I can’t say enough good things about Andrew Peterson. The song “Dancing in the Minefields” from his latest album is another gem. This is the perfect song and video for Valentines Day.

(watch)

Andrew Peterson’s metaphor for marriage as “dancing in the minefields” is so potent. In addition to the challenge of being two imperfect human beings bound together for life in marriage, there are the additional challenges we face as we walk through life together. Life is indeed a minefield – a road with hazards buried beneath it.

And yet, we walk the road in faith, trusting in God’s promise to bring us to perfection and to purify us as we seek him in faith. Because we trust in him we can not only walk a road filled with hazards – we can dance our way down the road.

Because we trust in him as master of the wind and the water, we can go sailing in the storms of life and still expect to reach our destination.This is the beautiful reality of Christian marriage and I want to embrace it every day – and especially this Valentines weekend.

The song has particular significance for my wife and me since I was 19 and she was 21 the year we got married and that was 15 years ago last year.

I hope you enjoyed the video and the song. I’ll be showing this in our worship services this weekend. Here are the lyrics:

Well I was 19 you were 21
The year we got engaged
Everyone said we were much to young
But we did it anyway
We got the rings for 40 each from a pawnshop down the road
We said our vows and took the leap now 15 years ago

Chorus:
We went dancing in the minefields
We went sailing in the storm
And it was harder than we dreamed
But I believe that’s what the promise is for

Well ‘I do’ are the two most famous last words
The beginning of the end
But to lose your life for another I’ve heard is a good place to begin
Cause the only way to find your life is to lay your own life down
And I believe it’s an easy price for the life that we have found

Chorus:

Bridge:
So when I lose my way, find me
When I lose loves chains, bind me
At the end of all my faith
to the end of all my days
when I forget my name, remind me

Cause we bear the light of the son of man
So there’s nothing left to fear
So I’ll walk with you in the shadow lands
Till the shadows disappear
Cause he promised not to leave us
And his promises are true
So in the face of all this chaos baby
I can dance with you

Chorus:
So lets go dancing in the minefields
Lets go sailing in the storms
Oh lets go dancing in the minefields
And kicking down the doors
Oh lets go dancing in the minefields
And sailing in the storms
Oh this is harder than we dreamed
But I believe that’s what the promise is for
That’s what the promise is for

I’ve written about my dad before and someday, when it’s time to write my memoirs, there will be a lot more. Here’s the 4th of 5 of my favorite things about my dad.

My dad taught me that it was normal to have 1000 books and be reading all the time. I still think it’s normal.

I grew up around books. Books in the bathroom, books in the kitchen, books in the living room – floor to ceiling shelves of books.

Dad and I treat each other’s libraries as our own. We buy each other books, lend each other books, and generally don’t worry too much about returning them on time – if ever. After all, someday all of his books will be mine – unless I die first I guess. (If that sounds morbid or insensitive to you, you should know that it doesn’t to either of us, although our wives are not big fans of that conversation.)

There are some books I don’t like – I call these “anti-books” and I wrote about them earlier this year in a post called “Naysaying and the Naysaying Naysayers Who Naysay“.

To answer the question I get every time people see my library: no, I haven’t read every book in my library in its entirety. I have read parts of every one and I’ve read many all the way through.

I think of books as knowledge containers to which I add value by reading, noting, highlighting, underlining, and dog-earing. A book is not a conquest or a to-do item. Some books aren’t worth reading all the way through but have a few excellent chapters.

Dad and I made a pact a couple of years ago to preach each other’s funerals. It didn’t dawn on us until later that day that only one of us will be able to do it.

I do love books, and I mention them often.. like here and here.

Other posts in this series:
1 – The Value of Acting Like a Child
2 – Do-it-yourself-edness Is Next to Godliness
3 – Pick Up Your Things or Have Them Destroyed – Your Choice!

I’ve written about my dad before and someday, when it’s time to write my memoirs, there will be a lot more. Here’s the third of 5 of my favorite things about my dad.

My dad once ‘accidentally’ drove over my soccer ball with the riding mower. I never left a ball lying around after that.

