Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

Chair, Division of Biblical Studies & Theology,

Bob Jones University

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Archives for January 2020

On Building Spiritual Muscle, Part 6 

January 30, 2020 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

We’ve discovered three different spiritual exercises that will help us build spiritual muscle, thereby gaining spiritual strength so that we can be what we’re supposed to be, so that we can do what we’re supposed to do—to fulfill our part of this joint effort between us and God to conform us, over time, to the image of Christ (2Co 3.18). (Notice, by the way, that the “being” comes before the “doing.” That’s how it works; that how it has to work. Maybe that’s worth a blog post all by itself.)

It’s worth noting that if you’re a sacramentarian—Presbyterian, Anglican / Episcopalian, some others—you believe that there are two more exercises to add to the list: the sacraments, or what Baptists call “ordinances”—baptism and the Lord’s Supper. As a Baptist, I’m not necessarily opposed to the idea that the ordinances might be means of grace, but since I don’t find any passage in Scripture that either says so or strongly implies it, I think it’s safer to hold back on the question. But for you sacramentarians, you have two more exercises, one of which you can do as often as you like (1Co 11.25). Enjoy building some extra muscle.

As we set off on this exercise program, I think we can learn some principles for success from what we know about physical exercise—

  • Start slow and work your way up.

Just as you can’t lift heavy weights when you haven’t developed any muscles, so you’re setting yourself up for failure and discouragement when you expect more than is reasonable. Start out by reading a few verses from your Bible and answering one or more of the following questions:

  1. What does this passage tell me about God?
  2. What does it tell me about myself?
  3. How can I put these ideas into practice today, in a concrete, specific way?

Then offer a short prayer to your Father, thanking him for what you’ve learned and asking for his help in putting it into practice.

And the evening and the morning were the first day. Three to five minutes, with something clearly accomplished. You can do this.

As time progresses, add some more weights—write down what you’ve learned so you can go back over it when times are tough; add the third exercise by finding another believer with whom you can discuss briefly what you’re learning. Then work on adding reps—reading more, praying about more things, interacting with more believers.

  • Work at a pace that is achievable for you: aim for consistency to begin with, and you can get fancier later. As you add weight and reps, back off if you find that you can’t keep up.
  • Remember the primary goal: getting stronger. A physical exercise program isn’t about the machines or the weights or the mirrors; the process is a means to an end, not an end in itself.

And here we find a principle that doesn’t have an analog in the physical gym. The goal of getting stronger is in itself the means to another, even more important goal: knowing God. Spend time with him; give him your heart; nurture the relationship and the love that goes with it. Don’t obsess about how many verses you’ve read or how many minutes you’ve prayed or how many ideas you’ve written down in your journal. This is a date, not a business meeting driven by a nine-point agenda. Keep it heartfelt and real; don’t let it become mechanical.

As you experience the joy of daily fellowship with the lover of your soul, I suspect you’ll find that the time commitment and the process pretty much work themselves out. Love is like that.

Well, I’ve certainly mixed a lot of metaphors here, haven’t I?

Fair enough.

Don’t let that distract you from answering well the Second Most Important Question in the World.

Photo by Jelmer Assink on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: means of grace, sanctification

On Building Spiritual Muscle, Part 5

January 27, 2020 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

We’ve looked at two of the exercise machines that build spiritual muscle. There’s one more.

We find our key word—grace—over in Ephesians. In chapter 4 Paul talks about putting off the “old man” and his “deeds” (Eph 4.22), and conversely “putting on”—like a new suit—the “new man” (Eph 4.24). He lists several behavioral changes that will follow—you’ll quit lying and start telling the truth (Eph 4.25); you’ll control your anger (Eph 4.26-27); you’ll stop stealing and start giving (Eph 4.28); you’ll start speaking in ways that build people up instead of tearing them down (Eph 4.29).

And as part of this last item, Paul throws in an off-handed comment that introduces us to our third exercise machine. Words “that are good for edification,” he says, will “give grace to those who hear.”

There’s our word grace. We ask our two exegetical questions:

  • Is the word grace here used in the narrower, technical sense, of spiritual strength? Since the immediate context speaks of “edification,” we can reasonably say yes.
  • Does the context identify a practice, an “exercise,” that results in this spiritual strength? It does; the exercise is our words—our conversation.

