Patience is the first virtue listed by Paul in his hymn on the fullness of Love, and without love, of course, even a superior grasp of every mystery leaves us nothing.  It follows, therefore, that without patience, a teacher merely teaches of himself.  I was glad then with the book selection our pastor had made for a men’s study group.  Our church has been a bit beleaguered by the superstition of certain members that GOD directs them through feelings or impressions into what I imagine is, for them, His “individual will” for their lives.  This certainly cuts down on Scriptural labors, but more to the point, it contradicts our Father’s description of the sufficiency of His Scriptures and, in some sense, denies the rich satisfactions of His Son (who is Himself the Word).

In the hope of better things, our pastor has devised this book study on the subject of divine guidance to encourage at least one prominent member toward a life of greater belief.  I followed him as he carefully investigated a number of books on this subject, measuring them out for their strengths, testing them for a balance of character and insight.  After finishing the book last night, I knew he had chosen very well.

I can honestly say that I have virtually nothing critical to pose to its author.  Any corrections I might offer would be minor.  Though an academic, Petty has had over a decade of pastoral experience and his study on the subject of divine guidance is graced with the wisdom that comes with honest spiritual struggle in keeping a bleary watch over the souls of others (and his own).  I found it very practical and not at all simplistic.  Though I had expected to come away from reading it with a feeling of having enjoyed a recollection of texts, the book did not turn out to be merely a review for me.  I was most captivated by his typically patient exploration of the nature of Biblical “wisdom,” which can seem somewhat elusive, the characteristics that distinguish it from “insight,” “knowledge” and “understanding,” as well as the means to attaining wisdom and maturing in it as it is applied to the details of life.  I struggle on with the questions of my own calling, though my internal conflicts have taken a finer and more deliberate shape through the present year.  This book, along with one of its primary recommendations for further reading, has given me hope of soon seeing the matter to a fulfilling end.

It was refreshing to learn from a man who has not allowed his academic focus to diminish into a “glass bead game,” knowledge for its own sake and that sort of thing.  He drew out detailed illustrations of very plausible situations which he followed through with an admirable touch, especially for an introductory text, and his style was not at all difficult or tedious to engage and to follow.  I would recommend this work to anyone interested in this central question of purpose and I have no doubt that even those readers who do not think they have much to learn will be pleasantly sharpened none the less.

O God, You are my God,
And I will ever praise You.
I will seek You in the morning
And I will learn to walk in Your ways
And step by step You’ll lead me
And I will follow You all of my days.

Pastor Mark Dever seems to me an eminently practical man, though to the worldly wise, there is perhaps not a more difficult or dangerous road than the one he advises.  That greater burden of realism which the Gospel places upon his shoulders inspired Dever to author a series of instructive manuals to guide aspiring pastors and others into the fields of Christ’s supreme labor.  This book is the final of three on the subject of building healthy churches.

Without wasting much time on eloquence, Dever alights briefly upon each topic, pausing to suggest ways to appreciate and resolve various peculiarities in the life of a church.  I was particularly glad for the opportunity to witness him expound upon the varied responsibilities of elders in the latter chapters of the book.  The earlier sections of the work were for me a simple review, but these later morsels were most insightful.  Dever is a man of uncommon sense and, in many situations, his disciplined, self-effacing methods gave one much hope for what Christ is doing in him.  He is a man who clearly appreciates the importance of the kind of patient care that, over the course of years, precludes the need for handling crises that will never arise.  Any good physician of souls will be the most skilled at preventative medicine.

And, in a tribute to the grace that governs his life, his abilities have not made him flatter himself into the belief that he has no need of others.  He welcomes the gifts of those around him and surrounds himself with men and women that harmonize well with his strengths and weaknesses.  He encourages pastors to anticipate the possibility that they will not always be able to lead their people and should strive to make those in their charge somewhat independent of their leadership.  His constant refrain is that a pastor must think in terms of years of gradual development.

One might criticize his approach by pointing out that he quotes from Scripture more or less predictably and sprinkles references here and there while repeated expressions about what “works” well for his congregation were most prominent.  To be fair, deciding how to structure a book of this kind is always a difficult decision to make.  Should it be as brief and straightforward as possible?  Should there be a lengthy exegesis of Biblical passages or abbreviated highlights and gestures toward well-known texts?  Should solutions and ideas be proven beyond the evidence of their usefulness in specific situations?  Should the overall work take the form of a suggestive guide or a carefully argued teaching?

Dever and Alexander consistently favored suggestiveness, brevity, pragmatic appeal and openness.  I believe it was his intention to be as sensible as he could be about the innumerable and unpredictable variety of contexts and needs that might arise and which could hardly be covered by a single philosophy of ministry.  Yet, it must be said that the book is sometimes too passive in making its case Biblically.  Often Dever appeals to principles that prove too subjective when describing his reasons for his chosen methodology.  He also occasionally simply leaves a question unasked, and some of the expressions, friendly as they were, seemed a little contrived and plastic.

