Critiquing the Fundies

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P. Andrew Sandlin has an engaging Reformed critique of the Fundamental Baptist movement, but many of his concerns about the FBM don’t apply to Berean Bible Baptist Church, where we’ve been attending for the past three Sundays. As Sandlin says, “there is a great deal of diversity within it [the FBM]. Certain descriptions and criticisms I make of the FBM will surely not apply to everybody within it.” Indeed, BBBC has few of the problems ennumerated in Sandlin’s account: there are no controversies regarding pastoral tyranny or legalistic authoritarianism, and the KJV is not a hot issue, as we are allowed to use our NIV’s — albeit with some implicit reservations.

History, however, is of greater concern to me, particularly where the much-touted “Trail of Blood” Baptist lineage is concerned. As Sandlin puts it,

I quickly discovered… that the FBM had a woefully inadequate approach to… church history. Many of its supporters held to the “trail of blood” thesis, that true, Bible-believing Baptists enjoyed great precedent all the way back to the early church and John the Baptist himself. Interestingly, however, many of the groups claimed by the FBM or by almost anybody’s standards – including many of the FBM today – are heretical. I refer to the Novations, the Albigenses, the Cathari, the Anabaptists, and so forth. The Anabaptists, for instance, had no doctrine of justification by faith alone…. The FBM seemed to glory in always being outside the established Christian church, and notably the Church of Rome. This opposition to Romanism is most commendable, but the FBM apparently did not recognize that the doctrines of the very groups they hailed as theological predecessors were in no case less egregious and in some cases more egregious than those of the Church of Rome. (emphasis mine)

The pastor of the church, a solid man, well-grounded in Scripture, has himself stressed that BBBC doesn’t derive its sense of baptismal authority from this “Trail of Blood” heritage, but rather from its own being as a believing Christian church, saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. If that is so, however, why continue waving around the “Trail of Blood” booklet? More disturbingly, why will they regard me as being unequally yoked for fellowshipping with Christians from Reformed and non-FBM churches? Why do I need to go through yet another immersion baptism? Is it because my old baptism at GCF was not authoritative, having been conducted by a non-FBM pastor? The exclusivist FBM mindset is still there, though it is not readily apparent from the first few attendances.

It is not something to which I can reconcile myself in good conscience. Not yet.

Considering the Fundies

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It’s been a long day. We talked to the pastor of Berean Bible Baptist Church this afternoon (no affiliation with The Bereans), and they seem like a good church: conservative and firm, solidly grounded in Scripture, except for this: I am bothered by the exclusivist stand of the Fundamental Baptist denomination (yes, yes, they gave us a copy of Trail of Blood, much to my bemusement), especially that they will not regard as valid my baptism at our last church (GCF), whose doctrinal heritage is not Anabaptist. (Well, at least we’re allowed to use something other than the KJV.)

Any comments my Reformed friends out there can give would be welcome.

Tired. Will sleep now.

Webbies!

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I seem to have been nominated for the Philippine Webbies. Thank you thank you, whoever nominated me!

Just as an intro, then, for my first-time visitors: Hello. My name is Paulo, a.k.a. “brownpau” online. This site is my venue to: (1) display my online resume and portfolio, (2) satisfy my own personal journaling itch, and (3) experiment with any design methods and tricks I may learn or discover. The index page loads one of (at the time of this writing) twenty-seven random blog layouts everytime my site is visited, integrating different sections of content (blog, blog-menu, nav-menu, etc.) with server-side includes. All pages rely on standards-compliant CSS code for layout, rather than old-style HTML tables.

I am an evangelical Christian. Many of you may know me from Pinoyexchange, where I moderate two forums. My day job is in the digital video field, and I’m also available for small independent web design projects.

Anything else you need to know? Click around my site from the navigational links at the top of the blog-menu.

Journal and Blog

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I only lately realized the distinction between a journal and a blog. A blog (or weblog) is an ongoing link-list with some commentary, while a journal is a full-blown diary, with or without links. (Any blog-veterans out there, am I getting this right?) As for me, I often switch modes: sometimes I post lists of links, sometimes just personal diary entries.

I guess that makes me… a jolog. Um, never mind. I think I can settle for “blog” as a general catch-all term.

Nine Truths and a Lie

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Oh, very well. Since I’ll be working my tush off this week at the office, I’ll entertain you in my absence with an egotistical little meme I picked up from Dani and The Dane.

