The Windward Side of Crete

The famous Joshua Slocum—1844-circa 1909 (lost at sea)—sailed around the world alone in his sloop, “The Spray.”  Then he wrote a book about it called, Sailing Alone Around the World. It tells of his adventures in the course of this trip: running from pirates in the Red Sea, running from natives off of Chile, running from great squalls, running from a great whale that unknowingly presented a great risk to his little ship, and singing his lonesome away on the open sea.

Had I read this book before I traveled to Crete, I would have thought of Captain Slocum on the twenty-second of March, 2010 on which my friend and I took a hike to the Mediterranean Sea. The trek began at Gouverneto Monastery, situated on the heights, and surrounded by rocky hills.  Our path lead us down and down to another, more ancient and disused structure called Katholiko Monastery. During the descent, the sea came into view between the massive and stone-covered hills of the island. It was so blue, and sparkly as it moved with the wind and broke white along the shore. The second monastery, Katholiko, lay over a great gorge, which, if followed, leads straight to the great Mediterranean. It is said that the ancient structure was abandoned because of multiple pirate attacks. They landed their black ships—with their black sails—and ascended the gorge to attack and loot the great stone structure. The monks must have been unable or unwilling to defend themselves, for the pirates prevailed, and the monastery was moved to its current location on the heights. The older structure stands in ruins, but its magnitude and beauty are still visible. Green grass and white flowers grow on top of the buildings’ shells, and on the giant bridge over the gorge. It is all grand and beautiful as it slowly assimilates to its natural surroundings. I thought—as I stood there—that this would be a perfect place to read the Psalms: the ancient and poetic testaments to God’s glory and power. The caves peppering the hillside above reminded me of David’s caves of refuge from Saul, and the sound of goat bells softly ringing through the hills made me think of his time as a shepherd. I can imagine David sitting upon the great bridge, listening to these sounds and writing, 

 You make springs gush forth in the valleys . . .

You cause the grass to grow for the livestock

And plants for man to cultivate . . .

The high mountains are for the wild goats

After a time at the old monastery, we plunged into the gorge and walked where pirates had trod so many years ago, to the sea. And while King David did write about being a shepherd and the beauty of the land around him, he--or another psalmist--also wrote this:

“The seas have lifted up, LORD,

The seas have lifted up their voice;

The seas have lifted up their pounding waves.

Mightier than the thunder of the great waters,

Mightier than the breakers of the sea—

The LORD on high is mighty.

As we neared the water we could hear the surf crashing on the volcanic rock of the island. If I had read Captain Slocum’s book before making this hike, I would have known that we were on the windward side of the island. The waves hit the rocks and white foam sprayed up in our faces as we stood gazing out on the blue, blue Mediterranean. “The seas have lifted up their voice; the seas have lifted up their pounding waves.” And indeed they did! It was hypnotizing and wonderful. I sat down as near to the water as I could without the salty spray soaking me and was quiet. My friend did the same.  We sat there feeling overwhelmed with the splendor of God’s creation, and with the deep and dangerous power of His sea.  Though we were quiet, the sea continued its worshipful roar. Over and over again, the waves charged the rocks and broke on them, telling us over and over again how mighty our creator is, “mightier than the breakers of the sea!”

The sun was on its way down, so we made the hike back to Gouverneto Monastery, through the gorge, past the ancient monks’ home, and up through the cave-speckled hills.  That time of sitting on the windward shore of Crete, and witnessing the sea’s power brings me back to old Captain Slocum. Though the human eye would only see a man and his boat on the open waves, he understood what his true situation was, for in writing about sailing one summer day following a great storm he says, “All the world was again before me. The wind was even literally fair . . . Then was the time to uncover my head, for I sailed alone with God. The vast ocean was again around me, and the horizon was unbroken by land.” Captain Slocum did not sail alone around the world, but “alone with God,” the one “mightier than the breakers of the sea.” The storm in the night had brought Captain Slocum divine perspective on his adventure. He sailed with the “The LORD on high,” the God of David, the God of the windward side of Crete.

-Eric Tippin
Sitting on the Floor of Tippin Dental Group in Newton, KS
March 10, 2011

The Practice

               I’ve been thinking a lot about myself lately, which has been the problem. Not long ago my school, Grace University, had a day of prayer. They have one every semester which helps focus the university and remind them who they belong to. Anyways, this day of prayer was not a very good day for me. In fact I would say it was quite awful. Previous to this day I had read a book called The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence. I have to take a moment and say, if you have not read this book then please do. It is very short, and can be found on Amazon for as low as $4.52, or for iPhone users there is an app called free audiobooks that has it as well. This book opened up a realm of Christianity that I had never really explored much. Brother Lawrence is brilliant and yet simple in his approach to life and that is to constantly be in the presence of God. Simple I know, but when I read about his life I have to admit that I have never heard of a life lived quite like his; it is truly remarkable.

