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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On Silence During Chaos, Part 4: Peace 1

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Part 1: Personal | Part 2: Political | Part 3: Panic 

I can’t discuss any life application—indeed, any topic at all—without basing my thinking on Scripture. I’ve studied the Scripture professionally all my adult life, and I am more convinced than ever that that was a good choice, informed even in my many ignorant times by the kind providence of God. I’ve written about my reasons for seeing the Scripture as more than an ancient book written by well-meaning but primitive people that has received outsized attention throughout cultural history, so I won’t repeat them here; but they inform all my thinking. 

I have a couple of bases in biblical theology for the reticence I’ve been advocating. Maybe two posts can cover them. 

The first theological basis is far broader than just politics or social upheaval; it covers literally everything in this world, and everywhere else, throughout all time and forever. 

God is in charge. 

I have social media connections, whom I care for, who disagree profoundly with that statement. But I’ve never seen them refute it. 

Oh, they’ll complain about it—“If there’s a God, why did he …”—but logically that’s not a refutation; it’s just an assertion that they disagree with him. 

I’m a lot older than most of them are, and with time I’ve come to recognize the foolish arrogance of a “lifted from the no of all nothing, human merely being” thinking that his disagreement with the Creator of heaven and earth, the covenant-keeping God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, “Yahweh God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in lovingkindness and truth, who keeps lovingkindness for thousands, who forgives iniquity, transgression and sin, yet he will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of fathers on the children and on the grandchildren to the third and fourth generations” (Ex 34.6-7)—whew—is in some way the basis for argument, application, or wisdom in life. 

God is in charge. 

Applying that principle to the current topic is fairly straightforward. 

First, history makes sense; it’s not a random sequence of events, but the outworking of a plan that leads to a sensible, rational conclusion—and that plan is from the mind of a great and good God. 

Now, that fact raises all kinds of questions. Why does God include in his plan things that make people miserable, that harm them in significant ways? I don’t know the answer to that, and neither does anybody else. But I do know God, and I have decades of experience, in both the lab and the field, that he is in fact great and good. And I expect that a great God, who is by definition infinite, will occasionally (!) go beyond the horizon of my understanding. When he does that, I trust him. 

I’ve never been disappointed. 

It should be said, of course, that we should do what we can to ease suffering. We ought to feed the hungry; we ought to clothe the needy; we ought to shelter the homeless. There are many ways to do that, including any number of organizations that have been doing those things long enough to have some expertise in the field, and whom we ought to support. 

(I’ll note as an aside that human nature these days is to assume that the government should be that default organization—and it’s precisely that kind of thinking that has gotten us into the unsustainable economic crisis we’re in now. The current administration claims to have cut $150 billion in spending—whether they actually have or not, I don’t know—but the naked truth is that the spending cuts are going to have to be an order of magnitude larger than that if the nation is going to be on a sustainable footing.) 

So. There is a God in heaven, who raises up kings and sets them down again, and who is so much greater than evil that he uses the greatest evil in all the world to accomplish his good plans (see “Crucifixion”). He knows infinitely better than I do, and I trust him. 

There’s a second theological basis for my reticence. More on that next time. 

Photo by Jonathan Harrison on Unsplash

On Silence During Chaos, Part 3: Panic

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Part 1: Personal | Part 2: Political 

You didn’t really think we were going to get through the sociopolitical situation in one post, did you? 

At the end of the previous post, I noted the almost constant pressure to see the current sociopolitical situation as apocalyptic: if we don’t do something now, everything will be ruined! 

A few thoughts about that. 

First, one of the basic rules of detecting and preventing fraud is to resist salespeople who are pressuring you to Act Now!, to get this special deal that won’t be available later. This technique happens in sales flyers for grocery stores; it happens at Wal-Mart; it happens at car lots; it happens when people are trying to lure you into a timeshare, or an investment in gold, or some hot stock, or some dark horse at the track. 

And it’s bogus. People who listen to those salespeople are going to lose their money, or at least they’re going to get less than they paid for. Fear makes for lousy decisions. 