In a sense this passage is backwards from the other two. It’s not speaking of something that makes us stronger; it’s speaking rather of something we do that makes others stronger. But since this is a reciprocal activity, based in relationship, it’s reasonable to conclude that the words that others speak to us will similarly strengthen us, since they’re “good for edification.”

So the third exercise machine is conversation with other believers that strengthens us to live biblically in an antibiblical world.

We have a word for that, one that we get from the Scripture itself:

Fellowship.

We talk about fellowship a lot in our churches. We even have a room named for it: the Fellowship Hall.

How do we know which room in the church is the Fellowship Hall?

It’s the one with a kitchen.

And as a body we’ll frequently adjourn to the Fellowship Hall, where we’ll all eat casseroles and talk about sports and politics and who’s dating whom.

And when it’s done, we’ll leave and say that we had such good “fellowship” today.

No, we didn’t.

I’m not suggesting that it’s wrong to talk about sports or politics, or even who’s dating whom—provided we’re not gossiping.

But that’s not fellowship. It’s just conversation.

Fellowship is talking to one another about our relationships with Christ, and our struggles, and our victories, and our experiences. It’s encouraging one another as we walk the path of discipleship together. It’s building spiritual muscle in others by spotting them when they’re bench pressing and by telling them that they can do 10 more reps.

And it’s not just talk. It’s taking action to make things better. It’s intervening on behalf of “widows and orphans in their distress” (Jam 1.27) and going to someone’s house when he’s depressed and mowing an elderly couple’s lawn and telling an inattentive adult son that his Mom needs his financial help.

We can work on the other exercise machines alone. Bible study and prayer can be corporate, of course, but we actually need to have a significant portion of our time on those machines by ourselves.

But fellowship is a team sport. That’s the whole point.

A further thought.

You can’t knowingly encourage a fellow believer in his struggle if you don’t know he’s struggling. The church needs to be a place where we know that we can share those struggles safely and where we know that those who hear will care and respond with encouraging words and with selfless actions.

The church ought to be a safe space.

And we ought to measure our words, directing them as carefully as if they were bullets, able to stop the attacker but able also to hurt the good guys if they’re sent out carelessly, without possibility of recall.

We ought to engage one another in the body with care, and thought, and intent, and purpose.

We ought to put weights on that machine, too.

Part 6

Photo by Jelmer Assink on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: means of grace, sanctification

On Building Spiritual Muscle, Part 4

January 23, 2020 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You’ve had a few days on the first exercise machine—the Scripture—and if you’ve been diligent, you may have some sore muscles, ones you haven’t exercised in a while. Good for you.

What’s the next exercise machine?

Recall that we’re finding New Testament uses of the word grace where the context indicates that the word is speaking of spiritual strength, and where there’s some sort of practice indicated that builds up the grace.

Our second passage is probably familiar to you; it’s commonly included in Bible memory programs.

Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need (Heb 4.16).

We see the word grace there. Is it a reference to spiritual strength? Since the verse ends with a reference to “help in time of need,” it seems to be in the neighborhood.

Is there an associated exercise? Well, we all know what “the throne of grace” is; perhaps your pastor begins his public prayer with the phrase, “Let’s all go before the throne of grace.” If he does, he’s getting the phrase from this verse. The context confirms that he’s right to see the phrase as a reference to prayer—we have a great high priest (Heb 4.14) who is sympathetic to our needs (Heb 4.15), so we ought to bring our requests to him in confidence (Heb 4.16).

Prayer.

I’ve noticed something over the years.

In my travels, particularly in developing countries, I’ve noticed that believers there seem to have a vibrancy and urgency and passion in their prayers that just doesn’t seem to happen much here in the States.

Why do you suppose that is?

Are Americans just not as emotional as other cultures?

The Super Bowl is a week from Sunday. I don’t think emotional coldness in the culture is the problem.

This is just my opinion, but I suspect that there are two characteristics of American culture that suppress our prayer life—

First, we’re rich.

You may not think you’re rich, but you are, comparatively speaking. If you have a place to live, and food to eat every day, you’re in better shape financially than a great swath of others on this planet.

And when your needs are not urgent for the continuation of your life—today—you don’t feel the kind of urgency in prayer that a great many people do. For most of us, if we really need something, we can just go out and buy it. A can of beans. A box of rice. Something to drink.

We may not be satisfied or content, but we’re not desperate either.