                After reading this book I decided I wanted what he had, and that I was going to pursue this loving constant relationship that Brother Lawrence enjoyed with God. I had recently begun venting the true extent of my emotions to God, so this became an extension of my growth. I began pouring my heart to God and having God pour into me. It was a sweet exchange that I had not quite ever experienced before but always desired. This continued until day of prayer. On day of prayer there are sessions you go to and pray which are an hour long. I did not attend any except for the required one. Instead I continued in my own personal time of being with God. During the required session however something happened, I fell asleep. Now this might not seem like a big deal but it really crushed me, how could I fall asleep when I was praying to my Lord? I began to dwell on this and the day went downhill from there. Unfortunately it didn’t end with that day. I kept thinking about myself, my failures mostly, but also how I needed to improve. I continued over the next week or so to feel down, and I just could not shake my feelings of failure. I would get better for a bit and then go down again, I kept praying and asking God to come closer but he just seemed distant.

                Fast forward to this week, I am still in this rut of self pity, self examination, basically self focus. I am learning a lot but growth seems stunted. Finally I spoke with a faculty member. I explained my struggle with God and how I just seemed to be distant. I told him that the problem seemed to be that I thought about myself to much and that I needed to stop, but I still needed to have some level of self examination. Then he explained a simple concept that I knew but needed to hear again. It was that we were always meant to live with others first. Things began to fall in place for me. It went even deeper than just having others first, we needed to have God first. Of course, this is simplistic, but please bear with me.  When I say God is first I mean God is the first on our mind, we have to live in His presence, His presence is the key. Living with God as the focus changes us. Without it we are totally focused on ourselves which stunts growth, only in God’s presence can we really mature and grow. His presence keeps us focused on who we really are, our identity. Without an identity from God first and foremost our identity is found in something else, anything else. That anything else will fail. At some point our identity will break, but a Godly identity will never fail, in fact it cannot fail.

                This is why I fell hard on day of prayer. While I was with God my focus was on me, my problems, my faults, my needs. I cannot be with God, focused on me, and grow. I have to be always focused on God then others will come second and lastly will be me. I am least important here, that does not mean that I don’t matter or that I never take care of myself. In fact God tells us to guard our hearts in Proverbs 4:23. Some attention is required but not a focus. But why would I continue to do something as destructive as dwelling on my faults when I would spend my days with the King of the Universe?

                So I’ve been thinking less about myself lately…


-Matthew Paden
At my cramped, messy, little desk in Omaha, Nebraska
March 6, 2011



My Conversion

            I was seventeen and held the title of “President of Christian Action.”  I also assumed that I held the title of “Christian” (a natural prerequisite to my presidential office).  But my heart was a bleak and barren wasteland of lust, pride and all manner of sin without guilt. And I knew it.

            It was a cold Friday night in December in the two thousand and fifth year of our LORD; Berean Academy was playing a basketball game, and I—being a student at that distinguished institution—was attending.  I was with my friend (and now fellow Ink Society member) Matthew Paden. That night we had suffered a disappointment, which seemed much larger than its actual size because of our inexperience with truly large letdowns. That letdown and the story surrounding it will not be chronicled here, but it is important to note that it involved hypocrisy and it resulted in our leaving the basketball game and making the walk to my home two blocks away, carrying twenty-four ounce sodas. We lounged on couches in my family’s basement, talked about how wronged we had been, and drank our sodas as only victims can do. The conversation turned from the topic at hand to general misery, and then a miracle happened.

            High school is a much romanticized but, in truth, bland time. The majority of students make so many mistakes—morally, rationally, relationally, romantically—that those aberrances become commonplace. And who wants to listen to a story in which a torrent of mistakes makes it nearly impossible to feel the thrill of moral victories?  I don’t; I sure don’t. But I lived that story for years. The prayer I had prayed at six asking Jesus to, “please come into my heart,” produced none of the Spirit’s fruit in me. At seventeen, I had no awareness of the presence or the existence of God; I was unloving, morose, divisive, guiltless, shamefully lustful, self-righteous without the trace of righteousness about me, and I had no desire to do good. Yet in my own eyes, I was a Christian, for I knew the way to salvation and mentally assented to it. What a disgrace I was to the name of Jesus!