I agree with Dever’s insight that a pastor’s attitude and approach will carry through to the sheep in his care.  They will naturally adapt to the spiritual atmosphere he creates and where he bends or twists, they will grow crooked or off-balance.  A pastor must be sure to display the proper mentality toward all that he touches, and a man who decides that it would be wise to train other pastors must learn to shepherd the shepherds.  But the manner of Scriptural reasoning that Dever models in this work is not a careful one.

Perhaps one could say, in his defense, that The Deliberate Church was written as a popular conclusion to a series meant only to offer helpful, introductory material for further study.  It would defeat the purpose to spend lengthy intervals in Scriptural analysis, especially if this has already been unfolded elsewhere.  Some might insist that this kind of approach is quite common among the more popular Christian authors, and that we can say at least that Dever hasn’t abused the Word.

Yet, I wonder whether that is always true… When a man establishes a practice on the tenuous ground that it “works,” I am always concerned to know how he is defining this criterion.  What does it mean in these contexts that a method or practice of his “works”?  It is easy to abuse Scripture at precisely this point where one might controvert the sufficiency of GOD’s testimonies in favor of standards of “practicality” without being aware of the danger.  And, of course, the example of a popular and “successful” pastor might encourage others to do the same.  Dever may have excellent reasons for his position.  I just wish he would have spent time revealing these more fully and thereby taught his readers to imitate his faith as he imitates Christ.

I think it is accurate to say that the central thesis of the book bears upon the fact that the teaching of the Word is the chief concern of every ministry endeavor.  Yet this thesis was undermined to a degree through a shallow example.  That is why I was left, at the end, with a number of grey areas and unanswered questions.  For instance, in spite of the apparent success at Capitol Hill Baptist Church, I continue to believe that pastors should resist Dever’s more administrative approach to shepherding.  It is a common approach and there are reasons to recommend it, but do these reasons arise from the solid consequences of divine revelation?  I know at least that my objections do.  I also disagree with the use of church covenants given that we covenant together already under the Word of GOD.  And I wonder whether it would not be better to break away from Dever’s attitude and ordain men who demonstrate the clear gifts and calling even when they would not fit ideally among the present leadership at one’s church.  They might serve very well elsewhere.

Yet, in spite of these criticisms, readers like myself can disagree with Dever in an atmosphere of acceptance because he works under the conviction that his ideas are not the last word on a subject.  He is willing to step aside when he is in the minority, where the people would not receive as much benefit from him, even when he is technically correct.  That kind of humility is difficult for many leaders to develop and too often pastors fight for control while it slips through their fingers.  In that light, the lambs of GOD at Capitol Hill Baptist Church are well provided for and have been gently blessed by their Father in heaven.  He has been and continues to be very kind to them.

And I will give you shepherds after my own heart, who will feed you with knowledge and understanding.

- Jeremiah 3:15

The demographics of my classes have shifted again with the beginning of the first fall session.  Although my summer classes had held a majority of Arabic speakers,  they now incorporate a fairly balanced mix of Far-Eastern and Middle-Eastern cultural backgrounds (Korea, China, Saudi Arabia and Libya).  Add to this three students from Vietnam, Kazakhstan and Japan.  Gotta love cultural diversity.

Nevertheless, while I am striving to learn about international students in general, I continue to focus on Arabic speakers in particular.  Much to my chagrin, I have yet to master the Arabic alphabet, and my knowledge of spoken Arabic consists of a only few set phrases.  Many of the more gregarious Saudi students I had gotten to know rather well have moved out of my class, and the Arabic speakers who are now in my class are, for the most part, rather serious and they keep to themselves. So, my Arabic studies languish temporarily.

There is a young woman from Libya in my writing class.  She wears hijab, an expression of Islamic modesty manifested through wearing a headscarf and certain types of clothing- though her approach is far more westernized than some of the more traditional Islamic styles of clothing for women.  She seems demure and quiet, intelligent, but reserved.   I learned over the course of the class that this is the first time she has been in a classroom with students of both genders.  As I have learned from her first essay, she attended a high school only for girls in Libya, and since men were not allowed, the students did not have to wear hijab. She has also on occasion expressed her embarrassment at being in a room with male students.  Today, while I was working with her on her essay in the computer lab, she shared another surprising personal detail:  “When I was younger,” she had written in her essay, “my mother made me stand beside her in the kitchen and learn how to cook.  She would say to me, ‘You need to learn how to cook and clean so that you can be a good wife for your husband and a mother for your children.’  But I did not pay attention to her, because I did not want to learn something just for a man.  If I want to learn something, I want to learn it for myself.  Anyways, I hate men.”