If your church still has Wednesday night prayer meeting, I suspect there’s a pattern there. What are most of the requests about?

Health. And especially cancer.

Why? Because we can handle most of the other stuff—or we think we can.

I’m not criticizing prayer for healing; I’m observing that in our culture, there’s relatively little that we really feel the need to pray about.

The second characteristic of American culture that suppresses our prayer fervency is one that might surprise you.

We’re free.

We talk about persecution of Christians in the US, but relatively speaking, we have it remarkably easy. When we gather, we don’t have to fear that the cops are going to show up, bust up the place, and ship us all off to the gulag.

I’ve been in places where that was a real possibility. It’ll change the way you pray.

So what do we do about all this? Seek poverty? Give up our freedom?

Of course not. For one thing, that would violate the biblical principle of stewardship, and for another, our freedom was purchased at great cost by brave men and women over the centuries; I’m not going to squander it.

But we do need to rise above our culture to see our genuine need, and to bring those needs humbly but confidently before the throne of grace. We need to pray as though it matters, because it does.

We need to put some weights on the machine.

Part 5 | Part 6

Photo by Jelmer Assink on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: means of grace, sanctification

On Building Spiritual Muscle, Part 3

January 20, 2020 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 | Part 2

So welcome to the gym. You’ll notice the mirrors on the walls (Jam 1.22-25), as well as several exercise machines scattered around the room. Let’s talk a little about what they are and how they work.

The first exercise machine we find described in Acts 20. Paul is returning to Jerusalem from one of his mission trips, and he stops in Miletus, the port nearest Ephesus, where’s he spent two years ministering in the recent past (Ac 19.10). Because he’s in a hurry to get back to Jerusalem for one of the annual assembly feasts (Ac 20.16), he saves some time by sending for the elders of the church in Ephesus. They gather there on the dock beside the ship, and he gives them a farewell address; he knows there’s trouble ahead in Jerusalem (Ac 20.22-23), and he knows he may never see them again (Ac 20.25). (I think he did see them again [1Ti 1.3], after he was acquitted on his appeal to Caesar [2 Ti 4.16-17] just after the end of Acts, but that’s not an issue here.)

He charges them to lead the church well. He closes by saying,

And now I commend you to God and to the word of His grace, which is able to build you up and to give you the inheritance among all those who are sanctified (Ac 20.32).

We see our word grace here. To confirm that this verse is relevant to our study, we need to ask two questions:

  • Does the context indicate that the word grace is being used in a narrower sense, of spiritual strength?
  • Is there some sort of means indicated here that tells us how to receive the spiritual strength?

In answer to the first question, Paul says that this grace “is able to build you up,” which is a pretty clear reference to spiritual strength. And in answer to the second question, he ties the grace to “the word”—the “word of his grace,” the “grace-giving word,” if you will.

So the first exercise machine is the Word, the Scripture. If you exercise on it, it will make you stronger.

Now I suppose I need to press the metaphor a little further.

If you go to the gym—the physical one—and sit at an exercise machine and pump away, but without engaging any weights on the cable, will that be any benefit?

Technically, yes; depending on how fast you pump, you might get some cardio benefit, and depending on the range of motion, you might get some improved flexibility out of it.

But will you build any muscle?

Nope.

You build muscle by tearing muscle fiber, and you do that by engaging resistance against the muscle.

You need to put weights on the machine.

How do you put weights on the Bible machine?

May I suggest some possibilities?

  • You do more than just read a verse or two and then get on with your day.
  • You read it extensively. It’s common among believers to read through the Bible each year. That’s certainly a great place to start.
  • You read it intensively. You read slowly, attentively, thoughtfully. You turn it over in your head. You draw conclusions and applications from it.
  • You reach beyond your grasp. You read what others have written about the passage, especially others with study tools that you may not have for yourself.
  • You memorize it, so you can turn it over in your mind anytime you have a spare minute.
  • You write down what you’ve learned, so it will be cemented more solidly in your mind.
  • You talk to others about it, both to hold yourself accountable and to benefit from their insights.
  • You find opportunities to teach it, because the best way to learn anything is to teach it.

I’m not suggesting that you need to study your Bible for hours every day; you don’t spend hours on any exercise machine, because life calls. But you put weights on the machine, to increase the benefit of the time you spend there.

And you build muscle.

Next time, a different exercise machine.

Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Photo by Jelmer Assink on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: means of grace, sanctification

On Building Spiritual Muscle, Part 2

January 16, 2020 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1

I’ve suggested that our lives ought to be oriented around the work God is doing in his people to make them—us—more like his Son. I’ve also suggested that this work can be compared to an exercise program.

Although I think the analogy is helpful, I also recognize that it isn’t really useful unless the Scripture gives us reason to think that the sanctification process is in some ways similar to physical exercise.

Is there any evidence of that? Is there a biblical word for spiritual strength? And are there “exercises” attached to it?

There are of course words in the Bible that are translated “might” or “power” or “strength.” The most well-known one, I suppose, is the Greek dunamis; I suspect you’ve heard a preacher somewhere say that “this is the Greek word from which we get our word dynamite.” It’s used often in the New Testament in reference to the “power of God,” and once we’re told that it “works in us” (Ep 3.20). So that might be a profitable study for us.

I’d like to direct your thinking, though, to a different word, one that might not come to mind in this connection. It’s the word grace.

I suspect you’re thinking that you know what grace means, and it’s not “strength.” You learned in Sunday school that it means “unmerited favor”—“God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense.”

And indeed it does. It refers to anything you’ve received that you don’t deserve.

But you also know that words have multiple meanings. If you look up pretty much any word, in pretty much any language, the dictionary will list several definitions, or nuances, for it. Humans are creative—because they’re in the image of God, who is creative—and we make up new meanings for our words all the time. (Teenagers are especially good at this.)

Thus one of the basic steps in studying any word is to determine the various meanings it has. In the case of grace (charis in Greek), it can have several meanings—for example, a present or gift (Ac 24.27; 25.9); credit (Lk 6.32-34); honor (Ac 2.47); and, yes, unmerited favor (Ac 15.11). But occasionally it’s used in a more specific, perhaps even technical, sense, of a particular thing you don’t deserve—namely, spiritual strength. You can see this especially in 2Co 12.9, where Jesus says to Paul,

“My grace is sufficient for you,
for power is perfected in weakness.”

Note the parallelism between these two clauses; grace is in parallel with power (Greek dunamis). It’s no surprise that this verse is often used in theology as a proof text for the omnipotence of Christ and therefore for his deity.

Grace is strength. So Paul tells young Timothy, “Be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus” (2Ti 2.1).

So here’s our biblical question: does the Scripture ever use the word grace in the sense of spiritual strength, where the context indicates a mechanism for building that strength—a spiritual exercise, if you will?

Does the Bible tell us how we can “exercise [Greek gumnazo, as in gymnasium] ourselves unto godliness” (1Ti 4.7)?

Well, the Greek word charis, “grace,” occurs 160 times in the New Testament; that’s quite a list of verses to go through. From those 160 occurrences, we need to select those that are speaking of spiritual strength; then from that smaller list, we need to select any occurrences that specify an exercise for building spiritual strength.

That’s gonna take some time.

Fortunately, there are people who have already done that work, and we can benefit from their labors.

There are three passages in the Scripture that seem to have what we’re looking for, and each of those passages specifies a different spiritual exercise.

The great thing about this exercise program is that it doesn’t matter what kind of shape you’re in at the moment; you can get started right away, and you don’t have to pace yourself to prevent a cardiac event.

Oh, and you have a Trainer who has the supernatural ability to impart his infinite strength to you whenever you need it, so you can keep making progress. “Just 10 more reps,” indeed.

Best fitness program ever.

Next time, we’ll drop by the gym and begin examining the exercise machines.

Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Photo by Jelmer Assink on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: means of grace, sanctification

On Building Spiritual Muscle, Part 1

January 13, 2020 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

What’s the most important question in the world?

I think my fellow Christians would agree with me that it’s the question of where you’re going to spend eternity. If there’s life after death, and if that life is eternal, and if there are different possibilities for the nature of that life, then it’s hard to imagine any question more important than that one.

Life and death. Heaven and hell. It doesn’t get any more consequential than that.

As the Philippian jailer put it so clearly and succinctly all those years ago, “What must I do to be saved?” (Ac 16.30).

And interestingly, according to the Scripture, the answer is remarkably simple and direct. As Paul replied to the jailer, “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved” (Ac 16.31).

God has been kind to make the answer to such a consequential question so simple.

