Thank God for Gilgamesh

This week our Omnibus class is reading The Epic of Gilgamesh. I’ve read the summary in our textbook and about 70 pages of The Epic itself. Apparently, this ancient story about the gods of Uruk was a best seller in Ur around the time of Abram. This means Abram probably grew up hearing about these gods before Yahweh called him west.

The recurring–more accurately dominating–thought that keeps jumping up and down in my head is thank God that our God is not like Gilgamesh, or any of his gods or his relatives for that matter. I can thank God for Gilgamesh because these sorts of stories remind me how grateful I am for Who our God is. We couldn’t make Him up. We can’t make Him to be what we want. He is who He is. And He’s great!

Gilgamesh is two-thirds god, one-third man, whose mother was an all-knowing sexy bovine named Ninsun, the “lady Wildcow.” His best friend was a dunce created by the gods to give Gilgamesh someone his own size to play with. Together, they conquered the giant Huwawa, guard of the Pine Forrest, who had a face made of intestines. Gilgamesh’s most famous achievement is that he built some really nice walls. Near the end of the story, when his friend Enkidu dies due to an emotionally unstable, heart-unhappy lady deity, Gilgamesh sulks about his own inescapable mortality. He worships gods and is worshipped as a god and these are no good gods.

We certainly don’t know everything about our God, the true God, but that’s because He’s infinite, not because He’s arbitrary. He is righteous, which means that He reveals His wrath against unrighteousness. But He’s also a God who bore wrath Himself to grant righteousness by grace through faith to those He called to love for eternity. Our God reigns supreme with steadfast love, He is not distressed and worried sick about the state of things. Not only could we do a lot worse, we only have reasons to be humbly thankful that God is our God. Thank God for Gilgamesh and that we’re not characters in a story like that.

Back to School

Our two oldest kids, Maggie and Calvin, head back to school tomorrow. School reentry is always exciting, but this first day is not only the first day back to school for our kids, it is also the first day of school for our school.

On Tuesday morning Evangel Classical School opens its (basement) doors to students. Like I said, we’re not only beginning a new year, we’re beginning a new institution.

The plans have been in the making for a little over a year. It’s amazing how much work has been done since last summer and yet we’ve still only dipped a small toe in the river of educational rapids left to ride.

Because we’re small and because I deserve some of the blame for the existence of ECS, I’m going back to school, too. I left the classroom in June of 2007. I had been teaching High School Bible classes for six years and, before that, finishing four years of seminary after four and a half years of college after thirteen years of public education. I remember feeling absolutely no sense of loss when I turned my attention to other things.

Since then, however, God has reordered multiple things. My kids are older and I have an increased desire for them to learn. Not only that, my worldview continues to expand and I realized the need to confess my own dualism. Lo and behold, it is possible to please God without diagramming Greek verses all day. I want students to get the gladness of Christ’s universal Lordship so much that they bleed image-bearing all over the place.

So, I’m back in the classroom. I’ll be the K-6 Bible teacher and the Latin I teacher. I know more about the former than the latter, but cogito ergo sum, ad absurdum, et cetera, et cetera, or something like that.

That’s not all. Our secondary program at the school will include a trek through the Omnibus curriculum. Our headmaster not only wrote an introduction to the program, he’s also going to teach it. The school board decided to offer an opportunity to audit the class for interested parents and other adults who want to “catch up” in their own education. They’re invited to read along and then join the class once a week for discussion. I’ve got my set of books (see the image below) and have made my commitment to participate. Even if I had read all the books I was assigned in High School and college–which I didn’t–I still realize that I’m painfully lopsided and underdeveloped.

the stack

It’s time to go back to school, for our kids and for me as well. I want them not only to learn more than me, I want them to want to always keep learning more than me. That starts with my example. By God’s grace I’m not done growing and this should be just as much fun as it is crazy. Risus est bellum.