Now, politicians and pundits are salespeople too. And they know, from long experience, that pressure tactics work. As one former advisor to President Obama famously said, “Never let a serious crisis go to waste.” (That was Rahm Emanuel, in 2008.) Sometimes it’s a war; sometimes it’s an economic issue such as inflation or recession. Sometimes it’s an environmental catastrophe, or even just an apparent one, that serves as an opportunity to goose the level of governmental control. But it’s always something. 

So Trump is “a danger to democracy.” Biden’s immigration policy—or lack of one—will eventuate in “the last election of our lifetime.” Gotta do something. And the something you gotta do is vote for our guy, or support our policy. 

And thus has it ever been. Goldwater was going to bring nuclear death to that little girl picking daisies. Johnson was a warmonger, and Humphrey would bring us back to peace. Then Nixon was the warmonger, and McGovern would bring peace. Then Carter was going to destroy the economy. Then Reagan—oh, boy, did they unload on Reagan. “We begin bombing in five minutes!” Clinton. Bush 43 and the “weapons of mass destruction” in Iraq. Obamacare. Trump the First. Biden and the immigration invasion. And now Trump the Second. 

One of the benefits of living for a while is that you realize that the news never changes. 

And in a day when everybody has a publishing platform, the simplest thing for individual citizens to do is to cooperate by spreading the story or the meme that confirms your bias, that makes the side you want to be on look right and righteous and rigorous. 

And here’s the thing. Most of the people who are doing this have no idea what they’re talking about. They think they’re fighting the good fight, but they can’t possibly be sure, at least not in an informed way. And some of them even post—after having done their “research,” which consists of reading an outlet that they have chosen to trust specifically because it tells them what they have already decided to believe—that their friends should “educate themselves.” 

So given the likelihood that any given political crisis is being overhyped—perhaps by both sides—I would conclude that waiting for a bit and seeing how things go is the better part of wisdom. Most of the predicted catastrophes never happen. 

I have an acquaintance, a Facebook friend, who’s professionally in a position to interact with influential people, including some people whose names you would likely recognize if you follow the news. He’s no fan of Trump. And the other day he posted that the likelihood is that things are going to turn out all right. 

But what if it’s a real crisis? What if we really do need to act immediately? In the previous post I noted the importance of being informed, and cool-headed, in a crisis. That means that even if the current situation is in fact a crisis, and not just a manufactured one, those who are acting out of fear or ignorance—that’s most of them—are unlikely to be of any real help, and in fact are likely to do harm. 

I don’t want to be one of those people. 

If I’m not an expert on tariffs or immigration or law enforcement or military readiness—as, apparently, everyone else on Facebook is—then I’m going to get out of the way and let the people who know what they’re doing take care of the situation. I’m not going to add to the chaos on-scene by shouting uninformed opinions at the people who are actually trying to accomplish something. 

Now, if they need help with Koine Greek, or biblical exegesis, or Christian theology, or online teaching, or experiential learning, or poaching an egg, or roasting a Thanksgiving turkey, I’ll be glad to help. But in the meantime I’ll stay in my corner. 

Next time: about that Christian theology … 

Photo by Jonathan Harrison on Unsplash

On Silence During Chaos, Part 1: Personal

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We live in a noisy time. The combination of national polarization, political controversy, and social media—the fact that literally everyone has a public platform now—encourages everyone to have a stake, an opinion, and to express it vociferously, even apocalyptically. 

I don’t say much about politics, at least not publicly. I’ve been asked, by people on both sides of the proverbial aisle, why I don’t say more—why I don’t “take a stand” for MAGA, or against it, or on some other hot-button issue. 

What am I afraid of? Rejection? Losing my job? (That’s funny, since I’m retiring in 2 weeks. But just for the record, I’ve never been afraid of losing my job. I have confronted people up the chain of command—all the way to the top—when I thought that was called for, and I still have my job. :-) ) 

So why don’t I speak up more? That’s a good question, and the answer is multi-faceted, touching on personal history, political philosophy, and theology. I think it would be worthwhile, as an exercise in integrating these and other disciplines, to work through an answer. 

