challenge their ability to obey. God is not interested in useless distractions. He addresses you where you are in hopes you’ll allow yourself to be dragged out of that mess into something better. If it works for you to see it more as a matter of God’s character manifesting itself in the natural world instead of angelic entities pushing things around, fine — go for it. Take upon yourself the accountability to invest yourself in serving God and working out some internal system of organization so you can implement that divine call.

Meanwhile, don’t ever sneer at anyone else’s system. They may well be far closer to God’s intent for them than you are to His intent for you.

In terms of how things work, demons are those angelic beings under the dominion of Satan. In other places I describe how Satan is our enemy, but not God’s. Rather, Satan is God’s divine jailer and lictor. Every great ruler of the ANE had a very high-ranking official who kept the jail, typically a debtor’s prison of sorts. It isn’t precisely buying your way out of hell, but of satisfying the debt owed on your head.

The whole thing was described in terms or ANE feudalism. Your Lord is involved in some kind of domain-building. It was seldom so crass as pure monetary profit. He valued people more than property. People can be moved as opportunity provides, but real estate was fixed to the ground. A nomadic existence was the essence of their assumptions about life. Besides, without talented servants to populate your holdings, land meant nothing. If you transgress your Lord’s plans for building His empire, you would cost him something; it would be a loss. You would incur a sort of debt. The jailer would assume the ownership of that debt and you would serve him until that debt was repaid. He wasn’t required to be nice about it, so the longer you stayed in his service, the more likely you were to die before your time.

So abstract this image and understand that humanity is born into Satan’s jail, born under a transgressor’s debt. There is all kinds of ways to resolve that debt, and the provisions are quite generous, but you have to accept the terms. The debt is regarded as incurred by your disloyalty. Redemption from that debt starts with a resolve, a commitment of personal loyalty to serve the Lord in building His domain. Otherwise, all you do is enrich the jailer, Satan.

But Satan can’t do anything without God’s permission. Moreover, in terms of influence in this world, Satan’s power is outnumbered two-to-one, as it were. That is, the Bible says that there are two angels for every demon. I’ll leave it to the reader to consider what that says about how goofy humanity is about staying with Satan when the exit from his service is so very easy.

On the other hand, the entire thrust of Western Civilization is to counter God’s truth. It was bad enough in ancient times with their odd mixture of pagan and heathen cultures. But that was all a rather common ground compared to the vast distance we have to travel these days. Departing Satan’s clutches has never been harder in terms of human awareness. It’s rather like having to install an entirely different operating system on a computer. The hardware is just fine either way, but the outcome is radically different in terms of what you can do with it. It’s not enough to simply remove the malware and change the settings; you have to start from scratch with an entirely different orientation.

When discussing angels and demons, we start with a huge mass of painfully sick and perverted lies. All the crap in movies and ghost stories is just that — crap. The whole thing is the result of pagan mythology and pointedly contrary to Scripture. Nothing in this universe twitches without God’s permission. Whatever is at work on our level of existence is not something we need to fear. It can’t drag us screaming off into Hell. By default, that’s where we are all headed in the first place. In general terms, the torment of human suffering and sorrow is all one thing; only our subjective sense of awareness makes any difference. The fallen plane of existence is all shadows and lies in the first place.

Nothing requires you to think and operate in terms of angels and demons literally present around you. What is required is that you understand the moral implications of the imagery in the context of Hebrew Scripture, and apply that moral discernment to your own existence.

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Song of Solomon 5

Blunt lesson here: Once you have surrendered to your man, you are no longer your own. As he is yours, you are his. That’s how God sees it.

The chapter begins with the groom declaring he is making love to his bride. After a few lines, the narrator tells them both to have a great time. This is good and right in God’s eyes.

Next comes a cautionary tale. The bride falls asleep after love-making and dreams a warning from God. The symbolism is obvious within the Hebrew culture. She is slow to respond when her husband calls to her, perhaps at the worst time of the night for her. It represents little more than an inconvenience. Finally she gets up and comes to find him no longer there. In this case, the symbolism is her lack of eagerness disappoints him. He loses interest. Too late she tries to hunt him down and win back his favor.

The concept of guardians is ambivalent, shifting in emphasis with the context. In this case, the image of wandering guards is angelic. They punish her and take away her covering before the Lord. Ladies, whatever it is God adds to your life in marriage depends on that moral covering. It’s more than mere sex, but starts with that. If you lose your eagerness for your husband, you lose God’s moral protection.