This took me off guard, and I laughed out loud in surprise.  She giggled, and confirmed that she had indeed intended to write that last sentence.  I found this hard to believe, and wondered if she truly felt a kind of hatred in her heart for men generally, if it was a kind of reaction against the cultural norms she lived within, or if she had had a particularly bad experience which had scarred her.  At any rate, her abrupt postscript remained with me, and my thoughts returned to it later in the day.  I wondered how she had come to feel that way, and what other kinds of rebellious thoughts whirled about under her unassuming headscarf.

I have recently finished a book about a British Muslim woman, and admittedly, I had often thought of my student as I read the book- what she might think of it and how she might interpret the author’s take on Islamic life and practice.  Love in a Headscarf:  A Muslim Woman’s Search for the One, by Shelina Zahra Janmohamed, is a semi-autobiographical story about a young Muslim woman in London who goes through the traditional steps of finding a husband.  Initially, she is primarily guided and assisted by family members who help with background checks, meetings, interviews and housecalls.  Later, as the process becomes more difficult and the right man seems harder to find, she begins to try alternate, more modern avenues, such as online personal ads for Muslims who are serious about finding a future spouse.  It’s a very funny and enjoyable book, and yes, she finally meets the perfect One- after several years of searching!

I had thought about including an excerpt from the book as a possible reading for my class, especially since we read primarily cross-cultural texts having to do with people from different backgrounds and ethnicities.  However, I decided against it because I didn’t want to be interpreted as a typical Western feminist with an agenda for “liberating” women in more traditional cultures.   The author, who grew up and was educated in Britain, holds a perspective on the roles of Muslim men and women that would most likely be seen as liberal by my students– though she considers herself to be a veritable champion of  a view of gender roles based on a faithful interpretation of the Qu’ran.  She sees many of the problems in Muslim life between men and women as rooted in a cultural manifestation of ideas which claim to be inherently Islamic, but, as she argues, are not.  Rather, she strives to value the equal status of men and women, based primarily on the Qu’ranic concept of the two genders being created from one soul.

Janmohamed has written a captivating and winsome novel and shared a great deal of her own personal experience with her readers, which I appreciate.  I see some parallels between some of the more conservative branches of Christian denominations and her own story, especially as it relates to the question of gender, modesty, personal expression and how people understand their faith in light of these concerns.  Being familiar as I am with various nuances of American Protestant religious life, I wonder how she measures up in the Islamic world at large.  How are her arguments seen and interpreted by those who have a more sophisticated understanding of the subtleties of Islamic teaching and practice?  Is she seen by them as a pretentious liberal, or as someone with sensitivity and something to offer?  Perhaps a little of both, or as a having a balanced perspective?  I suppose that depends on one’s own background and convictions.

I had thought to share a few excerpts with my student in order to see what she thought of this woman’s views.  However, I don’t want to take advantage of my position and influence, and would rather approach her about it when she is no longer a student in my class, so as to remove any possible pressure she might feel.   I have had mixed feelings about suggesting this book to her, especially after today’s revelation, but also because I am uncertain of how my suggesting it might be interpreted.  I am curious to know what another young Muslim woman thinks of this perspective.   It is not my intention to advocate the ideas of the author, but rather to investigate them.  I’ll give it some more thought and some more time before I make up my mind.

Try stepping into the head of a genius for a moment and you might just lose your bearings.  That’s what happened to me recently when, one cheery morning, I decided to obtain a copy of Chesterton’s allegorical novel and consider his methods in the use of a genre I’ve always considered poetic and very powerful…  It started out interestingly enough with Chesterton’s somewhat meandering, but never boring, observations rendered in a ticklish rhythm that makes me laugh.  Chesterton has a certain way of meditating out loud that can leave one dizzy.  Some have called him the “Prince of Paradox.”  I prefer to think of it as a kind of enjoyment of the ironies of life, but at times he can go a bit too far.  No longer merely pondering and playing with these oddities, Chesterton will at times charge into the maelstrom of worldly contradiction at full force.  In this classic work, there is never a dull moment, but the reader must keep his head as he descends into a flip-flop reality of will and representation.  Personally, I lost my way once and again.

It wasn’t difficult to determine the identity of Sunday.  I had that established very early on.  Trying to understand and appreciate this enigmatic figure, however, was a different matter altogether.  It wasn’t difficult to deduce at times what the protagonists were themselves barely beginning to intuit, yet to reach back behind the story, underneath the lives playing out wondrously before the reader, to the answers about life and meaning and GOD which they were shadowing… I am still not sure I have it right.

