*This article originally appeared on 19 April 2012 on www.humanepursuits.com. I wrote it within the purview of my role as a Contributor to that forum. The original article can be found here; it is reproduced below in an unaltered form. 

“We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.”

-John F. Kennedy’s Address to the Nation on the Space Race

I used to think that the space program was a waste of time and money. What did we gain, I asked, from spending billions of dollars just so we could put a man on the moon? Were we solving the world’s worst diseases with our scientific experiments done in free-fall environments? Was rocket propellant that burned at inconceivable rates a more worthy purchase than defense expenditures? What did we gain from any of this?  What are the merits of a national object?

This week’s retirement of the Space Shuttle Discovery – the most-flown spacecraft in the history of our space program – marks the completion of our government-led manned space age. The retirement is reflective of a new space strategy for the Obama administration. The era that was born in John F. Kennedy’s monumental address from Rice University has served its purpose; we landed a man on the moon on July 20, 1969. We beat the Soviet Union.

My onetime critique of the space race aside, I think that there are immense merits to the pursuit of a national goal. The method that we employed to put a man on the moon, however, was anything but conservative. In fact, the New Atlantis has called the space race “perversely unconservative in design,” because we sought to defeat the socialist USSR state with a paradoxically large government agency. We did it, but not with capitalism. We mirrored the Soviets’ statist approach and poured endless amounts of public sector dollars into a goal so unprecedented that we captured the attention of a nation.

Yet that last part is what I love about the Space Race. It captured the imagination and galvanized the efforts of a nation. Those readers who have seen October Sky will remember the amazement in Homer Hickham’s eyes when he watched Sputnik 1 float across the West Virginia sky. I’ve heard stories from older generations tell me of the live broadcast of the Apollo 11 moon landing–one that captivated every audience that was fortunate enough to see it.  To children like Homer, it was sheer inspiration. To philosophers, this represented an unprecedented step (or “giant leap,” as it were) for mankind. To scientists, it was the accomplishment of a near-impossible feat. To political aficionados, the triumph of democracy over communism. To everyone, it was something incredible. The national object of putting  a man on the moon was unparalleled in its success.

Why have a national object? First, it provides credibility to the raison d’etre (reason for existence) of a state. When Kennedy announced the beginning of the moon landing project, it was probably in part to divert public attention from the Bay of Pigs fiasco. But the true end of his endeavor was to galvanize the nation’s efforts in order to defeat the threatening statist leviathan in the opposing hemisphere. What followed wasn’t simply characterized as a “Space Endeavor;” it was a “Space Race” because we had to beat the Soviets.

Second, national objects advance economic and technological growth and development. It is no coincidence that, in the years between 1961 and 1969, the United States never experienced a shrinkage of Gross Domestic Product. NASA research and development has also given us Teflon, the artificial heart pump, cancer screening instruments, weather satellite capabilities, satellite communications, and a host of other technologies that improve our quality of life and  in some cases save it. NASA’s various contracts with private corporations and its partnerships with academic institutions have been beneficial for the private sector and bettered the minds of our young engineers.

But perhaps the strongest reason to possess and gloriously pursue a national object is one that is not yet obvious in retrospect: the pursuit of a national object gives us confidence and pride in our own abilities. Every American watching that live broadcast of the lunar landing felt proud to be an American. Everyone who had a hand in making it happen found the inconceivable to be possible. The goal did indeed “organize the best of our energies and skills,” and we were all the better for it.

Niall Ferguson’s most recent book, Civilization: The West and the Rest, argues that competition, work, and consumption are three of the “killer applications” that allowed the West to surge ahead of the rest of the world in its aggressive development and progress. As the rest of the world has slowly begun to acquire what we have taken for granted for so long, we are in danger of being eclipsed and overrun. What Ferguson sees as the greatest danger to our own Western civilization (of which the U.S. is the undeniable leader) is not from other civilizations but instead from “our own pusilanimity.” The Space Race is the antithesis of that pusilanimity–as is any equivalently magnificent national object.