But God always leaves a path of repentance. The bride calls on her support network to help her repair the damage. When the maidens ask what difference it makes to her, she waxes lyrical about what she has lost. She describes him as the man of men.

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Alien Gateway

Dr. King had almost forgotten her meal, but took another bite while she considered things. Then, “A lot of people are disappointed with mainstream religion these days. Tell me how you came this epiphany, if I can call it that.”

Sadler pushed his tray off to one side and folded his fingers together in the spot where it had been. “My gateway — you would probably call it ‘clinical depression’.”

She raised one eyebrow. He shifted in his seat and continued. “You could hardly blame me for disliking the way terms like that are abused in our culture. Most people would label as ‘depression’ all sorts of other things, including any reason someone might have for suicide. The two are entirely separate and converge only in a few cases. As you probably know, depression isn’t a feeling at all, but the absence of feelings. So I’m going to describe it in other terms: a substantial portion of your self dies. So much of what you value is taken away that you no longer care about anything.”

Between mouthfuls, Dr. King noted, “That’s an apt description.”

Sadler told his story. His personnel records indicated he came up one course short of his MBA, and noted a simultaneous bankruptcy. Four-point-oh business students could always get more money for school, so that wasn’t what held him back. Nor was it the nasty divorce that precipitated the bankruptcy. He was already cynical enough at that point to simply surrender his limited assets and move on with his life. It was something much more subtle.

He never could put his finger on anything specific, but something in how the marriage came apart, a tiny crack in the dike that suddenly burst and released a flood of realization that eclipsed his mild cynicism. Sure, he could make things work. Bankruptcy was easily one of the best learning experiences for a business student and there were more women out there eager for his attention. Yet somehow, it was all so pointless. He came home from the final court appearance, sat down in his ratty apartment and — out of nowhere — a massive wall crashed into him. Not that he hit the wall in some blind pursuit, but that wall fell on him, a wall he didn’t even know was there.

Everything died.

Different personalities handle such things differently. He wasn’t completely dead, but his existence had a massive void. He was too smart to dive into chemical relief; he had no significant pain to medicate. Some part of him was just enough alive to find a nameless drive to rebuild, even if he had no clue how or why. Instead of self-abuse to create something, anything, to breathe life back into his being, he chose the sorrow of self-enforced misery. He changed into hiking clothes, loaded a backpack with the few things that still had any meaning, and simply walked away.

He fasted for a week or so, though he carried a filtering water bottle so he could keep moving. It was enough to blindly wander a large forest preserve just outside of town. What drove him back to civilization was simply the dropping nighttime temperatures. He had no idea where he was, but there was a town, and a public library that was open. Because he acted quite normal, he was able to sit and warm himself until his conscious mind noticed the bank of public computer terminals. He got permission to use one and sat down. For a moment he thought about it, and then decided to avoid checking any of his previous email and social media accounts.

He checked a few common news sites. A story about some online community caught his eye and he read, then chased some of the names and terms mentioned in the story. Somehow, community felt like something he wanted. Eventually he ended up on a blog. One entry discussed depression and how the cultural mythology was responsible for more deaths than depression itself.

He stared into space for awhile. It wasn’t much, but here was something that began to fill the void, just a tiny sliver. Memorizing the URL for the blog, he clicked on one of the icons prominently displayed on the screen of every terminal there: job search. If he was going to pursue this, he needed resources. He knew this drill; in two days he had a job he could do in his sleep and a loan to cover grabbing an apartment and a cheap computer. The company he worked for provided generators for remote operations, such as oil fields, mining, etc. It was still his current employer.

The blog that had awakened his awareness was part of an online community. While their terminology was different, it was his introduction to trans-dimensional awareness. The MBA was suddenly pointless, though what he had accomplished in the old sense could still be a resource for dealing with the lower dimension.

“To enter that world required that I consciously depart from Western Civilization. In essence, my connection to it was what had died. I was free to discover something far more real. I was dead all along and never knew it. Everyone around me still lives in that graveyard. It’s not hatred or anger, but pity that looms largest in my mind. I can’t possibly explain all the factors, but I didn’t earn this. Everyone pays the same price of a kind of death to get in, but no two people pay the same price in dying to escape the mythology.”