Nine Obscure Truths and an Outright Lie About Paulo

1. I used to be dead scared of the ocean and the beach until I was 12, when I decided to just take the plunge and go swimming at Bonito Island. I enjoyed it. (I only found out later that Bonito is famous for its gray reef sharks, which like to come close to the beach.)

2. As a child, I used to play “Superman,” running around the house with a towel cape, an “S-logo” shirt, and fake glasses. I brushed my hair like Clark Kent, and I still do today.

3. I would also play “Incredible Hulk,” stripping down to my skivvies and pretending to be Lou Ferrigno — but only in private in the bathroom. Yes, I know that sounds bad. At least there was no green body paint involved.

4. I dressed like Parker Lewis in high school, wearing printed polo shirts, slacks, and (cough) Nike rubber shoes.

5. At one high school soiree, I was aiming to get partnered with a certain girl, and when I didn’t get her, (ill-mannered teenage fool that I was) I asked the guy who did get partnered with her if we could trade — in front of my partner. That was rude, and I regret my lack of sensitivity to this day.

6. I danced up a storm at the high school prom, but not a very nice storm. It was rather embarassing.

7. I was a major role-playing game fanatic from grade school through high school, playing Dungeons and Dragons, Middle-Earth Role-Playing, Robotech, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Marvel Superheroes, and more.

8. I was so easily creeped out as a kid that the sandworm scene in Star Trek II (The Wrath of Khan), where Khan puts the worm in Chekov’s ear, had me cowering and sobbing in fear.

9. I once almost got the bends on one of my scuba-diving checkouts, when a strong current ripped me from the coral and away from the instructor, then swept me right up to the surface from 50 feet. The only ill effect was a splitting headache the rest of the day.

10. I use women’s deodorant for my underarms.

Well, what do you think? Which is the lie? I’ll be back soon, with some expostulation.

Final Fantasy Movie

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Last week, I got to watch Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within, and I was quite impressed by the quality of the animation. It’s definitely a big leap towards the creation of virtual actors who, on screen, could be indistinguishable from real, live-action characters. (Think about it: long after Sean Connery or William Shatner are gone, we can re-create them in 3D, down to the shlurred shpeech, or the stop-start… trademark… acting!)

Finally, at the end, stupefied by the graphics (but disappointed by the script and story), I came away from the film with something like a gritty angst settling on my mood. You know that glazed feeling you get after watching a long movie, or playing a challenging computer game? Well, that same feeling was doubled from watching a computer-game-based movie.

(One thing that especially struck me was Dr. Aki Ross’ hair: it stayed soft and smooth all throughout the movie. Whether in zero-gravity, in combat with phantoms, or even newly awakened from a nightmare, her hair flowed like fine silk. Whatever shampoo and conditioner they use in the future, I want it.)

More from Rotten Tomatoes.

Pirate Can Opener

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Hooray for weekends. I am tired.

Today I did some chores and went to the grocery. Among the purchases made was a can-opener: the type that opens along the side of the can rather than the rim. “As seen on TV!” the packaging boldly proclaims. Okay. Like that makes it more credible. (I don’t have a TV to begin with.) I got it anyway, because it was cheaper than a regular can-opener (75 pesos as compared to 125), and the concept of opening a can from under and around the rim, rather than from the side, appealed to me on some strange, subconscious level I could not explain.

After unwrapping the can opener and titillating myself to no end by opening a can of Del Monte Fruit Cocktail, I noticed a strange warning on the cardboard package: CAUTION: The rim of the can be sharp.

The first thought that flitted through my brain was, The rim of the WHAT can be sharp? Then common sense cut in, and I realized there could be two possibilities:

1. The makers of the can opener ran the package design through a spell-checker, and it removed the double word in the sentence “THE RIM OF THE CAN CAN BE SHARP.”

2. The makers of the can opener are pirates, in which case, the caution should have read “AARRR!!! THE RIM OF THE CAN BE SHARP, MATEY!” But the packaging company corrected it for them.

(Perhaps this pirate can shed some light on this cryptic mystery.)

Okay, okay. I know that was corny. Speaking of corny, I have a corny Filipino joke to share with you. On second thought, because I’m such a nice hominid, I’ll share two corny Filipino jokes…

Once, there was a mommy fish and a baby fish. They loved each other very much. Then, one day, they were separated in a storm, and they didn’t see each other again for years. What did the baby fish say to the mommy fish when they met again?