What is next? Manned space isn’t on the agenda for the current administration. Nation-building and democracy-planting didn’t work for the last one. It might not be Mars or an Iraqi parliament, but we need to find something. A national object could, in the words of Ronald Reagan, preserve America as “the last best hope for mankind.”

Z

Of smaller fame is his biography of William Wilberforce, the tireless British reformer who led the charge in abolishing the British slave trade. A friend recently gifted me with a copy (autographed, no less!) of the work and I devoured it as soon as I was able. Metaxas has written a concise, cogent, and compelling description of one of the most admirable politicians who ever lived–a life that clearly holds lessons for us all.

I am consistently surprised to learn that many of my contemporaries have never heard of William Wilberforce. Born in 1759 to two merchant-class parents, Wilberforce led a relatively privileged lifestyle. His father died when he was young, so he traveled to London to live with his Aunt and Uncle, who had been recently taken in by the “Methodist” teachings of George Whitefield, John Newton, and Charles Wesley. It was with his relatives that Wilberforce was first exposed to serious Christianity, but his mother–in attempt to save him from an evangelical fate–called him back to his hometown of Hull when he was only twelve.

Five years later, Wilberforce went off to Cambridge. The consummate socialite, Wilberforce had learned a fantastic wit, endless energy, and sharp mind, which caused him to focus his attentions on gambling and drinking the nights away. Only four years later, Wilberforce decided to run for Parliament, and due to his naturally gifted oratorical skills, did so successfully. He entered the House of Commons at 21 years of age.

For another seven years, Wilberforce performed admirably in Parliament. His fellow MP (and after only a few years, Prime Minister) was his good friend William Pitt the Younger. Together they formed a powerful political alliance that accomplished many small niceties, but there was no transcendent purpose to what Wilberforce was accomplishing.

His poor health forced him to vacation in the European mainland, on the French and Italian Rivieras. Wilberforce’s good friend Isaac Milner (incidentally occupying the same academic chair position at Cambridge that is now held by Stephen Hawking) accompanied him, and their many theological discussions during their travel planted a seed in Wilberforce’s heart.

After returning to London, Wilberforce wrote to–and later called upon–John Newton, hoping to ask him about the truths of Christianity (Metaxas draws accurate parallels to Nicodemus’ secret approach to Jesus in John ch. 3):

I wish to have some serious conversation with you . . . the earlier the more agreeable to me. I have had ten thousand doubts within myself, whether or not I should discover myself to you; but every argument against doing it has its foundation in pride.

At the end of Wilberforce’s note was a solemn postscript:

Remember that I must be secret, and that the gallery of the House [of Commons] is now so universally attended, that the face of a member of Parliament is pretty well known.

Wilberforce’s meeting with Newton went even better than he had hoped. Newton expressed to him that he had always hoped and prayed that God would raise up Wilberforce for his purposes. Wilberforce accepted Christ and later characterized this period as the “Great Change” in his life.

With a new perspective and direction, Wilberforce set to work on what he called the “two great objects” of his life: the abolition of the slave trade and the reformation of morals in society. Over the following decades, Wilberforce penned thousands of long letters, gave hundreds of speeches, formed dozens of societies, wrote multiple books, and all for a losing cause. He would introduce legislation for abolition on an annual basis–as often as possible–but saw defeat after defeat. Indefatigably persevering, Wilberforce continued to build a network of reformers, working with his friend Henry Thornton to create the Clapham Community, a circle of close Christian friends dedicated to social reform and abolition.

In 1807, after a change of administrations, Wilberforce’s bill to abolish the slave trade finally passed. The tireless work and countless sleepless nights of Wilberforce and his allies had finally paid off. The 800,000 slaves still in captivity, however, were unaffected. Wilberforce kept working to free them. His health failed over the following decades, and by 1833 he was near the point of death. Having resigned his post in Parliament, his “earthly garment” was but a shell of the powerful force it once was, but his heart was just as dedicated to his cause. Working behind the scenes all the while, the bill for the total abolition of slavery was finally proposed on July 25, 1833. On July 26, the bill passed. Wilberforce received word of the passage later that evening. Three days later, he breathed his last.