This is a really good way of teaching responsibility. I actually believed at the time (I was 10) that he had done this accidentally – but I had my suspicions. Oh, did I have my suspicions.

I use this same strategy with my own kids and it’s still effective. I set the tone a few years ago when they were taking way too long to clean the basement. “Get it done or I’m coming down with a garbage bag,” I said. They didn’t believe me. You should have heard the weeping and wailing when I followed through.

They still sometimes don’t clean up the basement as quickly as they should. “Do I need to come down there with a garbage bag?” usually accelerates the process.

Other posts in this series:
1 – The Value of Acting Like a Child
2 – Do-it-yourself-edness Is Next to Godliness

I’ve written about my dad before and someday, when it’s time to write my memoirs, there will be a lot more. Here’s the second of 5 of my favorite things about my dad.

Cool fact about my dad: he had some ‘age spots’. Solution: sand paper and a utility knife.

True story. His reasoning: “Why should the doctor have to do all the work?” This is not the first time he’s used unconventional methods to accomplish a task. He once used my mom’s cheese grater to rid his heels of excess buildup.

I have to say, the results are quite good.

Other posts in this series:
1 – The Value of Acting Like a Child

My neighbors are having a domestic dispute. Lots of yelling, accusations, going in, going out, more yelling, more accusations. He’s holding a beer and going in and out of the house. She’s holding a cigarette and keeps walking a short way up the street and coming back.

He’s distraught; he walks into the house and crumples on the floor before the door is completely closed, screaming “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU??!?”

She goes in; she comes back out again. In the middle of all this yelling, he asks almost politely for a cigarette. She’s says no; he takes this as more evidence that she doesn’t care.

This is kind of surreal – in between skirmishes, she’s edging the lawn with a butcher knife. The possibilities this opens up are frightening, obviously. I suspect one or both of them are intoxicated and possibly on cocaine or something else. He just yelled at her about “shooting junk.” (That’s needle injections of heroin for those of you unfamiliar with the term.)

Drug use is ugly, especially when it gets into the harder drugs like cocaine and heroin. I have a friend who struggles with cocaine addiction. When he’s on it, he gets into all kinds of crazy trouble; when he’s not, he’s a gentle, humorous, intelligent guy who’s great to talk to.

Now male neighbor is walking away, and she’s begging him to come back. The love/hate dynamic is certainly at play here.

There are at east two kids in the house – one is about three and the other is younger. I have no idea if the kids are his or not.

They both walk away at one point but he comes back because he knows the kids can’t be left alone. The 3-yr-old girl is playing in the front yard like nothing is wrong. This situation obviously doesn’t strike as somehow abnormal.

The man of the family that shares the other side of the semi with this couple came out tell them they need to stay off his half of the front yard or he’ll call the cops.

That’s the scene in my neighborhood right now.

The police have arrived. She’s edging the lawn. The male officer wisely keeps his distance until she puts the butcher knife down. Another police officer arrives, a woman. They all go inside and then the female officer comes out with the male.

Various configurations of people, officers and combatants, are coming and going, in and out of the house.

Male neighbor is having a beer now. Surely this will make things better. Other male neighbor, the one who called the police, is talking to the officer, and is also having a beer.

These two involved in the dispute just moved in a short while ago and I haven’t taken the time to go over and meet them. I haven’t been avoiding it; I just haven’t been intentional enough. I did say hello to her earlier this afternoon but she was already holding the butcher knife then and looked a little wired, and I had my kids with me.

“I just want it to stop!” she sobs. She’s hysterical.

The police are sitting and talking with, counseling my neighbors. I should have been there; I should know them by now. Maybe it wouldn’t have prevented this meltdown, but at least they should know by now that someone in the neighborhood cares.

The grandparents were called and they show up. They look neither distraught nor surprised; this is likely not the first time they’ve been part of this scenario.

The kids are leaving with them. I’m sure this is not the end of the story.

***

This is one of the reasons I wanted to move into this neighborhood, to move away from the privilege and affluence and comfort we enjoyed in our previous neighborhood and live in a lower income area of town.

