I Think I Believe I am Jesus' little brain cell

4Sep/1014

Evolutionary creation for children

I went to one of the local Christian bookstores today with my daughter to see if I could find her a nice book or two. She loves books and now she's approaching two, she's starting to get more out of them than just pointing at birds and saying "Beep-beep!" So I want her to learn some stuff about the Bible in a fun, entertaining way.

What struck me though about the selection was how many of the book were about creation. It's understandable, of course, since it's an evocative story. It's a colourful story featuring animals, trees, plants, etc. - all fun to look at. There's development in the story line which is both exciting and easy to understand.

But what I didn't like was how the books seemed to make a point out of creationism. I might be over-interpreting, but the books seem to be grooming children to become creationists when they are old enough to understand the conflict. That might not be the goal of the publisher. Maybe for some, maybe not for other. Who knows?

Looking through the books with my girl, I thought about how I wanted her to be introduced to creation. I obviously want her to be an evolutionist when she's old enough for those questions to become relevant, since I believe evolution is right, not creationism. She's not nearly old enough though. So for the time being, I think books based on the Bible, simply retelling the creation accounts as we have received them, will work. When the time comes, I'll explain to her that they are just stories, not something that actually happened.

I might balance the "creationist" books with some secular children's books on evolution. Dawkins is working on one, right?

What I think would be great would be to have a explicitly Christian children's book about evolutionary creation. I imagine it could go through the tree of life, step by step, with nice illustrations, repeating something like "God made it!" at every step. The final step could have a mirror, surrounded by trees, the animals we met earlier and Adam and Eve (and maybe a snake and an apple). Around it it would say, "And finally God made you! And he saw it was good!"

Any illustrators out there willing to collaborate on such a project? We could self-publish it on Lulu or something. Let me know!

14Aug/106

Hans Tausen, reformer and forefather

I'd like to tell you about one of my ancestors, the Danish reformer Hans Tausen, often called the Danish Martin Luther.

Hans Tausen was born in 1494 on a farm in Eastern Funen. Twelve years old he had had enough of the cows and ploughshares and ran away from home, seeking knowledge from books. He eventually ended up in Antvorskov monastery, which at the time was the principal Roman Catholic monastery in Denmark. There they recognised the young man's talents and in 1523, after several similar journeys where he among other things acquired a master of arts degree, Tausen was sent to study in Wittenberg. There he met Luther and heard him preach. Hans Tausen was converted to Lutheranism. When he came in 1525 he took to the pulpit of the monastery church in Antvorskov, where he preached that man was saved through faith alone and not by works.

This sermon marked the beginning of a strong opposition and persecution of Tausen by the Roman church in Denmark. He was thrown into prison in Viborg at one point, where every day crowds of people would gather outside his cell to hear him preach through the barred window. Despite the scandalous nature of his preaching, Tausen was a diplomat and made friends with the local Catholic authorities who allowed him to preach in the parish church Sunday afternoons after the regular service had ended. Soon the church proved too small and Tausen preached to crowds outside in the market place from the church tower. The popularity of Tausen's gospel soon created tensions though and when he and his followers were barred from using local churches, they simply broke down the doors of one, where Tausen would preach from the pews.

Though his relations with the Catholic authorities understandably proved strained, Tausen developed friendships with the secular authorities of his day. King Frederick I (1471-1533), a Catholic, took Tausen under his wing. His successor, Christian III (1503-1559) implemented the Reformation in Denmark, working closely with Tausen among others. It was Frederick I who brought Tausen to Copenhagen for the first time and soon his preaching had so revolutionised things there, that monasteries had to close because of the lack of public support. There was a two year period after Frederick's death where Tausen's fate was uncertain. But thank God for violent regents: After two years of civil war, the Protestant Christian III took over and started reforming Denmark from the top down.