Answer: “Mommy? Isda you?

* * *

A pregnant Filipino woman gets in a car accident and falls into a deep coma. After nearly six months, she wakes up sees that she is no longer pregnant. Frantically she asks the doctor about her baby.

The doctor replies, “Ma’am, you had twins! A boy and a girl. The babies are fine. Your brother from the Philippines came in and named them.”

The woman thinks to herself, “Oh no, not my brother… he’s an idiot!” Expecting the worst, she asks the doctor, “Well, what’s the girl’s name?”

“Denise,” the doctor says.

The new mother thinks, “Wow, not a bad name! I guess I was wrong about my brother. I like ‘Denise’!”

Then she asks the doctor, “What’s the boy’s name?”

The doctor replies, “Denephew.”

Busy Busy

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As you may have gathered from my last post, I am rather busy with work lately, and will be joining the ranks of bloggers who will be (or have been) offline for the next (last) few days/weeks.

Until then, go read something else. Maybe you can go do something fun:

Make anagrams.

Generate a complaint letter.

Look at some euphemisms.

Dialectize something.

Join PEX. (Plug, plug.)

And if you do join PEX, please be sure to vote for me! Hope you like Barry Manilow. (wiggle eyebrows)

I’ll see you all soon.

Bond – been there done that

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I’ve always maintained that the only thing worse than Vanessa Mae is Vanessa Mae times four. Pop string quartet “Bond” breaks into the music market with a debut CD album, “Born,” and a poorly written press release, creating a straw man of traditional classical music as “snobbish” and “old-school,” then attempting to defy that rather blatant stereotype with their own “unique” style of performance.

Bond’s mission is universal. Unconstrained by convention, appreciation of their music is international and ageless, requiring no prior knowledge of classical composers, no dress code and no old school snobbery. And as naturally talented and expertly trained performers, Bond refine their onstage act behind closed doors, secretly becoming a breathtakingly charismatic live unit.

In other words, they play the classics over a monotonous techno/new-age percussion beat, hoping to draw in the kiddies and get on MTV with their sexy image. “Original,” my foot. It’s been done before, mates, much to everyone’s cringing amusement.

Hurly Burly!

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After church yesterday, ******* and I went browsing through Book Wagon in Megamall for piano and guitar scores, and we found a book of popular English songs from the 18th Century. One particularly engaging tidbit was the score for Haydn’s Sailor Song, a delightful little ditty about the life of an English sailor. We sang along with it for a bit. (Best sung with a stentorian tenor voice. The more bombastic the better.)

High on the giddy bending mast

The seaman furls the rending sail,

And, fearless of the rushing blast,

He careless whistles to the gale.

Rattling ropes and rolling seas,

Hurlyburly, hurlyburly,

War nor death can him displease.

The hostile foe his vessel seeks,

High bounding o’er the raging main,

The roaring cannon loudly speaks,

‘Tis Britain’s glory we maintain.

‘Tis Britain’s glo-ory we maintain!

Rattling ropes and rolling seas,

Hurlyburly, hurlyburly,

Hurlyburly, hurlyburly,

Wa-ar nor de-eath can him displease,

can him displease!

I spent dinner at Hutu’s Hut in Rockwell for a Pinoyexchange moderators’ meeting, stuffing myself silly with “Pumba”, or lemon-grass porkchops — and earning myself an almighty grease-headache in the process. After the cab ride home, I was unpleasantly surprised to discover that the single P500 bill in my wallet was counterfeit. (And it had come from a bank ATM. Really, this country.) I had to rush up to my apartment to retrieve a real P500 bill to pay the fare — to a cab driver who didn’t have change. So I had to run to the village convenience store and get it changed. That didn’t help my headache.

When the mess had been untangled, I plopped into bed, once again without showering, hoping to sleep off my aching head. No sooner had my head hit the pillow when a stiff north wind started to blow into the window. Aaaahhh, a breath of fresh air was just the thing to help a tired man.

Then it started raining. Hard. The formerly welcome north wind began to blow water into my room as well as fresh air, and I was pelted with droplets. I was forced to close the windows to both air and water, and my room grew stuffy. My headache got worse, but I managed to doze.

I was awakened at 1.20 am by a mild earthquake. That didn’t help either.

Now I have to work. Bye-bye.