            But that night, the shame of my duplicitous actions became too much. As I lay there on a couch, sipping my soda I said, “Matt, I’m a loser”

            “How so?” he replied, a bit surprised—not at the fact of me being a looser but at my sudden outburst.

            “I’m not who people think I am. People think I’m this nice guy, a model of a Christian young person, but I don’t read the Bible outside of school; I never spend time with God; I have so many sinful thoughts I don’t even try to control . . . I’m just not who people think I am; I’m a loser!”

            Frank W. Boreham tells the story of a young man named James Hannington who, though having received his ordination in the church, knew he was “not fit for the kingdom of God.” The things he had done for the church “did not relieve his deep spiritual embarrassment, for, whilst he dared not look back, he felt that he was unfit to go on.” Like this man, I carried on with a life in the name of Christ, without a heart toward Him. Though my outward actions had gained me the title of “Christian Action President” there was no inward reality to support this. James Hannington’s conversion happened when he received a letter from a friend telling him the familiar story of the transforming work of Christ. What happened next is recorded in his diary on July 15 of 1874: “I was in bed at the time, reading . . . I sprang out of bed and leaped about the room rejoicing and praising God that Jesus died for me. From that day to this, I have lived under the shadow of his wings in the assurance that I am His and He is mine! ” This news of Jesus dying for sinners was nothing new to the youth, but at once, through the Holy Spirit’s work, its profundity was revealed. And just like James Hannington one hundred and thirty-one years before—as I was lying on that basement couch, sipping my soda—I suddenly understood a reality I had known my entire mentally-aware life: “I’m a sinner! I’m a dirty rotten sinner, and I can’t be good on my own! Jesus died for me, and I need him!” How many preachers and teachers had told me this? How many times had it been said to me that I needed a savior because I was a sinner? Yet this December night of all nights I learned that truth by the only teacher could put in me a new heart to understand His love.

            This epiphany was the product of a short moment, and after a bit of a pause, Matthew Paden, in all his practical wisdom said,

            “So what are you gonna do?”

            “Well” I said, “I don’t want to deny Christ. I’m gonna to start actually following him.” And this was the first moment in my life I truly wanted that. I was converted; I had a new heart.

            “Good deal” Matt said.

            Yes Matt, a very good deal.

            That night I sat down to spend time with the God who saved me. I began with reading just one chapter of Proverbs every day and praying, but I was a new creation. My new heart longed to do what was good, though failure was (and is) still a regular part of my life. And when failures come, I find no pleasure in the sin that marks them. Two simple truths have transformed my life: “I am a sinner. I need a savior!”

“I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean; I will cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols.  I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws” (Ezekiel 36:25-27).

-Eric Tippin
In my brother’s chair in Roeland Park, Kansas
February 26, 2011

Auschwitz

 

The day I visited Auschwitz concentration camp I wrote this in an e-mail home: “ . . . It was terrible! I don't really want to talk about details, but the camps are almost exactly like they were then. I knew all about the stuff that happened, but to be standing in the places where it was done was absolutely horrifying. But . . . I'd say it was the highlight of my trip by far. “

            The camp itself is an hour-and-a-half bus ride from the city center of Krakow, Poland. Auschwitz 1—home of the famous Arbeit macht frei “Work Makes You Free” sign—is frighteningly near the local city, and looks like it could be a respectable establishment. The buildings are constructed solidly of brick and in the meticulously organized German style, but “respectable” is an adjective which should be forever banned from that ground!

My friend and I chose an English-speaking tour for one express purpose: we didn’t speak any other languages. Our tour group—mostly citizens of the United Kingdom—wore listening devices so the tour-guide could speak in a more reverent, hushed tone. The groups preceding and following our own were made up of secondary school students, and I must say the unearthly quiet surrounding that particular demographic during the whole of the tour was refreshing. Reverence is not a valued trait in modern education, but Auschwitz forces any person with a moral compass—no matter how rusted, undeveloped or disused—to quiet down in the face of such wickedness and sorrow.

It would be superfluous for me to share the sight and sound details of the tour, for the intangibles suddenly become more tactile than your five senses as you walk in and around the various red brick buildings that make up Auschwitz 1 and the guard tower, train tracks, and sorting platform of Auschwitz II-Birkenau (as seen on “Schindler’s List”). The only thing to say is that the camps are remarkably well kept. You don’t step into a camp of ruins and reconstructions, but sickeningly real structures. I cannot tell you what the heathen of the group were thinking as we stood inside the only surviving gas chamber, but my friend and I felt the weight of sin as we had never felt it. I saw in these things the iniquity of my own heart without the Holy Spirit’s redeeming work, and it saddened me.