There's a story about the early period in Copenhagen. Once during high mass, a Lutheran trouble maker walked up to the priest, took the chalice out of his hand while he was transsubstantiating it and threw it on the floor. As he ran out, a monk chasing him and the congregation laughing, Hans Tausen stepped forth and, like a true Reformer, loudly recited the first verses of Revelation 18.

"Fallen! Fallen is Babylon the Great!
She has become a home for demons
and a haunt for every evil spirit,
a haunt for every unclean and detestable bird.
For all the nations have drunk
the maddening wine of her adulteries.
The kings of the earth committed adultery with her,
and the merchants of the earth grew rich from her excessive luxuries."

You've got to love anti-papal apocalypticism!

After Christian III made Denmark Protestant, Tausen was initially a bit overlooked. He continued on with his regular priestly duties in both Copenhagen and Roskilde. Only 1542 was he elected to be bishop in Ribe. There he spent the remaining 20 years of his life, until he died from illness the 11th of November 1561.

Hans Tausen was called the Danish Luther. 10 years before the Reformation was officially adopted in Denmark, Tausen was one of the first, if not the first, to preach salvation by grace alone in Denmark. He was the first to preach in Danish, rather than Latin. He also stopped using his religious habit early on in his career. It's said that he was a better preacher than writer, but apparently his translation of the Pentateuch was a masterpiece. He taught Hebrew in the University of Copenhagen. He composed over 100 hymns, the first ever in Danish.

In addition to that, he was the first Danish priest to marry, which greatly annoyed his Catholic detractors. In fact, he married twice. His first wife, Dorothea Sadolin, to whom he was married in 1527, died ten years later in 1537. Later that year he married Anna Andersdatter. It's through their children that Hans Tausen and I are related.

Hans and Anna had Lisbeth Hansdatter Tausen in 1552. With her husband Anders Madsen Pars she had Hans Tausen in 1575. When he grew up he became a priest in Løssing, where he married a women whose name we don't know. They had the son Niels Hansen Tausen in 1605. Niels Hansen Tausen travelled to Støren in Norway where entered ministry. There he married Kirsten Nielsdatter Balg, and they had a son, Hans Nielsen Tausen, in 1631. Hans Nielsen Tausen married Birgithe Pedersdatter Schielderup. Together they had Nicolai Hansen Tausen in 1661. Nicolai Hansen Tausen was the first Tausen to travel to the Faroe Islands, where he worked as a surgeon and sheriff until he drowned in 1705. This happened after the captain of the boat he was travelling with didn't take his advice and steered to close to the shore, crashing the boat and killing all but one man, including, of course, Nicolai Hansen Tausen. Nicolai was Hans Tausen's great-great-great-great grandson.

Anne Malen Zachariassen, née Tausen

I won't bore you with the details, mostly because I can't be bothered to write them out, but fast forward through the generations until 1914 when my grandmother Anna Malena Tausen was born in Toftir. She married Jákup Zachariassen, they had Zacharias Zachariassen, who is my father. So there is a direct line, 500 years down through the ages, from myself to the original Danish reformer Hans Tausen.

The theological line, though, is not so direct. My grandparents, Anna Malena and Jákup, were among the first converts from Lutheranism to Plymouth Brethrenism in the Faroe Islands. My father was the first child not baptised in Gøta, where they lived all their lives. The opposition from the Lutheran establishment to the new Brethrenism was fierce and there exists still to this day some antipathy between the two factions, though it is present mostly with the older generations, who still remember just how fierce it was. This, you could say, mirrors the conflict between Catholics and Protestants in the middle of which Hans Tausen lived, preached and reformed, though there was considerably less blood. Though I am denominationally Brethren and would create a scandal akin to the one Tausen created if I became Lutheran, theologically I become more and more Lutheran every day. Though I stand outside the ecclesial structure of Lutheranism, I am deeply indebted to it's theological heritage. Therefore, I am deeply indebted to Hans Tausen, my forefather of both blood and faith.

11Aug/100

My daughter is unorthodoxological

My friend David over at Unorthodoxology hurt his hand the other week and so he asked a couple of us for some assistance to keep his blog alive. He asked us to write a blog about fatherhood. I gladly obliged.

