Ben Zornes

Living and Dying to Show the Preciousness of Christ

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The Most Important Thing You’ll Do

The Most Important Thing You’ll Do

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Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.
Proverbs 22:6

As I’ve entered into fatherhood, perhaps the most encouraging thing has been the recollection of the small things my parents did that influenced and shaped my love and faith in the Lord Jesus. Recently, as I was tucking my daughter into bed, I remembered when my parents used to snuggle me at bedtime and they would sing one of those simple praise choruses that were popular in the early 90s:

In my life, Lord, be glorified, be glorified.
In my life, Lord, be glorified today.

Yes, very simple, but as I sang it to my daughter and told her that her Grandma & Grandpa used to sing it to her Dadda, I was reminded that it is those small daily investments of surrounding our children with simple Gospel truths that will become a rich legacy of covenant faithfulness.

Sure, we can always do more in teaching our children to love and follow Jesus, but in my experience it was the small things that have lingered with me and shaped me and catechized me to love God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength. It is my mom assigning me to read a children’s version of a Jim Elliot biography, it was my dad giving me the MacArthur Study Bible for Christmas when I was twelve and then reading through it over that next year with me (the first time I read through the whole Bible), it was my mom telling me whenever I hung out with my friends to have “clean hands and a pure heart”, it was those nightly Bible readings, and weekly worship services which have served to fill my childhood with earnest and faithful obedience to Christ.

After all, especially you fathers, the most important thing you will do is teach your children, or if you abdicate that responsibility, someone else will be happy to catechize them in the ways of the devils. The little chorus my parents often sang to me at bedtime summarizes the prayer we should teach our children to pray, and exemplify to them by our example how they should live: “In my life, Lord, be glorified”. This is just another way of teaching that great maxim: “The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever”. These little ones whom God has entrusted to us are the only lasting investment; all the treasures, fame and influence we can acquire will not compare to the joy of raising wise and faithful sons and daughters (Pro. 15:20). So train up those children, by making daily deposits of truth, and believing these things for yourself; which you ought to be doing anyway that you may honor thy father and mother.

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Surprised by the Hardwood Floor

Surprised by the Hardwood Floor

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The Thud of Our Keister

We have come to the point where our society’s keister has been brought up short by the hardwood floor of reality; we kicked the chair of Biblical order and authority out from under us, and now we find that the Law’s of the Creator determine that those who would defy and redefine gravity will–in the end–find their end (usually resulting in an unforgiving “thud”).

We’ve railed against “the Patriarchy”, and now are surprised by the hard and brutal truth of a society without Fathers. We’ve spared the rod of fatherly protection, and now have spoiled a generation; our boys have been curdled with effeminacy, our daughters with the mouldering loneliness which comes from Enlightenment individualism.

By forsaking the Biblical order of the home, our sons and daughters have been brought up without the guidance of parents wisdom, and now have come to the inevitable conclusion of moral subjectivism; this results in thinking they can make squares that are circle, up that is down, and feelings which trump DNA.

Our Sons & Daughters

Our daughters are attending drunken parties as expressions of their millennial independence, then being raped behind dumpsters by white-washed tombs of Western Culture. But don’t talk to us about the protection afforded by strong, wise, and caring Fathers.

Our sons have become professional rapists because we have taken them to the movies that taught them how; all in the name of a good time. Then our Victorian sensibilities are dumbstrrruck (roll the r there) when they demonstrate what spirit they are of: the libertine spirit of this age of subjective morals. We’ve raised them on the Disney message “follow your heart”, which brought them to binge on pornography by the time they are 12, and then we harvest what we’ve sown as they come of age: greedy and lecherous fools.

Reaping What We’ve Sown

We should be proud of the morally ambiguous creatures which our self-esteem, follow your heart, fulfill your destiny, do what feels right instruction has produced. They have discovered themselves, wasn’t that our goal? Oh, but in discovering themselves, we found that the human heart is a dark pit of sin, idolatry, and selfishness.

There is no excuse for what Brock Turner did. None. This case, by all accounts, is one of the saddest miscarriages of justice we’ve seen in recent years. However, should we be surprised that justice is miscarried when we’ve insisted on rejecting the moral/legal framework of the Christian worldview, which would afford the maximum penalty of the death sentence for rapists (Deu. 22:25)?

We will not have God’s rule over us, and so we ought not be surprised that our society is now ruled by the laws of devils. We’ve failed to instruct our sons and daughters in the ways of biblical wisdom, and now we are reaping a harvest of adults who have no moral north pole. We let our children discover themselves, yet the human heart is incapable of plumbing the depths of its own wickedness.

The only way to “discover oneself” is in the light of the Gospel, which tells us we’re sinners in need of a Savior. The good news is that when we find ourselves crashing into the hardwood floors of reality we are conveniently positioned to kneel in repentance.

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Waxing Autobiographical

Waxing Autobiographical

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Let me wax autobiographical for a moment and share some personal developments in my life. I now have edwin-elsje-ben-zornestwo children, my second being born about 3 weeks ago. He’s a healthy, chubby, little boy named Edwin Oliver and has already proven to be a great baseball player, and is clearly the most intelligent little boy born this century. As you can tell, I am overjoyed at the blessing of this son.

