Author Archives: Amy Jane

Grammar for Apologetics

Posted on by

I have *once* in my life wished for a greater grasp of the rules of grammar.

In college I felt thankful to have enrolled under the last possible catalog (year) that allowed me to graduate with a journalism degree without taking a full 3-credit semester of straight grammar (“History of Grammar” I could see enjoying. Three months of lecture and practice, not so much).

A lot of my peers were annoyed with me (I need to someday do a post on this being annoyed at a non-braggy people who’ve got it better than one).

Anyway, I’ve read enough (or something, I guess) that I never felt a lack in my education until I was sitting opposite a pair of Jehovah’s Witnesses (JWs), “discussing scripture.”

On a side note, my mother did point out ahead of time this is rarely a good idea, but I had already-sort-of said yes when they asked to come back, and didn’t really know how to change that.

The reason discussions like this (I now agree heartily with my mother) are generally not a good idea, is that the average layperson (you and me) will not be as prepared for discussion as the average JW going from door to door.

Or, you may be about as prepared as the younger of the two, but *definitely* not the older one.

Any discussion will only affirm in the “missionaries'” minds that their position is the firmer, more reasonable one, because they are the ones who have the answer to everything.

I can’t know this for sure, but my guess is that they bring the younger JWs to these discussions to build their faith– in their elders as well as their doctrine.

Anyway, the JWs have their own translation of the Scripture that eliminates the deity of Christ (they see him as another incarnation of the angel Michael), but encourage you to look up references in your own bible.

Sitting “tailor-style” in a dining room chair, I did this, following their argument, and suggesting alternate interpretations and verses myself.

Then it happened: we got to one of those “modified” verses of theirs. I don’t remember now what it was. Their translation said something different than mine, and I said so.

It was one of those passages full of hims, hises and yous (Did I get that right, Kaye? What’s the plural for ‘his’?).

I reread aloud it from my translation and the women acted politely confused. “Isn’t that what we just read?”

“No,” I said, recognizing my my helplessness. “This ‘you’ is referring to someone else.”

“What makes you think that?”

And I realized that all my instinct from years of reading meant nothing here because I didn’t have a name for what I knew to be true.

The Ebony Horse– a Tuesday Tale

Posted on by

(From The Arabian Nights and attributed to several nights’ going.)

A beautiful horse, carved out of ebony, that could fly! It was so magnificent the sultan had to own it. He commanded the magician to name his price. The magician demanded the sultan’s own daughter in marriage.

The sultan did not instantly agree with the magician, but neither did he have him thrown out for presumption and disrespect.

When word of this reached the princess she was terrified. Knowing she could not plead her own case, she went instead to her brother, the first-born son, and begged him to speak for her.

Furious that that his father would consider trading away his sister for a new plaything, the prince went to him.

At his father’s urging, the prince mounted the life-sized ebony horse. He followed the magician’s directions, and gasped as the statue began to rise, but it did not make him less angry.

“No thing made by the hands of men is worth giving my sister to this man!”

The magician reached up and pushed hard on the lever under the prince’s hand. The ebony horse rose out of the courtyard and out of sight.

The magician was immediately put in chains and thrown in the dungeon.

~

Only losing his head for a moment, the prince felt the opposite shoulder and found a second knob. After some trial and error (a terrifying exercise at such a hight) he mastered the controls and despite his concern for his sister, forgot her entirely in the thrill of this new sensation of flight.

When it grew dark, the prince brought the horse closer to the earth, but found himself in an unfamiliar land. Gravitating naturally toward the palace he saw, the prince landed on the roof and began exploring by moonlight. Looking in a large window he noticed a beautiful princess asleep on her couch, and went in to see her more closely.

She awoke suddenly, but did not cry out.

“How do you come to be here?” she asked. “I am at the center of three rings of defenses and guards at each wall. Even now there is a guard outside my chamber door.”

The prince cared for none of this. He had already decided he was in love. Telling her hurriedly of the fantastic horse that had brought him, he invited her to come away with him to his own kingdom, where he would one day rule.

As he seemed gentle, and was young and handsome, she agreed, glad enough to leave the stifling control of her current life.

