Sing it, children

Worship time at the Baptist World Congress is generally well-prepared and impressively offered, often incorporating different languages, which is entirely appropriate for a global organization comprised of more than 115 member bodies. This year's meeting in Honolulu is no exception.

The preaching is often good and other elements are well done, but my favorite part is the music, especially when it involves a children's choir. I was pleased when the Thursday night celebration began with 20 minute's worth of the World Vision Korean Children's Choir, which is celebrating its 50th year (obviously not with the same children Billy Kim first recruited in 1960). I've seen traveling choirs from the group several times through the years, and have enjoyed every carefully choreographed performance.

There must have been more than two hundred children on the stage in Honolulu, singing in both Korean and in English, mixing upbeat versions of songs ranging from "Amazing Grace" to "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," with a few old American folk tunes thrown in.

The children's training must be rigorous: their angelic smiles and impeccable behavior (on stage, at least) are a match for their delightful harmonies, colorful costumes, and energetic dance routines. Part of me would like to peek in and see if they behave with such sweet innocence at home.

The other part of me, however, simply savors the image the children portray: the world needs more of their sweetness and I, for one, could use a good dose of their energy.

Planning a head

The view from atop Oahu's famed Diamond Head (in the background of this small wedding) requires a fairly strenuous climb up a steep trail nearly a mile long, but it's worth every step. Guidebooks encourage climbers to be prepared: use sunscreen, take water, wear sturdy shoes instead of flip flops.

Many climbers also plan ahead by taking the prudent precaution of wearing a hat as further protection against the tropical sun. There's evidence of a need to take planning one step further, though -- as climbers reach the top of a long spiral staircase and squeeze through the window of an old bunker to step into open air, they're often met by a stiff wind that takes unguarded hats for itself.

The photo above was taken at an overlook there, leaning against a fence that protects against a sharp drop. Look straight down, and one sees evidence of the wind's work: hats of every description hung up on the cliffside, so close and yet so far away.

My old faithful floppy hat is ugly as sin, but it has the virtue of a drawstring that keeps it on my head, even in the wind. I can't take much credit for planning ahead -- I hadn't tightened the drawstring until Samuel reached over and did it for me -- but I do still have the hat.

Sometimes planning ahead means planning for the head, and two steps ahead. Jesus knew about that, encouraging his followers to plan ahead (by building their houses on rock instead of sand, for example), and to be prepared.

I doubt hats will be needed for admission to the pearly gates, but the Bible suggests that other preparation is required.

Keep your hat on.

On the windward side

Prior to the 2010 Baptist World Congress meeting (July 28-Aug. 1) in Honolulu, my family has been enjoying some vacation time. During the past two days, Jan, Samuel, and I have driven as much of the circumference of Oahu as the roads allow, enjoying stunning scenery (a feast for the eyes) and stopping at the occasional shrimp truck (a feast for the tongue).

We noticed that Oahu, like other larger islands in the Hawaiian chain, has multiple personalities. The northeastern side of the island catches steady winds that deflect upward from the steep Koolau mountains, pushing humidity into the upper, cooler air, where it condenses and produces rain. As a result, the windward side of the island is lush and green, as seen in this photo from the Pali Mountain overlook.

The southwestern side of the island, in contrast, has high mountains but doesn't get the wind off the ocean, so rain is scant. Mountainsides are more apt to be brown and crumbling.  Vegetation is more scattered and more scraggly, even near the beach near this squatter's camp.

It's not much of a stretch to think of how our lives are richer and greener when we're in touch with the wind of the Spirit; more dry and sere when we inhabit the leeward side of faith.

Green is good.

New tech and old texts

Researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology have produced a powerful new software program that has the potential of helping scholars resurrect ancient languages that so far have proven impenetrable.

Using Ugaritic as a test case, researchers fed the computer samples of Ugaritic's cuneiform script, along with additional information about Hebrew, a closely related language. After a few hours, the program had correctly linked letters and words to map nearly all of the Ugaritic symbols to their Hebrew equivalents.

The program also correctly identified Ugaritic and Hebrew words with shared roots 60 percent of the time, according to an article on National Geographic's website.

Ugaritic didn't need translating -- that feat was accomplished by dedicated linguists in the late 1920s and early 1930s. The computer's ability to make so much progress, however, suggests that it might be further improved and put to work translating other ancient languages, such as Etruscan, that have few extant texts and continue to stump scholars.

Texts from ancient Ugarit, a Canaanite city that came to be known as Ras Shamra, have shed important light on our understanding of the Bible by informing our understanding of Canaanite gods like Baal and Astarte, often criticized in the Old Testament.

If computers can help us gain greater understanding of other ancient languages, perhaps we'll learn other important lessons about life in antiquity, and such knowledge is always welcome.


[The image, or a juridical text in Ugaritic cuneiform, is from Wikipedia Commons.]

Making sense of scents

Walking the dog for several early morning miles allows the mind to wander along little-used pathways of thought and to raise questions that wouldn't ordinarily occur.