That means that I’m going to be talking about myself for a few posts. I don’t normally do that, either; I’d much rather lay the Word out there and trust the Holy Spirit’s work in believers, and unbelievers, to make it profitable, even in ways I’m not necessarily intending. 

But for better or worse, here goes. 

First, personal history. 

  1. All my life I’ve had a problem with my mouth. My late parents and my older sisters could bear abundant testimony to that, as could any number of teachers, fellow students, former students, and colleagues. I haven’t typically been driven by malice; usually it’s just an attempt to be funny. But I have had enough of shooting off my mouth and then seeing the hurt on the face of someone I cared about. And I see my friends, on the left and on the right, posting hurtful things, often with actual malice aforethought, and I just don’t want any part of it. 

Grace. Mercy. Peace. That’s what I’d like my words to sow. 

  1. Shortly after our two daughters were born, I decided to get certified as an EMT, so I’d know what to do in an emergency. A key part of that training was the importance of surveying the scene: you don’t just rush into a situation (hurry! lives are at stake!!!!) without taking some time to see whether there’s ongoing danger, and if so, where it is. If you don’t do that, you’ll likely become just another person who needs medical attention, another person some other responder is going to have to expend the effort to rescue. Just jumping into an emergency situation isn’t helping anybody. 
  1. A few years later I got certified as a security guard by the South Carolina State Law Enforcement Division (SLED) so that I would be more reliable as a concealed carrier of a firearm. With that certification I was then approved to carry on school and church property. (South Carolina doesn’t allow carrying there without board approval.) Again, a key part of that training is the importance of staying calm in a chaotic situation; if there’s a shooter in a church sanctuary, and everybody’s running in all directions, and there’s loud noise and the smell of gunpowder in the air, you don’t want to be firing wildly in random directions; you want to observe, determine the threat, determine whether you’re in a position to neutralize the threat (from your angle, is there an innocent person in the line of fire? even beyond the target?), and only then take action. You’re responsible for the final location of every bullet that leaves your weapon, and everything it touches along the way.

We’re responsible, too, for every word we speak. Words can do great damage, often even greater damage than bullets can. We will give account to the one who knows all things (Mt 12.36): Jesus himself said that. 

In the current culture, everyone’s encouraged to shoot his mouth off in public forums. Here’s the outrage of the day; what side do you have to be on, based on your vote in the last election? Well, then, assume that position; shoot first, ask questions later. Could the situation be more complicated than it appears at first glance? Who cares? Fire away! 

I see that kind of behavior every day—and yes, on both sides.* 

I’m not gonna have it. 

Next time, we’ll begin looking at the socio-political environment. 

* And no, I’m not engaging in “both-sidesism.” That’s saying, “The other side does this bad thing, so my side can do it too.” That’s not what I’m saying; I’m rejecting them both and refusing to do the bad thing. 

Photo by Jonathan Harrison on Unsplash

On Retiring

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I’ve made the decision to retire. 

Over the years I’ve thought about when would be the best time to do that. My university turns 100 at Commencement 2027—just a couple of years away—and that would make sense. Shortly after that, after the fall semester in 2027, I would reach 50 official years of service, and that would make sense too. 

But in the last few years I’ve noticed that my ability to produce is declining. I have increasing difficulty hearing my students’ questions, especially when the air circulation fans are going, even though I have hearing aids—good ones—and wear them all the time. My eyesight is also getting fuzzier, even with glasses, and I have trouble recognizing my students even at a middling distance. I also have difficulty looking toward a light source—I noticed it first at night, and I even got a pair of those polarized yellow “sunglasses” that they advertise to people my age on social media. They help—at night—but they don’t really solve the problem. The other day a student greeted me in the hallway; he was standing in front of a window on a sunny day, and I called him by another student’s name, based on his blond hair; I couldn’t distinguish anything about his face. 

