Kevin DeYoung's Blog, page 155

Of the Father's Love Begotten

The clip below is not much to look at (ok, there's really nothing to look at), but the sound is lovely, and the story that follows is encouraging.

Aurelius Clemens Prudentius was born in Spain in 348 A.D. He was loyal to the Roman Empire and considered it an "instrument in the hands of Providence for the advancement of Christianity."

Thirty-five years prior to his birth, Christianity had been granted full toleration under the Edict of Milan. With Constantine's conversion, Christianity became the favored religion of the Empire, a change that is oft maligned by younger evangelicals suspicious of "Christendom," but must have been a welcome relief and answer to prayer for the beleagured saints in the fourth century.

Prudentius was trained to be a lawyer and rose to high office, serving as a powerful judge. He rose through the ranks of the state and finished his civil career as a court official for the Christian Emperor Theodosius.

At the age of fifty-seven, at the height of his power and prestige, Prudentius grew weary of civic life and considered his life thus far to have been a waste. He was having a midlife crisis (or, given the age span at the time, more like an almost-at-the-end-of-my-life crisis). So the successful lawyer, judge, and civil servant retired to write hymns and poetry. For the last decade of his life, before his death around 413, Prudentius wrote some of the most beautiful hymns of his day.

His poetry was treasured throughout the Middle Ages. His collection of twelve long poems (Cathemerinon), one for each hour of the day, became the foundation for several of the office hymns of the church. But without a doubt, Prudentius' best known hymn today is Corde Natus Ex Parentis–Of the Father's Love Begotten.

It was translated into English by John Mason Neale and Henry Baker in the 1850s. It was included in the book Hymns Ancient and Modern and given the plainsong chant-like melody Divinum Mysterium (Divine Mystery), which may date back as far as the twelfth century.

The hymn/poem originally contained nine verses. The song tells the story of redemption. Verse one speaks of the Son's eternal nature. Verse two is about creation. Verse three chronicles the fall. Verse four moves into redemption with the virgin birth. Verse five links the Christ child to ancient prophecies. Verse six is a chorus of praise to the Messiah. Verse seven warns of final judgment for the wicked. Verse eight tells of men, women, and children singing their songs of praise. And verse nine concludes the hymn with a song of victory to Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Most Christians will recognize many of the verses, but sadly not all.

Of the Father's love begotten,

Ere the worlds began to be,

He is Alpha and Omega,

He the source, the ending He,

Of the things that are, that have been,

And that future years shall see,

Evermore and evermore!

At His Word the worlds were framèd;

He commanded; it was done:

Heaven and earth and depths of ocean

In their threefold order one;

All that grows beneath the shining

Of the moon and burning sun,

Evermore and evermore!

He is found in human fashion,

Death and sorrow here to know,

That the race of Adam's children

Doomed by law to endless woe,

May not henceforth die and perish

In the dreadful gulf below,

Evermore and evermore!

O that birth forever blessèd,

When the virgin, full of grace,

By the Holy Ghost conceiving,

Bare the Saviour of our race;

And the Babe, the world's Redeemer,

First revealed His sacred face,

evermore and evermore!

O ye heights of heaven adore Him;

Angel hosts, His praises sing;

Powers, dominions, bow before Him,

and extol our God and King!

Let no tongue on earth be silent,

Every voice in concert sing,

Evermore and evermore!

This is He Whom seers in old time

Chanted of with one accord;

Whom the voices of the prophets

Promised in their faithful word;

Now He shines, the long expected,

Let creation praise its Lord,

Evermore and evermore!

Righteous judge of souls departed,

Righteous King of them that live,

On the Father's throne exalted

None in might with Thee may strive;

Who at last in vengeance coming

Sinners from Thy face shalt drive,

Evermore and evermore!

Thee let old men, thee let young men,

Thee let boys in chorus sing;

Matrons, virgins, little maidens,

With glad voices answering:

Let their guileless songs re-echo,

And the heart its music bring,

Evermore and evermore!

Christ, to Thee with God the Father,

And, O Holy Ghost, to Thee,

Hymn and chant with high thanksgiving,

And unwearied praises be:

Honour, glory, and dominion,

And eternal victory,

Evermore and evermore!

