I confess that I find mistaken predictions amusing, whether they’re about technology or the second coming.

I can’t confirm the one about Thomas Watson, IBM’s chairman in 1943, who is reputed to have said: “I think there is a world market for maybe five computers.”

But Hal Lindsey published his great “Aha!” for all the world to read and buy: The world will end in 1988. The year came and went, without a Roman antichrist to be seen, and his prediction turned into an “Uh-oh.” (I think he has since revised his math, and moved the date to the 2060’s — well past his expected lifespan, so there won’t be any personal embarrassment from a second “Aha!” gone “Uh-oh.”)

Maybe Hal just needed one of those five computers.

Oh, he’s not alone; I’m not just picking on him. Jehovah’s Witnesses and just about every other Christian group have had their spokesperson(s) for God in revealing His timetable over the years.

Why is it so hard for us to accept the fact that there are some things we just don’t know? Why do we insist we must and do understand every detail of God and His creation (much like Job’s three friends)?

Jesus said that even He, the Son, didn’t know the day or hour set by the Father for His return (Matthew 24:36) – only that the days of devastation would be cut short for the sake of the chosen (24:22).

Is it possible the Bible is written on a need-to-know basis? Or that – as God more or less told Job – we can ask Him all the questions we want to, but that doesn’t mean we can understand the answers? Or that we could do anything about the answers even if we had them?

How much do we really need to know about gravity in order to live our lives wisely? Do we have to know that an object accelerates at 32 feet per second per second as it falls? That a human body has a terminal velocity of about120 mph as it falls due to air resistance? That a black hole’s gravity bends space and time to create an event horizon around itself?

Or just that if we drop a hammer in a pitch-dark room, it will fall to the floor in the vicinity of our feet even if we don’t see it?

Aha!

(Uh-oh.)

A baby’s face, innocent and pure.

A face filled with compassion for a couple at a wedding, a centurion, a woman who touched Him, a group of lepers.

A face streaked with tears at the death of His close friend.

A transfigured face that shone like the sun.

A face upon which He fell to pray for deliverance from a cup of death.

A spat-upon face, stained with blood for our guilt.

A dead face, bound with burial cloth.

A resurrected face, not immediately recognized.

A face, now seen as in a darkened mirror.

A face someday to be seen where sunless light can no longer reveal guilt.

We owe each other a glimpse at that face while – as we worship together – we are transformed into the very image of its glory.

Do we see it? Do we show it?

Do we recognize Whose it is?

“And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” – II Corinthians 3:18

Some months ago, after returning from Disneyland with my family, I posted the question Wonder What Walt Would’ve Wrought?.

I’ve wondered since if the cast members, ex-cast members, stockholders, classic Disney fans and others who post articles at SaveDisney and MiceAge have things in common with the folks who are challenged by the concept(s) of the emergent/emerging church.

The SaveDisney and MiceAge people run the gamut: disgruntled, loyal, militant, nostalgic. The one they look to for answers is gone; died years ago, leaving a rich legacy of simple wisdom. The organization that bears his name has taken directions which don’t always conform to that wisdom, and there are questions about what qualifications its leaders must have, how homosexuality should be dealt with, how stories should be told, and whether the organization should be driven by a passion to accumulate money.

My children are pretty much oblivious to this. They just absorb the Disney stories over and over, enjoy them, play them, live them.

Maybe they know something I don’t.

My son Matthew turns 12 on Saturday and we celebrated yesterday in the manner he chose: he and six of his closest friends (and younger sister Laura, 8) were picked up at school in a chauffered, white stretch limo and whisked off to the game room at Casa Viva in true superstar style.

As they tumbled into the back of the limo, four boys and four girls and me, one of their moms said to me, “Oh! You volunteered for this?”

“Was volunteered,” I answered, throwing a look over her shoulder at my grinning wife, Angi. She followed at a safe distance in the minivan bearing cake, gifts – and backpacks.

The true nature of pre-teens is revealed in the back of a limo where there is a control panel for all of the interior lighting, the radio, speaker balance, moon roof and even the button that opens a drain port to the street, letting the condensation from the ice bucket/soft drink compartment dump onto the street below.

It is also revealed in the somewhat run-down game room of a Mexican restaurant which has long since seen its glory days under original ownership and the name “Casa Bonita.” It is visible when about a third of the games are marked “Work in Progress” since your last visit.

It’s visible at your final destination, CiCi’s Pizza, where the buffet only has three or four half-claimed pizzas on the buffet upon your arrival instead of the usual dozen. (They immediately ramped up and began throwing pizzas, to their credit!)

True character is also revealed when there are just a few games available to play at Cici’s, and they must be shared in turn.