But the evil of Europe is not centered in Auschwitz, Poland. The same evil we heard stories of in those death camps we found in Vienna, Paris, Munich, Mechelen, Prague, London, Glasgow. It resides in every other town and village across that continent and the world. The condition of the human heart has not changed, and just as I saw the evil around me, I saw it inside of myself. As did G.K. Chesterton when asked to comment on  “What’s Wrong With the World.” He replied with the well-known words, “Dear Sirs, I am.” It is funny, but its truth is profound.

 One night as we were riding through the streets of Vienna I turned to my traveling companion in despair and said, “Nick, there is so much sin and dirt in this world and in myself!” and he said, “Eric, someday it will all be set right.” What a wonderful hope! No man will ever bring perfect order to this fallen world, but there is a king who promised to return and make all things new. From that time forward, when one of us would be overwhelmed with the burden of disorder and iniquity, we would say in hopeful voices and as if we knew a great secret, “Someday . . . someday.”

“Then death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire . . . Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away . . . I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” (NIV Revelation 20:14-21:5).

Someday!

In My Kitchen in Elbing, Kansas
February 22, 2010
-Eric Tippin

Found Thoughts

     Some people choose to ignore them, others marginalize them, while I suppose, as a dental student, I must at some point reckon with them. I should not complain for I chose this fate, but there are less fortunate souls who, of no fault of their own, are forced to deal with the reality of teeth.

     Often this struggle creeeeps out from under the bed in the dark of the night and mommy must go in and reassure the fearful child. It is not simply the fact of growing older that troubles him, but rather an impending loss of toothy body parts. Two things fill his little heart with dread and both are inextricably tied to the passage of time. These two scarcely need to be enumerated, but for those who possibly started life in the eighth grade I will write them anyway. In simple and unadulterated clarity they are shots and tooth loss. And they will come around one's sixth birthday.

     I don't suppose there is any encouragement to be given for and the future is quite bleak when it comes to shots. Time brings them and we must bear up under their oppression. However, I simply cannot let this fear of loosing teeth, go on without at least giving some hope to my son as he faces the dread of getting older. 

     The main encouragement to be found in loosing one's teeth (for the first time) is almost miraculous. Most definitely there is the tooth fairy and all the magic that can be attained with a quarter, but that is not the miracle to which I refer. Loosing ones teeth is one of only a handful of experiences in life in which we are naturally given a second chance to remember something. 

     The first time we grew teeth, most of us were too young to remember that amazing experience of new teeth and with them a new buffet of animal crackers and beef jerky. What an enormous loss! One of the greatest moments in our life, full of wonder and newness, and we were too young to remember. But, of course, if it was truly that important of an experience we would be given a second chance to discover its wonder, and we are! This blessed second chance is drilled into us every year with the singing of "All I want for Christmas." Though it does mean struggling with the loss of that first set of teeth, it is a small price to pay for a second chance at this experience and memory.

     I mentioned earlier that there were only a handful of instances where we can get a second chance to remember what an event was like by natural re-experience, and, although growing teeth is good and an encouragement, I would be remiss to not mention the much greater experience we are allowed to have again. Birth! 

     Through Christ we experience new birth. Only this time we are old enough to remember the wonder we experience at seeing the world anew as we grow through our infancy here on earth. All of my career and retirement are simply kindergarten...no...preschool in the kingdom of our Father, but what a wonderful education.

     It is the worthwhile kind of education. It is one thing to go to college and learn a wide breadth of facts and knowledge, but, oh, so much the better to be in preschool where learning and growing are intertwined. The magic and wonder of this random code they call the alphabet mingled with new teeth and longer legs. It reminds me of C.S. lewis's Great Divorce and of the becoming "real." 

     I never yearned for this memory of new wonder more than on a walk around the pond with my son in the evening a few years ago. "That is the moon." was my answer to his inquiry about the yellow thing in the sky. I could give him a name (I learned that from my parents) and that's about all. However, the opportunity to see the wonder in his face reminds me of those moments in my Christian growth when seeing the wonder of God's plan has left me in stunned silence though I often only see glimpses and names. What a privilege to spend my life in finding wonder upon childhood wonder in my new birth.

 

     Now some might say after all this: "but even permanent teeth fall out eventually." Ah, yes, and that is the moment I am waiting for! Only Christ will restore in a way that dentists don't learn in school.

 

Phillip Tippin

February 9, 2011

On my wife's chair in Roeland Park, KS