Prepare to Die

Putting this quiz in the last Round the Sphere Again post seemed a little inappropriate, but I can’t resist linking to it, because, as you know, I love the movie and I love mental_floss quizzes.

How’d you do? I got a 70%. I’ll have you know that one of my wrong answers wasn’t from ignorance but from misreading. The other two? I have no excuses.

Round the Sphere Again: A Funeral Edition

Updated with a new link below.

Costly Death
I bet you’ve heard it read at funerals: “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.” It’s a lovely thought, and undoubtedly true, but D. A. Carson argues that this bit of Psalm 116 might best be translated with a whole different spin. (For the Love of God)

Seeking a Homeland
John Bird asks, “Why Do Funerals Make Me Homesick?” For me it’s weddings, too, and for pretty much exactly the same reason, I think.

Added June 25: Service Essentials
Four things that must be proclaimed at a funeral. (Brian Croft)

Boys Will Be Boys

I first posted this five years ago. Things are changing in my family, you know. I might be feeling a little longing for the old days.

I’ve never met a little boy that didn’t love playing superhero.  If they don’t have a real superhero costume, a pair of briefs over long underwear and a towel-cape will do. If you let them (or you’re not looking) they’ll take flying leaps across the livingroom from the coffee table or the back of the couch. It’s always cute, sometimes annoying, and possibly dangerous, depending on what superhero he is, what superfeat he’s attempting, and how many other superheroes there are in the room.

Playing superhero is fun, for sure, but it’s also very important work—purposeful work. When the caped pretender turns 12 or 13, give or take a few years, you’ll see him begin to unfold into a real hero.

The metamorphosis might start with a bit of a bad attitude. He thinks he knows better than his parents; he thinks he’s invincible; and he doesn’t like taking instruction. This can be a difficult stage, because he doesn’t know better than his parents, he’s not invincible, and goodness knows, he needs instruction more than he ever did. This stage of hero development is not much fun, but parents who hang in there may see that this, too, has a purpose.

Youngest daughter is twenty-one and works at a gym. A week or so ago she came home and told us about her day. A young man, a customer at the gym who is the same age as youngest son and still in high school, had been hassling her.

“We should hang out sometime,” he said. He was nothing if not persistent, even though she thought she was obvious in her refusal.

Oldest son’s response? “I should have a talk with him.” Youngest son? “I’ll beat him up!”

As it turns out, her boss had overheard things and he had a talk with the young man, so  it was all resolved without any help from her brothers.

Yes, youngest son needs to learn a better approach to fixing these sorts of problems—a better step one, anyway. I expect that to come with time. A year ago, however, it would never have crossed his mind that this situation might require something of him.

He’s one step closer to becoming a hero, and that, really, is what the briefs pulled up over the long johns when he was five were all about. Boys will be boys, and that’s a good thing, because it’s working to turn them into men.