Metaxas’ book is assisted of course by the magnitude of its subject matter. Any biographer of William Wilberforce will face light (if any) criticism simply because the reader is so enthralled with the man that the story becomes secondary; I certainly found this to be the case in this instance. Nonetheless, Metaxas masterfully gives the reader a glimpse of who Wilberforce was. The reader comes to understand that Wilberforce was not simply a modern Demosthenes, but an Apostle Paul or a Mahatma Gandhi: never needing recognition for his accomplishments but giving every ounce of their strength for the cause in which they believed.

Without bogging the reader down in detail, Metaxas gives a thorough account of the major themes, events, and characters that influenced Wilberforce’s life. Even more accurately, Metaxas takes the reader back to late 18th/early 19th century Britain, painting the dismal picture of society accurately enough for us to understand why social reform was the “second great object” that Wilberforce sought.

The work is not without flaws. The chronology of the telling is sometimes troublesome; Metaxas seems to be so excited to tell the story that he gets ahead of himself, then has to double back to return to where he left the reader. Dates are not presented as cogently as they could be, and the endless parade of “GRE” vocabulary might be off-putting to some readers.

Historians might also complain about the lack of credit given to others who were at the center of Wilberforce’s social efforts: Henry Thornton, Granville Sharp, Olaudah Equiano, Hannah More, and Thomas Clarkson. But Metaxas mentions most of these characters in detail, and understandably gives Wilberforce (the subject of his entire book) a good deal more attention. Wilberforce was also the most politically prominent of the group, and any of them, if still alive today, would likely point that out.

What remains is an engaging story of one of the greatest men that ever lived. His absolute refusal to surrender his cause in the face of enormous perseverance is incredible. His gravestone epigraph, on the floor of Westminster Abbey, recognizes his magnanimity and credits his eternally heavenward gaze:

In an age and country fertile in great and good men, he was among the foremost of those who fixed the character of their times, because to high and various talents to warm benevolence, and to universal candour, he added the abiding eloquence of a Christian life. Eminent as he was in every department of public labour, and a leader in every work of charity, whether to relieve the temporal or the spiritual wants of his fellow men, his name will ever be specially identified with those exertions, which, by the blessing of God, removed from England the guilt of the African slave trade. . . in the prosecution of these objects, he relied, not in vain, on God.

Z

Samuels writes of the 1993 decision Employment Division v. Smith, in which the Supreme Court ruled (in a Scalia opinion) that two Oregonian workers were not eligible to receive unemployment benefits after they were fired from their company for using an illegal drug. The Oregon ban on the drug was found to be a “valid and neutral law of general applicability,” and in violating the law the state could penalize the petitioners by denying them benefits.

The workers had claimed that their religious belief provided an exemption for the use of the drug; Scalia wrote for the court that upholding “the professed doctrines of religious belief [as] superior to the law of the land” would be detrimental to civil order and damaging to the rule of law. Samuels says that the Obama administration’s policy is therefore “clearly constitutional: it is a neutral regulation enacted with no motive to discriminate against religious interests.”

There’s a slight problem here. The Oregon statute forbade the consumption of an illegal drug, and religious exemption was not permitted. The new contraception rule requires universal provision of something–it seeks to turn a commodity into a public good–and religious exemption is still not permitted.  Samuels sees no difference between prohibition and compulsion.

Ms. Samuel’s second argument is even more troubling. Here she refers to the 1993 R.F.R.A., or Religious Freedom Restoration Act, in which Congress established that federal interference in private religion “must advance a compelling interest and be the least restrictive means of doing so.” It is Ms. Samuel’s claim (she in fact spells this out in black and white) that universal contraception is in the government’s compelling interest.