When they arrived early the next morning just outside the prince’s kingdom, it was agreed that the princess would wait with the horse while the prince made arrangements for her to be brought into the city as was fitting for his bride-to-be.

When the Sultan heard his son’s story he ordered the magician be released, and while the royals collected the necessary people for the procession, the angry magician sought his revenge.

Continue reading »

That poor third verse…

Posted on by

Does anyone else feel sorry for that neglected third verse in four-verse songs?

 It seems like it’s the consistent casualty in our culture’s affinity to 3s.

 (That’s one of my favorite things about the way my current church does hymns: we do *all* the verses.)

iPod Meme

Posted on by

I’ve already got the feeling I’ll have at least as many book chapter titles as song titles.


Instructions:

1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. Press forward for each question.
3. Use the song title as the answer to the question even if it doesn’t make sense. NO CHEATING!

How do you feel today?
The Passing of the Grey Company–The Return of the King (JRR Tolkien)

What’s your outlook on life?
Riddles in the Dark– The Hobbit (Tolkien)

What does your family think of you?
Soulin’ — Astra Kelly

What do your friends think of you?
He is a Song– Twila Paris

What do your exes think of you?
Sunrise– John Michael Talbot

How’s your love life?
Savior of my Heart– Sheila Walsh

How will your love life be in the future?
The Prophet– Michael Card

Will you get married?
Where Does My Help Come From– Shalom Jerusalem

Are you good at school?
The Queen of Narnia– The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe (C.S. Lewis)

Will you be successful?
Stranded– Plumb

What song should they play on your birthday?
In the House of Tom Bombadil– Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien) There is a *neat* instrumental with a similar title by Nickel Creek (is it?); a rollicking, lively tune that would be excellent for my birthday if someone wanted to send it my way…

What song should they play at your graduation?
The Black Gate is Closed– The Two Towers (Tolkien)

The Soundtrack of your life?
Happy all the Time– Baby’s Best Bible Songs

You and your best friends are?
Two Tragedies (Ouch!) — The Last Battle (Lewis)

Happy times:
Be Our Guest– Beauty and the Beast soundtrack (the stage musical)

Sad times:
Journey to the Crossroads– The Two Towers (Tolkien)

Every day:
Talking Beasts– Prince Caspian (Lewis)

For tomorrow:
The Storm and What Came of It– The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (Lewis)

For you:
Murlough Bay— Iona

What does next year have in store for me?
Let the River Flow– Darrell Evens

What do I say when life gets too hard?
Tradition– Fiddler on the Roof

What song will I dance to at my wedding?
The Lord Reigns (Actually it was “We Rejoice in the Grace of God,” but this works too.)

What do you want as your career?
The Window on the West– The Two Towers (Tolkien)

Your favorite saying?
Be Bold and be Strong– Hosanna/Integrity

How will I die?
The Gentle Healer– Michael Card

This was a *kick*! Some of these are sooo thought provoking… others are just provoking ;o)

About Feeding…

Posted on by

One of the largest concerns in my mind after Natasha made her decision for Christ was how to feed her. And then, how did I know it was real?

I poked around on-line and made some calls (knowing I’ve seen a very competent “arrival kit” for adult new believers I hoped there might be something I could use with my 4-year-old). Not easily finding something, my mind went next (I’m sorry! It’s been trained!) to “Maybe that means I should write something myself…”

Then, as my mind was there, I began to wonder how I could know if Natasha knew what she was doing (after all, 4 is awfully young…). I didn’t want my clumsy efforts to guinea-pig her and cool her interest in things of the faith.

God graciously encouraged my heart, though.

  • Natasha didn’t want to call and tell anyone (e.g. grandparents), which was what made me wonder in the first place, but when I was on the phone she wanted me to tell them.
  • She’s had an increased appetite for the Word (tell me that isn’t inspiring), wanting the real thing.

I grabbed the picture-bible because it was near-by and I was nursing the baby, but she said, “No, Mama, I don’t want the picture one, I want mine.” “The one with just words?” “Yes.” And she went and got it.

  • She’s been willing to pray “publicly” for the first time (volunteering to pray over dinner tonight)
  • And she told grandma about her decision as soon as she saw her.

So I was encouraged. And I did find a couple picture books that bring up concepts I wanted her to think about (because I expect she’ll still want picture books at her age).

The break-through for my first concern came when a church secretary called me back and said none of the right people were around to ask the curriculum question of.

Then she pointed out that with her three daughters (all grown, and all raising their children in the Faith) she had just continued with the same tack as before, reading bible stories, talking about the things of faith. The difference being that after a decision for Christ those talks have more meaning for the child.

This was such a wonderfully simple truth and I had never seen it this way. It lifted my concern (that I believe most young parents have) about how to feed my baby “right” on my own.

~

In all the bible stories we’ve read since Wednesday night, I’ve been able to bring up questions about our response to God and how He interacted with the people in the stories.

As a storyteller, the idea of staying with the stories themselves is so freeing. I don’t need to find a way to introduce a “simplified” Romans or Galatians to my 4-year-old. There is plenty of time for that later. For now I can be thankful for the many truths that God has provided in the stories he gave us.

From Balaam and we’ve already filled-in some gaps I had woken concerned about the morning after. God is faithful, and will always make provision for the right thing at the right time.

In the same way that I can say, “No, we’re not reading about Judah and Tamar,” knowing it’s not age-appropriate, I can wait on many other things as well.

“Jesus loves me, this I know,” is a beginning that has confounded scholars and kept them busy long enough to let my daughter grow ready for other eternal truths.

Behind on the Stories

Posted on by

I’m not convinced anyone has noticed, but I’ve skipped my Tuesday Tales for several weeks now.

I have been reading novels (for my book 100, mainly) rather than my folktale compilations, so they’ve been less on my mind.

But I’ve noticed it’s like being on a kick where one eats only Korean or Thai food for weeks at a time. There are those who know nothing else and live just fine on that, but I’m not one of them– I get antsy for something… different? More familiar?

Anyway, I’ve noticed my mind doesn’t work quite the same way as it did, and I don’t yet have a good analogy for it. (Maybe a symptom is I make analogies less easily…)

Basically, to be immersed in folktales (especially traditional, that aren’t all from one author) leaves me feeling my mind has a connection with the (doubtless) thousands of other minds that have digested them over the centuries.

When I’ve been reading folktales I see connections between unusual things, and actually feel more creative.

My two biggest works (the novel I talk about here and one I put on hold to work on this one) are a dizzying mix of East and West. As I’ve gotten farther (in time) from my readings of either culture’s tales, the effort of binding together three worlds (my own included) becomes more and more challenging.

I’ve pulled out my favorite collection of Arabian Nights tales and will be diving back in there after I feel rooted enough to work with my daughter as she takes her first baby steps as a new believer.

This whole balancing act of being responsible (doing what needs to be done) while being drawn in other directions is supposed to be very good for writers, I hear.

Whether or no, I pray that I don’t lose track of my first goal or become weary in well-doing.

We’re so Cute…

Posted on by

Jay and I were sharing a hug and kiss just inside our room as our girls ran past.

Natasha  (4 years old) stopped in her tracks with a soft, “Awww,” and a wispered, “Come’ere” to her little sister.

We held each other a little longer without looking at them, me silently fighting the giggles, so I’m not sure who made the blissful little sigh before they moved on.

I’ve aways  felt children like to see their parents happy together.   This was a fun reminder.

Kids and Questions

Posted on by

(Prologue)

First off I have to say that I adored Lara’s post about making her children hold their questions for later.

The bits I loved best were the part, “It’s a well know fact that if you make a child think with their mouth closed then their head will explode and I wanted to see how long that would take.” And the part about the child thinking, “I might cease to exist if I don’t hear every detail of the next 24 hours of my life over and over and over again.”!!! (My kids.)

I made a pathetic attempt to read it to my parents when they came over Monday night, and somehow, despite my exhaustion-induced hysterics (yes, it is also funny on its own merits), they heard the humor and enjoyed it too.

What that started a train of thought (and conversation) about kids and the questions they ask.

~

(Main content)

I confessed to my mom that I didn’t like to shut off the kids’ questioning, even when it got inane, because I wanted them to feel valued, and that questions deserve an answer. (I also want them to do some critical thinking and listening. Any ideas?)