So my effectiveness as a teacher is being affected. I think my work is still good enough, but I can see the handwriting on the wall—if it’s big enough and isn’t right next to a window. Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin. 

As I’ve been meditating on these things, this year my university is needing to reduce its faculty count—which means that if I retire, that’s one less younger, highly qualified faculty member they’ll have to let go. 

My family’s financial situation is appropriate for retirement. 

I’m 70. 

It’s time. 

That decision brings with it a lot of contemplation and rememberizing, of course. I’ve been on the same campus for 52 years, and virtually every location brings back specific memories. 

Four years as an undergraduate, first in humanities (because I had no idea what I was doing) and then in Bible. Then I left, expecting to have to work for a year or two to earn money for graduate school. But exactly in the middle of the summer, I got a letter from the famed and sometimes feared Dr. Guenter Salter, Dean of the College of Arts and Science, offering me a grad assistantship in English. (That actually makes more sense than it may sound. Freshman English was 2 semesters of grammar and composition, and as a Greek minor, I had more grammar than the English majors, who spent a lot of their time in literature.) 

So five years as a GA, learning the terminology of English grammar rather than Greek—I learned that a “gerund” is just a substantival use of the participle—grading freshman themes, doing some lecturing, and taking 90 hours of Seminary work for a PhD. Then 19 years on staff at the University Press, as an editor (thanks to all those freshman themes), then an author, then an authors’ supervisor, and finally, briefly, manager of strategic planning. 

Toward the end of those 19 years I began to get restless. I was using the PhD skills to some extent, but not to their fullest; my responsibilities included a lot of other stuff too. The Bible faculty was solid and stable. 

One day I thought, maybe I should go teach someplace else. 

The next day Dr. Bob Bell, the Seminary’s curriculum rabbi, stopped me at lunch and asked if I was interested in teaching. 

Sure was. So 25 years on the faculty, eventually settling into 18 years as the chair of the undergrad division, working under and alongside remarkable, godly, competent men and women. 

That makes 53 years here, with 47.5 years of official employment. (Undergrad doesn’t count, and GA years get half credit.) 

It is enough, in the most positive sense of that clause. The Lord gives good gifts to his people, and he gives them abundantly. 

So what’s next? 

Don’t know. I’ve done some thinking about it, but I haven’t finalized my priorities yet. Here’s a start: 

  1. Enjoy a more flexible time with my wife, and stay out of her way :-) when appropriate. 
  1. Spend time with our grandson, who lives in town. 
  1. Exercise faithfully. 
  1. Offer my skills at BJU and at church, as desired and appropriate. 
  1. Leverage my flexible schedule for other kinds of service as they may come up. 
  1. Keep the mind sharp, as much as possible. My Dad presented with dementia at 85, so I’ll be keeping an eye on the passage of time. I suppose I could do that in a couple of ways—

a. Read, read, read. Especially long reads. And stuff I’m not already familiar with. New things.

b. Write. Got a few ideas, but nothing firm. FWIW, I do intend to continue the blog on its current schedule.

I even told ChatGPT to read my blog site and suggest possible retirement activities. It came up with a few ideas that I hadn’t. 

So we’ll see how it goes, and we’ll revel in the flexibility. 

Hallelujah, in its original sense. 

Photo by Stefan Steinbauer on Unsplash

Top Ten 2024

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Welp, it’s the final post of the year and time for the Top Ten lists.

Top Ten New Posts 2024

  1. On Magic (July 18)
  2. On Reading The Message (January 4)
  3. On Death (September 5)
  4. On Congregational Singing As a Team Sport (January 8)
  5. On Valentine’s Day (February 12)
  6. About That Hiatus … (October 14)
  7. On Widows in the Church (August 29)
  8. A Little Story about Worship (January 11)
  9. On Winning the War (series) (November 18)
  10. More Thoughts on AI (August 26)

Top Ten Posts of All Time

Same rankings as last year, except #8 and #9 switched.

