Christmas Reflections

Debbie Shows Love, originally uploaded by use2blost.

     I think on love often. The Character of God. My Savior. Patient, kind, conveniently forgetful of my wrongs, and blindly optimistic about my character. He hopes and believes all things about me. This Friday, Christmas morning, I am thinking about love since I intend to post on it in a day or three... and I am at the Houston County detention center. This is a repeat of  Thanksgiving morning. My girlfriend's youngest son is in jail, visitation is especially important on these days and of course free ranging family and friends must be connected with also. This demanding day makes it a good idea to visit our prisoner first. I'm not even allowed back to see him (I'm not on the list...possibly because I threw the young man out of my house some time ago.)
     Thanksgiving Day I rode down with Debbie, on our way to dinner with her family, and walked around outside the jail and sat in the car as she saw her son through a piece of glass. It was actually not a terrible day for her. Her son had been in for a few days, and the shock had worn off. My Debbie is a coper, a survivor, and this young man has given her a lot of practice...the shock wears off quicker now. Thanksgiving morning everyone also expected Kalan to get out soon, so this was just something that sucked a lot, but we would get have him home for Christmas. It was not as rough as it could have been, for those of us outside. We found out later he would not quite make it home by Christmas, but he would be out by the 29th. That was too bad, and the holiday spirit at Debbie's house got a little more blue.
     My Baby loves with a heart to melt icebergs, and when something like this happens, she shoves the additional pain deeper and tries to be herself for the rest of us... other kids, grandkid, and boyfriend.
     I guess Wednesday, we found out Kalan is scheduled to remain incarcerated for several months, and Debbie's spirits plummeted. Christmas Eve was bad. Debbie has to work 7 to 7 today so I rode to Perry with my littler baby to visit her brother, providing moral support, and the gaining the pleasure of worrying about how she drives on wet pavement.
     It is cold and wet, so I am inside. Thinking about love. This is my first time in the building. The guards did not want me to take pictures, and I've been on the other side of the glass before, so I'm not gonna argue. I’m thinking about love, and wondering if Starbucks is open…Somebody that loves me gave me a 4 day job. I was broke until 4:30 Christmas eve, and would love to get some Starbucks cards for the kids, and nieces that I’ll see in a few hours. Debbie would probably love some Starbucks, later as well. Sometimes, on days like Christmas, the ER can get a little bit sporty. Debbie loves a treat like coffee, about eight hours into her twelve hour shift. I think about love as I notice the traffic, here at the Houston County detention center. Twelve people shortly after nine o’clock. Here to see their prisoner on Christmas morning. I'm thinking about drama, heartbreak and aggravation, I'm remembering Douglas John Hall- "God's problem is not that God is not able to do certain things. God's problem is that God loves. Love complicates the life of God as it complicates every life."
     I'm thinking about love and going to see my Aunt Judy in the nursing home later, and my friend that lost his job Monday because of office politics and a bad economy. I think about the baby to be born any day now... a little girl named Lily, and the puppies I suspect inhabit the womb of my bitch, Suzie. (Gotta love an unexpected litter of puppies. oops.). Love is our benchmark. Boards. The Exam for How Well You Live, or your spiritual development.
      Yes.
      Anytime you want to check your spiritual GPA, you just take the love test. God has left copies of it laying around all over the universe. You can find one. How well do you love? or, since that's none of my business how well do I love? This is what I'm thinking about now, back at the ranch. or back at the split-level, with the 3/4 basement and a moisture problem.
     Mysterious.
     Paradoxical.
     Noun. Verb.
     The Character of God.
     Love. Exactly what the hell is it? Am I any good at it?
     Tonight I will spoon on the couch, with a tired, marvelous, green-eyed blonde, and watch a movie with a hot cup of raspberry zinger, a bag of buttered popcorn on the side. I will think about love and be amazed. I will be warm, full, and lost in a sea of drowsiness and contentment. I may snore a little, from time to time. I have it worse than many, but better than so many more.
     Who am I?
     I think on love often.