Aside from the fact that evaluations of constitutionality cannot rest solely with Congressional legislation (the Constitution is the measure of constitutionality–weird, isn’t it Ms. Samuels?) her claim that “broad participation” is the “least restrictive means” of carrying out the government’s interest is entirely preposterous. Second, and more importantly–I certainly hope that universal contraception is not a compelling government interest.

The last time I heard about something like that was in a book called Brave New World.

Z

In his book Spiritual Enterprise, Theodore Malloch examines what he calls “spiritual capital” –  “the fund of beliefs, examples, and commitments that are transmitted from generation to generation through a religious tradition, and which attach people to the transcendental source of human happiness” (Malloch, 11-12) . Successful business models, he argues, are created when a corporation relies heavily on these principles, thus leading to a situation in which virtue, not greed, drives profit. Although Malloch acknowledges that such methods may not maximize the financial wealth of a company, he does argue that the company that adheres to them has a much higher chance of being truly successful in their business dealings.

Malloch proceeds to articulate what he considers to be essential values for a successful business model: faith, hope, charity, and virtue.   More specifically, he argues that the virtues of a business should include leadership, courage, patience, perseverance, discipline, justice, compassion, forgiveness, gratitude, and humility. Although Malloch acknowledges that many people think of these as “inimical to business” (104), he succinctly states that these virtues are the key to great economic success. Inevitably, this theory has its enemies, and therefore often results in more questions than answers.

The foremost question is undoubtedly one of applicability. In a secular world, how can businesses center their profit gain on spiritual principles? It is also on this point that Malloch’s greatest flaw lies. Although he expounds on the principles of spiritual capital and repeatedly demonstrates from historical example how businesses operating on these ideas have succeeded, he fails to supply an adequate explanation for how businesses today can reorient their focus to include these principles.  All of the corporations which Malloch uses to provide evidence for his theory were conceived with these principles in mind – none of them have “converted” after their founding to a more virtuous business model – and he neglects to provide any sort of prescription for the business that was founded on the “wrong” principles.

Additionally, critics of the “spiritual enterprise” theory will probably suggest a flaw in the realism of Malloch’s postulation. Although these ideas sound good on paper, it is not realistic to assume that morally ambiguous Fortune 500 executives will surrender some of the methods that gain them money and instead attempt to readjust their motives to include a more virtue-governed approach to business. Although most corporations already sponsor non-profit organizations, this is more of an advertising tactic than a result of genuine altruism on the part of the company’s leadership.

For example, if a customer walks into a grocery store intent on purchasing fruit juice, and then is faced with the decision between Juicy Juice (advertising on the bottle that 2 cents of the purchase will go to AIDS research) and Welch’s regular grape juice, the customer will probably make the choice that results in money being donated to an altruistic cause. In this case, Juicy Juice actually benefits significantly because they have made one more sale than their competitor. This type of “altruistic advertising” is a very common tactic among businesses today, but is in no way indicative of “spiritual enterprise.” Malloch makes a much more bold assertion, however, to hope that already-profiteering companies will invest in true altruism at the expense of their pursuit of wealth. The author’s failure to suggest real and practical ways in which these changes can be implemented is a major weakness of his work.

In a similarly ideal picture of the economy, economist Milton Friedman touches on some of these key themes in Capitalism and Freedom. At the start of his book, Friedman discusses the strong and indelible link between economic freedom and political freedom, emphasizing that one rarely exists without the other (Friedman, 7-9). Malloch points out a similar relationship between the accumulation of social capital and a free economy, arguing that a “free economy is not the enemy but the friend of social capital” (Malloch, 9). According to the World Bank, social capital is “the norms and social relations embedded in social structures that enable people to coordinate action to achieve desired goals” (5). Additionally, analysis of social capital “extends the importance of social capital to the most formalized institutional relationships and structures, such as government, the political regime, the rule of law, the court system, and civil and political liberties” (The World Bank). Therefore, although social capital is by no means equivalent to political freedom, it certainly involves elements of political freedom, and thus Malloch’s argument is similar to Friedman’s in this regard.