Neither of them had to say it, but the interview was over. Dr. King sat almost motionless as Sadler lifted his food tray and strolled to the cart provided for the dirty dishes, and then left the dining hall. Eventually she more or less copied actions. Some part of her went into the trash with the uneaten portion of her meal.

The End

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Alien Dimension

Her faced showed a hint of incredulity.

Dr. King pivoted her head just a bit to the right while keeping eye contact, the bare beginning of a frown creasing her brow. “Trans-dimensional” she repeated slowly, as if testing how it sounded in her voice.

Sadler assured her quickly, “It’s not about space aliens or advanced technology. You can’t get there from here, as the old saying goes. I took a lot of math and science courses, too, and the models for higher dimensions are all wrong. You have to leave your human body and intellect behind to visit a higher dimension. Human awareness is another thing; it’s not limited to intellect alone.”

It was a genuine curiosity, now. “So you’ve experienced this higher dimension.”

He put his flatware down, having already finished his meal. “It’s more than a mere encounter; a part of me is still there. I’m currently living in more than one simultaneous plane of existence. Most importantly, the higher one isn’t just another one, but envelopes this one. I’m not going to pretend I can explain, or even understand, if there are multiple levels beyond ours, but the main point is escaping this one. Once you are outside the strictures of this plane of existence, you gain an entirely new faculty for dealing with this one. Suddenly, everything here makes sense.”

He waited while she chewed another mouthful of food and swallowed. “I suppose it’s our culture bias that we would expect someone with such an exposure to act more peaceful and less difficult.”

He almost laughed. “Despite what appears to most people as rudeness, I’m not arrogant about holding some imaginary superiority. The arrogance is in Western social conditioning. Remember: Western intellectual assumptions don’t just ignore the existence of other dimensions. It’s a truculent and hateful denial, a cultural arrogance that treats anything outside the boundaries as a horrific evil. People who are sensitive to bias understand enough to give other people room to be different. Most Westerners are forbidden to even think consciously about their assumptions. They are conditioned to be defensive and even hateful about it, even as they paint a heavy layer of patronizing nice-ness over it. The fake nice-ness excuses the arrogance.”

She stared down at here plate, but the focus of her vision was far away. After a moment she stabbed at something and lifted it from the plate. Raising her eyes again, she smiled. “My God, how that stirs up some bad memories.” Then she poked the food into her mouth.

Resting his elbows on either side of his tray, he joined his hands above it and interlaced his fingers. “The only possible peace is internal. I think you recognize that on some level. But the solution isn’t in the debate over which cultural approach is better, or convergence of human cultures or refinements. All of those things have their place, but that place could not possibly approach any kind of panacea for human conflict. Having seen things from that higher plane, I realize this one is permanently broken, so I suffer no delusion about fixing it. Every moment is a choice among various options for minimizing conflict, but the highest priority is remaining faithful to that higher realm. From there, it’s not a question of creating conflict, but of various degrees of exposing the inherent conflicts.”

Dropping his hands to rest on the edge of the table, he leaned back just a bit in his chair and continued. “Nor do I suffer any pretense of fixing other people and their problems. My personal experience of hyper-reality is mine alone. I’m hardly the only person who has connected to the higher plane. I’m in contact with a significant number of people who are trans-dimensional. The results of that connection are completely individual and it’s wholly inconsistent with the nature of that higher faculty to pretend I could even suggest others conform to my vision of reality. At the same time, I cannot afford to walk away from that unique personal vision. I operate under the assumption anyone can go there, but everyone has their own unique gateway. My experience as been that remaining faithful to my own vision is one best way to help others find their own. But given our cultural truculence to the very notion itself, my life seems to be a long series of encounters with people who refuse to allow my differences. Most of it I absorb, but I must not allow anyone else’s limitations to limit me.”

He spread his hands to indicate he was powerless. “This thing is beyond description and does not take ‘no’ for an answer. At the cost of some minor social conflicts, I cannot restrict myself to their level, despite understanding it all too well. I won’t go out of my way to confront people, but I also won’t hide from it.”

She chuckled, just a hint of nervousness, “It sounds almost like a religion.”

He understood the mirth. “It inevitably results in religion, but it is not itself a religion. Religion is a human response to something far bigger than us. I’ve encountered people with all flavors of religion, some radically different from my own, yet it was obvious to me they were trans-dimensional souls.”