These last few weeks have been short on sleep, full of ironing out the wrinkles that come with the addition of a new family member (especially helping a lovely little 2 year old understand and navigate all this), and all around wonderful as my wife and I get to look at each other and see how our love is blooming all around us. The blooming involves dirty diapers, messes with spaghetti noodles, and moments when our children prove they’ve inherited the Ben Zornes knack for an abnormally loud volume level.

It has been fantastic.

Hard.

Chaotic.

Joyful.

Good ol’ fashioned fun! [Read more…] about Waxing Autobiographical

The Voice in the Twilight

The Voice in the Twilight

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I recently stumbled across this precious poem. What a lovely reminder to us that, although our best efforts to serve our Heavenly Father are feeble, frail and cold, He sees them as precious. When we serve Him out of love, our service unto Him is acceptable unto Him. May this poem freshly remind you that the first words of the New Birth are “Abba, Father (Rom. 8:15).” He loves us, and our best efforts to serve Him, when they flow from a heart of love, are viewed by Him as precious and dear! What a balm that truth is for a gloomy heart.

The Voice in the Twilight

by Katharine Hardenbergh Johnson

I was sitting alone in the twilight,
With spirit troubled and vexed,
With thoughts that were morbid and gloomy,
And faith that was sadly perplexed.

Some homely work I was doing
For the child of my love and care;
Some stitches half-wearily setting
In the endless need of repair.

But my thoughts were about “the building,”
The work some day to be tried;
And that only the gold and the silver,
And the precious stones should abide;

And, remembering my own poor efforts,
The wretched work I had done,
And, even when trying most truly,
The meagre success I had won;

“It is nothing but wood, hay, and stubble,”
I said; “it will all be burned—
This useless fruit of the talents
One day to be returned;

“And I have so longed to serve Him,
And sometimes I know I have tried;
But I’m sure, when He sees such a building,
He will never let it abide.”

Just then, as I turned the garment
That no rent should be left behind,
My eye caught an odd little bungle
Of mending and patchwork combined.

My heart grew suddenly tender,
And something blinded my eyes,
With one of those sweet intuitions
That sometimes makes us so wise.

Dear child, she wanted to help me;
I knew ’twas the best she could do;
But oh, what a botch she had made it—
The grey mis-matching the blue!

And yet, can you understand it?
With a tender smile and a tear,
And a half-compassionate yearning,
I felt her grown more dear.

Then a sweet voice broke the silence,
And the dear Lord said to me
“Art thou tenderer for the little child
Than I am tender for thee.”

Then straightway I knew His meaning,
So full of compassion and love;
And my faith came back to its Refuge,
Like the glad returning dove.

For I thought when the Master Builder
Comes down His temple to view,
To see what rents must be mended,
And what must be builded anew;

Perhaps, as He looks o’er the building,
He will bring my work to the light,
And, seeing the marring and bungling,
And how far it all is from right,

He will feel as I felt for my darling,
And will say as I said for her—
“Dear child, she wanted to help me,
And love for me was the spur;

“And, for the real love that was in it,
The work shall seem perfect as mine;
And because it was willing service,
I will crown it with plaudit divine.”

And there, in the deepening twilight,
I seemed to be clasping a Hand,
And to feel a great love constraining me,
Stronger than any command.

Then I knew, by the thrill of sweetness,
‘Twas the hand of the Blessed One,
Which would tenderly guide and hold me,
Till all the labour is done.

So my thoughts are never more gloomy,
My faith no longer is dim:
But my heart is strong and restful,
And mine eyes are unto Him.

 

My Daddy’s Name

My Daddy’s Name

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Butterflies in the stomach are nothing. Try piranhas! That’s what my insides felt like on the day that I had my first job interview. I was 18 and my parents were lovingly giving me that shove to say, “listen buckaroo life costs money, get off your rear end and start working.” They persuaded me to apply to work at a local Christian Bookstore. When I entered the office of the manager, he looked at me and said, “Ben, your last name is Zornes, and that’s good enough for me.”

I was slightly confused, and my face must have resembled a Mississippi deer in a redneck’s headlights. He explained further, “I have met your father, Tom, a few times, and I’ve heard so many good things about him. His character is of the best caliber and I’ve no doubt that his son will have the same character. The job is yours.” [Read more…] about My Daddy’s Name

A Bunch of Baby-Haters

A Bunch of Baby-Haters

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South Africa Chronicles 2014, Part 1:

A Bunch of Baby-Haters

December 10, 2013 A.D.

Elsje and I are now in South Africa for a few week stint of family time, ministry, writing projects, and rejuvenation. It has been quite a year, and so this visit with Elsje’s family will be a much needed opportunity to reflect on all that God has done, and seek all that God has in store. We hope to put a good dent in writing our love story; and Marlé’s Ouma and Oupa (Grandma and Grandpa) are eating up all this time with their grand-baby! [Read more…] about A Bunch of Baby-Haters

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