Over the years, quite a few Christians have behaved as though The Most Important Question is the only important question.

I said the prayer. I got my ticket out of hell. It’s all good.

Now. What do I want to be when I grow up? Whom do I want to marry? Where do I want to live?

But the Scripture doesn’t see conversion as merely a ticket to ride. Conversion is a commencement—it’s the start of something really, really big, a whole lot of which takes place before you get anywhere near heaven.

I’ve written on some of that before.

Conversion begins a lifetime of being changed, through the work of the Spirit of God, to be more and more like Christ—to the degree that we can be like someone who is God as well as man. It’s a life in which everything—everything—is being morphed, refreshed, improved, renovated (2Co 3.18).

For many Christians it comes down to trying to be good now. Trying to get better, to turn over a new leaf. And, like new year’s resolutions, it gets old and tired, and we end up not making much progress. I’ve known people who said, “I’ve tried the Christianity thing. Didn’t work for me. Wish it had, but it didn’t.”

But it’s not about trying to do better. It’s not just a New Life’s Resolution. It’s a sure, certain work, by the omnipotent and faithful Spirit of God, to conform you to the image of Christ.

Which brings me to what I often call The Second Most Important Question in the World:

How do I achieve reliable, steady spiritual growth?

Or, as I’ve titled this series,

How do I build spiritual muscle?

I suppose many Christians would reply, “You just pray for it.”

I’d like to suggest that that’s not really the right answer. I’m all for praying—in fact, we’ll get to that topic later in the series—but I’d suggest that that’s not the answer that the Bible gives to this question.

Yes, the Bible does say that if we lack wisdom, we should just ask for it (Jam 1.5). And the Scripture makes much of God’s generous willingness to pour out his blessings on us, if we’ll only ask (e.g. Lk 6.38). Prayer is certainly part of the answer. But it’s not the whole answer.

Perhaps an illustration will help.

Suppose I want serious abs. Ripped abs. A washboard. (Come to think of it, how do you know I don’t already have them? ?)

And so I pray: “Dear Lord, please give me abs.”

And I lie on the couch, watching TV and eating half-gallons of ice cream straight from the carton.

Six-pack?

Nope. Not outside of well-insulated cooler, anyway.

Doesn’t work that way. God could answer that prayer miraculously, of course. But he won’t, and not just because we don’t have “enough faith.”

There’s a way to get abs.

Now let me ask the application question.

If the Bible has told us how to build spiritual muscle—if it’s given us the exercises, so to speak—and we don’t do the exercises, do you think God’s going to give us spiritual muscle miraculously?

Sure, in the end our spiritual growth is a miracle. But I’d suggest that God has placed some of the responsibility for sanctification on us.

And for what it’s worth, the theology books, both Calvinist and Arminian, agree with me. Sanctification is a synergistic work between the Spirit of God and the believer.

So. How do we build spiritual muscle? What are the exercises?

Join me for the next few posts, and we’ll work through the biblical data.

 Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Photo by Jelmer Assink on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: means of grace, sanctification

“The Aeronauts”: A Case Study in Controversy, Part 2

January 8, 2020 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1

As I noted last time, there are some historical inaccuracies in the film “The Aeronauts,” inaccuracies that I’ve called significant. What are they?

Two big ones.

First, the scientific community did not dismiss Glaisher’s idea. The British Association for the Advancement of Science (which is different from the Royal Society) endorsed his flight.

Second, and much more obvious, Glaisher’s pilot was named not Amelia Rennes, but Henry Coxwell.

If that sounds like a man’s name to you, you’re right.

Thus the two primary conflicts in the movie—the opposition of the scientific community and the cultural prejudice against Glaisher’s pilot simply because she was woman—are fiction. The writers themselves noted that they wanted to “reposition the narrative to be more progressive”—“I wanted it to not be two middle-aged men in a basket. I wanted it to be reflective for a contemporary audience.”

The same article notes that the Royal Society has expressed regret that Coxwell’s significant story has been brushed out of the film.

So.

Should we be upset?

Should we start making some memes? Maybe boycott the movie? Publish the writers’ home addresses, and pictures of their children? Warn them about where liars go?

Well, let’s think about this for a minute. (PSA: Thinking about things for a minute is wise, unless someone’s life is in immediate danger.)

On the one hand, there’s no question that the event didn’t happen as the movie portrays it. The writers had an agenda, and as soon as the word progressive shows up, some people are going to get upset.