God With Us

[image error]The Book of the Dun Cow:

The dark land everywhere held still, as if on purpose before such a ringing, echoing cry. The dark sky said nothing. The Rooster, with not an effort to save himself, sagged, rolled down the roof, slipped over the edge of the Coop, and fell heavily to the ground. Wind and sobs together were knocked out of him; he lay dazed.

And then it was that the Dun Cow came to him.

She put her soft nose against him, to nudge him into a more peaceful position. Gently she arranged his head so that he might clearly see her. Her sweet breath went into his nostrils, and he assumed that he woke up; but he didn't move. The Dun Cow took a single step back from the Rooster then, and looked at him.

Horns strangely dangerous on one so soft stood wide away and sharp from either side of her head.

Her eyes were liquid with compassion—deep, deep, as the earth is deep. Her brow knew his suffereing and knew, besides that, worlds more. But the goodness was that, though this wide brow knew so much, yet it bent over his pain alone and creased with it.

Chauntecleer watched his own desolation appear in the brown eyes of the Cow, then sink so deeply into them that she shuddered. Her eyes pooled as she looked at him. The tears rose and spilled over. And then she was weeping even as he had wept a few minutes ago—except without the anger. Strangely, Chauntecleer felt an urge to comfort her; but at this moment he was no Lord, and the initiative was not in him. A simple creature only, he watched—felt—the miracle take place. Nothing changed: The clouds would not be removed, nor his sons returned, nor his knowledge plenished. But there was this. His grief had become her grief, his sorrow her own. And though he grieved not one bit less for that, yet his heart made room for her, for her will and wisdom, and he bore the sorrow better. (125-26)

You Can Get There From Here

[image error]The mission of the church is to make disciples.

That's basically what Greg Gilbert and I take 250 pages to say in What Is the Mission of the Church? We believe our answer to the question is clear from the Great Commission, from the record of the early church in Acts, from Paul's own missionary example, and from piecing together theological themes like Kingdom and shalom. God sends the church into the world to bear witness to Jesus Christ, win people to Christ, build them up in Christ, and establish them in Christian churches.

There are any number of reasons why someone might not agree with our thesis or like our book. But at the level of gut-reaction I think many people are uncomfortable saying the mission of the church is to make disciples because they feel like this makes most of our lives for most of us rather irrelevant. "I want all of life to matter to God" is what I often hear. Most Christians, especially young ones with a lot of life and a lot of dreams in front of them, want to do something that really counts. They want to know that teaching botany or being a vet or running an ad agency isn't a distraction from what really matters in life.

And yet, insisting that the mission of the church is the proclamation of the gospel or making disciples makes some Christians feel second-rate. I am sorry for this perception (let alone reality). It's easy for churches to communicate, wittingly or unwittingly, that evangelism is far more important than anything else. After that, getting involved in church ministries is the next best thing. But the day to day stuff of life in your community, in your family, and in your career–these are, at best, only means to the end of making money so you can support your church or send out missionaries.

This line of thinking is muddled and unfortunate. Creating beautiful parks or elegant symphonies or funny movies,  cleaning up our streets and our schools, mastering Russian literature or C , taking care of your kids and taking care of dying cancer patients–these things matter to God. He cares about beauty, truth, and love. He wants us to grow in excellence and do all things for his glory. So yes, yes, a thousands times yes, being a good, God-pleasing, faithful Christian involves a whole lot more than sharing your faith or leading a Bible study.

But, as Mike Horton reminds us, we don't have to fold all this in to the mission of the church to make our Christian lives worthwhile. We don't have to think we are partnering with God in re-ordering the cosmos or ushering in the kingdom. And we don't have get the organized church caught up in planting trees or lowering unemployment. You can get to "all of life matters to God" without going through missional transformationalism. You can get there with a Reformation doctrine of vocation, a careful two kingdoms theology, and an appreciation for common grace.

The doctrines of incarnation, resurrection, and creation will help too.

Don't Forget to Sow

I didn't agree with every line in the book. Some of the examples were dated. Some of the cultural analysis seemed too simplistic. Some of the prescriptions made me nervous. But overall I found the thesis to be provocative, urgent, and biblical. I'm talking about a book you probably haven't read, Tim Downs' Finding Common Ground: How to Communicate With Those Outside the Christian Community…While We Still Can (Moody 1999).