     Merry Christmas, and special blessings to those of you who stroke the traffic whore in me, with your pageviews, and the wonderful comments that make me feel honored.  Special thanks as well, to those who visit the prisoners...in cells, beds, and broken lives. Thank you to my brothers and sisters who have brought me a cup of cold water in the name of love incarnate.

     Merry Christmas, and thank you Debbie,
     You are patient, kind, conveniently forgetful of my wrongs, and blindly optimistic about my character. You hope and believe all things about me. You even let me write about your personal stuff. You look kinda like a really hot Jesus. You make an A+ on the Love Test baby, in every way. May your thirst be quenched.

Jim

Gazing Away, originally uploaded by use2blost.

Jim called me last night for a ride. After posting about the cigarette thing, I talked to my IRL buddy, Scott. I also played around between my ears, thinking a little harder about Jim than I have been. I am almost positive he lies a little, and he has a couple of behavioral thingies that stand out. I have some questions about the disability/ physical address issue, and a lot of details in general are sorta foggy. I plan to start paying more strict attention (I mentioned Jim to a guy in my small group about a month ago, but my attendance is spotty when class is in session, and nothing has come of it). Over a few more run-ins, I may develop a little more clarity, about Jim’s life.

So, I drive out to meet Jim, and it’s dark. There is about a half a mile stretch of bad neighborhood that is one of three likely parts of town for Jim to request a rendezvous.

The last time I was here I had the chance to (there’s a whole post in here, but jeez, I’m wore out!) buy some crack. I think it was the eye contact (note to self… don’t be eyeballin’ the crack man!). I meant to speak to Jim about some other options. Evidently I dropped the ball. Jim is nowhere in sight. Damn. I turn around, and make another pass. I’m getting a little grumpy…don’t forget, I’ve been on steroids for a week and I don’t have my glasses.

OK, I wanna mention a few things:

1. At this time, I am in a painter’s van, no question. I got paint-spattered ladders strapped to it, big “SPRAY TECH” sticker on the rear window.
2. Umm…of all the construction trades, with the possible exception of roofers, none is better represented in the general crack-smoking population than painters. FYI most guys don’t get into house painting because they were a smashing success somewhere else.
3. Appearances matter, at 10 pm as you fly through the local crackport waggling your wings for the third consecutive pass.

I can’t believe I didn’t get a chance to buy some crack, this time. I was plenty stressed when I finally spotted Jim through the gloom. I swung in, he threw his bike in the van, and we split. I was still riding the warm fuzzy feeling from Jim’s earlier generosity and I had gotten paid for a small job. I wanted to hook him up, so we Taco Belled and got some smokes, and I gave him a little cash. When I let him out, I may have still been a little agitated. I was agonizing about the whole shower thing and suddenly rediscovered my testicles. I decided to offer him a shower.

He told me he was nervous, no thank you

It was uncomfortable. He probably thinks I’m a homelessguyophile (that's sorta funny, to me...but I'm strange). I have decided regardless, to have greater intentionality trying to impact this guy’s life in a good way.

Oh, and I told him I blogged about him…that was bothering me.

Cadillacs...

Jim's Good Side, originally uploaded by use2blost.

Tuesday, September 08, 2009

Homeless Jim bought me a pack of Cadillacs today. Caddies, refer to premium cigarettes... Newports, Camels, Marlboros and the like. He pitied me in my affluence. My financial circumstances are stressful by my standards, though Jim probably wouldn’t agree. He smelled bad. He called a little squatting spot a place of his own for a week or two, but somehow he lost it. Jim tells me that social security requires a physical address to send a check. A P.O. box is unacceptable. I think Jim’s progress at obtaining disability income runs into a stone wall, here. This hurdle confounds him. Jim needs a lump sum of 300-400 dollars to get his foot in the door and rent some slum property, but he has no slum to send the check to. Hmmm. Direct deposit comes to mind….
I first met Jim last summer, and he has survived the winter. He truly lives Hand to Mouth. I should mention that Jim is dying, I think. The Hole in his face was my first clue. The cancer distorts the whole side of his head, giving it a caved in appearance. One eye twists askew, peering downward and to the outside, oozing pus perpetually. It’s not pretty, and coupled with the smell, it really cuts down on Jim’s attractiveness as an employee. He employs himself, tackling odd jobs, and sometimes gets ripped off. I’m afraid to let Jim know where I live, and this shames me, a little.

