Toyota Corolla Auxiliary Input Problem

The auxiliary jack on our 2010 Corolla has been cutting out and the function switching back to the radio. It does this when we hit a bump or bump the aux cable with our leg. I was trying to figure out how to take things apart to replace it. Didn't need to.

Watch this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature...&v=DNFHwVOoqwU

It seems to work great. The only thing I will add is you don't need to take anything else apart. Simply slip a screwdriver into the side of the jack assembly to release the keeper clips, and slide the jack out. The wires behind will be pretty tight/short, but you can give it a tug. Each feature seems to be held in place by clips. And the green (on our car) jack structure slides out from the bigger black assembly, though for me, I couldn't get it to release completely, even though the guy on the video was able to. I just didn't want to break anything. :)

You could even decide to replace the whole aux assembly, and it's very easy to install. Don't need to take apart the dash or anything. Good luck!

Little Christs?

It's pretty well known from the story in Acts that Jesus followers were first called Christians at Antioch.  Further, the word is formed using a diminutive suffix that yields the meaning "little Christs." This wasn't intended to be a compliment; it was seen more as a slam. But in the tradition of Jesus himself, the "Christians" took the humiliating and wore it with pride. They said, "Yeah, that's us! We're to be little Jesuses walking about doing his work."

Enough has been written about how the name "Christian" has been sullied by those who don't live like Jesus. Not enough has been written about what it actually means to be a Christian.

It was apparent to a fluent Greek speaker that "christ" meant "anointed one," a translation of the Hebrew "messiah." So perhaps they heard "little anointed ones" when they heard "Christians." That gets a step closer to the truth I'm digging after. I believe we are to be "little messiahs," behaving as Jesus did in his suffering, shame, and bearing of the curse for others (see here for a fuller exploration). Only then will we share his glory, which the apostle Paul almost always associates with suffering.

Whether people can get "little messiah" out of "Christian" or not is beyond our control. We can, however, begin to live as the Messiah did, bearing the curse for others, helping their hearts become flesh, ushering them into new creation. Those will in turn bear the curse for others, spreading new creation in wider and wider circles till all things become new.

Enthroned between the cherubim

Our book group is reading How God Became King by NT Wright. The title makes the premise pretty clear, but it's a twist from people's normal conception for a couple of reasons. First, most suppose that God isn't actively reigning yet, because look at how messed up stuff is! Second, he is reigning because he has already been enthroned—at the cross. 

The theatrics surrounding the crucifixion bear this out. Pilate said, "So you are a king then!" Jesus replied, "You have said so." Jesus is clothed (by others) in a scarlet/purple robe. He is crowned with thorns. People bow down in homage. Notice, however, that all this is done in mockery. That's key. God is most regal amidst people's derision.

This sets the stage for one more detail of the enthronement of Jesus as he is crucified. In the First Testament, YHWH's throne is between the cherubim whose wings overshadow the ark of the covenant. Cherubim seem to function as guardians, awesome in their appearance and might. But as Jesus is enthroned, it is between two . . . failed revolutionaries? (The best understanding is that the "thieves" were actually brigands, rebels, revolutionaries who were trying to see Rome out of Judea.) The ones who were to guard Jesus as he sat enthroned were men who were captured trying to violently overthrow Rome. They perhaps were following some other self-proclaimed messiah but had reached the end of their road before they reached their goal of a peaceful homeland. Some guardians.

This fits so beautifully. The mockery is complete. "Here, maybe the "king" needs some courtiers to attend him." His disciples nowhere to be found, the soldiers grabbed some guys who had tried fighting and failed. They go so well with this failed "king" who has succumbed to the might of Rome—not that it took much. 

But who is being mocked? Jesus seems to say, "You think you know, but you have no idea." The Creator truly is King when he gives himself up without using the biggest enemy of his creation, death. He's perfectly content to be attended by two guys who amounted to nothing when it came to killing the enemy. His enthronement is so ridiculous, there just might be something to it. 

When he is raised from the dead three days later, he is validated as the king he claimed to be, and he came to rule through overpowering life, not through the fearful control tactics of wielding death over his subjects. The Apostle Paul tells the Colossians that Jesus "disarmed the powers and authorities, [and] made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross." Here, Paul doesn't even call on the resurrection to vindicate Jesus's kingship. Jesus is triumphantly enthroned on the cross between the two lamest cherubim ever seen.