She cocked her head to one side. “Obvious how?”

He offered a half-smile. “It’s built into the sense of awareness. Once you train your senses and reason to build from this higher awareness, the awareness itself tags others who have it. There is no objective standard. I have no doubt I’ll miss some because they are entirely too different from me, but it works out well enough. Those I can recognize as fellow trans-dimensionals are folks I can work with on some level.”

Then his face darkened and his gaze drifted down to the table top. “Sadly, a significant number of those folks are so deeply wedded to our Western culture that they trap themselves in all kinds of corrupting religious constructs. Those constructs reflect the Western bias of rejecting the very thing that fires their religious urges. So there are an awful lot of folks I could and should be working with, but they refuse to come out of the prison.”

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Alien ID

(Okay, so this story has some legs, yet.)

It wouldn’t matter where he met with her.

Most of the refugee contract civilians had gathered in the camp from various sites across the huge valley and surrounding ridges because this was the largest and best equipped installation. The lone uniformed serviceman, a Navy lieutenant of all things, insisted he was only a DoD coordinator, and refused to assert any military authority. Aside from managing to gain a few air drops of support, his only role had been to suggest they congregate on this camp while their normal auxiliary functions were suspended. There were no troops around, so whatever they were doing was best done here, or whatever else they could find to do to justify keeping the contracts open.

Sadler vaguely remembered something about a Human Terrain project. It was a great idea poorly executed. The term fell from public notice, but the work went on. That is, “work,” defined as however much activity could be justified politically under congressional funding rules, continued with some of the same people. Most of them were exactly what one would expect from this sort of politically correct pet project nonsense. Most of the Human Terrain specialists were people adept at inflating their CVs to match all the unpublished, yet obvious, checklist items so as to force someone else to pay for their esoteric and useless research projects.

Candace King bore a PhD in Sociology. She seemed to Sadler somewhat competent despite that handicap. He typically ate alone, but she joined him at his table during the evening meal, professing a personal curiosity. In his mind, Sadler was pretty sure this interview was provoked by the usual busybodies who desired, but lacked the authority, to conduct a torture and interrogation session. He decided to operate on the provisional assumption that Ms. King was as close as the council could come to a psychologist, but gave her credit for having sufficient charisma to avoid any hint of coercion.

Besides, it was likely she was bored to tears, since all of them were restricted to the camp unless moving something like the air-drop freight inside the fence. Before the troops mobilized and went poof, Sadler had worked directly with uniformed staff and hardly encountered other civilians. They never needed to know anything about him. On top of this, he was probably one of the few in the camp who ended up doing exactly what he was doing before the troops left. His only real complication was dealing with an entirely new regime and milieu to go with his job.

When she approached with her food tray, he stood, but she insisted he sit down and not observe protocol. She went through the spiel, introducing herself and noting that he had offered some intriguing comments when talking with others.

He decided the best opening for this game was a move just short of the nuclear option. “Dr. King, I’m sure you are familiar with the concept of systemic bias?” His tone of voice ensured she knew it was a question.

This caught her just as she took a bite from her fork, so she simply nodded assent. He gave her time to respond verbally, but all she said was, “It comes with being black, Mr. Sadler.” Her grin indicated she wasn’t hypersensitive about the subject.

He continued, “I will assume you’ve seen my personal jacket. So the fulcrum of attention is my stated antipathy for Western Civilization?” She nodded assent again to both items. “You will have noticed my bachelor’s degree in business from a monster state university known for Liberal Arts. Getting that degree meant a broad exposure to courses outside my major. One of them covered the history and literature of Western Civilization. Furthermore, I was exposed to a good deal of comparative civilization studies. I aced those courses along with all the others, despite a ton of reading. With full confidence I suggest I know what Western Civilization means, so my dislike is not simply ignorance.”

She asked, “Is there some other you prefer?”

“Pick one. Even our predecessors, the Graeco-Romans, weren’t so completely Aristotelian. And while our civilization is a hybrid, the West follows Aristotle on one major issue: Not only does it reject the existence of a higher dimension, but asserts that there can be no such thing. No other civilization we know of had a problem with it.”

She clearly had not expected Sadler to offer such an academic level discussion. She took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “So you object to the limitations of Aristotle’s world view.” It was a statement as she struggled to get her head around all this.