So here we are, and we have to do a better job of carrying out the mission.

It was a pretty long weekend for me. I ended up working seven hours on Saturday and I was the song leader on Sunday so there was another five hours. We had three social engagements scheduled for the afternoon – all ones I was looking forward to.

As often happens, the adrenaline wears off on Sunday afternoons shortly after lunch and I crash.

Yesterday I found myself lying in the shade at my sister’s house with my whole family (mom, dad, sister’s family, my family) within earshot. The combination put me in a reflective mood. Since it was Father’s Day I engaged my mind in the pursuit of some memories about my dad and figured I might as well share them with my Twitter and Facebook friends. Now I need to add some detail because sometimes 140 characters just isn’t enough.

I’ve written about my dad before and someday, when it’s time to write my memoirs, there will be a lot more. Here’s the first of 5 of my favorite things about my dad.

1. Watching my dad frolic with my kids in the kiddie pool. Awesome.

Dad was hilarious yesterday, splashing around in a pool that was 2 feet deep like he was 2 feet tall. The sight of a grown man clowning around and five grandkids between 4 and 7-yrs-old in a state of constant laughter is a beautiful, beautiful site. The best part is that it reminds me of my own childhood and the way my dad often made me laugh.

For example – when I was about 5 I begged my dad to take us for a run around the block. Living in the country this would probably have been at least a 5k hike. After a long period of incessant begging, dad sent us all inside to get ready and with great excitement we did.

You can imagine how excited my mom must have been about the prospect of setting out on a 5k hike with a 5-yrd-old and an 8-yr-old, one of which she would probably have to carry for the second 2.5k after reality set in and ambition died. 

But as for me, I had visions of running on the sides of roads I’d only ever seen from the safety of a car window, waving to people as they drove by in their cars. Suckers! This was really going to be something!

We got ready, got pumped, then dad led the charge. Out we ran, following dad, who had placed a concrete block in the middle of our yard.

We ran around that block, and then stopped. Mission accomplished.

I didn’t find it very funny at the time. Now I think it’s hilarious.

Dad taught me that a mark of a real man is the ability to act like a child at the right time in the right place.  If you’ve ever wondered why I can be a bit of a clown, look at the picture of the man above – I get it from him.

Tomorrow: Cool fact about my dad: he had some ‘age spots’.  Solution: sand paper and a utility knife.

Part 1 - My Story
Part 2 - A Biblical Theology of Offending Your Brother
Part 3 – How to Offend a Legalist and Not Sin

Part 3 – How to Offend a Legalist and Not Sin

This is the part we’re bound to struggle with since it can too easily turn into the wrong kind of offense. You have to do the work of discernment before stepping into the water. You need to make sure you’re in the presence of a genuine legalist. A genuine legalist is someone who wants to exercise control for no other reason than to have power over another believer.

You should feel free to offend a genuine legalist in any way your conscience allows. In fact the opposite (playing by your legalist friend’s rules) give tacit approval to his faulty formula for salvation (Faith in Jesus + [NOT doing this or that] = salvation). Once you’ve approved the formula by which it’s determined who is and isn’t a Christian, watch out –  more plus (+) signs are sure to follow.

How much light could this have brought to the small-church, selectively legalistic bubble I was living in? Plenty.

1. I could have had a much less burdened conscience.
I had to live with head knowledge of truth and a conscience that was trained to deny that truth in some ways. Some things we did weren’t wrong but we were counseled not to do them anyway on the grounds that some people found them to be a “stumbling block.”

2. I could have done a lot less second-guessing.
Was the way I was dressing and cutting (on not cutting) my hair really offending people or did they just want me to be a slave to their preferences? I battled this constantly. In retrospect I don’t think there was a single person who was genuinely, biblically offended.

3. When someone is offended by everything, inevitably there are things you allow yourself to do that are genuinely offensive.
It may not be a completely conscience decision, but a heart that is told too often that it’s doing wrong starts to feel like it can’t do anything right anyway, so why not do something really wrong? (Not claiming victim status here, BTW)

4. Offense as a tool was never offered as an option.
That we could have – as Carson describes – wisely used offense as a tool AGAINST legalism would have spared the turmoil of the above three points and probably kept us a bit more “on the path” at times when we were feeling the frustration of point #3 above. When you give people too many things to rebel against they’ll act accordingly.