Downs' argument is simple and profound. He maintains that when it comes to evangelism we focus almost everything on harvesting and little on sowing. We want to win converts, and rightfully so. But if we have the opportunity to "harvest souls" it will only be because others before us have sowed. No field is always ripe for harvest. Good farmers don't run the combines year round. They spend most of their time preparing for the harvest.

Sowing, we've said, is the long, slow, behind-the-scenes process of preparing an individual, or an entire culture, to be able to hear and believe the gospel. The sower works to create an atmosphere–a soil, if you will–that is conducive to the growth of the gospel. If the sower does his work well–what Jesus referred to as "the hard work"–then the harvester may find an abundant harvest awaiting him. If the sower doesn't do his job, the harvester may find himself casting his pearls before swine. . . .Harvesting and sowing are not two contradictory methods of evangelism vying for supremacy, but two complementary roles, each with its own focus and methodology. (101-102)

Downs is not down on gospel proclamation or courageous confrontation. But he fears that in evangelism most Christians major on "innocent as doves" and virtually ignore "shrewd as serpents." We must be willing to patiently help smooth over stereotypes and prejudice. Sometimes we must be content to inch people closer to the gospel even if they are still miles away. We can learn to create plausibility structures for the gospel or highlight inconsistencies in a secular worldview or use art and other forms of indirect communication to persuade people of foundational biblical realities (e.g., there is a God, we are sinners, God created the world) that won't get anyone saved but may lead to a harvest later. It's like Greg Koukl says, sometimes we are just trying to put a pebble in their shoe.

Every farmer loves the celebration of the harvest. But good farmers will also be just as faithful with the slow, unnoticed, faith-filled act of sowing.

Whither YRR?

Tis the end of the year, the time to reflect on what has been and what may be. For several months I've been pondering a post on this thing that's been called Young, Restless, and Reformed. What's good? What's bad? What needs to be celebrated? What needs to addressed?

For starters, it may be time to retire the name. As you may know, "Young, Restless, Reformed" was the title Collin Hansen gave to his Christianity Today article on the first Together for the Gospel conference in 2006. Subsequently, Collin penned a fine book with the same title. I stole the title for my blog (because "DeYoung" fit so nicely into his phrase). To this day I meet people who swear that I wrote the book Young, Restless, and Reformed. Even when I promise them I didn't, they insist that I must have. Sorry Collin.

I think the phrase was quite clever. It had alliteration. It played off of pop culture (The Young and the Restless). And it captured a mood: young Christians eager to embrace this new found wonder of deep theology about a big, sovereign God. But, over time, people have wondered whether the young are getting older, whether the restless should settle down, and whether Calvinist soteriology is the same as Reformed. So the name doesn't work for everyone.

More importantly, I'm afraid the label is often used in a way that makes YRR sound like an organized movement with official standards and spokesmen. The Gospel Coalition is an organized movement and it embraces some of the YRR mood, but the two are hardly identical. TGC was started by, and continue to be led by, Don Carson and Tim Keller–wonderful men, and Calvinist in important ways, but not quite young or restless. Likewise, while Together for the Gospel is a gathering place for many who fit the YRR description, it is a biennial event, not a movement. There never was a plan to sign people up for the YRR team or for certain people to speak for the YRR team, let alone that the YRR mood would replace the importance of local churches and specific denominations.

A Convergence and Resurgence

This thing called the New Calvinism or YRR or the Reformed Resurgence is a constellation of factors, personalities, conferences, churches, and movements. In one sense, YRR was simply the realization that a number of different networks or organizations that had existed for many years actually had a lot of important things in common. From Ligonier to Desiring God to 9Marks to the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals to Grace to You to Southern Seminary to Sovereign Grace to Acts 29 brothers discovered there were many reasons to cheer for each other and work together. The rise of the New Calvinism was, in important ways, simply the awareness that there were more evangelical, complementarian Calvinists out there than we knew.

But in another sense, the New Calvinism is new. The "young" in Young, Restless, and Reformed was not a marketing ploy. A new generation of Christians is being nourished by the doctrines of grace. Evangelical seminaries are full of young men passionate about theology, biblical truth, and the glory of God. From blogs to church planting to conferences to book sales to new pastors to new people in our churches, I believe the Spirit really has been at work in our day to give young people a grounding in the deep things of God. Wasn't it J.I. Packer who said something like: when I started teaching this reformed stuff I spoke to rooms, then I spoke to churches, and now I speak to convention centers. We ought to rejoice in this progress. No doubt, a few have been bandwagon jumpers or groupies. And some others will drop away. But surely we ought to thank God for every pastor, speaker, writer, blogger, publisher, or church member in these days who has grown hungry for the gospel meat of God's word and eager to share it with the many others who are hungry to feast on the same.