While that was taking place and the cake was being readied and the gifts lined up to be opened, I just had to say something to Angi: “Well, my son continues to amaze me. This time, with his choice of friends. They had a great time in the limo, doing all the stuff you’d expect. They had a great time at Casa Viva. Not a complaint or a rude comment among them. Matthew didn’t choose the most popular kids, or the richest kids, or even the prettiest kids. He picked the sweetest.”

“I know!” she agreed. “Every one of them has already said ‘thank you’ to me, and what an awesome time they’re having.”

To top it all off, our son (who can at times insist on his own way and tend to be controlling) shared the limo, its control panel, the games, the tokens, the tickets, the cake – and the spotlight – with some truly superstar friends.

It may well be the best surprise I’ve ever received.

And it wasn’t even my birthday.

The December 12 special on CNN The Two Marys examines the mother of Jesus, recounting/questioning the scandal of her pregnancy, painting her as a “13-year-old girl”, even mentioning the Koran’s version that the birth took place, not in a Bethlehem stable, but in the desert under a palm tree while Gabriel protected her. It maintains that Christian reverence of her essentially “turned [her] into a goddess.”

It’s easy to see, just from watching a few minutes of EWTN or seeing “The Passion of the Christ,” that the Catholic church still venerates her to an extraordinary degree.

Not too many years back, Kenny Rogers and Wynonna Judd wondered: “Mary, Did You Know?”

Something about her character fascinates and tempts the creation of myth and legend about her.

Maybe it’s her willingness to be subject to God’s will; her simple humility.

Even when predicting the attention she would receive in the generations to come, she gave God all the glory … and spoke of herself as His servant.

Not long after Gabriel told her that her Child’s kingdom would last forever, she visited her cousin Elizabeth and sang (Luke 1:41-55):

“My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. From now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me – holy is his name. His mercy extends to those who fear him, from generation to generation. He has performed mighty deeds with his arm; he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful to Abraham and his descendants forever, even as he said to our fathers.”

Even if we’re a little confused about her identity, she knew who she was.

She knew.

Words Jesus never said:

“Mother, this is a wedding feast; a time to thoughtfully ponder the blessing of unity – not a time to break out the good stuff.”

“You’re right, Judas; that perfume could have been sold and the money given to the poor. Shame on you, you wicked and wasteful woman!”

“I’m sorry, gentlemen; hey! Little children! Stop squealing ‘Son of David’! This is a temple, a place of reverence and meditation.”

“Thank you; I really do need to concentrate on my ministry. The last thing I need is a bunch of kids crawling on my lap to play.”

“When they make fun of you and accuse you falsely because of me, stop and think about what you’ve said that has offended them and see if you could have phrased it more diplomatically.”

“Well, there are thousands of them out there. You’d think at least a few would have the presence of mind to bring a lunch.”

“Peter, I asked you to prepare the Passover – and you didn’t hire a servant? What were you thinking? We can’t eat it with dirty feet! – Were you born in a barn?”

Please, God … help me never to be so meditative that I become vegetative. Help me feel when I’m tempted to think. Help me to remember the joy that You felt in giving Your most extravagant Gift, Your Son. Help keep my eyes on His joy in giving. Open them to the majesty of being born in a barn.

“Help me be Gift-rapt.”

Lunch hour was starting out slow at the Taco Bell where I just finished my meal. I like eating there. There’s a bigger selection there than at the mini-Bell in the student center. The folks are friendlier.

Today, the staff of five or six became involved in a kitchen debate (between drive-ups) and I couldn’t at first tell what all the additional heat was cooking up.

Then I heard something with the inflection of a question about “Adam and Eve” and “created first.” For a while, I couldn’t make out anything else. It was all good-natured and punctuated by frequent laughter. Then I heard, “Mary? What has Mary got to do with anything?” A little later I could make out “Revelations” three times, and the loud response: “I take back what I said. You’re confused AND you got your own interpretation. When you study Revelations, you got to KNOW what you’re reading about. It’s like a parable.” The rest was lost to me, as the speaker realized she was too loud for a Taco Bell with one dine-in customer sitting as close as he could to the counter.

I have no idea what it was all about. It obviously went from one end of scripture to the other in a very short span.

I do have some idea why overhearing part of it made me feel warmed and filled in a way usually foreign to fast-food tex-mex dining: just because the conversation was happening at all.

It could have been about so many other things.

