GreatRidge Station

I’ve been pondering this lately. According to the Whorfian Pinciple, our language both shapes and limits the way we think.

Note: No, this is not a StarTreq reference. Benjamin Whorf was the researcher who is best known for his role in formulating the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis. Now, Sapir seems to have dropped off the map, and the hypothesis has become a principle (not a law, yet, but a principle has enough supporting research to demonstrate its validity).

Whorf is best known, these days, for the concept that in cultures where there are only three number words (1, 2, many), native speakers have difficulty recognizing the differences between various sizes of many.

I’ve been thinking this through (as best I can, given the limits of our vocabulary), and it strikes me that the idea of discipleship and Biblical worldview play into this concept quite directly.

We live in a society where we literally soak in our cultural language. We tend not to soak so much in Biblical language. No wonder, then, that Christians (or anyone, for that matter) think more like the world, and far less like God.

I’m still processing on this, but I’m weighing the idea of a “verbal detox,” and seeking to soak in a more Biblical language. I don’t know for sure what that might look like, but I’ll keep you informed as I go forward on this.

So, Prince Charles is unlikely to use the name Charles when he is King, because Charles I was deposed and executed.

As the future Supreme Governor of the church of England, I think he should choose George-Ringo. It’s the perfect, Anglican response to that Pope guy, who used the name John-Paul.

One of the gentlemen from my home church, a WWII veteran, just passed away this week. He will be missed.

I wanted to share this here, because he is the only person I have ever met who named himself.
As he told the story, he grew up in poverty in Oklahoma. He had no birth certificate, but plenty of family around him. And if they gave him a name when he was born, no one ever told him what it was. He grew up just simply being called “Boy.”

When World War II broke out, a lot of young men left the farm to go serve, and “Boy” was among them. When he showed up to be enlisted, that name would no longer do. So he chose his own name, filling in his new identity on all the forms.

He never shared why he selected the name he picked, but he chose well. I will always be grateful for Luther H., for his service to our country, for his friendship to my family, and for his faithful example.

I wonder how he was/will be greeted at the gates of heaven. Somehow, I suspect that it might be: “Welcome Home, Boy!”