(I’ve always thought my dad was very wise in this through my teenage years, eben though he was in the unenviable position of being the pastor of the church AND the father of the kid that made a habit of “offending” people. He set boundaries for me but only when needed – and not so many that I couldn’t step out of the house without breaking one. Love ya, Dad!)

So in the end, as long as you’ve done the work of discernment and are sure you’re not offending for the sake of your own pride and ego, you should be able to go forward, with much prayer, and make this your slogan:

“Hard-core legalists.

May God bless ‘em as I offend ‘em.”

We’ve all probably read the story of the prodigal son. This video shows us the Father’s perspective as he pleads for his son to “come home” and gives us a glimpse of the anxiety our Father has over His children…

(HT: LayGuy)

One “drawback” (if it can be called that) of my new job as a Pastor is that there is infinite work to do, and it is almost all enjoyable work. This is the opposite of my 15 years at my previous job in a factory – there really wasn’t that much to do and what there was to do, well, it really wasn’t of much benefit to me or anyone else. But here at the church things are different. The weight of responsibility is great and the potential for calamity ever present, but the frequency of reward is almost constant.

I think I have moved through the honeymoon period rather quickly. You see, I came into this with my eyes more open than most. My dad was a Pastor, which means I was what we in the industry call a “PK” – a Pastor’s Kid. This is a position in life so special that it has its own two-letter descriptor.  For many PKs, being one is an inherently negative experience. There is a lot of church to attend, a lot of behaving to do, and a lot of “dad being too stressed to be a dad” to experience. My childhood was marked with a bit of all those things, but my dad was really great about it. I rarely felt the pressure from him to “behave” externally; he was more interested in the condition of my soul than the condition of my apparel (my mom and sister made up for his lack of concern in that department).

There was this one time when I was about 16, during a congregational discussion at which I was present, when a man in the church said that my dad was unqualified to lead the church because, looking at me, it was obvious that he wasn’t in control of his own family. That hurt, but dad didn’t take the bait. It couldn’t have been easy for him. He could have agreed with the man (which would have been lying) and destroyed his relationship with me.  He could have told the man he was an idiot and created division in the church.

To be honest, I don’t remember how he handled it but I remember, on that day and many others, being proud to be his son. I remember feeling loved and protected.

At times I was (and probably still am) a challenge. I was not a rebel in conventional ways; dad never had to have a talk with me about parties, alcohol, or drugs, but in a rather conservative church, the Pastor’s son listened to very loud, very fast music, wore a chain wallet, baggy cords, and plaid shirts. He had a goatee and and buzz-cut scalp (back in the day when those things were considered “edgy”).  And dad didn’t talk to me about that stuff very much at all. He didn’t like some of the music I listened to, especially when I would kill the ignition in the car with the stereo on 10, only for him to start it up in the morning and receive a heart-attack inducing assault of speed metal at full volume. (sorry dad)

And so now, as a Pastor myself, I seek to emulate his grace for me in extending it to my own kids by not expecting them to be “better” than other kids by not doing things that PKs aren’t supposed to do.

There was another time, during another congregational discussion at which I was present, that a man spoke up and said that he had seen some kids in the mall that looked like me, and for the first time, because he knew me, he didn’t assume that they were bad kids.

1. I started dating Anne Marie when I was just short of my 15th birthday

2. I married Anne Marie when I was just short of my 20th birthday

3. In between those two dates, I didn’t always treat Anne Marie as well as could have. I hope I do a lot better now.

4. I get annoyed with people’s idiosyncrasies, and my own as well

5. I sometimes exclaim: “Man, I am SUCH a freak!”

6. I don’t think Johnny Cash really made that great a contribution

7. I demand too much of my little girls sometimes… but much was demanded of me when I was little and I’m now thankful for it

8. I haven’t written many new songs in the last few years and I sometimes worry that the gift is gone. If it is gone, it found it’s way to Shane. Shane writes good songs.