However, the ideas of Malloch and Friedman differ significantly in regards to the social responsibility of business. Malloch sees a need for businesses to aid in social justice – not in the anti-capitalist, redistribution sense, but rather in the realm of civil rights and equality. This role of the business in the civic square stems from Aristotle’s theories on justice as a feature of individual actions, and Malloch views “profit-only companies” as “parasitic” (xvi). Even so, Friedman sees no “social justice” role for businesses to play:

“The view has been gaining widespread acceptance that corporate officials and labor leaders have a “social responsibility” that goes beyond serving the interest of their stockholders . . . [this is] a fundamental misconception of the character and nature of a free economy . . . there is only one social responsibility of business – to use its resources and engage in activities designed to increase its profits so long as it stays within the rules of the game” (Friedman, 133).

Another characteristic of Malloch’s book is his discussion of “zero-sum game” thinking in business, and his labeling of the same as a “discredited caricature” (16).  He goes on further to say that this type of thinking causes the “ruthless pursuit of profit” to become the only goal of the game, causing people to overlook the inherent moral responsibility of the businessman. Thomas Sowell, in his comprehensive economic work Basic Economics, discredits the very same zero-sum thinking to which Malloch refers. According to Sowell, most examples of this mentality are the result of complete disregard for the “creation of wealth” (422), and he warns against the danger of this type of mentality. In fact, Sowell writes that “everyone can win when investments create a growing economy . . . the reason for that prosperity is that economic transactions are not a zero-sum activity” (465).

In another similarity between Malloch and Sowell, Sowell discusses what he calls “non-economic values” – those parts of the market that are of “higher and nobler concerns” (518) than simple materialism. According to Sowell, the morality of the market is determined by the people who create the market. Moral and social issues surface only when “markets are looked at in terms of whether market economies promote moral behavior” (521).  In Malloch’s view, one of the essential duties of market economics is to create and perpetuate a virtuous standard of society. From his standpoint, the social justice propagated by virtuous business will inevitably improve society overall. Additionally, the incorporation of virtue into business reinforces the idea that capitalism is not a Darwinian expression of economics in which only the fittest survive, but instead thrives on cooperative attempts to make pre-existing resources available in an effort to create mutual wealth (29). Therefore, where Sowell sees non-economic values that have little to do with market forces, Malloch sees values that are absolutely integral to the creation and sustainment of economic wealth.

Malloch has written an obviously coherent book on the oft-forgotten “forces of virtue” which frequently dictate economic market forces. Although he fails to adequately and tangibly give directions to corporations on how they can be more virtuous and spiritually-oriented, he nonetheless sufficiently provides evidence for his thesis through case studies and historical examples. In doing so, he touches on several crucial aspects of economics – the inextricable nature of the relationship between economy and society, the non-zero sum nature of true economics, and the inherent morality of capitalism.  At the end of his book, in referencing the changing nature of economy to an international scale, Malloch writes that “it is more than ever necessary for all companies to be guided by their rich spiritual inheritance, as spiritual enterprises” (134).  If what the author writes is true, then it is certainly imperative that businesses begin to embrace “spiritual capital” – not in an effort to increase profit or to gain an advantage in the unceasing pursuit of profit, but instead to achieve the betterment of mankind while creating lasting wealth.

Z

Works Cited

Friedman, Milton. Capitalism and Freedom. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002.

Kadlec, Daniel. “Enron: Who’s Accountable?” TIME Magazine. 2002. 19 September 2009.

Malloch, Theodore R. Spiritual Enterprise: Doing Virtuous Business. New York: Encounter Books, 2008.

Sowell, Thomas. Basic Economics. New York: Basic Books, 2007.

The World Bank. What is Social Capital? 19 September 2009.

This year, the Sanctity of Human Life Day was brought to my attention at my church, where the President of a local crisis pregnancy center spoke to all of the congregants about the plight of thousands of local mothers who undergo abortions every year, and the thousands of babies who are killed in the procedures. Especially touching was the story of Mia, printed on a bulletin insert and courtesy of The Life Network:

Single, with a five-month-old son, Mia found herself in what seemed like a catastrophic crisis. “Choice” implies a range of alternatives, but for Mia, the only alternative was abortion. She saved her money, scheduled an appointment, and looked forward to the relief an abortion would bring. Pregnancy over, crisis averted.