Read my post, My daughter is a prophetess, here.

Hauerwas wrote somewhere that disabled people have a prophetic role in the church. By simply being disabled, they expose structures of value, undetected and unquestioned by us more able bodied, and force us to face the things we try so hard to forget. By being so dependent on others for help, they reveal the uncomfortable fact of how dependent and helpless we all are. They need us like we all need us. That’s why our culture of independence, autonomy and individualisation hates disabled people and wants to forget all about them. And that’s why the church should reserve for them a special place.

Babies, at least for a time, do exactly the same thing.

16Apr/104

Prayers of the heart

The first of August last year, a young woman from the small village on the island of Sandoy in the Faroe Islands attended her sister's wedding and their young baby's baptism. After the party that night, she went to bed and never woke up again. She was 25 years old. She died because her heart stopped. Her heart stopped because she had the genetic disorder CTD, or Carnitine Transporter Deficiency. She had been diagnosed the day before the wedding. She never got to pick up the medicine that arrived for her the next week.

Last summer I worked at one of the two large newspapers on the Faroe Islands, Dimmalætting. We covered the illness, the complications and the tragedies in its wake extensively. The death of the woman above shocked the entire country. It woke us up. As it turns out, where in the rest of the world one in every 100.000 people has CTD, in the Faroes, it's one in every 600. The Faroes are a small place. 50.000 people. Our gene pool is small and non-diverse. We are situated in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, a long way from the mainland. For centuries travel abroad was simply impossible. And it was almost as hard for outsiders to come visit us. Generation after generation, the fatal genetic feedback loop grew stronger and stronger. And now, more than a millennia after the original settlement of the Islands, a Faroese person is 168 times more likely to have CTD, also called the Faroese curse, than a foreigner.1

Carnitine, to quote Wikipedia, is used by cells to process fats and produce energy. People with Carnitine transporter deficiency have defective proteins, whose function it would be to bring carnitine into cells and prevent its escape from the body. Complications include liver problems, coma, and sudden unexpected death from heart failure.

The nation, woken up the danger potentially lurking inside any of us, rushed to take advantage of the genetic tests made available by the Ministry of Health. I remember one of the first mornings the special clinic was open. One of my co-workers went to report on the occasion. Hundreds of people had shown up, many of them taking the ferry from Sandoy, the island of the young woman who died. A year before, her cousin, a 21-year old man, had died from CTD too. Some years earlier, it claimed his sister too. Tests revealed that in Sandoy, one the most isolated islands in an already isolated country, CTD was especially prevalent. Seeing large parts of families in Sandoy struck down by the disease, families all over the country remembered children, siblings, uncles and aunts who in childhood or youth had simply dropped dead. Was CTD to blame for the previously unexplained deaths? Everyone was determined to not let that keep on happening. Treating CTD is almost deviously easy: Just take a daily supplement of carnitine. In an strange twist of fate, it was to a large degree because of the disproportionally carnivorous Faroese diet that so many people managed to survive for so long a disease that is considered a children's condition in most other places. Meat, especially lamb's meat, the nation's favourite, is the best natural source for carnitine. But this natural boost is not enough: Left untreated, CTD will claim your life, sooner rather than later.

Every Faroese person now knows someone either with full blown CTD or carrying a defective gene, which might put their children in danger were they to have a partner with a similarly defective gene.

Which brings to here and now.

The other day, one of my wife's half-sisters contacted her on Facebook. She had been diagnosed, she said. She knew we had a child, so she wanted to let us know. This half-sister is on my wife's father's side. Both her mother and her two maternal sisters are carriers of the gene. This means that both my wife's parents carry the gene, which puts my wife at a 50% risk of being a carrier and 25% of having CTD. If she is a carrier or has the disease, she could've passed on to our daughter. Our daughter, obviously, is at even greater risk if I carry or have the disease. No-one very close to me biologically has it - only a cousin of a cousin, if I'm not mistaken. But the possibility is still there. And if I do carry the gene, my daughter faces the same risks as my wife does.

