For What Would You Die

The judgment again Michael Sattler read as follows:

"Michael Sattler shall be committed to the executioner. The latter shall take him to the square and there first cut out his tongue, and then forge him fast to a wagon and there with glowing iron tongs twice tear pieces from his body, then on the way to the site of execution five times more as above and then burn his body to powder as an arch-heretic."
It is almost hard to read and even harder to imagine what such suffering must feel like in action. The question of course arises as to the nature of his crimes. It is upon this answer which we must question our own resolve and commitments.

It was in the sixteenth century that a certain group arose to challenge the status quo in Europe. By that time in history, the Catholic Church commandeered the majority of power. However, such dominance had led to corruption and moral depravity. In like manner of lifestyle, the theology of the church had become tainted with man's quest for power and control. In the face of such corruption, a few men rose to challenge the church.

Men such as Martin Luther, John Calvin and Ulrich Zwingli raised questions based upon their understanding of Scripture. These men called in question many areas of faith and religion that had become normative. Their questions and subsequent revolution was aptly called the Reformation. This was largely an attempt to reform the church from within. It was not intended to destroy the church entirely.

However, on the tails of these great men, others arose who pursued the questions even further. Committed to the truth and authority of the Bible, these men stood all beliefs before the mirror of Scripture and did not allow tradition to dictate their interpretation. It was this group that looked upon infant baptism as a grave misunderstanding of salvation. They believed that baptism was a symbol to be performed upon the decision to accept the sacrifice of Christ. To baptize an infant was pointless and missed the point of baptism.

In their mind therefore, people should be baptized when they made a public profession of belief. Toward this end, they began to publically baptize adults who accepted or confessed faith in Christ. For this reason, they were dubbed "Anabaptists" or "re-baptizers." This action was an affront to the control of the church whose infant baptism confirmed people into their following. The affront to their control was akin to treason.

For this reason, they began to hunt and kill all who practiced or received adult baptism. For most individuals this involved public drowning as an ironic and cruel twist. However, certain individuals inflamed passion to such degree that they garnered more noteworthy deaths. One such individual was Michael Sattler.

Hundreds of thousands of Anabaptists were killed over the years as intolerance for the group followed every flight the group undertook. It was to the continent that many of such faith eventually fled in order to escape the persecution that continually followed them.

But the question stands for us today of the severity of our own beliefs. To many today, baptism is a trivial exercise. However, the blood of thousands testifies to a far greater story which is easily forgotten. These people gave their lives because they stood by their understanding of the Word of God. What weight would we have placed upon that distinction if faced with the same choices today? How important would baptism have been to us if placed in the same spot in history? Do we study the Bible to discover its truths and stand upon them? What line would we draw in our stands if the cost was our life?

Good Ideas Meet Reality

When it comes to things that I would like to write, I have many great ideas. However, these ideas are stored in a box labeled with words like "reality" and "priorities". Occasionally however, I catch myself thinking of what I would do with a lot of free time. One such example is the legend of the marathon. As an avid runner, I thoroughly enjoy the legend of the first marathon.

The story begins in the small city-state of Athens, Greece. This city was not well known for their skill on the battlefield as were their neighbors Sparta. However, when the Persian army came to attack their land, the army of Athens made great effort to protect their city. The water born Persian army landed near the city of Marathon on the east coast of Greece. The army of Athens traveled to battle the Persian army at that point rather than sit and wait in their city. By this surprise move, the Athenians were able to victoriously defeat the superior Persian army.

But things turned quickly when the remainder of the Persian army sought to rush via the ocean around the southern end of Greece and take Athens while the army was away. In order to protect the city, the army needed to return quickly to Athens and let them know that the battle was won so the city would not surrender to avoid destruction. The practical restraint however is that an army cannot move very quickly and thus it seemed that the Persian army would arrive and threaten the people of Athens into surrender.

With this challenge in mind, a young man named  Pheidippides was chosen as a messenger. He set off running back to Athens. The story goes that he ran as hard as he could the entire way form Marathon to Athens, a distance of 26.2 miles. Upon arriving exhausted in the town, he collapsed and announced that the battle was won. With his message delivered, he then died. (Side note: why we choose to run a distance which by legend killed the first person who tried it is beyond me.)

This legend, while possibly not completely true, offers a wealth of wonderful subject matter for a fictional novel. Grand battles waged by two vastly different cultures. Victory followed by anguish. A personal struggle and the subsequent success against the backdrop of a far greater battle. The bittersweet end of success coupled with death. I can even picture in my mind the flow of the story.