Challenges Ahead

But there are also challenges facing my generation of evangelical Calvinists. And I'm not thinking here of the outside forces that threaten to undermine a biblical understanding of marriage or a high view of Scripture or the uniqueness of Jesus Christ. I'm thinking about issues that need attention (and are receiving attention) in our YRR circles. Let me mention three of these challenges.

1. Ecclesiology. Evangelicals have never been known for their robust theology of the church. Previous centuries could boast of many learned, almost comprehensive volumes, on the polity, powers, and purpose of the church. We could use more of that today (see How Jesus Runs the Church for a good example). The folks at 9Marks have done a lot to expound a practical, theological doctrine of the church. But some of our biggest disagreements have to do with the church: multisite, worship, governance, the place for denomination, the place for parachurch organizations, the place for trans-denominational entities, the role of the church in society, the relationship between the church and the kingdom, the nature of the offices, the role for ordinary means, and the list goes on. Underneath it all is the question of whether the Bible even speaks to most of our church questions. Maybe our ecclessiology is thin because the Bible is very flexible. Or maybe we have more work to do.

2. Missiology. Recently, Tim Keller and Mike Horton have weighed in on how close we are to a consensus on the mission of the church (more specifically, the relationship between church and culture). Greg Gilbert and I have made our pitch for mission as disciple-making. Other disagree. There is still no consensus on how to think through word and deed, gospel proclamation and social transformation, the mission of the church and our individual callings. Whether we can reach a consensus or not, we must search the Scriptures for ourselves and think through our mission strategies, mission priorities, and missions budgets accordingly.

3. Sanctification. Worldliness is one of our "high places." We are clear on how the gospel can pronounce us holy, less clear on how the gospel can make holy. Even less clear that the gospel requires us to be holy. We could stand to talk less about the particulars of sex and more about the process of sanctification. And how do we become holy? Is it by getting used to our justification? Or is it also by faith in future promises and by God-given effort? What is the relationship between law and gospel? Is there any grace in law? Can we insist on law out of love for grace? How do justification and sanctification relate to each other and how do they both relate to union with Christ?

To be sure, there are other issues that could use more attention: the continuation or cessation of certain spiritual gifts, the historicity of Adam and Eve, and the role of contextualization in an increasingly post-Christian world. I'm sure my list of three reflects my particular interests and discussions at the moment.

What Now?

So what is the way forward? Is there a future for YRR? On the one hand, I don't really care about the future of a label. But on the other hand, I do pray for the propagation of the good theology, expositional preaching, strong passion, and gospel partnerships that have characterized the best of the New Calvinism. I would hate to see these renewed emphases once again subside, whether because of boredom ("the glory of God is, like, so 2005″), a reverse bandwagon effect ("I like Calvinism until other people did"), or a general disease with anything that smacks of evangelicalism.

That's why–and this will sound somewhat paradoxical–one of the most important steps forward for YRR is for each of us to go deeper into our own churches and traditions. No movement, let a lone a mood, can sustain lifelong mission, discipleship, and doctrinal commitment. The Baptists should learn to be good Baptists. The Presbyterians should not be ashamed to be Presbyterians. Those in a non-denominational context will have a harder time, but they too should learn to swim in the church's historic stream of confessions, hymns, polity, and theology.

I'm not suggesting all our churches look more traditional (though some of that wouldn't be all bad). I am suggesting, however, that it's better to live in a specific ecclesiastical room instead of in the hallway of evangelicalism. This doesn't mean for a moment we should avoid trans-denominational ventures like TGC and T4G. I continue to think a lot of good can come from the conferences, the resources, and the friendships that these groups foster. But we should read deeply into our tradition, not just broadly across the current spectrum of well-known authors. We need to learn to be good churchmen, investing time in the committees, assemblies, and machinery of the church. We need to publicly celebrate and defend important doctrinal distinctives (e.g., baptism, the millennium, liturgical norms) even as we love and respect those who disagree. We should delight in our own histories and confessions, while still rejoicing that our different vehicles are ultimately powered by the same engines of the Christian faith–justification, the authority of Scripture, substitutionary atonement, and the glory of our sovereign God.