Of course Jim panhandles, which I find strange. Here in Warner Robins, my roots go back over thirty years. Growing up as an Air Force Brat on the Base, I never saw panhandling, and I’m pretty sure I never saw it in town. Twenty years ago I saw panhandlers in Little Five Points, when I ran away to Atlanta after flunking out of college. So, I am not shocked (much), but this takes place 5 blocks from my House. Going out for a stroll can bring me across the trail of a homeless guy before I finish a small Hemmingway. It’s kind of new to me.
Anyway, I am favorable disposed toward panhandlers. God is good, and today a home of my own awaits my evening return, but this was not always the case. I remember leaner times, and usually will contribute a buck or two for the Cause when approached. The first night I met Jim I got an inner nudge, a wordless articulation of compassion for this stranger.
I have this little light inside me, you see. It swirls and it twirls. It flits about, focusing on one thing or another. Sometimes it locks in on something like a pit bull, and explodes with brilliance. It terrified me this night. I think it wanted me to take Jim to my house and let him shower, wash his clothes. Spend the night. Have ten hours as a normal American.

Yeah. I’m pretty sure that’s what it wanted. Instead, I emptied my change into his hands. I had probably broken a hundred for some gasoline, and a carton of smokes. Some Marlboros.

Cadillacs.

Jim probably cleared 15 bucks, plus my last open pack of cigarettes, and a brand new pack from the fresh carton. Oh, Glory. I lavished these gifts casually with a secret shame at my fear, but this windfall made Jim cry. We both went on our way, after a few words on…theology, and economics. I had a hard time thinking of Jim for a day or two, but I got over it. It seems I can do that for a little while.

So Jim and I have engaged in this dance. I am suspicious and freaked out, and I try to catch him in a lie. He is destitute for the most part, and tries to catch me with a few bucks in my pocket. Jim succeeds more often than I do. He has my phone number, and sometimes calls and asks for a ride, or a little money (I have called my buddy Scott and kept him on the phone while dropping money off to Jim… just in case he cut my throat, or popped a cap in my ass.) The hole in his face has to be stopped up with a paste in order for him to swallow properly, and he can’t enjoy anything like coffee or ice cream. Everything must be lukewarm. I guess it’s very painful otherwise.
I will cough up nine bucks and change for his paste prescription or other medication and occasionally get him something to eat. I will also speak to Jim with irritation, if he calls when studies press upon me, or my wallet is empty. The little light inside me can be eclipsed…by a selfish prick, it seems... but I digress.

Today, Jim and I made eye contact across Watson Boulevard. I made a left, waved and then saw Jim turn in my direction. Damn. Looking in the rearview, I became worried that Jim might be able to triangulate my neighborhood location if I continued, so I made a U- turn and waited. I have no money. My financial aid is a month late, I missed my house payment, the water will be shut off Thursday, and my power on the 14th. I’m holding, though. I got one cigarette, my last one.

You would have to be a lifelong smoker to completely understand. As addictions go, smoking is unique. Cigarettes are legal, and the addictive behavior happens in public, it’s easy to forget the strength it has over you. Until you’re broke. (Imagine trying to kick a cocaine habit if you saw crack every time you stopped for a cup of coffee, or walked by a public building, or picked your kids up from school.) I had been starving the monkey on my back for two days. At this point the occasional cigarette I came across simply whetted my appetite; I existed in a state of constant deprivation, and an underlying feeling of piss-off from the steroids they put me on Saturday.
Jim asked me for a cigarette. I declined, and it hurt. I got frustrated. I was embarrassed. I had never denied Jim a cigarette, so he knew something was up. He reluctantly asked for a ride, I agreed, and we headed up town. Jim listened to me bitch, and took the other half of the cigarette. When we arrived at Jim’s destination, his job had been given to a nephew. Too bad, so sad.

