Empathy and the Devil

It’s apropos that I’ve been rereading C. S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters with a friend now. Weekly, we pore over a couple of chapters and broach free-range discussions launched by the demon Wormwood and his “affectionate uncle,” Screwtape. Our culture, like many biblically-tinged cultures before it, is saturated with talk of Satan in his various literature-based iterations. Merely over the course of American history, we’ve developed perhaps as twisted a view of the fallen archangel Lucifer as we often have of Jesus. Everyone from Washington Irving to The Grateful Dead has had a go, with widely varying degrees of accuracy. Yet, as with Jesus (who, let us not forget, made Lucifer and all his fellow angels), we can’t altogether divest Old Scratch of his scriptural identity by means of either broad-brush cartoonism or utter disregard. Thanks be to God.

[Editor’s note: As C. S. Lewis himself said in the preface to The Screwtape Letters, “There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them.” Therefore, if you have an unhealthy interest in things diabolical, this post may or may not be for you. Feel free to read or disregard as wisdom dictates.]

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Illuminating Shadows

When I was young, my mother wrote poetry. As far as I am aware, she rarely wrote just for fun, but mostly as gifts for parents of new babies or as a comfort to friends who had lost a loved one. Her poems were simple yet profound and always received with heartfelt enthusiasm. It made an impact on me. She considered words to be valuable and important gifts worthy of sharing. She joyfully and freely gave them to those she loved. Though not expensive or store-bought, her gifts of poetry were rich in sentiment and the time spent to lovingly and carefully craft them for her intended recipients.

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Midwives of Truth

My friend handed me a book that changed my life just a few months before I graduated from college. I had a plan for graduate study, for a career. I had an answer to the “what’s next” questions that barrage us at every life transition. The book was Michael Card’s Scribbling in the Sand: Christ and Creativity, and the words on the page and the conversations with my friend about them revolutionized my understanding of the creative life as worship and faithfully walking in the calling with which I’d been called. My plans went out the window, and I’ve spent my life since living out the imago dei through my creative pursuits, worshiping God in all things, but particularly as a subcreator.

Five years after we graduated from college, that friend turned his back on his faith and his family and walked away from it all. And I was left to wrestle with what I’d learned arm in arm with him during those years, the insights he’d brought out in our many conversations that shaped how I followed Christ.

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Word + Song preview: Drew Miller

Tonight is the night! WORD + SONG is here!

In celebration, we’re giving you another little preview of what’s going down this evening in Loudon, Tennessee. Here’s Drew Miller, playing a song from his two-part project, Desolation & Consolation. The first half of the record can now be found at The Rabbit Room Store, and you should go download it!

OCTOBER 30, 2019 6:15pm
First Baptist Church, Tellico Village
Loudon, TN

You can find more about Drew Miller and his excellent and ongoing work at DrewMillerSongs.com. We hope to see you this evening! Join us at First Baptist Church of Tellico Village.

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Word + Song preview: Matthew Clark

It’s a great time to give you a preview of things to come! Matthew Clark, one of the three featured artists headlining Foundling House’s WORD + SONG storytelling concert, October 30, at First Baptist Church Tellico Village in Loudon, Tennessee, shares a bit here about the title track to his most recent release, Beautiful Secret Life.

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Crushed

Photo by Anita Jankovic on Unsplash

The schoolyard was sunbeaten and drowsy when Mrs. Halderson’s first-grade class filed out for recess. The world just went on producing more summer, even though school had started. After wandering a while I drifted into the shaded alcove of one of the classroom doors that no one ever used or opened. On the cool concrete slab I saw an insect big enough to run a startled twinge through my insides. I leaned down to see. 

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