Let's dream big and labor small. The work God is doing to sharpen the theology, fire the passion, inspire the minds, and join the gospel hearts in this generation will be better and stronger as we go deeper down and bloom where we're planted.

Monday Morning Humor

Bad Mornings…

12 Days of Christmas

Newer Version here.

The Name of Jesus

Over the past 2000 years, more people on planet earth have known the name of Jesus than any other name. Since 33 AD, over 8 billion people, by one estimate, have claimed to be followers of this Jesus—or Jésus or Isus or whatever the Christ is called in your language. Billions more have heard of his name. Presently, the name of Jesus can be found in over 6000 languages and more are being added every year.

On the one hand, it's strange that this single name has dominated the last 2000 years of world history, especially Western history.  For most of us, Jesus has a sacred ring to it; it sounds holy and divine.  But this wasn't the case when Mary and Joseph followed the angel's instructions and gave their baby his name.  Granted, it had a special meaning, but it was not an unusual name.  The first century Jewish historian Josephus mentions at least twelve different people he knew with the name Jesus, including four High Priests.  In Acts 9 we read of the Jewish false prophet, Bar-Jesus.  In Colossians 4, Paul mentions one of his fellow workers, Jesus, called Justus.  And some ancient manuscripts of the gospel of Matthew call the robber released by Pilate, Jesus Barabbas, which can be translated, ironically enough, "Jesus Son of the Father."

Jesus was a common name, like Jim or John or Jerry.  When Mary and Joseph called their son Jesus, there were no prayers in his name.  No one used it as a swear word.  No one sang songs about this name, just like there is no religion I am aware of that sings songs to Jim (except that he's not to be messed around with).  We don't name our sons John with the expectation that over the next 2000 years 8 billion people will pray in his name. We don't croon, "Jerry, Jerry, Jerry, there's just something about that name!"

But common as it was, Jesus was "Jesus" by design. In Greek it is Iesous, in Aramaic, the language Jesus spoke, Yesu.  Both are derived from the Hebrew, the name is Yeshua or Joshua.  Joshua is made up of two parts: Ya which is short for Yahweh, and hoshea which means salvation.  Hence, Mary and Joseph give their little baby the name Jesus, "Yahweh is salvation."

Which he was. And is. Through Christ alone. Ever since the first Christmas, Jesus has been more than just a name. It's been our only comfort in life and in death, our only hope in a hopeless world. When you believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, you may life in his name (John 20:31). There is, in fact, no other name under heaven given among men whereby we can be saved (Acts 4:12). So naturally, whatever we do, in word or deed, we ought to do in the name of the Lord Jesus (Colossians 3:17). For God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father (Philippians 2:11-12).

But let's be clear: the name of Jesus is not a magic wand.  Chanting it does not give one special powers.  The power in the name is the person behind the name.  In the Old Testament, names meant something.  They were more than badges of identification.  They often told others who you were and what purpose God had for your life.  So Adam was the first man.  Eve was the mother of all living things.  Abraham was the father of many nations.  Benjamin was the son of his father's right hand.  Moses was drawn out of the water.  Peter was the rock.  Barnabas was the son of encouragement.

And what about Jesus?

"And you shall call his name Jesus," the angel told Joseph, "for he will save his people from their sins" (Matthew 1:21).  More than a great teacher, more than an enlightened man, more than a worker of miracles, more than giving us meaning in life, more than a self-help guru, more than a self-esteem builder, more a political liberator, more than a caring friend, more than a transformer of cultures, more than a purpose for the purposeless, Jesus is a Savior of sinners.

"The name of Jesus charms our fears and bids our sorrows cease; tis music in the sinner's ears, tis life and health and peace."  That'll sing. "All hail the power of Jesus' name!  Let angels prostrate fall.  Bring forth the royal diadem, and crown him Lord of all." That'll work too.

I guess there really is just something about that name.

No, not just something: make that everything.

This article originally appeared in the December issue of Tabletalk.

Why Then Must We Still Do Good?

Q. We have been delivered from our misery by God's grace alone through Christ and not because we have earned it: why then must we still do good?