9. I can sleep anywhere… and it doesn’t have to be quiet either

10. I have wasted many years at my current job. I plan to fix that problem in the next couple of months

11. I once took too many free balloons from the grocery store. My mom made me take them back. I was frightened and humiliated and that day I learned a valuable lesson

12. Some things that I think are funny are actually mean (peace out Shane)

13. I sometimes shamelessly promote my blog

14. I cry almost every time I hear Counting Crows “Miami”

15. I cry when I watch that cheesy “You… complete me” scene in Jerry Maguire

16. I cried for about 10 minutes – actually I wept – after watching Charlize Theron in “Monster” http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0340855/

17. I can’t find or imagine finding another family as knit together or unique as the Krahns.

18. I have three daughters and no desire to have a son

19. I don’t fear aging, in fact I’m looking fwd to it

20. A few years ago, I almost converted to Roman Catholicism.  I still consider Thomas Merton a mentor.

21. I like books

22. Sleep is a necessary evil

23. Jack Layton makes me nauseous

24. I have a lot of hope for Barack Obama, although I wish he’d change his views on abortion

25. If anything goes wrong in the USA, Jack Bauer can fix it with threats of violence… and violence.

Michael ( at Atheistperspective.com ) and I have an ongoing conversation in the comments section of my post “Overchurched” that I thought would make a decent post in themselves. I really enjoy these conversations with Michael, I hope you enjoy the vicarious involvement:

Michael (the atheist) asks: Okay, let’s say I agree with your initial assertion; tell me this, why should man not be the sole focus of his attention? Neither of us believe that a secular humanist’s sole focus is himself, but rather the well-being of mankind. How is that so different to how you would want others to live their lives?

Michael (the Christian): What I said was that “therefore man is the sole focus of his attention.” If I did not state it clearly, my intention was to communicate the idea of the humanist being focused on “mankind”, not each individual on himself. However, this does seem to be the logical outworking of such reasoning. But you can help me understand it a bit more. Would your reasoning run something along this line: “I want the maximum enjoyment/pleasure/gain from this life. In order to attain that it is important not only that I do well but that as many people as possible do well. Under these conditions, the maximum enjoyment/pleasure/gain can be attained.”?

Michael (the atheist): For me, God or no God, our first thought should be for our fellow man, our families, our planet. I would find it very surprising if you thought for one moment that your God would not be the first to wave the secular humanist banner.

Michael (the Christian): Loving God is of first importance, but I would argue that loving him will always leads to loving others. Now, of course, we come to our differing definitions of love. Does loving others mean allowing them always to pursue what they think is best for them, including behavior that is self-destructive? Or does it mean assisting them in discovering the plan God has for their lives?

Michael (the atheist): If he were to exist I think (apart from the not believing in him bit) secular humanism would be a philosophy he’d be more than willing to trumpet. Or is he so vain that believing in him takes precedence over treating others with respect and love?

Michael (the Christian): He desires our love, our attention, our affection because he is the ultimate truth and in him we find our purpose. Anything that robs him of our focus is unhealthy not for him, but for us.

Michael (the atheist): Think about it, if your kids grew up with respect for other people, for the planet, didn’t cause any harm to others and lived every day to make sure it was better for the people they knew would that be so bad? Would it matter that they didn’t believe in God?

Michael (the Christian): The trouble is I don’t believe that can really be done without a life based on faith in God. What is “having respect”? How does one “not cause harm”? Why only seek to make life better for those we know? Why not a more global focus?

Michael (the atheist): IMO, the moment one puts God before fellow man is the moment we’re all in trouble.

Michael (the Christian): No, that’s completely backwards, but I understand it in the context in which I think you mean it. Those who perpetrate some of the worst crimes claim they do it “in the name of God.” But we’re in trouble to a large extent because we try to please fellow man rather than looking first to God. The fallacy of pluralism is that everyone’s beliefs can co-exist peacefully. Well, is there truth or is there not? If there is, the “true” truth negates the false. Loving others involves pointing them to truth. You loving me involves disabusing me of my belief in what you see as religious mythology, which robs my life of proper fulfillment; me loving you involves pointing you at Jesus Christ, who I believe not only represents the truth but is the truth.