Shibboleth

Why did the Gileadites demand the Ephraimites say "shibboleth" before allowing them to cross the Jordan? In English, the word means something like "litmus test." It has been brought into our language directly from the story in Judges when these two groups were fighting.

The Gileadites seized the fords of the Jordan and saw an opportunity to defeat their brothers, who were guilty of dissing them. Good reason for war. But that's another story. When anyone came to the Jordan, they would say, "Let me cross over." To which the reply, "Are you an Ephraimite?" "Um, no. I hate those scumbags." Then the ford guardians would say, "Aight then, say, 'Shibboleth,'" because they knew Ephraimites couldn't produce a "sh" sound—it comes out as an "s." (How on earth did they keep their kids quiet?!)

If they failed the basic "litmus test," they were killed on the spot.

That brings us back to the point of the word choice. Any ol' "sh" word would have done. But the Gileadites were taunting them right before they killed them. "Shibboleth" means "flowing stream." They were saying, "Hey, idiot, what's this thing right here? . . . No it's not! Stupid!" *STAB*

This brings up another point. In case you're ever caught in a shibboleth situation, where you actually have to say a word to save your life, you should probably take a phonetics class now. Having done so myself, I could probably pronounce almost any word demanded of me. And I'm also nerdy enough to be able to tell the difference between the two sounds: an alveolar fricative vs. a post-alveolar fricative—literally a slip of the tongue. But if I said that, it would probably get me killed.

Peace?

I saw this bumper sticker today and was startled at how sad it made me. I was not startled at how I began obsessing over it theologically.

I've been trying to discern exactly what the sticker is getting at. Often, old-fashioned is a bad thing. But when it's root beer (for anyone) or values (for the more religious), it feels good to be old-fashioned. I think the approach here is intended to be good. But just how old-fashioned? The B-52 goes waaay back to the mid-1900s.

My first thought when I saw the sticker was about that silly apostle Paul who told the Colossians, "God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in [Jesus], and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross." That was probably written in the 60s. AD 60s. Old, at least, if not old-fashioned. Sure, gruesome warfare predates that, but let's keep the focus on boomwow, cluster bombing warfare being old-fashioned.

Okay, it seems this sticker isn't trying to assert chronological primacy for air-to-ground obliteration, but it makes a wistful call to remember good ol' intimidation and destruction via vastly superior technology. And that does go way back.

In fact, that sort of martial dominance provided the immediate occasion for Paul's statement. The Romans were bringing their version of the boomwow on a scale never before seen. Smart people saw the futility of fighting them. Loyalist nativists were stupid enough to try to rebel. Calgacus, an ancient chieftain from what is now Scotland, was quoted by the Roman historian Tacitus around AD 100 describing the Roman reaction to this: "They rob, kill and plunder all under the decieving name of Roman Rule. They make a desert and call it peace."

Jesus was born on the losing end of this. Enough of his people were zealous enough to create great concern that Rome would obliterate Judea. Much of Jesus' prophetic ministry was anchored around warning people not to rebel, but when they inevitably did, to flee Jerusalem before they were caught in the siege. Sure enough, the generation he prophesied to did not pass away before Jerusalem was destroyed in AD 70. The Romans turned it into a wasteland and called it . . . peace.

Paul said that Jesus was the one who brought peace. In the deepest of ironies, he used the Roman version of the B-52 to do it. But he wasn't piloting the plane or opening the bomb bay. He was sitting on the ground with a big target drawn around himself almost pleading to be blown to pieces. Think about it. There was not a sane person in Roman times who would display a cross for any reason. But Jesus brought peace to the communities who followed him by willingly letting the Romans do their worst to him and crucify him. Can you see a group of modern Iraqis, following a crazy guy who invited the worst of the bombing raids to target him, wearing the picture above as patches? Three hundred years from now, people would shake their heads and say, "That guy was mad. But he sure stole their thunder. He took away their worst weapon: death." And displaying that which is fearsome and shameful eventually empties it of its power.

Perpetrating violence never brings peace. Ever. Willing, defenseless self-sacrifice is what causes empires, regimes, and invading armies to crumble. May we follow Jesus' example as we bring peace the old-fashioned way.

Truth vs. truth

A common practice in America today is pitting truth against truth. The problem is, if it's true, it's true, and there's no way stronger truth can beat weaker truth. Nowhere is this more maddeningly apparent than in the Granny Smith apples and navel oranges disciplines of theology and science.