Was it all a dream of Thursday?  I can only be sure of this: just as Chesterton’s calendar is somewhat foreign to me, so is his God and the purpose of life he envisions.  I cannot own them for myself and I do not believe that anyone who does is likely the better for it.  The sense of brilliant waste is unfortunately reminiscent of Chesterton’s more famous admirers, as though in the midst of their exultation, they too forget whether the reality they’ve contrived is only a dream.

Does all this seem enigmatic or mysterious to you?  Believe me, it’s not as strange as the book itself.  Without spoiling anything for those who want to read the novel for themselves, I still feel that I should say that The Man Who Was Thursday is a fascinating experience inviting the reader to explore a panorama of challenging questions. I learned a great deal from watching a masterful writer put his skills to work to fashion a unique message.  I can only pray that his techniques will remain with me and perhaps serve in my work to reveal the even deeper mysteries and the stark, but intensely beautiful, realism of Christ.

A new session has begun where I work, along with the fall semester at the university.   The Center for English as a Second Language, where I have worked since May, is a place where incoming international students strive to improve their English and pass the TOEFL (Test of English as a Foreign Language) exam before they can be admitted into their university programs.  Our students come from all over the world and speak various languages, including Arabic, Korean, Turkish, Vietnamese, Chinese, Bengali, Hausa, and more.  Their backgrounds, their English proficiency levels and their own specific needs are all very different.  It is quite challenging to find ways to teach them in an engaging, personal way while still ensuring that they are being well prepared for the academic rigor which awaits them just around the corner.

In the morning, I teach Academic Skills, in which we focus primarily on developing critical reading skills, improving their vocabulary, and learning how to revise their writing through multiple drafts.  I enjoy the book I’m using, which is called Guidelines:  A Cross Cultural Approach to Reading and Writing.   This is a fine text, very well structured both for the teacher and the student, and the readings have proved to be very engaging.  My students are responding very well, and I find that teaching composition to ESL students is a real pleasure for me.  I enjoy observing them slowly open up and begin to grasp the vocabulary more readily, to speak with more and more confidence, and helping them develop more complex ways of expressing their ideas.

In order to learn more about how to reach these students and provide them with quality instruction, I began doing some research on my own.  In the past two weeks, I have read two books which have been very helpful.  The first is Understanding ESL Writers:  A Guide for Teachers by Ilona Leki. This book was very illuminating and I devoured it in about three days.  The author has had quite a bit of experience with ESL students from many different cultures, and was able to offer helpful generalizations regarding various cultural backgrounds, while also helping the reader to understand how to approach students as individuals.  The two most important chapters for me were “Classroom Behaviors and Expectations” and “Characteristics of ESL Students,” which I copied and shared with some of the other newer teachers where I work.  They also said that these chapters were helpful.

I also read Teaching International Students: Improving Learning for All, edited by Jude Carroll and Janette Ryan.  This book also offered a number of excellent articles, and like the other book, was written both for ESL teachers as well as professors/instructors of mainstream university classes, who happen to have international students in their classes.  Some of the articles were not as useful as the others, but I really appreciated reading about the various experiences which are common to international students after they enroll and integrate into the broader academic community.  It inspired me with thoughts of organizing a survey/ interview project in which I could speak with various professors at our university and ask them about their own experiences and policies concerning international students.  That would prove to be very helpful in order to have a more informed idea of what my students should expect within their individual programs.

Although I do spend a lot of time speaking with my students and asking them about their own cultures and experiences, it is also beneficial to have a broader perspective when trying to approach preparing lessons and writing assignments, as well as evaluating my students’ work and progress.  I have found that I am less frustrated and more thoughtful when I have spent time reading about my students’ experiences from an outside perspective.  They certainly have a great deal which they are trying to achieve, and for many of them, they have only a relatively small amount of time, perhaps a year, to learn enough English to be admitted into the university.  Some have been studying English for many years in their home countries, but others come with next to no English preparation and are give a year by their government or their countries.  Within this time frame,

they must learn as much English as possible, pass the TOEFL entrance exam and be admitted into the respective programs.  If they fail, they are brought back home and are unable to continue their studies.  There is a great deal of pressure on the part of their families and their sponsors to do well.  Not only that, but the approaching task of succeeding in a foreign university setting awaits them like a tiger in a cave.  Nevertheless, most of them are enthusiastic, hard-working and have a very positive attitude- some are overly confident and need a much more realistic point of view, and I worry that they do not take seriously the difficulties they will encounter.  But it is my task to help them along, and I enjoy it very, very much.  This is a thoroughly rewarding job.  I just wish it paid a little more.