In I Chronicles 29, King David surveys the vast storehouse of wealth given by the people of Israel for the building of the temple he is not permitted to build, and he praises the Lord in the presence of the assembly:

“Praise be to you, O LORD, God of our father Israel, from everlasting to everlasting. Yours, O LORD , is the greatness and the power and the glory and the majesty and the splendor, for everything in heaven and earth is yours. Yours, O LORD, is the kingdom; you are exalted as head over all. Wealth and honor come from you; you are the ruler of all things. In your hands are strength and power to exalt and give strength to all. Now, our God, we give you thanks, and praise your glorious name.

“But who am I, and who are my people, that we should be able to give as generously as this? Everything comes from you, and we have given you only what comes from your hand. We are aliens and strangers in your sight, as were all our forefathers. Our days on earth are like a shadow, without hope. O LORD our God, as for all this abundance that we have provided for building you a temple for your Holy Name, it comes from your hand, and all of it belongs to you. I know, my God, that you test the heart and are pleased with integrity. All these things have I given willingly and with honest intent. And now I have seen with joy how willingly your people who are here have given to you. O LORD, God of our fathers Abraham, Isaac and Israel, keep this desire in the hearts of your people forever, and keep their hearts loyal to you.

I tend to be critical of building big, fancy, expensive church buildings. A new one opened a year ago near where my congregation meets, costing $18 million; members gave $6 million on one Sunday morning. How quick I was to utter a line much like one Judas muttered when perfume anointed the feet of Jesus … the same Jesus who drove moneychangers and sacrificial animals from the courts of a beautiful temple.

Was I really concerned about providing for the poor, or just jealous of the generosity of another fellowship?

Isn’t God capable of blessing me with enough to acknowledge His sovereignty AND provide for the poor?

Shouldn’t I, like David, be expressing my thanks by my giving?

Whether you liked him or not, President Bill Clinton made some strides in recognizing and repairing the inequities due to race in our country. His efforts are part of the focus of a panel discussion titled “Bridging the Divide” this afternoon on the campus where I work.

My sweet wife Angi has done a lot of work to organize the event, which may be broadcast live on C-SPAN beginning at 4:30 p.m. CST — if not, C-SPAN will doubtless carry it later.

Panelists include Sanford Cloud (National Conference for Community and Justice), Robert Evans (Plowshares Institute), Rose Ochi (L.A. Police Commissioner), Janet Murguia (National Council of La Raza), Feisal Abdul Rauf (American Sufi Muslim Association Society), and panel mediator Deborah Mathis (Tribune Media columnist).

You can read more about it at http://www.ualr.edu/cpsdept/bridgingthedivide/. The event is one of many surrounding the dedication/opening of the Clinton Center and Presidential Library this week.

I said the Clinton administration’s efforts were part of the focus of the panel, because the event is subtitled “Racial Reconciliation in the 21st Century.”

And because we have a long way to go before we can say we’ve done good, according to Micah 6:8:

“He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth Jehovah require of thee, but to do justly, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with thy God?”

This morning I watched a color guard of ROTC high school students raise the flag on our campus. A small group of us pledged our allegiance to it and to the republic for which it stands … then listened as it was lowered to half-mast, and the names and destinies of U.S. submarines were read by a retired sub commander, punctuated by the tolling of the bell.

Veteran’s Day began 86 years ago as a celebration of the end of World War I and, though it was called ‘Armistice Day’ for 16 years, it regained its current name 50 years ago.

But it was 140 years ago that President Abraham Lincoln captured the spirit of this day and its meaning at the close of a fair in Washington DC, with more than a year to go before the close of the Civil War.

On that occasion he spoke these words, which continue to resonate to this day:

“This extraordinary war in which we are engaged falls heavily upon all classes of people, but the most heavily upon the soldier.

“For it has been said, all that a man hath will he give for his life; and while all contribute of their substance, the soldier puts his life at stake, and often yields it up in his country’s cause.

“The highest merit, then, is due to the soldier.”

Today, as in Lincoln’s day, our nation seems deeply divided. Our President faces the task of seeking to heal wounds and reunite citizens.

Perhaps there is no better place to begin than with the recognition that President Bush put into words a week ago: “We have one country, one Constitution, and one future that binds us.”

I think we all agree that this is still one nation, indivisible, and above it flies one flag which many soldiers and sailors defend and have defended – some giving, as Lincoln noted in his Gettysburg Address, their “last full measure of devotion.”

As the bell tolled, my thoughts were not so much for the submariners whose histories often closed with the frequently-repeated phrase “all hands lost” as it was for the few servicemen I know from church who are serving in Iraq. They daily face the horror of war. They resist its temptations. They rebuild schools. They restore power grids and plumbing.

And many of them, when asked what they would like us to send them for another Christmas over there, ask for school supplies and crayons that they can give to the children in the places they’re stationed.

Father God, please bring them home safe and soon.

And bless them for showing Your generosity while they’re there.