We rode back down Watson Boulevard and Jim directed me into a parking lot. He produced a handful of singles, went inside the store, and bought cigarettes. He bought himself some cheap, shitty cigarettes, and he bought me what I smoke. They cost nearly twice as much. He bought me some Caddies.

He bought me some Marlboros.

Jim is homeless. He and I live in totally different economies. Four dollars and eighty-five cents, for me is merely a more pleasant evening, with my legal drug. I can write my paper, study my psychology, be warm and civil to people I bump up against. I’ll spend the whole night without losing my temper. For Jim, four dollars and eighty-five cents is 6 Checker Burgers on Sunday special. Jim gave up a day of eatin’, and I’m afraid to let him come take a shower....

BTW... Check out Mama's writer's workshop.

...

David

David, originally uploaded by use2blost.

David is a "good ol' boy" and a close friend to my neighbors. He is a striking character, and as upright and straightforward a man as you could hope to meet. Last May, I needed a hand with an emergency project at my house, and found myself 25 dollars short of the agreed upon compensation. David told me I could make good the following day, to my relief. I found myself really wanting him to like me. He had made a great impression, with his casual, down-to-earth conversation, a clear presentation of his theological views (in today's vernacular, using short words that anyone can spell.) and a penetrating social commentary. I was embarrassed and uncomfortable at misjudging the contents of my wallet, and impulsively snatched 2 zucchinis from a nearby vine, and thrust them into his arms. His surprised smile split his face like the sun peeking through a break in the clouds. "We're square, Chris", he said in a scratchy, gravelly voice that has since become a familiar sound in my ears.
Now, several months later, I have talked with David many times (this is really cool, I usually suck at making male friends, but David has made it easy), often in my driveway as I play with my dogs, and he stops by to talk to me or the girls next door. Shortly after I first met him, I drove off without raising the jack on my utility trailer. This is not good to do, and my trailer jack has been unsafe, and unstable since. David had walked by the trailer few times, and always mentioned that a couple bent pieces of metal could be easily remedied. This last time, He finally asked me when I'd have a free afternoon, and I said "School breaks in about six weeks" .
The next time I laid eyes on him, he had gotten to work, undeterred by the increasingly heavy falling rain. Applying a little perspiration, redneck ingenuity, and florid, south Georgia profanity to my problem, he soon had me back in safe working order.... I'll have to put a bee in his bonnet about the intake manifold on my Isuzu. (and yes, we WERE supposed to wear safety goggles)

Bride or Whore? Is Your Love Real?

Special thanks to Tracy Taylor, one of my flickr contacts for the use of her image, and her quick reply to my request. I needed something appropriate, and googling "bride whore" and the like REALLY wasn't getting me what I needed.

I was tracking down an email in an old unused account, and stumbled across one from an old friend, entitled "lover or prostitute". My friend Rick is a respected thinker/mentor figure in my life, and a devout Christian,whose opinion generally carries weight with me. Also, I have never rented a prostitute, and that whole thing is mysterious, and titillating. Of course I stopped scanning the other 400 chunks of forwarded jokes, ads for camping gear (not spam) and products to make my boobs bigger, or my butt smaller (spam). I opened it. I was an article penned by David Ryser, who writes with a clarity I envy. It was VERY thought provoking.
Now, Rick is an entrepreneur, restaurateur, and executive of tremendous success, but Rick don't blog, and Rick don't HTML. No link. It was weird, I found references to Ryser's article all over the web but couldn't find anyone who had linked 'im.

LINK!