But on the other hand—

  • The writers have freely and publicly spoken about what they did and why they did it.
  • Both the movie and the trailer prominently state that the plot is “inspired by true events”—and established tradition tells us that such wording indicates at least some fictionalization. That language is precisely what led me to learn the real story.
  • Accurate historical accounts are readily available—it took me less than 5 minutes to find them. Nothing is being hidden from the viewing public.
  • None of the fictionalization is fantastic—that is, complete fantasy. The Royal Society was in fact considered “elitist and conservative” by the founders of the British Association, including the well-regarded and significant Charles Babbage; there were in fact female balloon pilots, who were discriminated against, one of whom had a husband, also a balloonist, who died in flight; even if there had been no female pilots, the Victorian view of feminism is a matter of historical record; and while I wondered about the scientific accuracy of their going as high as they did without oxygen, [SPOILER ALERT] the fact is that Glaisher and Coxwell did set the altitude record without benefit of oxygen. How they managed that, I have no idea.
  • The movie is a work of art. The photography is stunning—any pilot will agree that the tops of clouds are always far more beautiful and awe-inspiring than the bottoms—and the plot is engaging, with moments of suspense that are as intense as any other movie scene with which I’m familiar. Well-done art should be recognized and commended, as one more evidence of the image of God in humans—even humans with whom God himself might have significant disagreements (Gen 9.6)—and I hasten to add that I have no knowledge of the spiritual condition of the writers. It’s worth noting that there are regenerate “progressives.”
  • While the introduction of a female character in the piloting role does introduce some implied sexual tension to the story, it is not at all explicit, and there’s no obvious romantic relationship between the two in the basket. I’d consider the movie perfectly safe for kids, if they can handle the depictions of danger.

So.

Some things we ought to fight about. But much more often, we disagree about things and get unnecessarily upset.

Watch the movie, or don’t. Know the facts. Live your life.

Pick your battles.

Filed Under: Culture Tagged With: film

“The Aeronauts”: A Case Study in Controversy, Part 1

January 6, 2020 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Like most teachers, I have a break of several weeks over Christmas. As a family we’ve done different things with the time over the years—one year Pam and I went to Germany to see our daughter—but this year was one to just stay home and have minimal plans. I laid out a reading schedule, in preparation for a couple of new-to-me courses this next semester, as well as a couple of writing projects, and progress on those fronts has gone well.

Along the way, I saw a few ads on my phone about a new Amazon movie called “The Aeronauts.” I’ve been a fan of flying from way back, since my days as copilot, navigator, and general right-seat companion to my father, who was a private pilot. This movie was about ballooning, which I’ve never done but would love to, and the trailer looked pretty interesting, so I gave a couple of hours one evening to watching it on my daughter’s Amazon Prime account.

I enjoyed it a lot.

It’s “inspired by true events” from 1862, a story about a young British scientist named James Glaisher, who’s always loved the weather. He wants to study it with a view to learning how to predict it; in other words, he essentially wants to invent meteorology. He figures the best way to study air is to be up in it, where you can take readings and look for patterns. There are no airplanes in 1862, of course, but there are balloons. He’ll need funding to hire one, so he appears before the Royal Society of London for Improving Natural Knowledge. The gathered men scoff at the idea that the weather can be predicted, and they walk out of his presentation.

He meets a young woman, Amelia Rennes, who is a balloon pilot and a widow. (She and her late husband, also a balloonist, were trying to set an altitude record when he died in the attempt. To avoid spoilers, I won’t tell you the specifics.) She understandably doesn’t want to fly anymore, but young James convinces her, and they get commercial support for the flight from a showman who hopes to recover his investment by selling tickets.

On the appointed day, with the stands full of paying spectators, the weather looks foreboding, but the two launch anyway, thereby breaking the Most Important Rule of Aviation, as my father often reminded me.

They ascend through a thunderstorm, with all the chaos you’d expect, but eventually break out over the cloud layer. Now’s it’s a matter of seeking to break the current altitude record of 23,000 feet. As those with flying experience know, anything above 14,000 feet is an oxygen level dangerously low for human consciousness, so now the primary conflict is a battle not with scientific close-mindedness in the Royal Society, or the sexism of the day, but the raw elements of nature.