This morning, for example, as I trailed behind our forever-curious canine, I wondered what it would be like to smell in color. That's about the only way I can imagine the difference in the way humans process odors good and bad, and the way dogs and other animals make sense of scents.

Banjo runs with his nose to the ground, sometimes so close that his lower lip (normally black) is rubbed to a fresh pink. He pauses over every spot that's been visited by another dog, goes haywire when we pass a deer or rabbit track, and examines every flattened frog or wounded moth that we pass. When we meet another walker, with or without dogs of their own, he strains at the retractable leash even after they have passed, and when released he sprints to their former path and sniffs deeply of their fading fragrance.

I'm confident the mutt could identify any one of 50 neighborhood dogs and as many people by scent alone.

What would it be like to smell in techniodor, as dogs do? Would the redolence of things we like show up in bright primary colors of red, yellow, and blue? Would the stench of rotten fish or dirty diapers appear as dingy brown clouds? Would the scent of a loved one show up in shades of fuschia or rose, cyan or teal? Would the bouquet of morning be emerald and jade?

I don't know: God didn't give me the nose of a dog or the ability to converse with one on the subject of scent. The schnoz that I have serves up a sensory spectrum more than sufficient for my needs, and I'm grateful for it.

If I should still wonder what color bacon smells, it doesn't mean I'm high on anything other than curiosity, but I consider that a gift, as well.


[Art from noveltysaddlepad.com]

Would knowing make a difference?

An article in today's News & Observer explores some basic questions about genetic testing to determine one's chances of developing certain diseases. If people learn that they are genetically predisposed to develop Type II diabetes or Alzheimer's disease, for example, would that knowledge motivate them to improve their health and reduce risk factors in their control, or would they be more inclined to give up and resign themselves to a genetically determined fate?

The question is no longer a matter of science fiction: genetic testing has advanced in both accuracy and in the number of potential health issues that can be identified. As the field has grown, costs have also dropped, making testing more available and more affordable.

So -- if a test can tell you whether your genetic makeup puts you at high risk for certain types of cancer, for dementia, or for diabetes, would you change your lifestyle to reduce your chances of developing disease, or would you stay the unhealthy course and blame poor health on bad genes?

It's a legitimate question, because we don't need genetic testing to tell us that obesity and sedentary lifestyles make us more prone to heart disease and diabetes, that smoking can lead directly to throat and lung cancer, that alcohol abuse damages the liver. Yet, many people who know these things do not change their behavior. Would results of a genetic test be enough to push them to take action?

Studies thus far suggest that patients are more optimistic about potential change than are their doctors. One study at Massachusetts General Hospital and Harvard Medical School found that 79 percent of doctors and 80 percent of patients thought genetic testing for the risk of diabetes would be useful. But, while 71 percent of patients said the results could motivate them to make lifestyle changes, only 23 percent of doctors believed patients would follow through.

What about you? Are you acting on the abundant health information you already have, watching your weight and making good choices about what you eat or drink and how much your exercise? Would learning the results of a genetic test motivate you to adopt healthier habits?

God only gives us one life on this earth, and we're clearly called to be good stewards of our bodies, of the life and health we have. If a glance at the size of your jeans doesn't provide sufficient motivation, perhaps a peek at your genes could get you going.

[Image from 3dscience.com]

When "what's fair" isn't the question

Golf's oldest championship, what Americans call "the British Open" and Europeans call "The Open Championship," is underway on the Old Course at St. Andrews in Fife, Scotland. As a major championship, the event gets extensive TV coverage, but with Scotland being several time zones ahead of the U.S., ESPN's coverage begins well before dawn.

I kept a TV on yesterday as I spent much of the morning doing household chores, and was amazed at how low some of the scores were: young Rory McIlroy, from Northern Ireland, went out early and shot a record-setting round of 63, nine shots under par. In fact, many of the golfers who played early also posted low scores. Those who had afternoon tee times, playing later in the day, did not fare so well.

Why the difference? Heavy rain the night before had softened the course, and there was no wind to speak of during the morning hours. Golfers had a field day. During the afternoon, the course began to dry out, and the wind kicked up, putting teeth back into the course and making it more difficult to play.

Afternoon golfers might have had reason to complain, but they did not, because they know "that's golf." Even when conditions are perfect, some golfers will get lucky bounces, and others will see it go the other way. A bad shot might hit a rock in the rough and bounce back into the fairway, while a beautiful drive striped down the middle may roll into a deep divot left by a previous player.

Having to play under different weather conditions or falling victim to bad bounces may seem unfair, but "fair" is not the question, other than that all players are subject to the same vicissitudes of the game. One of golf's greatest lessons is that you learn to live with conditions as they are and play the ball as it lies: you don't ask what's fair, but recognize what is. Then you go from there.

Anyone who's lived long enough will enjoy good weather and endure stormy times. We will get some good breaks and face some unexpected obstacles. In happy times, we may assume we're deserving, while in hard times we may think life is unfair. As in golf, however, the question is not what's fair but what is: we take the conditions as they are, we play the ball as it lies, and we go on.