I am very glad  that  Mr.  Stein chose  to  record  and  publish such a helpful portion of his extensive knowledge and experience of the craft.  I am even more pleased that I found him so soon.  I feel optimistic that his excellent insights have saved me from quite a few embarrassing blunders and am pleasantly bereft these days of many of my former illusions about my abilities.  I now realize how much I have to learn, especially when I consider the fact that Stein on Writing was written as an introductory manual.

Perhaps the most advantageous aspects of Stein’s approach are his apparent interest in advancing the art of creative writing wherever he can and his lack of patience with quasi-mystical notions about whether one is gifted or innately capable of mastering some aspect of artistic communication.  Good writing is a kind of communion and, for that, every human being is naturally gifted because we are made in the image of a forever Self-Communing GOD.

I am reminded of a story Stein relates of a moment when sitting among a panel of editors answering various questions about how to improve one’s writing.  They were asked as a group about how to learn a particularly difficult aspect of the art of creative writing and each of the experts on the panel in turn responded that this was something that could not be learned.  You either grasp it or you don’t.  When Stein’s turn to respond came up, as respectfully as he could, he said, “This is how it’s done. . .” and laid out a groundwork of practical tips while dozens of audience members scribbled in their notebooks.

This is what writer’s really need.  As soothing to the ego as it might be to believe that good writers have a mysterious “sense” about exquisite expressions, Sol Stein has done the work of considering maturely both the patterns and methods which good writers have employed and the process which brings a writer to that place where excellent writing becomes a kind of “sense” that no one is born with.

I was also impressed by the fact that Stein did not forget to speak to those who are primarily authors of nonfiction but who realize the need to make use of many of the insights of classic literature and rhetoric which causes a work to sparkle persuasively in the minds of intelligent readers.  This book is helpful even if you are completely uninterested in fiction… unless you have succumbed to the wornout myth that serious nonfiction will avoid engaging the emotions of the reader as much as possible.

The only criticisms I would make of Stein’s work have to do with his willingness to venture into areas which are immoral.  Any book that intends to help writers in general will have to cover the romantic element of so many excellent stories.  Of course that is essential and perfectly healthy where it is a healthy expression of romance.  However, Stein doesn’t blanche in the least in covering subjects that deal with sexual immorality and even, because it’s much more common these days, homoerotic fiction.  I am sorry that an otherwise brilliantly workmanlike course of instruction on a topic too often left a foggy and impractical mess in other books is seriously dampened by the fact that Stein dismisses or refuses to recognize the primarily ethical essence of writing.

In the end, I disagree with him wherever he insists that a writer’s purpose is to reveal what we are all thinking but still unwilling to say out loud.  A writer is not simply a journalist of life and few would really qualify to tell such a story.  A writer is, finally, a preacher and a philosopher expressing as much as possible of the truth through the use of one incredibly potent illustration.  Life is a story and the best stories are those that tell the truth in a fictional medium.  But that “truth” is neither real nor rational where its ultimate message encourages us to descend finally into depravity.  We can leave that to the forgettable hacks, the hucksters and those who publish serials.  Because of this, I chose to skip this portion of Stein’s book and made better use of my time with him.

There’s also a few vulgar expressions and curse words in some of the illustrative bits and pieces taken from novels that Stein chose to bolster a point he was making along the way, but these are relatively few and far between.  On some level, when an author is trying to imitate the speech of a certain person in our time, assuming that characters drive the plot, this drawback will probably seem unavoidable at times.  I don’t know that it has to be, but I can say at least, assuming I am remembering correctly, that there are fewer such expressions in Stein’s book than one might find in certain portions of Scripture.  That doesn’t make Stein’s use of them sanctified but it does at least remind us that some of our notions of decency are not precisely defined by a desire for Biblical consistency.

Overall, I recommend highly this book for any who wish to really understand the practice of writing from a novelist who dedicated himself to understanding the nuts and bolts of the craft and worked as an editor with some of the most famous names in literature (fiction and nonfiction) for the last half a century or so.  I think he will encourage you, provoke you, draw you in and leave you with fresh insights and a hunger to take another shot at those pages you’ve been staring at while you wrestle in a curious fashion to give life to a few special characters who never lived… but who just might someday in the hearts of a few thousand people.

For a time, when I was much younger, I had a keen distaste for the seedy little nightmares of Edgar Allen Poe. Macabre was a good word for his work.  He seemed a tremendously disturbed spirit, always haunting the pages of his books with sordid and grotesque inanities. I couldn’t quite understand why anyone thought his work important, other than through some remote possibility that there was a genius’ method lurking behind the apparent madness… although I had to admit that the Tell-Tale Heart was quite good. Still, that and The Raven seemed to me to be the only redeeming aspects of his life’s work.