  1. The Great Sin of the Evangelical Right (September 4, 2017)
  2. On Calling God by His First Name (November 16, 2017)
  3. Are We Doing Church Wrong? (July 31, 2017)
  4. On Deconversion (March 18, 2021)
  5. On How You’re Remembered (Strategery) (August 6, 2020)
  6. I Was Born That Way (August 9, 2018)
  7. Pants on Fire (August 16, 2018)
  8. On Sin: I’m Guilty of Adam’s Sin? How Is That Fair? (October 4, 2018)
  9. Freak Out Thou Not. This Means You. (January 8, 2018)
  10. What Jury Duty Taught Me about Comment Threads (July 20, 2017 [first post])

Photo by HENCE THE BOOM on Unsplash

On Christmas

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This is my last blog post before Christmas. Feels like I should write about that. I suppose I could consider my just-concluded series on “Immanuel” an extended Christmas post, especially considering the photo I chose for it, but I feel like writing more directly about the holiday. So here goes. 

Aging changes your perspective on things, and Christmas is no exception. 

When I was a kid, Christmas was all about the anticipation: What am I gonna get for Christmas? In those days my family was relatively poor. That’s not quite the right word; we had a place to live, and food to eat, and clothes to wear. But we didn’t have what you might call high liquidity, so not much discretionary income. At Christmas each of us kids would get one present. (I remember one Christmas—I guess I was about 8—when I got a football and a helmet, and I could scarcely contain myself.) 

Eventually I realized that I should give gifts as well as receive them. I picked a book off our bookshelf and wrapped it up for my Mom. She was highly amused, especially since it was a book she had owned since the 1940s. 

And yes, eventually I decided to buy gifts rather than just scrounge them from around the house. 

But now I think differently, in ways that most people my age do. 

When loved ones ask me what I want for Christmas, I usually can’t think of anything. I have all I need, and a lot of things I don’t need. These days I’m trying to get rid of stuff. I’ve even tried offering my books to my students, and I find that hardly anybody uses books anymore; they use electronic, and so do I. (I love the fact that when I teach overseas, I can take my entire electronic library—thousands of titles—on my laptop, which fits comfortably under the seat in front of me. And I also love the fact that I can make the type bigger. And that I can search my ebooks electronically. And I like lots of other stuff about them.) 

Anybody want some books? I’m serious. 

Um, back to Christmas gifts. 

If something I have breaks—most recently, my espresso maker—I can just get a new one; no need to wait for Christmas. And just for the record, I don’t wear ties anymore, so don’t even. 

I find it’s not about the presents anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time. 

What is it for me? 

It’s family. All of us together, enjoying the experience. Feasting together. Telling stories. Reminiscing. Opening presents, sure, but the joy I get is more from watching them open theirs.  

Recently I’ve noticed that I’m also enjoying the season more. Christmas music—the sacred kind—is meaning more to me than it used to. I find the secular stuff mostly just irritating; I have no desire to rock around the Christmas tree, and I wouldn’t recognize Mariah Carey’s voice if I heard it. Though, come to think of it, I can still dream about a white Christmas, though of course it’ll never happen here in the upstate of South Carolina. And the occasional silver bell is okay too. 

Another nice feature of the season is the lights and decorations. The neighborhoods look good, and I especially like the decorations along the main street in the small southern towns—you know, with the single row of brick storefronts and the railroad tracks just across the street. Banners from the light posts and strings of lights crisscrossing the street, just high enough for the trucks to get under. 

Calm. Contentment. Joy. Peace. 

Merry Christmas. 

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

On Veterans’ Day

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This year Veterans’ Day falls on a Monday, which is a regular posting day for me. 

Here in the US we’re often reminded that Armed Forces Day (May 18 this year) is when we honor those who are currently serving in the military, while Memorial Day (May 27 this year) is when we honor those who have died while serving—those who have given “the last full measure of devotion,” in President Lincoln’s memorable words at Gettysburg. Veterans’ Day, though, is when we honor any who have served. It always falls on November 11, the date of the signing of the Armistice that ended World War I in 1918. Originally called Armistice Day, it received its new name in 1954, due, I assume, to the fact that we now had veterans of two World Wars to honor. 