A. To be sure, Christ has redeemed us by his blood.  But we do good because Christ by his Spirit is also renewing us to be like himself, so that in all our living we may show that we are thankful to God for all he has done for us, and so that he may be praised through us.  And we do good so that we may be assured of our faith by its fruits, and so that by our godly living our neighbors may be won over to Christ. (Heidelberg Catechism Q/A 86)

*******

One of the common objections to the Christian view of salvation, especially in its Reformed expression, is that salvation by grace alone through faith alone leads to moral license.  If we can't earn one tiny iota of deliverance from sin by our good works, then why do good at all?

The Heidelberg Catechism gives five reasons why those in Christ must still do good.

First, we do good because the Holy Spirit is working in us to make us more like Jesus (2 Cor. 3:18).  The same Spirit who caused us to be born again and enabled us to believe will also work to make us holy (Rom. 6:9-11).

Second, we do good out of gratitude (Rom. 12:1-2).  This is not to suggest that God saves us and then we work the rest of our lives to pay him back for the favor (Rom. 11:33-36).  Rather, we do good because the wonder of our salvation produces such thankfulness in our hearts that it is our pleasure to serve God.

Third, we do good so that God might be praised by the works we display in his name.  "By this my Father is gloried," Jesus said, "that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples" (John 15:8).

Fourth, we do good so that we can be assured of our right standing before God.  Faith alone justifies, but the faith that justifies is never alone.  By bearing good fruit, we show that we are a good tree (Matt. 7:15-20) and make our calling and election sure (2 Peter 1:10).

Fifth, we do good in order that we might adorn the gospel (Titus 2:10) and make it attractive to outsiders (1 Peter 2:12).

Clearly, the Bible is not indifferent to good works.  Christians who live in habitual, unrepentant sin show themselves not to be true Christians.  Of course, we all stumble (James 3:2; 1 John 1:8).  But there's a difference between falling into sin and jumping in with both feet.  It doesn't matter the sin—pride, slander, robbery, covetousness, or sexual immorality—if we give ourselves to it and live in it with joyful abandon, we will not inherit the kingdom of God.  Simply put, people walking day after day in the same sin without a fight or repentance go to hell (1 Cor. 6:9-10; Gal. 5:19-21; 1 John 3:14). And on the flip side, people walking day after day in the light of the gospel and in view of their union with Christ, will–imperfectly, but truly–learn to do good, be good, and get better.

The Church Service You Don't Want

Have you ever noticed that flying can feel like a really bad church service? I don't mean that statement, or this post, as an indictment on all things and all people related to the airline industry (but probably some). My real concern is to help us see how the frequently miserable experience of flying may be what some people experience in our congregations.

It's starts with a pervasive sense that everyone here would rather be somewhere else. Sure, you spot a few happy souls, but by and large this is a somber group just waiting for this experience to be over.

After waiting in a long line and getting herded through cramped quarters, you finally sit down, only to find that your seat has leg room enough for the Lollipop Guild and provides the kind of personal space only Richard Simmons could love. Straining against your entire personality and reason for being here, you feel obliged to make idle chit-chat with the complete stranger next to you.

In the seat in front of you are some old and odd looking materials. There's a book or a magazine or something. Some information about this gathering too. The stuff is disheveled and disorganized, seemingly arranged by four year-olds and handled carefully by Rottweilers. You decided to leave it in the rack in front of you.

Further ahead you notice some kind of ritual going on. There's a person holding some apparatus and talking on and on while no one pays attention. It's clear they've all heard these instructions before. That's not a problem in itself, but the person doing the ritual is clearly not passionate for the subject matter and they aren't bothered by the utter lack of interest in the presentation. To make matters worse, while looking ahead you realize that the rich people at this event seem to get served sooner and better than everyone else.

Throughout the experience you encounter rules that make little sense and are never explained. Apparently this is the way things are just done around here. But it sure feels like the people meant to serve you are most interested in getting you to abide by their ticky-tack stipulations that probably don't matter anyway.

The whole ordeal is an exercise in your patience. The temperature is never right. The bathrooms are always messy. The thing never starts on time. It always ends late. You'll probably catch a cold just from being here.

And you never get to really meet the leader of this outfit. He keeps to himself, speaks sight unseen, and only appears at the end to wave goodbye.

Isn't flying a pain?

Are we?