This was my prevailing opinion for many years until I learned of the brilliantly rational and calculating, C. Auguste Dupin. Edgar Allen Poe, as I discovered, had been the man to give us the art of detective fiction. Not only this, but he was so exquisite about it that he, apparently single-handedly, established the greater horde of novelties that would eventually become cliché’s of the genre: the deductive approach (which Dupin called “ratiocination”), the “amateur” consulting detective who always outstripped the dogged police force who “had their uses,” the intelligent but contrastingly unobservant partner who narrated the stories and who provided a perfect buffer for the equally inept reader, the skilled inspector who unwittingly played the foil and received all the credit, the baffling crime and the resolution at the end in which the astounding methods were plainly laid out, and so much more…

Although Sherlock Holmes, when introduced to Dr. Watson for the first time in A Study in Scarlet, humorously scoffed at Watson’s apparently offensive comparison of him with the great Dupin, it was obvious from the start that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle owed a good deal to Poe’s invention.  Without Auguste Dupin, there would likely have been no Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson, no Hercule Poirot or Father Brown.  All the great authors of mystery borrowed from that original.  Any reader then with a taste for the best of detective fiction should peruse the pages of The Murders in the Rue Morgue, The Mystery of Marie Roget and The Purloined Letter. Do not be fooled by the sensation that what you are reading has been done before. Before Poe, no one had done anything at all and those who came after him found it rather difficult to do better. He had a special way with mystery from the start, a singular panache… and for what he accomplished, I’ll always be grateful.

The recent CBBC Missions and Preaching Conference has ended. It is held near the close of every July at our church and continues, virtually unabated, from Tuesday evening through Thursday late into the night. We all pitched in to clean the church and our wives cooked and baked and prepared an assortment of sumptuous dishes and delicacies. The pastor’s wife, who skillfully led the affair, insisted that everything must be prepared by the women themselves; no pre-prepared food could be purchased. Everything was to be fresh and lovingly made.

One of the pastors travelled all the way from Milan to be with us and he stayed through the following Sunday to preach the morning and evening sermons. I had been hearing intriguing things about this man, Mr. Andrea Ferrari, and had picked up a copy of his dissertation on Giovanni Diodati, a Reformer who had studied under Theodore de Beza in Geneva and had been, in turn, a beloved instructor of Francis Turretin. But what is most significant about this man is that he was, I believe, the first to translate the Bible into Italian. His translation became the Italian Bible without significant emendation for the next three hundred years. Diodati took the Reformation into his native land as a brilliant and uniquely clear-headed scholar while remaining always a humble laborer in the vineyards of the LORD.

I first learned of Diodati on our trip to Switzerland, though only brief mention was made of him in the Reformation museum of Geneva. There did not seem to be a lot of affectation to his character, which was admirable, and I have always had an interest in the history of the translation of the Bible. So I made a note of him and decided to learn more about Giovanni Diodati when I returned to the States. I learned however that very little seems to have been written about him in English. I was thankful, therefore, that my church was in contact with a man who had made a special study of Diodati’s view of Holy Scripture and had published a dissertation in English which explored this aspect of a relatively unsung hero of the Reformation. And the fact that the author of the dissertation was coming to our conference was all the better.

Sasha and I determined to read Mr. Ferrari’s little book together and ask him a few questions, if he had the time. We were able to explore the subject with him during the fellowship meal and it proved an enlightening conversation in many ways I did not expect. I have an even greater admiration for Diodati after having read this work for, though it is hardly a surprise that we would disagree on certain issues, Diodati was a man quite serious about the need for future generations to improve upon the work of the champions of his own day. In his own words

And a Very foolish Opinion it is, to think, that we are come to such a pitch of perfection, as if nothing among us could be bettered.

There is an unhealthy “Reformed” habit of mind that reverences to an extreme whatever silver emerged from that cauldron of violence, effort and controversy that was the sixteenth century.  Those who hold this opinion deem the creeds, confessions and often even the translations of the Bible produced in that era to be so refined that they cannot be touched, critically, lest we tarnish them with our more modern tools and biases.  Sometimes one feels the distinct need to rebuke this prevailing “Reformed” attitude with the provocation of Paul, “Or was it from you that the word of God came?  Or are you the only ones it has reached?”  In contrast to this, it is refreshing to listen to the sensible voice of Diodati who prods us to go on ahead and not to lag behind precisely because this was the whole point of fighting for the liberty of a Christian conscience that affectionately embraces Christ.  In the face of the opinions of the Reformers about their own work, an extreme reverence for them appears anti-Reformed.

Mr. Ferrari’s book is well translated and encouraged me to research further a number of historical points that fascinate me but with which I am too little familiar. For instance, I savored the portions regarding the various forms of interpretation of Scripture in the early church, the development of interpretation afterward through the medieval period and into the early Renaissance, the eventual emphasis upon the “literal” treatment of the text of Scripture over other methods and the flowering of this preference in the Reformation under the humanistic emphasis upon philology and a return to the original texts. I was also fascinated to read Ferrari’s argument that the notion of the authority of tradition was developed in the main by canon lawyers until Trent adopted a position which was recent regarding the relationship between Scripture and tradition as mutual authorities. It seems, from his account, that the Reformers were in fact more consistent with and faithful to the history of the church on the subject of the nature of Scripture and its Authority than the controversial Roman Catholic council had chosen to be in its attempt to counter the polemical challenge of the Reformers. Rome broke away from the history of Christian opinion on the subject of the primary Authority of the “sacred writings”.

I would very much like, when I can, to research this for myself. I imagine it would make a most profitable study. In the meantime, Ferrari’s book was well worth the read for any interested in historical theology and the development of the view of inspiration and authority among the people of GOD, as well as the battle over translations even amongst the Genevan Reformers.

One final curiosity… I noted among the many original quotations in the book an aspect of the Reformed scholastic thinking of Diodati’s day that should be considered. There was a tendency among them, just as there is among us, to use the philosophical categories that prevailed in the discourse of their time, particularly Aristotelian categories such as the four types of causes, when discussing subjects such as the inspiration of the Bible. It is this tendency that ought to convince us of Diodati’s position that each age should improve upon the past as best as they can, even if it is difficult for some (especially those who are not practiced at reading critically) to see any point in trying to improve upon the best that was produced by the faithful stalwarts of that age. Many remain convinced that we either lack the skill to increase its value or feel that the best efforts of the Reformers are in need of no amendment because they are Biblically sound at every important point. But the Reformers did not believe so, and if it was the wisdom of these men that created the documents so many Reformed churches cherish today, must we not also listen to that wisdom when it also encourages and demands that we go on beyond them and do better? It would be contradictory not to.

Harkening back to the issue of the controversy over editing a confession like the Second London Baptist, it reminds me that, like most fathers, the pioneers of the Reformation knew something of the potential in their children that those children may not even see in themselves. We might fear the consequences of branching out on our own, but until we do so, spiritual manhood will remain ever out of our reach and we will continue as babes clutching at the coattails of righteousness.

I never expected to learn Arabic.  While I have studied several different languages all with differing levels of intensity, Arabic had never really been on the radar for me.  I took a year of Spanish in eighth grade and a year of Latin in high school.  After traveling to St. Petersburg, I pursued Russian on my own for a while and enjoyed a brief period of formal study in college, but after finding out that a second foreign language wasn’t absolutely necessary for my German major, I dropped the class.  I studied German for eight years while working on my undergraduate and graduate degrees, and taught it for four years to university students.  While in college, I studied Old and Middle English, as well as Old High German and Middle High German as part of my coursework.  I played around with Dutch and Icelandic out of an interest in the Germanic languages generally, but didn’t get very far.   After visiting Switzerland in 2005 and realizing that Swiss German is different enough from German such that I couldn’t understand it easily, I began listening to Swiss podcasts and watching Swiss programs through the Internet in order to figure out what the people were saying.  I can understand roughly half of what I hear, but I would still need to do a lot more work if I wanted to develop speaking fluency.   Ancient Greek (Attic and Koine) occupied me for three years, and I am still working on it, in preparation for my anticipated work in a future doctoral program. Although I’ve spent a lot of my time and energy working with various languages, it came as somewhat of a  surprise when I found myself picking up a textbook for beginning Arabic.

I currently teach English as a Second Language and most of my students are from Arabic-speaking countries such as Libya, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Iraq.  I also have students from Asian countries such as Vietnam, Korea, China and Japan.  If I was to generalize, I would say that the Asians are usually quiet, respectful, reserved students who don’t express much in class unless called on.  The Arabic speakers, however, are often leager to speak, gregarious, full of jokes and can take over a class with their energetic participation.   It seems that the Asians have often had English education since primary school, while the Arabic speakers-though many have studied English previously– have not had such a thorough preparation for studying abroad in America as their Asian classmates.

As I prepared my lessons, I felt dissatisfied with my approach.  I felt disconnected from my students and wanted to relate to them more authentically.  There were definite cultural differences between us which prevented me from understanding their motives, their behavior.  I wanted to learn more about their countries and  their cultures,  but I was overwhelmed by the variety of their backgrounds and my own lack of time.  Every day I heard students speaking Arabic with each other, and I considered that if knew more about their language, it would help me to better know how to teach them my own.   For example, there is no “p” sound in Arabic, so these speakers have trouble distinguishing “p” and “b” in spoken English.  Also, there are no diphthongs in Arabic, (such as ai, ow, ey).  Thus, Arabic speakers have a hard time pronouncing many of our words containing vowels which glide into one another. At least an introductory foray into Arabic grammar and sounds would help me to teach these students.

Two colleagues of mine, Fullbright students from Austria, had both studied Arabic while at my university and I was familiar with the textbook, Alif Baa. I decided to check it out.  It is an introduction to the letters and the sounds of Arabic, including writing exercises for practicing the challenging Arabic alphabet.  I’ve also been supplementing this book with Arabic podcasts, which teach me basic words and phrases, many of which I’ve already tried out on my students.  They think it’s funny that I’m learning Arabic, and although  some of them try to dissuademe, others are encouraging.

Today in class, one student, Fahed, walked in late.  We were working on a particular English structure in which an adjective is followed by an infinitive, such as “I’m happy to see you.”  Cheerily, I greeted him, “I’m happy to see you.  Marhaban.”  (This means “welcome.”)  He looked at me with a blank face.  I repeated the word.  “Marhaban.  Marhaban!”  He squinted and shook his head.  “What are you saying?” he asked me, looking around at his friends for help.  I tried again, feeling slightly foolish, since I knew I was pronouncing the word correctly.   Then I remembered that Fahed was from Kuwait.  Having learned the Standard Arabic version of the word, I suddenly wondered if the pronounciation was really all that different in his dialect.  Then Hussain, a student across the room, leaned forward and said “Marhabah” to Fahed, who then nodded in recognition.  I looked at him with disbelief and said “Oh, come on, you know what I was saying.  It’s not that different!”  Fahed shot back with “That’s what happens to us all the time!  You say ‘What?  What?  I don’t understand what you’re saying’  and we’re saying it fine!” The rest of the students burst into laughter as everybody got the joke.  I thought it was pretty funny, and I laughed too.

It feels good to be able to relate to one’s students that way, to really be able to empathize with their own learning experience.  That’s exactly why I decided to start learning this language.  I don’t know how far I’ll go with it, but certainly has paid off so far.

I treasure my marriage.

Benjamin and I celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary last Christmas, and I am blessed to say that each year we have been growing closer and closer together.  We have a special trust and confidentiality that I share with no one else, and I relish knowing that I can always turn to him for guidance, advice, encouragement and most importantly, for love.  He has been the most influential person in my spiritual life and has helped me tremendously to grow in faith and knowledge of the Lord.  I am delighted to say that I have always been in love with my husband, and this love life we share has  grown in intensity and strength over the years.  Although our marriage, like all marriages, has gone through many stresses and pressures, it has pleased God to bless us with gifts of reconciliation, forgiveness, and renewed hope for a sweet future together; thus, our trials have always ended with the gentle notes of understanding and accord.

However, building a beautiful marriage is hard work- there is no denying it.  I have recently taken up a book on the subject for my own edification- in order to better understand how to fortify the strengths we share and to nourish those aspects of our relationship which are weaker.  There is always work to be done in the inner life of the soul, especially when it involves bringing one soul to  greater sense of harmony with another.   This book, Love Life for Every Married Couple, provided me with some valuable advice, which the author calls “giving your B.E.S.T.”

B= blessing.  We should strive to bless our spouses in word and deed, encouraging them, praying for them, complimenting them, and never tearing them down in mean-spirited criticism.

E= edification.  Love builds up, and we should likewise strive to build up our spouses, helping them to grow and become stronger in their spiritual and emotional lives.  We should spend time with them in beneficial ways, not passively and disconnectedly, but so as to constantly seek their good.

S= sharing.  Couples should always be sharing themselves with each other and growing closer in as many ways as possible.  Common goals and interests help couples to weave their lives together, despite the strong tendency of modern life towards individuality and fragmentation of the family.  We should be vulnerable with our spouses, unafraid to share our deepest feelings and most private thoughts.  There should be no secrets between a man and his wife, but rather perfect trust.

T= touching.  Affection and closeness in all its forms is necessary for a thriving marriage. This is not limited to the sweetness of physical affection, but extends also to mental and emotional “touching”- that is, connecting with your spouse in significant, meaningful ways which say “I love you!  You are special to me!  What you care about matters to me!”

Last year I attended the wedding of two close friends of mine.  In their ceremony, the relationship between Christ and His Church was strongly emphasized as the foundation for all marriages, as is laid out in Ephesians 5: 22-33.

“Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as Christ does the church— for we are members of his body. “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.” This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.”

The couple whose marriage I attended was beginning a life together with the best foundation!  This is a core passage of Scripture for all married couples who love the Lord, and meditation on it has proven to be very fruitful in our own lives.  May the Lord continue to bless our lives, to His greater glory.