Sadler offered one of his rare grins, just a hint of one. “I’m a trans-dimensional.”

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Alien Defense

The generator was running smoothly again. It took him the next two days, with some help, to roll the giant fuel bladder close enough to feed the generators. Barring any disasters, it was enough diesel for at least a week of operations. The other two bladders could wait for him to move them in more slowly, by himself if need be.

Sadler also had the help of an old engineer who had worked as an electrician at some point in his career. After discussing it for a while, they both agreed it was best to bury the lines, and Sadler had begun digging near the generators. Nobody was younger than mid-thirties, but he was very nearly the youngest and easily the strongest man there, so help with the trenching was quite unlikely. Fortunately, there was no hurry and he could work deliberately.

The sow approached shortly before lunch. Over the past few days she had made a pest of herself under the guise of being a services coordinator. The other men would groan at the sight of her, but Sadler knew how to handle her. Since she insisted on pretending she was equal to any man, he treated her like one. For her it had settled into a game, having played her entire deck of female cards in just three minutes during their first encounter after the townhall meeting.

Sadler was generally aloof with everyone, so he offered no greeting or visual acknowledgment as she strode toward him.

“Yo, Sadler. Wanna walk me to lunch?”

In his mind it was a form of sadistic torture and he refused to surrender. “You’ve already walked farther than that coming out here to bother me,” he replied as if to the wind. They both knew she had no valid purpose being there.

What slowed the digging was the cool weather making the rocky packed soil even harder to break up with a shovel. It was a long-term project everyone hoped he would not have time to finish. Abandoning everything for the sake of evacuation was never questioned, but eagerly anticipated.

It was not full-voiced, but quite obviously he could sing. “I am a lineman for the county…

“My God, you have a beautiful voice! Sing some more,” she begged. He ignored her. She wasn’t ready to quit, yet. “Have you no interest in any of the women here?”

“None of them are qualified.” He jumped up and down on the shovel blade, but gently enough not to bend it.

She balanced between dismissive sarcasm and genuine humor. “Okay, you are the biggest stud here, but you ain’t that special!”

Time for the professor to teach a bit. Sadler stopped hacking at the soil for a minute and leaned on the shovel handle. “Did you think I was kidding about not liking Western Civilization? When you start thinking of me as an alien creature, you might almost have a clue what to expect from me.”

She put her hands on her hips, fists half curled. “Aside from the crazy shit you say, you sound just like everyone else here, and your records show you were born in the good ol’ US of A. What are you trying to pull here?”

Sadler returned to digging with far less vigor than before. “Changing my appearance would be pointless, and changing my speech pattern would be a mere affectation. Changing my commitments and fundamental values is the ultimate act of self-assertion.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a damn rag-head Muslim.” She was actually pissed.

Sadler considered this an improvement in the situation. “No, but probably closer to that in some ways than I am to your typical American. I reject Muslim religion, but I don’t belong to any mainstream religion from among Westerners, either. The god I serve has precious little interest in that, either.”

“I knew it! You’re a freaking pagan or Satanist.” Her contempt was palpable.

Though he betrayed not a flicker of emotion, Sadler was enjoying this. “Wrong again, though I have some friends who are both of those.” Then he added, “And some Muslims, too. Not quite so many from mainstream churches, though.”

Throwing her hands in the air, she turned and stomped away. Sadler turned and faced the highest peak on the ridge some miles away from the camp, almost hidden in clouds. For him, it was a purely symbolic gesture. Touching the tip of his right index finger to his temple, he clicked his tongue and thrust the finger forward a few inches. Quietly he said, “Thanks, Lord.”

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Alien at Town Hall

Sadler didn’t appear any different. It was his actions that set him apart.

Not exactly abandoned out in the northern wastes, they weren’t leaving any time soon. The troop formations pursued the enemy, the battle lines had moved rapidly miles away, and there was no provision whatsoever by either the military or the corporate contractor for these civilian contract employees to move on such short notice. Supplies were dropped, but that was about it. Transport wasn’t coming without a substantial escort and nobody trusted the thugs who were available. So they were stuck there until someone could find authorized troops of some sort.

None of them had any kind of rank or pay grade, just individual contracts. So they opted for a townhall in hopes of keeping things somewhat efficient and coordinated. Somebody with a very loud voice stood and offered to play provisional moderator if no one objected. Naturally, nobody wanted to take the blame for anything, so his suggestion was unopposed. He was no dummy. During the first moments of chaos as the people gathered, he had spotted who carried the influence. It was a simple matter of getting them to volunteer for something resembling a leadership council and focus of coordination. It was quasi-democratic but mostly by consensus, since everyone was so reluctant to open their mouths until after someone else spoke. They knew how to carp well enough, once things were on the table.

There was plenty of time for discussion and debate, since the only mission they had at this point was staying alive. The moderator managed to bow out gracefully, having pinned the burden of leadership on someone else. Sadler said nary a word, nor so much as betrayed any emotion during the whole show. He sat on the far edge of the crowd and didn’t even bother to vote either way.

Some old sow with a nearly shaved head had been trying to catch his eye, but he pretended not to notice. She was easily the most repulsive creature in the place, and it was painfully obvious she reveled in it with a perverse delight. In Sadler’s mind, it’s one thing for a woman to have bad luck from the gene pool, but another to emphasize all the worst possible traits a woman could have. Whatever she thought of Sadler didn’t matter because she was merely the worst from a crowd of nearly fifty who might as well have come from a different planet.

She seized upon a quiet moment and pointed to him. “How come you haven’t said anything, Sadler?”

It was almost a meaningless gesture that one of his eyebrows arched slightly. Had the rest of the folks not simply hushed, his voice would have been inaudible to anyone but her. “Anything I say will be used against me.” Two or three of the jokers snickered behind their hands at this, while another guffawed.

The newly drafted president turned toward him and cocked his head to one side. Glancing around at the crowd, he intoned, “I wasn’t aware this was an adversarial hearing.” A few folks chuckled at this and he grinned.

Sadler gazed levelly at the man. “Sir, I simply answered a question.”

“But you make it sound as if we are hostile to your input,” the president said, sweeping his hands wide, palms up. “We haven’t even heard it.”

“Trust me, Sir. If you did hear it, there would be ample hostility.” He sat upright, interlacing his fingers on the back of the chair in front of him. “From the moment this townhall meeting started it took a path far away from where I would prefer to go. I’m hardly surprised; it was what I expected. I have long experience with being an outsider, not in the decisions themselves, but in the democratic format. Given the unanimous assent to this, I am hardly the kind of person to make an issue of it. I’m not interested in making trouble, but I do note in passing that I would prefer to do things altogether differently.”

The president was hardly the only one puzzled. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Continue to march, Sir. I’ll go along quietly. For me to say much more would require hours of lecturing and we’ve burned up plenty of time. Maybe some other day, should anyone take an interest.”

“You don’t like democracy? How else would you suggest we do things?”

Sadler half-smiled this time. “Sir, I don’t even like Western Civilization.”

He rose in a fluid motion and strolled out the door as murmurs arose. Outside, one of the generators was sputtering. It was his employers’ generators, and he already knew what his job was at the moment.

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A Psychology of Evangelism

Clinging to Western rationalism in religious matters is tantamount to wallowing in the Fall. You can read English translations of the Bible through Western lenses and find frantic assertions that you absolutely must organize resources and invade other countries with the rational gospel message. You can justify from that frame of reference manipulating people into psychological conversion to the Western religious orientation as the only hope for peace with God.

Or you can go back and let Scripture teach you from God’s point of view, most closely associated with Hebrew mysticism. If you do not reject Western epistemology, you cannot follow Christ.

Evangelism here at Kiln of the Soul virtual parish: The proper psychology of evangelism does not pretend to know the objective truth of things. At our very best we understand only our mission, our part in something miraculous. It’s a collection of paradoxes. On the one hand, we operate under the assumption of accountability, that every human at some time or other is granted at least one moment of mercy, when the gateway to spiritual life is open for them. Whatever the cause, God judges souls on the grounds of rejecting His truth.

We also know that we cannot operate on such a standard of justice, because we are not God. We have been shown mercy and grace, so we are no better than anyone else in need of mercy and grace. God’s judgment is just by definition; the Creator holds the ultimate prerogative in all things. We cannot even begin to understand such things. But we can strive to understand what He demands of us.

We hold the door of redemption open, insofar as we have anything to do with it. We give people room to fail while we absorb all the damage they offer us until God drives us to move away. Any attempt we make to regulate and standardize the options will fail, creating yet one more abomination of sin. It’s one more fallen structure that seeks to limit God. No two servants of His can operate on precisely the same standard.

Paradoxically, we know we must condemn what we see that fails to meet the moral standard of God’s character. We have zero authority to make our condemnation stick, but we have zero permission to remain silent. There should obviously be some overlap, so that at least a few others will recognize that the standard we raise does come from the Lord. There are no Lone Rangers in the Kingdom of Heaven. But while common consent does strengthen our faith, it is not the foundation. The foundation is the ineffable Divine Presence and the resulting compulsion to speak and act.

By no means should we ever imagine that our response is itself the means of conversion in any other soul. God said bluntly that He was the One doing the work and changing hearts. He allows us to come along for the ride. It is the paradox that accountability does not mean we can apply leverage to the process in any way. The result of conversion does not in any way depend on our input. The importance of our input is for our own blessings. We are the ones standing in need of projecting a true witness.

This is where virtually the entire range of Western Christendom gets lost. This is why, on some level, we have to reject mainstream Christian religion. Of all the failures of organized Christian faith, this is easily the most serious evil: assuming that their evangelism is necessary for others to believe. Associated with that is the arrogant assumption that because they have organized in some fashion, God is of necessity bound in what they do and is most clearly found there. Jeremiah had some strong words to say about the notion of having God over a barrel, as if He could not possibly allow bad things to happen to His religion, its practitioners and its earthly trappings.

Taking your church too seriously as sacred is just a false front for taking yourself too seriously, as if God cannot possibly act without you and your pitiful contributions to His revelation and redemption. When I left my church, it was because being involved actively hindered my calling. Rather than force the church to adapt to my needs, I got out of their way and followed the Spirit of God. Nothing I said or did accused the church of being wrong, only of being unsuitable as a venue of service. I did not pontificate, but pointed out how things didn’t match. I did so privately unless I was attacked or castigated in front of others. I stood up for my God and His calling on my life.

Perhaps in some future age, we might find churches more tolerant of variations. Maybe they’ll be more focused on moral discernment versus precision and orthodoxy as humans measure such things. I’m trying to model that here in our virtual parish. We don’t attempt to evangelize folks into joining our little group and our expression of faith. We offer our best response to God’s calling in our own lives, and let Him make of it what He will. His Word tells us we should naturally expect Him to use our lives as the means to drawing other people, but by no means can we comprehend the mechanism.

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Psalm 14

In Hebrew thinking, the concept of “fool” is someone devoid of moral perception. Almost every other human talent can be present in abundance, but without using God’s revelation as a reference point, you cannot possibly be acceptable to Him. The opposite is humility before God’s Word. Specifically, it refers to moral reasoning in the Hebrew intellectual traditions. You can’t understand God’s revelation until you embrace the mindset of the people through whom He spoke. In general terms, David refers here to those under Moses who reject covenant demands, and those outside of Israel who rejected Noah’s Covenant. You cannot pretend the Creator has no interest in human affairs.

The popular English translation of the first phrase is misleading. We cannot imagine a human in that time and place embracing philosophical atheism. There was plenty of cynicism about divine character, but outright atheism would be incomprehensible in that context. Rather, it defines as a fool anyone who is insensitive to God’s stated concerns. It’s not as if you couldn’t get good information on those concerns if you cared. Without that frame of reference, there is no way to understand how Creation works.

Dramatic overstatement as a poetic expression indicates something fundamental to fallen human nature. David recognizes that people do not naturally seek God, but tend to avoid Him. We are born in sin, in the sense that we cannot turn to God without His direct intervention.

It stands to reason such people would hardly be honest friends of Israel. At every point in Old Testament History, we note a significant presence of outsiders who understood all too clearly that this nation was a project of the Almighty. Resistance was plain stupid. Attacking Israel might seem to pay off in the near term, but God never forgot. Sooner or later He rose to defend His Covenant, and the offender was crushed.

Yet by the same token, God eventually defended others from His people when the former were righteous and Israel was wrong. Again, He defended the poor of this world from oppression at the hands of sinners among the ruling class. How idiotic it was to ignore God’s promises! In this sense, the name “Israel” was restricted to those who embraced the full demands of the Covenant. This is the Israel that God defends. Let the Lord fulfill His promises to those who love Him.

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