Michael (the atheist): Oh, and I have a really interesting question for you. I’ve been puzzling over this one. I was chatting with a friend the other day. He’s a bit religious and he said, “How can you live thinking that death will be the end of you? How depressing”.

Michael (the Christian): Well, first of all, I don’t believe as he does. I would be OK with death being the end of me, I just don’t happen to believe that is the way it will turn out. I wouldn’t find it depressing but I think it would have to change the way I live my life.

Michael (the atheist): Okay, it’s a tad boring but here’s the question. Why do Christians get upset when faced with death in the family? If my son died I’d be distraught, naturally. But if I truly believed that this life was just a junction, a way to get to eternal happiness, well, I’d be fine. I’d think ‘lucky bastard, he’s up there with God living the eternal afterlife in pure bliss’. I’d be more annoyed that I’m not there with him.

Michael (the Christian): No, I don’t think you’re being completely honest. You would still grieve for your son just for the same reasons I grieved for my grandfather (the only person really close to me who has died). Although I do envy his current state, I still miss his essence, his voice, his firm handshake. I miss talking to him, golfing with him, joking with him, and helping him with building projects. These are all completely human reactions to an upsetting event.

I am not annoyed that I’m not there with him because we are all intertwined in many similar relationships and that is why I do not look forward to death. My daughters and wife would suffer from the absence of all the things I mentioned above.

Michael (the atheist): So what’s up with Christians getting so upset? The same goes for those that make a big thing about people sacrificing their lives. It’s not a bloody sacrifice! If I thought I could help others by going to war and if I died I’d be able to eat Big Macs in heaven all day without getting fat, I’d be first in line. Sign me up to that kamikaze course sergeant!

But seriously, why the heck do Christians get so upset about death? I simply don’t get it.

I’d love you to write a little on this. Should death be seen as a negative? Shouldn’t it in fact be celebrated by those that truly believe? (and I’m not talking about a few drinks after the funeral, I mean real celebration) :) If not, why not? If a close relative of yours dies, (I’ll use the term, God forbid) would you be upset? Why? Shouldn’t the first reaction be a clench of the fist and a knowing smile?

Michael (the Christian): I do balance the grief of a death with the comfort of knowing where my grandfather is, but this only alleviates grief, it does not obliterate it completely. So death is, in one aspect, a celebration, and in another a cause for grief. John Piper recently spoke of this at the funeral of a young Christian who had taken his own life and drew a parallel to the raising of Lazarus by Jesus. We long, when someone dies, for them to be returned to us, but if we believe that they are now with Christ in heaven, free from sin and suffering, cured of their afflictions, and enjoying eternal happiness, isn’t it selfish of us to ask for them back?

He saw this as the reason that, as reported in scripture, Jesus wept before he raised Lazarus, since he was doing something wonderful for Lazarus’s sisters but issuing something of a downgrade for Lazarus. Lazarus was returned to his earthly existence, to sin again, to suffer again, and finally, to die again.

Michael (the atheist): Ps, and what’s up with this focus on Jesus and his sacrifice on the cross? For goodness sakes, earth was s— for him, he would have been relieved to get up there with dad and the rest of the family.

Michael (the Christian): Yes, but he stayed for a reason, and that was to serve as a substitutionary atonement for our sins.

I’ve been thinking more about the Tim Challies post I wrote about earlier this week. I don’t want my kids to be as “overchurched” as I was.

I should explain what I mean by that term. I don’t mean that I want them to be pseudo-Christians or secret Christians. I want them to be bold and prepared and I want what they believe to play out in the real world. Even though I never went to a Christian school, I was so immersed in church and church culture that I avoided making non-Christian friends and to this day I often find the concept of not being a Christian hard to grasp and that makes communication difficult at times.