So we're going to the GP on Tuesday to be tested.

As far as we know, my wife is at a higher risk than I am, but I obviously cannot feel entirely or even very safe. The danger we, and more seriously, our daughter, is in has only hit home in the last couple of days. Marriage is a difficult thing sometimes. You deal with things differently from your spouse. I do the typical male thing and try to dismiss, suppress and ignore the whole thing. That's fine in my own head and gets my by, but when my wife and I are talking, she feels like I'm belittling her fears. I'm not. I'm just as scared as she is - I just deal with it differently. I must be strong and get over my defence mechanisms, for my wife's sake. At first, I feared mostly for our daughter, but tonight the danger my wife is in also hit home. She's 24 years old and she might die at any minute. I don't want to lose her. I don't want to lose my daughter. And I don't want to die. Oh God, I don't want to lose them!

Prayer is a strange thing. I want to pray. I do pray. I pray that we're not sick. That we only carry the gene. That we get medication in time. That only I am sick and not my wife and daughter. That only the two of us, and not our daughter, are sick. But what difference does it make? My genes, my having or carrying CTD or not, were determined 26 years ago. My wife's 24. We're caught in this contingent string of genetic events and there's nothing we can do about it. But maybe prayer works. God is supposed to be outside of time and space. If I pray now, it might have an effect 26 years ago. If that's the case though, maybe I should stop praying for myself and start praying for the Jews during WWII. If I don't, it might've been much worse. I'm sorry. I'm doing this to distract myself from the fear.

A friend once asked me if I really believed in prayer. A mutual friend of ours was at the hospital at that moment with his infant son, who was undergoing surgery both to save his life and to prevent disabilities resulting from brain damage. I answered honestly: I don't know. But sometimes, there's not much else you can do. When you're at the hands of the universe, you have to throw yourself at its feet.

I'll let you know how it goes on Tuesday.

  1. Interestingly and ironically, it has been determined that it was a foreigner who came to the country in the 13th century who brought the illness with him and originally infected the gene pool.
24Feb/107

Why I will never spank my daughter

My daughter, Lý, and I, playing outside a couple of days ago.

Just read this.

It's an article about the Pearls, Michael and Debi, who run a sizeable ministry called No Greater Joy, teaching parents how to, to quote the title of their 1,4 million copies sold most famous publication, train up a child. For the child-training they recommend a plumbing line, a sort of PVC pipe, that should leave the child in a "wounded, submissive whimper" and "without breath to complain." This to teach the child who's in control and not to be questioned. The Pearls recommend keeping a plumbing line in every room and even one around the neck to remind the child of that message. I'm not personally familiar with the message of the Pearls, but I assume that this is it at its most extreme. It can't all be that crazy. Nevertheless, only a little bit of crazy was enough: Two children are now dead. 4-year-old Sean Paddock, was wrapped in blankets until he suffocated, and 7-year-old Lydia Schatz, beat with the plumbing line to such a degree that it caused tissue breakdown so massive that her vital organs could no longer function. The article documents how these cases have created a backlash within the conservative Christian community. Secular liberals (or Christian ones, as yours truly) have been against this stuff for a long time, but conservative Christians haven't, so this is a good and welcomed development. Read it. It's a good article.

Brand new Lý

Almost a year and a half ago, I became a father. My wife Malan gave birth to a healthy, big girl just after 7 o'clock on the evening of October 28th 2008. The magnitude of the thing only dawned on me after a long while and in some ways I'm still in the process of realising just how important a change my daughter has been, is and will be for me. We decided to name her Lý, a Faroese name meaning "light". There's no person in my life as important to me as she is. She shines a whole new light on my life, completely reorienting it. I now live for her. My main goal in life is to provide the best environment for her flourishing that I can.