So there. One of the no-linkers posted his email address. His url was in my box bright an early this morning.
Dude has posted an enormous amount of stuff on theology, and this was the first article, entitled "Lover or Prostitute? the Question That Changed My Life". It must have changed his life if his blog is one of the results. It's not light reading, but it's clear. What he writes doesn't confuse me. What he makes me think about... THAT may be a little confusing.
Dr. Ryser recalls a day he was teaching in a school of ministry:

I came across a quote attributed most often to Rev. Sam Pascoe. It is a short version of the history of Christianity, and it goes like this: "Christianity started in Palestine as a fellowship; it moved to Greece and became a philosophy; it moved to Italy and became an institution; it moved to Europe and became a culture; it came to America and became an enterprise." Some of the students were only 18 or 19 years old--barely out of diapers--and I wanted them to understand and appreciate the import of the last line, so I clarified it by adding, “An enterprise. That’s a business.” After a few moments Martha, the youngest student in the class, raised her hand. I could not imagine what her question might be. I thought the little vignette was self-explanatory, and that I had performed it brilliantly. Nevertheless, I acknowledged Martha’s raised hand, “Yes, Martha.” She asked such a simple question, “A business? But isn’t it supposed to be a body?” I could not envision where this line of questioning was going, and the only response I could think of was, “Yes.” She continued, “But when a body becomes a business, isn’t that a prostitute?”

I'm goin' kinda slow here, cuz the email was abridged. So as I read the article I'm stumbling over even more stuff to think about. Martha has asked a couple humdinger's and Dr. Paul makes a couple points about knowing/knowledge, and motives, expressing the an opinion that most American Christians do not know God--much less love Him. If I can muddy the water a bit, I would like to interject that in English, the word love is extremely vague, defined by context, often used in speech between people who have different things in mind. One way to minimize this miscommunication would be to write much more cumbersome paragraphs, where we substitute sentences in quotes for the word love. This would make the meaning more clear. like this:

• "I want to have a lifelong relationship of mutual submission(and hopefully you'll be better at this than me), transparency, and deepening emotional intimacy seasoned liberally with unbaggaged, guilt free sex"
• "I have a really warm fuzzy feeling when I look at you and remember all the things you've done that please me...and I want to spit out a nice tribute to this moment"
• " You have said you love me, in front of witnesses, and I don't want to be an asshole."

Whaddya think? Y'all wanna start doin' that? Or....We could add 20 or 30 or 50 words to the English language. When I marvel at how quickly and completely we have integrated the metric system here in the U.S., I think that would only take us a century to agree on the specifics, and another one to implement it. Or we could write all our posts on theology in Greek. Or we could look at a couple things.

Did Jesus say "Love God with most of your being, and direct the leftovers at your neighbor"?
No. He said to give it all to God. And then directs us to give some to others. Hello? Does anybody notice this seems paradoxical? I think we gravely underestimate the totality of agape. Dr. Ryser speculates:

“What’s the difference between a lover and a prostitute?” I realized that both do many of the same things, but a lover does what she does because she loves. A prostitute pretends to love, but only as long as you pay. Then I asked the question, “What would happen if God stopped paying me?”

It seems like Dr. Ryser believes a bride has agape, and a whore does not. What if the bride does stop receiving her pay? What if the groom denies her affection, conversation, disclosure, protection, and smokes the family budget in a crack pipe. You think this will affect their sex life? What if after a month of uncomfortable abstinence, He comes home geekin' an peekin', with no money, but his crack dealer in tow, so they can gang rape his wife for a $50 rock. These things happen. When she leaves, does that mean she is a whore? Or is she human, like me?

A parent claims to have unconditional love for their child, but it's their child. That's a condition. (I do think parent-child love is the closest picture, however...please, no insulted moms armed with torches, tar and feathers)

A spouse truly thinks they have unconditional love for their other half, until they catch em bangin' the secretary, mailman, or whoever.

Pastors (not mine!) claim unconditional love for their congregation. