Snow Leopard Bible

I'm excited. Tomorrow is launch day. No, not of Snow Leopard (though I am excited about that too), but of the Snow Leopard Bible. Two really excellent writers, Galen Gruman and Mark Hattersley, wrote most of this book and I think it will be a great resource for those wanting to tackle Snow Leopard head on. But, there is “one more thing:” they wrote most of it, but I'm thrilled to say I was the third (albeit minor) contributor.

This is my first contribution to go into book form and it was a genuine pleasure to work on. I contributed the chapter in the book on Mac OS X's UNIX functionality, which was a topic I am certainly excited about. Aaron Black, the purchasing editor, and Marty Minner, the project editor, were both top notch folks that made the task enjoyable and I'm glad I had the opportunity to work with them.

Certainly, getting to work with Snow Leopard ahead of its release was great too, although not being able to talk about it for months was a frustrating!

If you'd like a copy of the book, you can get it in print or pulp-free Kindle editions over at Amazon.com (associate links).

Ben's Back

The majority of the Fallen-era Evanescence has regrouped as “We are the Fallen.” This notably including Ben Moody and John LeCompt, the two lost pieces of the ever firing and hiring band known as Evanescence that I think were the biggest losses. The band lives up to its name in ways. While I am not nearly as critical of the Open Door era Evanescence as many — I actually have grown to like that album quite a bit — I do think the firing of LeCompt afterward it came out was a huge loss that will surely show in the 2010 album.

And, while I didn't dislike the second album, there is no doubt that the band shifted tone after Moody left. Something of the old Evanescence is worth continuing to explore and I think there is potential for the two distinct bands now headed by Moody and Amy Lee to produce interesting music in the future. I'm looking forward to seeing what “We are the Fallen” comes up with.

This video shows promise, picking up some distinctly Fallen-esque tones. In another video of inferior recorded quality, the band performed “Going Under” almostly exactly as it sounded on Fallen.

Certified Pre-Owned Cats

Ingenious marketing. The only question: since when are cats “owned” and not “owners”?

Hat tip: Autoblog

Late Night Haiku XXX

LXXXIV. What somber tones emit
The crickets tonight. Mourning.
Summer is dying.

LXXXV. Summer's end nears,
As the night rolls into day.
People go to, fro.

LXXXVI. People do not heed
Quiet tragedy moving forward…
'Til it comes to them.

Secrets and Shadows

My prayer tonight is that truth can be removed from the shadows of secrecy, for it is not meant to be in the shadows of darkness. May light fill the darkness and expose it. For truth does not fail in the light; it needs no protection from the light. O God, let your light shine so brightly that truth may triumph and end discord.

This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth. But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin. (1 John 1.5-7 NIV)

A Great Read Versus Great Literature

This is a distinction to which I often return. I think most people intuitively can sense the difference between “great literature” and a “great read.” But what is the difference? For example, a book like the Da Vinci Code or — yes, I'll admit to reading it — Twilight is engrossing, with interesting characters. Who doesn't want Robert Langdon to survive as the evil Teacher tries to kill him? Who is unsympathetic to Edward Cullen as he struggles with being a “cold one”?

To the extent that we can empathize with the characters, and their plights can cause catharsis (I think more likely in the case of Cullen than Langdon), they mimic great literature. Much of what makes Hamlet or the Oresteia great revolves around the ability of these works to connect with our core being and make us feel the sorrow and joy the characters feel.

But, I would not group Twilight or the Da Vinci Code in the realm of great literature. Simply the realm of a “great read.” Why is that? What is the essential substance of literature?

Part of it is surely the test of time. Will anyone remember Bella Swan in two millennia as people still remember Agamemnon today? I'm dubious. Part of becoming literature is passing the judgment of cultures and times other than our own.

Yet if we say that literature must stand the test of time, precisely how long of time? Surely we must not say master works such as T.S. Eliot's the Waste Land are still awaiting judgment. When did it become literature or was it always literature?

The best answer, I suspect, is to view time's vote not as the deciding one, but as a natural consequence of another characteristic of literature. This characteristic is that literature frequently defines or alters the framework within which it operates. That is, Shakespeare's plays changed the very essence of drama; Dan Brown has not manipulated the genre of the action/puzzler novel to any great degree. But, agreeing with Eliot's discussion of literature in “Tradition and the Individual Talent,” literature must not be purely “change,” literature must also be intelligible. (Hence why I continue to mock Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot — it does change the fabric drama, arguably, but hardly in a way intelligible to drama as drama.)

Intelligible alteration of genre and framework. That is essential to what makes a great read great literature, but it is merely a part, not the whole of that which defines literature as literature.

The Covenant Community

One of the first things that is emphasized at Covenant Seminary is the Covenant community. And by that, I am not referring to the students and professors at Covenant (though they are a part), but the one universal Church. We don't talk about this enough, even though beyond his son, the community is one of God's greatest gifts to his people.

In individualist America — or really, simply, the individualist world of today — it seems unnatural to worry too much about community. Doubly so to applaud and yearn for it. But, it is natural and, more importantly, it is Biblical. The community, the Kingdom of God, is not only something we talk about and look forward to as a future hope, but a present reality. It is the communion of saints, living and dead, who hold us up and show us the way. It is the body of Christ.

Sometimes, it exemplifies God's love (as in Acts 6.1-7), such as when the church sets apart people to care for the downtrodden. Sometimes, the community stumbles terribly, as the Corinthian church did. But, it is always an undeniably special blessing. Even with regards to seriously messed up Corinth, Paul offered sincere thanks for the people and the fellowship established there by the Spirit (1 Cor. 1.4-9).

During my first year in seminary, I found I was repeatedly assigned projects that sent me to the book of Hebrews, a book I had far less familiarity with than I should have. It has become a very refreshing book to me, because it reminds me of the support God offers us through his covenant community. We do not run the race alone, but with a faithful cloud of witnesses provided by a gracious God (Heb. 12.1-3).

Seminary is a hugely humbling, sometimes painful experience. That's why more than ever, upon entering it, I needed those words. Those experiences remind one to lean on and rejoice in the support that God has provided in his community. And, when things are going well, all the more to rejoice in his bountiful provision.

A few weeks ago, I was having coffee with a dear friend from seminary. We talked about this very subject and rejoiced over the community God gives us. We both noted how we had come to realize how important the close friendships we have from seminary are as we seek to do ministry. They insure we will always have people to turn to for prayer and advice. I am awed by the amazing support God offers me — my family, my mentors, my church family, my friends — and how he has worked in sometimes surprising ways to place them in my life. Why should I receive such wonderful blessings?

Of course, this extends as well to those who went before us — both in Scripture and church history — leaving treasure troves of faithful acts and writings to encourage us to faith. We would be remiss to forget those whom God has sent before, scouts leading the way as we move forward. God sends us out to do his work, but not without enforcements.

Sure, everyone yearns for the rightness of Eden. Everyone yearns for the day when God will restore the world to his creational intent. But, in the mean time, it is pure joy that we experience a very real part of that intent through the communion of saints.

Scriptural Authority and Challenges to It

One of the interesting things about the Bible is that it never is keen on presenting authorities as those who are always right. As a matter of fact, we see repeatedly that the worst offenses, the worst problems — the problems that lead the Israelites into spiritual and physical wildernesses — come from those in authority.

Even two of the best leaders, the two humans perhaps closest to God, Moses and David, committed grave offenses. The interesting thing is that at these times of failure it was appropriate, indeed, obedient for the godly to challenge the wrongs of their leaders. The prophetic voice, it is clear, is not the voice of a fortuneteller but the voice of moral judgment from God. Given the limited access to the Spirit in the Old Testament times, necessarily that place of judgment was limited to a few appointed prophets.

The prophetic mantle is more widely spread within the church than in the Old Testament, like all of the offices bestowed by the Holy Spirit and ultimately worn by our Covenant representative, Jesus. It is in this mode that Peter and John rightly note their allegiance not to the authorities over them but to God (Acts 4).

Of course, the Bible emphasizes the importance of leadership, but as each believer is called into leadership roles at various times and seasons, it is imperative that we remember that we are fallible — and it is not wrong for those under us to call us out. Insubordination is rarely a problem in the Bible, but abuse of power is a major problem. A leader who worries about insubordination ought to instead worry about him or herself. Leaders in the church should seek to foster an environment that is open and honest, that encourages challenges to their actions.

Obviously, these challenges need to be Biblical and respectful, but so long as they are, leaders need to practice control over typical human reflexes that might bring a chill to openness. All the more so as one goes higher up in leadership. The power is too great, the temptation to use that power too strong; for our own good, we should be checked constantly by people unafraid to say, “no.”

When leaders seek too much power it is like those who misread the Bible's commands for husbands and wives. When people read Ephesians 5, too often the focus is set on how wives are to submit, but with little care for v. 25, which gives husbands the command to love their wives as Christ loved the church — that is, unto willing death. If the husband is not perfect in that, how dare he concern himself with whether his wife submits? First, he ought to work to be more like Christ with fear and trembling.

Clearly, any leader that tries to argue for authority in sich from the Bible is missing the point. And, when that occurs, it is right that godly people such as Martin Luther and John Calvin sought reformation… divorce from those doing wrong. Ultimately, Biblical authority means to represent to the people the truths of the Bible and to live those truths as well as a human can. When leaders fail to do so, and fail to be willing to concede their failures, that authority is forfeit.

As Peter and John said in Acts 4.19, “Judge for yourselves whether it is right in God’s sight to obey you rather than God.”

The Only One

So afraid to open your eyes, hypnotized.
You know you're not the only one
Never understood this life.
And you're right, I don't deserve
But you know I'm not the only one.

We're all grieving,
Lost and bleeding.

All our lives,
We've been waiting
For someone to call our leader.
All your lies,
I'm not believing.
Heaven shine a light down on me.

Don't look down,
Don't look into the eyes of the world beneath you.
Don't look down, you'll fall down,
You'll become their sacrifice.

Right or wrong.
Can't hold onto the fear that I'm lost without you.
If I can't feel, I'm not mine,
I'm not real.

—A. Lee

There's a lot in this song — it has an almost apocalyptic edge, I think, along the lines of “Whisper,” but it also has a more direct message for “When they all come crashing down, midflight.” To what extent do problems arise when one thinks he or she is “the only one?” To what extent would the problems be solved when realizing others are just as grieved?

Web Ads Challenge

As I do every so often, I had a debate with a fellow blogger the other day about ad blocking. My assumptions are rather straightforward:

• Ads don't pay much, but they can pay for the bandwidth a fairly busy site needs.
• Ads are clearly the “price” for using the site, so long as they are attached to the content of the site (pop ups and pop unders are a different story).
• A laborer is worthy of his wages (Luke 10.7), so when I am asked to “pay” something for content that I request (and web pages are requested not pushed to me, after all), I should pay what I am asked.
• If the requested price is too high (annoying ads), I don't buy the product (I find a web site that works that doesn't annoy me).

Now my friend thinks that is unfair: he doesn't like ads, so why should he have to view them? For me the answer is simple: if you value what you are receiving, why wouldn't you? In any other situation, I expect to pay if someone requests a payment for something I value and want. And, more importantly, if it is costing the content provider money to send the content to you that you requested (and make no mistake, bandwidth is still costly), why should the content provider not only provide you with content you value but also eat the cost of you viewing it?

I've heard a number of people say, “but I already pay my teleco $40/month for Internet, that grants me the right to view the web without paying more.” This is a flawed perspective, because ISPs do not (and, really, should not) pay me if you view my site. The argument is essentially like saying, “I had to pay a toll to cross the toll bridge on the way to the movie theater, therefore, it is fine if I slip into the theater without paying… I've already paid that money to get there!”

If everyone adblocked, even if sites don't make much from ads, I propose many sites would shut down since not even basic operating costs would be covered. If one can run a helpful site and come out even, that's great; if one needs to dump $50, $100, $1,000 down the hole every month, it becomes a lot harder to justify. I don't think any of us want our favorite sites to shut down, right?

My friend suggested sites should move over to subscription fees. This sounds like a good idea, but I challenge anyone thinking this sounds like a good idea to stop for a moment. Imagine if every time you did a Google search, every result you pulled up that was formerly ad-supported instead required even a small subscription price, say $.50 for a month of service (though an ad may pay a penny or less, due to the costs of credit card transactions, I can't imagine a monthly fee being any lower than that, unless you pre-payed annually, and for many sites, would you really want to do that?). Most users would find this a bad deal.

How many sites have I visited via Google only to quickly turn around and move on? Even at $.50/month, I would feel really hesitant to load up a site I didn't know was going to be of some value. Conversely, what harm is it if I see an ad graced by the Verizon Wireless guy? None for me, but the site owner — who may own a site that serves people just fine — is being helped to keep the site running.

I probably visit, say, ten ad supported sites regularly, plus dozens more per month doing research. Let's be really conservative and say I only visit fifty ad supported sites per month: that's still $25/month. Presenting this cost to him, my friend said he could easily deal without the commercial sites and just use non-ad based sites.

Another idea: switch to a text based browser. Sure, even with a text based browser it costs the site owner bandwidth (and, hence, money) to serve you, but it costs far less than serving you the graphics that make sites pretty and enjoyable to use. It's a compromise: the site owner doesn't get paid, but you don't see ads and don't cost the owner quite as much.

So I made this challenge to my friend, which he didn't like. There are sites like Slashdot that do offer ad-free subscriptions. Pay for those and get rid of the ads while still supporting the site. On other sites, block the site as a whole if it has an ad on it. If ad based sites are truly of little value, simply blocking the site itself wouldn't be a problem at all. If, after taking my challenge, you find yourself tired of paying for subscriptions on some sites and being unable to use other sites at all, then I would argue that the ad based sites must be providing value to you.

And, if that's the case, why not do your favorite sites' owners a favor and let the ads load? On a site like Open for Business, basically all the ads pay for are the network services necessary to run the site. Nothing else. So here's the food for thought: when you block ads, you aren't “sticking it to the man” who is becoming filthy rich, you're actually punishing the owners of your favorite sites for serving you.

Something to think about.