But the relief she anticipated turned into anxiety and unrest as the day of her scheduled abortion approached. At her appointment, an ultrasound was performed to establish the age of her preborn child and determine which abortion procedure would be used. Noticing Mia’s uneasiness, the ultrasound technician said, “You don’t want to do this, do you?” She turned the ultrasound display and Mia was able to see the beating heart of her child.

Mia felt the fear of God come over her, and she knew that she couldn’t go through with her choice to abort. With tears now streaming down her face, and armed with a new resolve, Mia halted the preparations and walked out of the clinic, confident that God had used the technician and the ultrasound to speak to her about her preborn child.

Upon leaving the clinic, Mia noticed a sign directly across the street for the local pregnancy center. It was also a sign of hope. Unsure of what to expect, Mia walked in and asked for help. Soon she was speaking with a compassionate volunteer, who counseled Mia with life-affirming options for her pregnancy, prayed with her, and offered her the opportunity to receive mentoring and education to help her walk through the days ahead.

Through the ministry she received at the center, Mia found a hope that came to her in her moment of greatest need. Mia named her beautiful baby girl Lucy–whose name means light. Mia continues to attend the center’s mentoring program, where she receives ongoing support as she parents her little ones by herself, but knowing that she will never be alone again. Mia now describes Lucy as one of her greatest blessings from the Lord–the “light” of her life given to her by the Light of the World. (For Mia’s story in audio, visit here.)

Too often, the cause of the unborn is forgotten in the wake of economic upsets, discussions on defense, and turbulent social policy. Even though today features the NFC and AFC championship games, take a moment to contemplate those who never made it out of the womb alive. Tim Tebow did, but just barely.

Pray for those who are currently at risk of being killed in utero, and pray for the success of those who wage the battle for the unborn every day of their lives. It is one of the most important battles of our age.

The other day I was having a spiritual conversation with someone when he explained that “what is true for you isn’t true for me.”  I was instantly struck by the strangeness of the claim. I have always been of the persuasion that truth is real and entirely independent of perception. It would seem as though everything in the world around us backs up this claim.

Take colors, for instance. I have never met anyone who has argued that the grass is not green or the sky is not blue. These facts are taken for granted, and no one disputes them.  In fact, our medical community has established qualifications that deem anyone who sees these colors differently as “colorblind,” in some way deficient physiologically. Our scientists have discovered the light spectrum, and we do not pretend color-specific wavelengths are up for debate.

The Periodic Table of Elements is not an aggregate of chemists’ opinions. It is accepted as an accurate and real record of the physical world—a roadmap to the world of the most infinitesimally small piece of matter: the atom. From this roadmap we derive many of our other discoveries about the world in which we live. Each of these discoveries are ones that we regard as truth.

But sometimes the truth hurts. Humans have played competitive sports for thousands of years. At the heart of each contest was a simple objective: to win. That same objective was in place in the original Grecian Olympic games and the most recent World Series. The losers didn’t contest their losses. They didn’t claim that their loss wasn’t true for them. They accepted it as real.

So why don’t we apply the same logic to our ideas of spirituality? Why does truth only vary in the realm of the asomatous? Because we are afraid of being wrong. We have cornered ourselves into spiritual hiding places that have isolated our thoughts from all who would challenge us.  When challenged with a new idea, our defense is to remind our challenger that his theory cannot be proven and assert that ours is equally valid. Our isolation leads us to  a philosophical egalitarianism that has left us disinterested in discerning the truth.

Jesus proclaimed the truth. He didn’t shy away from it. (John 14:6) What if we didn’t shy away from it? What if we would boldly declare the un-provable? What if we rejected the frameworks that allowed for the mental constructs of alternative realities and instead followed Christ, no matter the cost?