I tried to serve in the military but was turned down for an Air Force ROTC scholarship because I failed the flight physical due to a bum ear. That was a great disappointment, but I’ve noted that in God’s plan it was for the best. 

My Dad served in the Army, and my brother in the Navy; his two boys both graduated from Service Academies and served in the Army and Navy respectively. 

I have always appreciated those who were able to serve, in any capacity. I’m posting here today a slight revision of something I posted on Facebook several years ago. 

_______________ 

Atop a bookcase in my office sits a plain triangular wooden case with a glass front. Behind the glass is a triangle of blue covered with white stars. I’ve had visitors to my office remark somberly that they know what it is.  

And you probably know too. It’s an American flag, folded to the required triangular shape, field out, and given to the family of a veteran, usually at his graveside.  

This one was given by the USA—officially by President Obama at the time—to my family in appreciation for my father’s service in the US  Army near the end of World War II. My older sisters kindly decided that I should have it.  

I’m first a citizen of a higher country, an eternal one (Php 3.20), but I am grateful for the providence of God that has allowed me to be a citizen of this one. With all its flaws, and they are many because its people are many, the nation has been overwhelmingly good to me and to millions of others.  

I’ve been privileged to travel to many other countries, all of which I love and appreciate, and I have rejoiced for people I know and love while standing respectfully during their national anthems and Independence Day celebrations. God has been good to them, too, because that’s who He is.  

But I like mine the best. And I’m moved that some of my fellow citizens have freely given themselves— “the last full measure of devotion”—so I could experience all the reasons that enable me to say that. I will never fail to remember and treasure their priceless gift.  

And perhaps someday I’ll be able to tell many of them in person. Forever.  

Photo by chris robert on Unsplash

On Mental Exercise

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I’ve had the privilege of working at a university my whole adult life—I arrived as a freshman 52 years ago this fall—with more than half of that spent in the classroom. I really believe that thinking and speaking for a living is good for your brain, and for your mind as well (whatever the difference is between those two). I’m constantly exercising my brain with class prep—both content and presentation ideas—and interacting with students about the ideas they bring to the classroom. Further, since I teach at a liberal arts university, I’m surrounded by people who are experts in all kinds of different areas, and I love the interdisciplinary interaction that is routine in a place like this. 

And of course, working with kids helps keep you young. 

Having entered my eighth decade now, I do find my mental acuity losing a bit of its edge, and since I believe that the brain is more like a muscle, to be exercised, than a bucket, to be filled—and since my father presented with dementia in his ninth decade, at the age of 85—I intentionally try to keep my thinker active. I thought I’d share some thoughts on how I do that. 

To begin with, I’m still in the classroom, though I could retire anytime. My primary motivation is a sense of calling and mission, of course, but I figure the ongoing mental exercise can’t hurt. 

I also have a personal daily study schedule, which includes my personal devotions (which I’ve laid out here) as well as reading of other sorts. I follow the news—though my theology gives me what I hope is a healthy lack of fear—and try to read from a broad range of viewpoints. I scan headlines daily from a couple of news aggregators as well as the NY Times, the Washington Post, Axios, the Wall Street Journal, the local NBC affiliate, National Review, The Dispatch, Christianity Today, Red State, lucianne.com, and some others. (I told you there was a broad range.) 

I do academic reading as well. I’m reading through the Apostolic Fathers this year, a bit every day, and I watch the Daily Dose of Greek and Hebrew as well (just 3 minutes each to keep the language tools reasonably sharp). 

And I usually devote half an hour or so in the morning to playing games. Really. Here’s my current list: 

When do I find the time? 

I get up early. I wake up naturally at 5 or so and spend the next 2 hours in reading (devotions, 1 hour; news, 30 minutes; games, 30 minutes) before getting washed, dressed, and off to work by 8. 