The story begins upon a solitary individual running all alone. His thoughts turn back on his life as he pursues the enemy of time. The choices and struggles of his life all laid bare in this single task which he must face alone. The story then turns to one week prior as the leaders of an intellectual city hear warnings of the arrival of a murderous nation. Their quiet life now threatened by a military might whose stories echo of destruction and violence. These two storylines intersect as battles are waged on two fronts, the military battlefield and the mind and will of a solitary soldier giving his own life for the ideals of a greater good.

There is so much there which begs to be explored. The characters await the pen and the issues beg to be argued. Yet, I have committed my life to other causes. And while it would be so much fun, I realize that some things must be laid aside in order to achieve more important goals. But once in a while, it is fun to imagine and to visit in my head the story which will always exist. Because the power of imagination and stories and legends is that their existence burns always in the heads of the dreamers.

Lesson from my Car

In the fall of the year 2002 I finally made my way to the BMV to obtain approval from the government to operate a motor vehicle. In contrary nature to normal people, I had not felt the need to obtain said license at the normal age of 16. So, at the age of 19 I practiced a few times and successfully passed the relatively simple requirements laid down by law. It seems odd how easy it is to achieve a license to drive when it basically allows you to operate a deadly weapon.
However, after this life milestone, I was then in need of a vehicle to operate. I had saved a small amount of money for the purpose of purchasing a car. I knew that with no real job and about to head off to my second year of college that a loan was out of the question. Therefore, I was relegated to a rather simple car search.

Me: (walking into dealership) Do you have any cars for under $1000?
Dealer: No.
Me: (walking out of dealership) Thank you.

Eventually, in the back corner of a parking lot of one dealer I found a car. The actual price on the car was unreadable. However, in one short test drive and transaction, I was the first time owner of a car. That 1987 Chevy Nova has remained with me to this day. I am by no means skilled in mechanical work. Nor am I well versed in car terminology. However, I have learned many lessons about life while maintaining a car that is almost as old as I am.

But this year, as my car turns 25, I have learned something new. I finally realize what it means to not take something for granted. Every day, as I sit in my car to drive to work, I have the conscious realization that my car may not make it through the day. The potential for my car to die completely is ever present. And each day when I make it home again, I am grateful for the simple fact that my car worked. This recognition has begun to creep into other areas of my life. What guarantees do I really have about many things? What should I truly be thankful for each day? How much do I realize the blessing of God in little things like a car working, having water to drink, good health, electricity, family, etc?

While there are many other vehicles I would like to drive on a daily basis, few would help my humility and heart as much as the one God has given me. I am finally coming to the realization that such a truth is probably found in most areas of my life. Learning to be thankful for my very old and unique car has led to other lessons for which I am grateful.

Measuring Mediocrity

Upon this time of year as most humans celebrate the passing of an artificial way to track our relatively short lives, it is common to stop and reflect upon the past and the future. Likewise, I myself am approaching that particular day in which we celebrate our birth even though that day came long after our life actually began. For some reason though, the awkwardness of the birthing process is easier to think about than celebrating the actual conception. In conjunction with both of these factors, I am naturally an introspective melancholy so it is not hard to spend time dwelling on the slow and steady passage of time.
But this year as I arrive at my 29th birthday (yes it is actually 29) I have come to a stark realization. As a teen and subsequently as a young 20 something young man, it is easy to entertain grand thoughts of successes in numerous fields of life. We picture and work towards excellence in various pursuits and envision a time when we are considered one of the best in the world. This is encouraged by most all societies and cultures.
However, as I have come to the point in which I can see the age of 30 in the distance, a new truth is now staring me in the face. Instead of unparalleled success, I am quite sure now that in most every arena of life, I will remain average or less for the remainder of my life. I will never be the best writer or debater. I will never master photography or art. I will never be faster, stronger, taller or smarter than the majority of people. I will never win grand prizes or "go out on top." I won't be considered famous for some skill. I won't become the master of any particular field. And I will probably never finish a Rubik's cube.
In most regards, mediocrity will become standard for my life. However, such truth is not depressing. I have come to realize that my greatest weakness is my pride. If God gave me the ability to be the best at anything, I would promptly forget that it was God who supplied that gift. The only way that God can use me for His glory is if I am not special. The awareness of my own shortcomings and dependence for success upon God is far more freeing than actual achievements. This is no excuse for laziness but the total trust upon God to provide the success. I remember as a child trying to "help" my dad. Though the tool was in my own hand, my dad's hand completely covered my small hand and directed and moved the action to accomplish the job. It is this picture which I now realize is far more appropriate of God's work in our lives. As I move into a new year, I hope that being average will encourage me to more action rather than constantly practicing to be the best.