Again, no spoilers. You’ll have to watch it—or read the Wikipedia article—to find out if they make it above 23,000, and/or if they survive the attempt.

But I really, really liked the movie.

As I’ve noted, the film is “inspired by true events,” and that got me thinking: what “true events” inspired the movie? What was the real story?

So I set out to discover what actually happened.

I learned that there are some differences between what really happened and what was portrayed in the movie—differences that most would agree are quite significant.

Now, everybody knows that there are people who make something of a career out of criticizing the way a movie changes a fictional novel (there’s some controversy about that right now with a new release of Little Women) or a historical event. The question of “artistic license” has produced some really heated arguments.

And it occurs to me that this particular example might be useful in helping us think through what’s worth fighting about, and what isn’t.

So next time I’ll tell you what the significant differences are, and we’ll think a little bit about how upset we should—or shouldn’t—be.

Part 2

Filed Under: Culture Tagged With: film

On a New Year

January 2, 2020 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

This is my 65th New Year. The first few I was completely unaware of, but since then, like a lot of other people, I’ve enjoyed the sense of excitement and optimism that our culture associates with the date. There’s something bracing about turning the page, starting out fresh, doing things better this time around.

Sometimes those among us who have half-empty glasses feel the need to point out a couple of things about the new year—as a public service, of course—

  • There’s really no such thing as a new start, you know. We carry with us the consequences of our previous sins and failures and misjudgments.
  • If the past is any guide, your good intentions are going to fade in a few days, and statistics show that pretty soon you’re going to be back in the same old rut.

As someone whose glass is perpetually half full—with contents that are quite tasty, thanks—I’ll observe that while those two statements are technically true, they’re practically false by virtue of their incompleteness. Let me explain.

First, it’s true that we carry with us the consequences of our past failures. The founder of my university used to say that if an inebriated bar patron loses an eye in a bar fight, and then gets gloriously converted, he’ll be forgiven, but he’ll never get his eye back. There are consequences of our sin that are inescapable.

True enough. But let’s not forget that he does get gloriously converted, and that’s nothing to slough over. And with conversion comes a whole raft of change and empowerment that will certainly affect the path that the convert takes for the rest of his life.

So yes, you do bring some baggage into this new year, and you can’t pretend that the baggage is weightless. But if you’re a believer, you have the Spirit of God indwelling you, changing your thinking, enabling you to act on that new way of thinking, and surely and powerfully bringing you, over time, into conformity with the Son of God (2Co 3.18). This new year is another step in that sure process.

Divine enablement is a powerful, powerful thing. If your New Year’s resolutions involve spiritual progress, they come with serious momentum behind them.

Now about that second point. Let me note first that statistics don’t “show” anything about the future. They show tendencies about past activities. But rare things do happen.

It’s demonstrably true that most people accomplish less toward their New Year’s resolutions than they intend. But that says nothing about how you’ll do on yours. The fact is that a minority of people do make and maintain significant changes. Somebody’s going to succeed; why can’t you be part of that group? Set reasonable goals, lay out a plan, pray for grace, and go for it.

Maybe you’ll accomplish less than you intend. Fine. But you’ll accomplish something. Refer to point 1.

So much for the naysayers.

My experience also tells me that some new years seem to hold more promise for change than others. In my lifetime, the Big One was Y2K, which involved the potential End of Civilization As We Know It and turned out to be, well, a dud. (Yeah, I filled some containers with water so we’d at least be able to flush the toilet after the End. Can’t hurt to make simple provisions.)

This one is 2020, which is a new decade, and a balanced number, and carries the connotation of clear vision, so who knows? Might be a big year.

But we make too big a deal about Big Years.

Of course our lives include major events—birth, marriage, parenthood, maybe a championship of something, or some other form of public recognition—but the important stuff, the really important stuff, is typically all about simple consistency and attentiveness and faithfulness. The wedding is a Big Deal, but the marriage involves simple daily kindness, gentleness, and thoughtfulness. The birth of your child is a Big Deal, but parenting is a daily slog that is sometimes difficult and frustrating but in the end leaves delightful memories.

So this year, steward your goals, and make them achievable. Make them less about the fireworks and more about faithfulness in the shadows. And watch God keep his promises for your growth in him.

Happy New Year.

Photo by madeleine ragsdale on Unsplash

Filed Under: Personal Tagged With: holidays, New Year, sanctification