Z

Sydney, Australia

Beijing, China

Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

London, UK

Happy New Year!

Z

Communitarians understand that, and are willing to sacrifice for the good of a community. I’m not talking about communism. I’m not even talking about egalitarianism. Communitarianism is about buying coffee from the local coffee shop. It’s about knowing the name of your mechanic, and having the same doctor as all your neighbors.

David Brooks (you’ll probably see me refer to his work a lot) wrote a column today that talked about a conservative blogger named Rob Dreher who was contently living the metropolitan lifestyle in Philadelphia…until his younger sister Ruthie was diagnosed with terminal cancer.

He blogged about her plight and detailed the progression of her illness and the community support structure that sprung up around her.

As Ruthie’s illness worsened, Dreher’s grief would be mixed with something else. “The outpouring — an eruption, really — of goodness and charity from the people of our town has been quite simply stunning,” he blogged. “The acts of aid and comfort have been ceaseless, often reducing our parents to tears of shock and awe.”

On September 15, Ruthie succumbed to her illness. A thousand people from the small community attended her funeral, including Dreher and his wife. They saw a group of people united in purpose and dedicated to each other in a way that they had scarce seen before.

Rod Dreher and his wife packed up their Philadelphia home and moved to that community in Louisiana. There he stays now, living the communitarian conservative life that he continues to advocate in his writings.

Z

Check out some excerpts from the article:

Many of us want to do something awesome, something epic. We tend to think that the more normal, the less “spiritual.” So it is quite possible that our aspirations to be radical stem from dangerous ambitions to perform biography-worthy feats of global glory.  But radical discipleship is not adventure tourism.  Following Jesus is not to be romanticized through impressive Facebook status updates or photos of exotic places on our blog. Discipleship is often ugly, messy and painful.

Well said, Andrew. I don’t think that Jesus’ commandment to take up our crosses and follow Him meant that we should lead thrilling lives. He in fact was a carpenter. There’s nothing exciting about that trade…and yet I’m sitting here in a wooden chair, my computer perched upon a wooden table.

This was my prayer that day. And I meant every word: “…Just whisper a place and I will go.” Had the country been overseas, I would have secretly boarded a cargo ship as a stowaway. I just knew there were more urgent tasks out there than doing my statistics homework. But I think I was much more interested in a radical leaving than a radical going. The heart behind the prayer was not so much, “Let me serve you, Lord” but, “Lord, get me out of here.”

So what is our heart attitude in trying to find the glorious? Is it, as Byers writes, to live out “biography-worthy feats?” Or is it to serve our Lord and Savior? Because He needs people in the ordinary that are bringing glory to Him. Christ-followers aren’t just in the mission field and churches. They are found in the fields and factories. They are maids and janitors, mechanics and plumbers. Christ wants our hearts, not our deeds.

Z

The first difference is that our economy now is mature and middle-aged, in need of rejuvenation. Eighty years ago it was hitting puberty, developing a deep booming voice and gaining brawn and mass every quarter. Our current system is one in need of skin toner and Rogaine,  not amateurish discipline.

Second, the governmental problem in the Progressive era was a lack of institutions, not an excess of them.  The libertarian streak in conservative politics today is evidence of how many Americans have grown paranoid at the thought of government involvement. The New Deal could never gain popular support today.

Brooks’ most poignant argument is the moral difference between the two eras. The Victorian era  of “rectitude and restrictions” is no more, replaced by a vacuous entity devoid of ethical tradition.  Case in point, Brooks says: Forty percent of American children are born out of wedlock.

Brooks summed up the problem in this way:

One hundred years ago, we had libertarian economics but conservative values. Today we have oligarchic economics and libertarian moral values – a bad combination.

It is indeed a bad combination. The conservatism is gone from the public square, replaced by economic oligarchy (or libertarianism at best) and moral libertarianism (if not liberalism).

That is something that should give us pause to think. Let’s hope that this midlife crisis can be a productive one.

Z