I know even grade schools have changed in the two decades since I was there but I don’t see the doom and gloom and I never have and, frankly, I’m not sure how useful it is. The threat of secular humanism does exist, but what more am I going to do about it? What will it change about the way I do things? My kids will go to the same schools, I’ll keep living my life the way I am and if at some point in the future that becomes more difficult to do and there are consequences, then so be it. Where I would certainly take action is if there was ever a threat of serious physical harm, and I know in the US that is a real concern in many places.

Some call that “burying my head in the sand” reasoning. I don’t know, I mean I have three kids and a full time job – there’s no time to fight the secular humanists after bedtime. So my part in the fight is raising a family that will stick out in society. That includes sending them to a public school, having them talk about Jesus there and probably being persecuted for it.

I don’t think that we should pray for persecution… I can’t remember that being in scripture anyway – but we should expect it.

*****

Just  for fun, click here to see Google search results for the word “overchurched”

Tim Challies takes a look at public schooling vs. private/home-school. I couldn’t have put it better myself… so I won’t try. Go read it.

Over at the blog Piece of Mind, in a post called Doubt is a Higher Calling, Mark Tokarski has challenged me to define my thinking about childhood indoctrination a little more clearly. It’s a valid challenge. It’s worth reading his post before you read the following response:

Mark,

I’m glad we’re having this conversation… and this is good – you’re getting me started on my post about indoctrination. You don’t mind if I steal my own comments off your blog right?

The reason I have “dealt with this somewhat, but not thoroughly” is that my kids (all girls) are 4, 3, and 1 and when it comes to parenting I try to live by the rule that I don’t comment – not with apparent authority anyway – on things I have not yet experienced.

So, with my oldest being only 4 she is starting to ask questions, starting to pick up things here and there that she hears about “God”. This is where you and I differ – you have older children and you’ve already been through this. So I do appreciate your insights, and for that matter the honesty of your post.

I am in the process of determining proper responses to my daughters. Am I going to bombard them with theology that they have no hope of understanding? No, of course not. Am I going to answer their childlike questions in equally childlike terms that they can understand? Yes I am.

Where I have determined that I have found Truth I will tell my children. Where I have doubts I won’t pretend to be certain. That’s the way I work.

As for your childhood experience… yes, things tend to be overspiritualized in many ways. It’s an error I try to avoid. You have that in common with another one of my other commenters who I went out for a Guinness with last night (I still don’t like it BTW – I try to like it every 2 years or so). His point was similar to yours: things were so overspiritualized for him in a negative way that he couldn’t be in a dark room alone without being afraid.

Now this is all very unfortunate when it is the result of religious fearmongering. Do I believe demons and angels exist? Well, as a Christian, of course I do. But the manner of their influence is considerably more subtle, as a rule, than what is portrayed in a Frank Peretti book or for that matter a Stephen King book/movie.

The extremity of your treatment is common to some Catholic communities; I am far more familiar with extreme fundamentalism though, which is very common here in Southwestern Ontario (Canada). You have these groups nailed and I agree with you that they are involved in malicious indoctrination. I know many such people personally and they don’t even consider me a Christian. Seriously… especially if they read this and find out I had a beer.

If you don’t mind me asking, what was the “bolt of lighting that knocked you off your horse”? I’m assuming this is not the same flash of light that knocked St. Paul off of his.

You’re right on this too: children should know all of it, the good and the bad together. And here’s another point we won’t agree on but from personal experience many of the friends I grew up in church with ditched their Christianity when the other half of the truth was known. My belief is that they, along with a couple of generations in North America would still be Christians today if they had known all of it and been able to work out their faith with the knowledge of both sides.

I’ll make an assumption here so correct me if I’m wrong, but would your thinking be that given all the evidence anyone who honestly wrestled with it would choose Atheism?

You have my vote on doubt. I even wrote a song about it called Broken Hearted. The song is about the benefits and challenges of embracing doubt.

Cheers Mark, here’s to many more of these conversations.

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For more posts in the series on Richard Dawkins and The God Delusion return to the Richard Dawkins page.

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(if you liked that song, there are more at http://www.michaelkrahn.com . Shameless self-promotion, I know, but this is MY blog after all.)