Mom acknowledged she felt the same way when we were growing up, but our questions could really irritate my dad and we (I vaguely remember this) eventually were told just to be quiet and quit asking.

I don’t begrudge them this. I know first-hand how annoying these questions can get.

I’ve found I get the most upset by questions when they seem like a stall tactic, and to prevent snapping at the question or the questioner (I told my mom), my new “mom-line” is, “Ask while you’re obeying.”

As in, you won’t get an answer anyway until you do as you’re told, and don’t wait until you’re ready to obey.

“I wish I’d thought of that,” she said.

That is such a cool thing to hear from your mom.

~ ~ ~

My other tack when we fall into endless questioning is to go all Socratic on them:

“Well, why do you think that is?”

Sometimes they just don’t want to think, and will say I don’t know, but there are times they’ll take a legitimate stab at the answer, and it’s usually delightful (sometimes inaccurate, but nearly always delightful).

I love watching (and listening) to my children think.

If they persist in the passive I don’t know, I interpret it as a request to be entertained or a test to see how much of their mother’s undivided attention they can secure.

So I act accordingly. Or, according to my mood at the time.

If I feel they’re trying to manipulate me (What an ugly word to apply to children! Got a better one?), I’ll do the brief, “Think about it for a while,” type of response.

If I feel in a mood to be entertaining, I’ll begin spouting obvious (to a toddler) misinformation to make them laugh.

If it’s a legitimate question, and from a conflict in personality or tiredness-cycles we’re not connecting at the moment, I say I’ve explained it the best I know how just now, and if she wants to ask me after nap (or after I’ve rested) maybe it would make more sense then.

So… this is how I try to be straightforward, and not begrudge them their questions. As I mentioned in my awareness post, yesterday, it’s important to me.

For more in-home ideas visit Rocks in my Dryer.

There’s more going on than they can say.

Posted on by

When I was in elementary school our church was growing, and we started construction of a larger building. Construction is terrific fodder for kids’ questions, but it seems many men (as most of the workers/volunteers were) have a limited capacity for questions.

I remember asking (or beginning to ask) something of a pair of men, when one asked me, “Amy, can you tell me why children ask so many questions?”

I was fully aware of how he was “playing” me for his friend (you probably have seen or have yourself played a child for the entertainment of another adult), but– here was my nature manifesting at that young age– I took the question literally and deliberated how to answer.

I was somehow aware that whatever I said, they would probably turn it back on me, and I knew I would feel horribly self-conscious the next question I asked, but finally answered anyway; and honestly, despite the flack I guessed I’d get.

“Some questions kids ask because they really want to know, and some they ask because they don’t want to think for themselves.”

I knew this was true because they were both true of me. And I was afraid that now they knew the two divisions of questions that they might assume anything I asked was the latter.

They might have chuckled, I don’t remember, and I felt gagged. I wanted desperately to know what they were doing, but I knew whatever I said next would be directly tied to what I just revealed.

Finally, unable to stay quiet, and thinking it a safe question, I asked, “Why are you cutting that pipe?” They were working in the foyer, in between where the men’s and women’s restrooms were going to be.

The same fellow looked at me and said, for his friend’s benefit, I could tell, “Because it’s too long.”

I was aware of being mocked. I was the occasion for a joke.

I felt the thing I’d said with absolute clarity and honesty was not valued, and my vulnerability was not protected.

How’s that for a crushing blow in childhood?

It doesn’t feel hurtful now, and honestly I don’t remember if it “hurt” then. I do remember feeling humiliated and running it off in the unfinished hallways upstairs.

In Jane Eyre, Bronte observes

Children can feel, but they cannot analyze their feelings; and if the analysis is partially effected in thought, they know not how to express the result of the process in words.

This is my experience. And if there is any lesson I may take away from the memory (or impart through it), it is the reality that children are much more aware than we frequently credit them.

I do not remember this often enough.

This is why I want to honor (acknowledge, and answer to some extent) the questions my children ask and try not to use children for a joke they’re not included in.

(My next post will be about avoiding the crazies while “allowing” children’s questions to have value.)