Stained Glass Fiasco

It’s shocking, what you come across on the internet. You see many things that were never meant to be. I place this stained glass window of Mr. T in that category.

Yes, I recognize that he is a Christian, and his gold (24 carat) cross is prominently displayed. But still . . .

I was surfing in search of a good portrayal of Saint Martin of Tours. Not quite sure how the most distinctive member of the A-Team appeared in the list.

At least it provides an excellent reminder that a person should be prepared for the unexpected whenever they enter the worldwide web. (It’s not likened to a spider’s domain without reason.)

Addendum:

I realize that you are not comparing Mr. Tureaud to an arachnid, but you really should be much more careful in how you jump from thought to thought.

Sharing Surnames

“‘It isn’t Narnia, you know,’ sobbed Lucy. ‘It’s you. We shan’t meet you there [again]. And how can we live, never meeting you?’

‘But you shall meet me, dear one,’ said Aslan.

‘Are—are you there too, Sir?’ said Edmund.

‘I am,’ said Aslan. ‘But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.’”

C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

 Names are precious, and the way that others who share your name bring to it honor or dishonor is important. As Ecclesiastes says, “A good name is better than precious ointment . . .”

I may be more sensitive to this truth than most people, because I grew up with a modestly (in)famous name. Fewer people recognize the link today, since the Burt Lancaster film that publicized the Birdman of Alcatraz is rarely aired. When I was a kid, it seemed to be run annually, like the Wizard of Oz, and I invariably could count on someone making the name connection every time it ran.

Actually, it wasn’t all that bad. Lancaster’s portrayal of the compassionate inmate was extremely sympathetic. The connection didn’t bother me much. Well, not until I read about the genuine Robert Stroud. Not quite as appealing a human being. Enough said.

Anya Stroud, WarriorIf you conduct some web searches on variations of your family name, you’ll be surprised what you find. I recently came across a fictional “relative” named Anya Stroud. She looks like someone you’d like to have at your side in an apocalyptic battle, doesn’t she? I understand she is a resident of just such a violent world, in the game system she inhabits.

Returning though to the real world . . . what we do with our name means a great deal to others who share it, especially to our family. Perhaps most of all, to our descendants. Much better for them to look back upon an honorable and godly ancestor rather than a vile example of unredeemed humanity.

And there is another aspect to guarding our name. One of the names followers of Jesus are known by is “Christian.” This is the most precious name we can hold. It is because of this name we can approach our Creator and call him “Father.”

This is a name we should strive to protect and make praiseworthy. We should not however try to earn it, since that’s impossible. It’s a name given simply as a gift, to all who believe Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah promised to be our Redeemer.

Addendum:

Parents are blessed when their children bring honor to their name. So too our Father in heaven. In a world where many hypocrites appeal to his name to defraud and mislead others, it is good to be reminded that our calling as disciples is to live in a manner that conforms to God’s command: “You shall therefore be holy, for I am holy.”

Soldiering for Nine Decades?

Ninety Years in the French Army

Today’s edition of “Ripley’s Believe It or Not” included the peculiar remark about a French soldier who served ninety years in their army–all without a single promotion! Having served nearly a quarter of a century in uniform myself, I found it daunting to imagine nearly a century in the ranks.

A little research verified the fact. Jean Theurel (1699-1807) was a fusilier with the unbelievable record. And his service was uninterrupted, despite being severely wounded in battle twice. As for finishing his career as a private, it turns out that he had turned down many opportunities for promotion. Although he was lauded as the “oldest soldier in Europe,” it’s hard to imagine anyone else serving longer on a different continent. (Or wanting to, for that matter…)

Addendum: 

The Dashing Octogenarian This painting reveals a much more dignified portrayal of the veteran than does your illustrated version (which does not at all befit the proper decorum of a scriptorium).

Serving one’s country with integrity is an honorary thing. But better by far is following the Lord of Hosts and the Prince of Peace.

What’s So Important about the Milvian Bridge?

Constantinian Triumph CoinWhile pondering what to write about today, I visited one of those “This Day in Christian History” websites. It cited 27 September as the day of Constantine the Great’s “conversion” (in the year A.D. 312). Ironically, the website was in error, with the actual date being the evening of 27 October.

Many people might say “what difference does it make?” but writers will be reminded once again of the necessity of accuracy in their writings! What sort of credibility do you think that website now holds for me?

At any rate, returning to the subject of Constantine’s October 312 conversion . . . it was one of the pivotal events in the history of the world. Not only did Constantine end the persecution of the Church, he raised Christianity to the status of favored religion. Contrary to most quasi-historians, it would be left to a later emperor to establish Christianity as the empire’s official faith.

The early fourth century was a turbulent and fascinating time. Constantine had to battle a number of other so-called Imperators. (“Caesar” remained one of their many titles, but it was no longer the synonym for the ultimate ruler.) One of Constantine’s challengers—who allied himself completely with the pagan faction which still vastly outnumbered the Christians—was Maxentius.

On the evening before the battle, in response to a divine vision, Constantine had his soldiers mark their shields with a symbol for Christ (most likely, a chi-rho). He would ultimately march under that sign to victory over all of his enemies. Licinius, his final foe, would also throw his lot with the pantheon of Rome and other pagan deities. Like Maxentius, he too would fall.

This coin was minted by Constantine to commemorate his victory over these agents of the “Serpent.” The Labarum (Constantine’s standard, topped by the chi-rho) pierces the creature. The legend on the coin reads “Spes Publica,” which means “hope of the people.”

On the matter of just how transformative Constantine’s spiritual conversion actually was . . . well, that’s a subject for another day. Suffice it to say now that he regarded his allegiance to Christ as sincere, and he never recanted. Oh, and the importance of the Milvian Bridge . . . if Maxentius had not fallen there, history would read quite differently today.