It is 6:30am and I am about to go to work. I wait at the door for a moment and hope Olivia comes running down. Sometimes she peeks around the corner slowly and inquisitively and if she sees me there she comes running full tilt. I get the excited hug at the end of my workday too, but these morning ones are a bit rare and I cherish them a little more. Sometimes she’s up before I am and I try to put here back to bed, but she’s a tough little nut and this usually doesn’t result in her staying there very long. Her sister will sleep until 7:30, maybe 8:00am and sometimes beyond.

They are so different. Madeleine is obsessively detail oriented and Olivia is equally obsessively free-spirited. Madeleine can create entire worlds and has an attention span to die for. She’ll set up her farm and animals for hours at a time some days, while Olivia gets bored a bit quicker. She can’t sit through entire movies and doesn’t care to create worlds – destroying them is much more fun. I took her to the Sunday morning kids singing for the first time last week and she was the wildest one there, dancing without regard for those around her, crowding the leader at the front. Madeleine has been going for a year already and still hesitates to go every week. Her bravery appears in increments while Olivia’s, being the extrovert, is ever-present. She has no fear.

I see benefits and dangers for each of them. Olivia will be ambitious, accomplishing much probably by erring much, but succeeding much because she’s not afraid to fail. Madeleine will succeed too, if we nurture her ability to think long and hard and solve problems. Hopefully we can convey our satisfaction with each of them as they grow. With her beautiful orange hair and extrovert personality, Olivia will always be the attention getter and we’ll have to counter-balance that by giving Madeleine and bit more attention at home.

And girl #3, Sophia? I’m not sure yet, she’s only 6 months old. She’s a decent sleeper and a “good baby” by anyone’s standards. Having now observed 3 children up close and hanging out with a lot of other people who have kids, I believe less and less that some kids are just born to misbehave – well, girls anyway. I probably won’t ever have the experience of raising a boy but speaking from vicarious experience I’d say it’s a completely different task.

           My Dad works at Ford and my Mom and I both work at North Star in Talbotville.  For two weeks while my Dad is on dayshift, he drops me off at work on his way.   Then for two weeks I get a ride with my Mom.  Most of the time this ride sharing business isn’t really necessary, but I do it because I like them so much!   (That’s right, on top of loving them, I LIKE them too!)  And also because it means that Mrs. Zimbo isn’t stuck at home with Madeleine and Olivia all day without the van.

Around Christmas a couple of years ago we were sitting around at Mom and Dad’s and out of the blue my Dad says “Son, do you think I should get a Playstation or an X-Box or something?”   He kind of woke me up from a couch nap with this question so I didn’t really respond the first time.  When he asked the second time, I was awake, and you can guess what my response was: “Let’s roll!”   So off we went to Zellers, and we came back with an X-Box, 4 games, and a 36″ flatscreen TV.

My Dad is in his early 50′s and was a pastor for 13 years until about 7 years ago (prior to that he worked at Ford for 17 years.)   We never had much money as a family; my Mom stayed home to raise us while Dad was working, and then when they became Pastor(s), the pay was pretty lousy.  So now they are finally having a little money to enjoy.

Regardless of which one I ride with, on Friday’s they always show up with a Tim’s Regular and a blueberry bran muffin (“buttered and THEN heated, please!”) for me.   My Mom showed up one Wednesday with that same order.  I had already eaten breakfast and I had my usual Green Tea (Tetley Lemon and Ginseng Green Tea with a teaspoon of Honey) in my hand.   My Mom said “Sorry, I forgot to tell you: I think we should start having Tim Hortons on Wednesdays AND Fridays.”

“Ok Mom, I won’t argue with you.” I said.

My parents, as I’ve mentioned before, have been so great to me all my life.  They rarely raised their voices at me, never hit me, never belittled me, and when I got a little older they let me make up my own mind about things and gave all the guidance I ever asked for.   Now as I travel through my 30′s, I am just in love with them more than ever.  I hope my kids feel that way about me when they are 30.

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Michael Krahn
www.michaelkrahn.com