These aren't revelations, I know. Every parent, if sane, feels exactly like this. But I feel like telling you this, if for no other reason to establish the fact that I am not insane.

Being a parent means thinking through, with your partner if you have one, how best to raise your child. Among the questions a parent needs to answer is the question of discipline. Lý is still little and isn't defiant to any significant degree, so the question hasn't become pressing yet. But regarding spaking, I've reached a  conclusion.

I will never spank my daughter. Nor will I ever encourage people do so with their own child.

I come at this from an ambiguous place. My parents spanked me when I was little. And by my humble estimate I was not in any way damaged by it. There was no excess. Whenever it happened, I knew I had done something really wrong. My mother tells a story about me and my brother, who is a year and a half younger than me, going through a phase where we bit each other all the time. We had bite marks all over our bodies. One time, when we had one of our bite fights, she and my father took one of us each and reportedly spanked us so thoroughly that we never bit each other again. So I guess it works. Or worked. So I can't condemn spanking unequivocally. There are many, my parents among them, who successfully incorporate spanking in child-raising.

Yet, there is the shadow side, as illustrated in the above article and in countless other stories. There is, it seems, a thin line between spanking and violence. For some, at least. Spanking can be a way of teaching a child what is right and what is wrong, thus ultimately being constructive, beneficial and good. But spanking can also be very harmful. So my conclusion is this:

I cannot support, however tacitly, a practice that can harm a child.

Taken by my friend Beinta á Torkilsheyggi, summer 2009.

And by harm, I'm not only referring to physical harm, the extreme of which the article above talks of. I'm also referring to psychological and emotional harm. If a parent crosses the line while spanking, he or she violates the trust and love the child has towards its parents. Suddenly, the parent is not a source of nurture, but of harm. The confusion and pain that such a situation creates can scar a child for life. I'm not saying that this will inevitably happen. But some parents are weak and lack self-control, especially in situations of stress, situations where discipline typically is relevant. They might not know it, but they are capable of crossing the line. Even if they cross it only one percent of the time, the ninety nine percent are not worth it. Rather not spank at all, than to spank harmfully one percent of the time.

Then there's the spiritual damage crossing the line can bring about. Those of us that are raising our children in the faith have a special responsibility. We are, in effect, modelling God in the life of our child. This resonates especially with me as a father. How do I, as a father, reflect the heavenly Father in my parenting? God is not violent and I don't want to damage my daughter's understanding of him by portraying him as such. To do that would be to directly contradict Jesus when he says, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." (Luke 19:14)

Again, it would be dishonest of me, based on my personal experience, to say that all spanking is harmful or that spanking inevitably leads to violence. But is and does so in many cases. And, I think, by supporting the practice, even hypothetically, not to mention practically, one is supporting indirectly that harmful violence towards children. It may do and does good, yes, but I think for a manner of reasons that the violence it sometimes leads to is, because it's against a child, so horrendous, that the good is simply not worth it.

15Dec/094

My daughter like “Theology and Science”

My almost 14-month old daughter isn't quite walking yet, but as long as she holds on to something she whizzes along. Lately she has grown fascinated with the books on my lowest bookshelf, the only one she can reach yet. And by grown fascinated I mean likes pulling them off the shelf. While she likes all my books - the shelf includes my Barth, Tillich and (archbishop) Williams books - her favourite is my collection of Theology and Science journals. That's where she always starts. I caught her today beginning yet another book raid and snapped this photo with my phone, before I distracted her with one of her own five books, which was already on the floor.

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8Dec/095

Dinner table pluralism

Last summer my family - my parent, my brothers, our spouses and children - went to one of my brothers' summerhouse to hang out for a day. We had a great time.

During dinner we spoke about family, as you do. As we talked we got to one family member that had lived quite a hard life in his youth. He started drinking from very early on and soon enough graduated to drugs. He ended up on the streets of Copenhagen, dirty and homeless. Nobody really ever saw him, other than the occasional, "You'll never believe who I saw in Denmark the other day..."-conversation.

But then he found religion. Baha'i to be specific. He turned his life around, got off the drink and drugs, even officially apologized to the ones he had hurt. He is now a successful, self-made business man with a wife and very cute baby boy.

There was an awkward tension in the room when we got to this point. My father and one of my three older brothers are ministers. We are a very conservative, Evangelical family. So we really don't want to speak positively about other religions.

Keeping these thoughts to myself, in order to avoid even more awkwardness, I thought that a religion, even if it's not Christianity, that can turn someone from their selfish and self-destructive life of sin to a truly good life must, in some sense, be true. It must, even though it's not explicitly based on God's self-revelation in Christ, provide a way, somehow, to God. It's easy to go all "by faith and not by works" in response to the situation, but I simply cannot dismiss it that easily. The Spirit, in his irritatingly mysterious way, must be at work in the heart of a person that turns his life around, from bad to good, in a such a manner.

25Sep/091

Dawkins gives my daughter sleepless nights; Keith Ward to the rescue

Our daughter, Lý, went to sleep as normal last night, around 7 o'clock. She usually sleeps until 6 or 7 in the morning. I fell asleep on the couch and didn't go to bed until 3 or so. When I went in the bedroom I found Lý lying in her cot with her eyes wide open. Usually it works to tuck her in and sing a little song. But for some reason she wasn't up for it. I picked her up for a while, still singing. But to no avail. So I put her back into her cot and let her play for herself, while I read some theology aloud to her - if that won't put her to sleep, I don't know what will! :)

After a while though, her mood turned a little bit foul. She started intermittently and quietly crying. So I picked her up and started lulling her to sleep. After 5-10 minutes her eyelids were heavy and I felt it was safe to put her into her cot.

I shouldn't have done that.

She freaked out. Absolutely freaked out. I picked her up, hugged and kissed her, sang louder, and basically tried everything. But nothing worked. She cried and cried and cried, tears streaming down her increasingly bright red face.  I must've tried to soothe her for at least 20 minutes, maybe half an hour. I walked around for a while, then sat down on the bed and tried to slowly bounce on it.

Nothing worked.

In desperation I put her down on the bed to see if she simply didn't want to be in my arms - she was fighting it, so maybe that was it. Accidentally (or not!), she found Why There Almost Certainly Is A God, Keith Ward's response to Dawkins' The God Delusion, picked it up and immediately stopped crying. As she thumbed through it, I carefully lifted her up into my arms and started stroking her face. After a couple of minutes her sobbing stopped and she started to relax. Still thumbing through the book and once trying to eat it, and then just holding it, she fell asleep in my arms. A few minutes passed and I felt safe to put her down. She looked at me drowsy, but when I showed her the book in her hands, she fell asleep again.

Now, I can only conclude that my daughter, approaching her 11 month of life, had her first existential crisis yesterday night. She was distressed that Richard Dawkins was right after all and there really wasn't a God. Her belief in a creator deity who loves her and revealed himself in the earthly existence of Jesus Christ had been exposed as a delusion. And a dangerous one at that. Her regular church going for the last many months (though she spends most of her time in the nursery) and the other religious practices her parents partook in did not tend to any objectively real reality, but was merely an exercise in sanctified self-therapy. The world and, most of all, meaning-seeking human existence was utterly void of the meaning that is being sought. The universe was indifferent and unmerciful and we're merely a tiny blip on a tiny planet in a tiny corner of a tiny galaxy.

But thank God, literally, for Keith Ward. He not only showed the fatal lack of philosophical rigor in Dawkins' arguments, which don't stand up to the slightest bit of scrutiny, but he also restored Lý's very reasonable belief in God. It is all right to doubt Dawkins. There are deeper explanations than those that science offers. There is an evolutionary goal. The five ways still lay open. Personal experience is not only valid and reflecting objective reality, but important as an argument. There almost as certainly is a God as there was sleep.

Or maybe not.

But whatever the case, Keith Ward saved my night last night.

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