The "debate" between antireligion scientists and antievolution Christians has to stop. Each side has a big chunk of truth they're hanging onto, and they're trying to bludgeon the other side with it. Such scientists claim truth because it's based on observable phenomena (maybe not the processes, but the fossilized results and vestigial DNA evidence). Antievolutionists often claim irrefutable truth based on the Bible. What if they're both true?

A helpful book is The Lost World of Genesis One [and a bit more in chapter two] by John Walton. He demonstrates that the first creation account relates functional origins, not material origins. He also notes that science and metaphysics are interdependent but distinctly different categories, and when one tries to answer a metaphysical question with science and vice versa, trouble results. Scientists sometimes claim there is no God because they haven't observed one. Well, maybe scientific tools are inadequate for this task, and metaphysicians need to handle this question. Likewise, religious folk need to stop being armchair scientists because they don't have the instruments to observe material objects the way scientists do.

An underlying claim of some antievolution religionists is they have 100 percent certainty in who God is and how he created. They imply that science can never have certainty because there are always advances in science, and many scientific theories have been proven wrong over the centuries. Unfortunately, scientists are the ones who show the Christian virtue of humility, though it may be forced at times. They may be arrogant in their God claims, but as a community, they are always challenging one another's theories to come to a better understanding of the world. Creationists, traditionally defined, adopt a stance based on perhaps flawed readings of the Bible, and they don't bother to change their mind when circumstances warrant. In the end, I'm guessing each community's claims are about 60–70 percent true. But they wield 100 percent of their theories in their struggle to be correct.

My personal approach to truth (which I, of course, believe is the best one!) is similar to the scientific method. I collect enough data to form a working theory. Then I hold on to my theory and try to help it work until there is enough data to the contrary that I must consider alternatives. I hate to apply "scientific method" to the Bible and theology, so let's call it a reality check. (Too many believe that the Bible is a science textbook, which does the worst violence to the authors' intentions.) If my reading of the beginning of Genesis—it used to be six-day creationism—doesn't square with clear evidence from a preponderance of generally intelligent, rigorous, and nice scientists, maybe I should reconsider my reading. Walton's book has allayed any remaining fears of abandoning six-day creationism, noting that the poem is likely a ceremonial recounting of a deity taking up residence in his temple. And since this describes how God made his creation functional rather than how he formed the material, any tensions about violating the "literal" text are defused.

This all reminds me of that old cartoon Spy vs. Spy. Each one devises a plot more dastardly than the last to destroy the other. The destruction is immense, but the plots never work for their purpose: neutralizing the rival once for all. This same, almost entertaining, futility characterizes the evolution debate. If the guilty guilds would clarify their purviews and humbly accept that they may need to revise their theories, the silly rancor would end, and I would hope an era of cooperation would lead to much greater understanding. Although maybe it's the desperation of irreconcilable competition that fuels more discovery.

Ruth as representative redeemer

The intro to Ruth in The Books of the Bible notes that Genesis to Judges traces the formation of the nation of Israel, and Samuel–Kings details the development of the monarchy. In between is Ruth, which begins "In the days when the judges ruled" and ends with the genealogy of King David. Ruth is a bridge book that tells the story of how Israel's beloved (most of the time, anyway) king could be a fourth-generation Moabite.

Remember in the preceding narrative that the Moabites made life difficult for their second cousins the Israelites as the latter fled from centuries of slavery. The curse for this inconsiderate treatment was that no Moabite would enter YHWH's assembly even to the tenth generation. Part of me says this meant NEVER, but some people took it literally. So if you had Moabite blood, you had to prove that it was at least ten generations ago before you could worship in the temple.

How could David get way with entering YHWH's presence, let alone become the leader of YHWH's people, after only four generations? His great-grandmother Ruth redeemed the Moabites. Sure, the story points out that it's Elimelek's family name that's redeemed, and by extension Ruth herself, but note what happens. In the bigger picture, a Moabite could now point to King David and say, "He gets into the assembly. Why not me?" And it was Ruth's kindness and commitment to follow Naomi and YHWH that brings about this change.

Two women in a desperate situation somehow change the course of foreign relations because the foreigner behaved like a true Israelite. This is where trickle-up foreign relations works. Ruth removed the curse of her entire people by doing exactly what her ancestors failed to do the first time.