Now, that means I’m out of gas at 9 pm, and if you have kids at home, that’s really not an option for you. But there are other ways and times to exercise your brain, and I hope you’ll have success at it. Feel free to comment with your own experiences. 

Photo by Natasha Connell on Unsplash

About that Hiatus …. 

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Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn’t, but I haven’t posted here for a couple of weeks. I don’t believe I’ve ever interrupted my regular rhythm of two posts a week before, except for when I was taking trips to Africa and was a little busy over there. 

This lacuna, as you can probably guess, was due to Hurricane Helene, which plowed through the American Southeast and left an unprecedented wake of destruction, much of it still chaotic, particularly in Western North Carolina. As I write this on Saturday, 10/12, there are still 22,000 Duke Power customers without power up in that region, with the lag in restoration due to the extreme infrastructure damage caused by the storm. Most have heard, I suppose, that the delightfully quaint village of Chimney Rock was just wiped off the map by the raging Broad River, with the nearby towns of Bat Cave and Lake Lure heavily damaged as well. 

Folks around here, including my family, have a lot of fond memories made up in those hills, memories that leave us sober and pensive and wistful as we contemplate the loss. May God and mankind meet the needs of those who have survived, and may he grant rest and peace to those who did not. 

Here in the Upstate of South Carolina we fared significantly better, though many among us saw destruction unprecedented in their time here. There are still power lines lying in the street, their poles snapped or twisted off by the force of the wind and rain, including on the street where we lived in our first house. 

On our current property the damage was less severe. About 4 am Friday I heard a tree fall, I thought in the backyard or near there, but it was still too dark to see. With daylight we saw that a neighbor’s tall pine had fallen from the roots and crossed our property perfectly from side to side, taking out both fences (which weren’t in all that great shape anyway). Some of its branches had nicked the corner of our large shed—the one that Jim Pfaffenroth built all those years ago, when he lived in this house, while he was my university’s corporate pilot, before he moved to the northern hinterlands of Saskatchewan. We’ll need to get that repaired. Otherwise, no damage. 

We still had power that next morning, until it fizzled out about 7.30 am. We were down for 5½  days, but we were fine; some years ago we bought a 13KW dual-fuel generator and had the house’s breaker panel rewired to accept an inordinately large and heavy 75-foot extension cord. It’ll run the essential stuff comfortably so long as we don’t use the heavy loads—stove, microwave, other heating devices. (I managed to get along without a hair dryer all that time.) The furnace and water heater are gas; we had some trouble with the AC, but with the temperatures in the 70s, we were comfortable most of the time. 

The big issue with a generator, of course, is fuel. This one runs propane and gasoline, and to my delight, the QT just down the road had plenty of gas. The first day or two there were long lines, but everyone cooperated, and the employees were funneling traffic around like it was the Chik-Fil-A drive-thru. I love the way people generally cooperate in a crisis, helping each other out, being reasonably pleasant in spite of everything. The image of God runs deep in mankind—so deep, in fact, that it shines through despite all the evil and corruption that makes itself so obvious in cultures. 

But I made a mental note to buy 2 or 3 more gas cans and a couple of extra propane tanks when this all settles down. 

Just one example of that kindness happened right in our yard. The pine tree that fell down was our neighbor’s—though of course any damage is our legal responsibility. Saturday the neighbor’s college-age son came over with a chainsaw, chopped that monster of a tree up, and piled it neatly for disposal. I didn’t ask, and neither did he. 

He’s well on his way to becoming a fine man. 

And I made another mental note, to get my chainsaw blades sharpened. 

Many of my neighbors and colleagues were without power far longer than we were, and some had significantly more damage to deal with. Two local families that I know of had their houses pretty much destroyed, and recovery will take a long, long time. 

But with the help of friends and neighbors, recovery will come. 

Photo credit: Cooperative Institute for Research in the Atmosphere at Colorado State University and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration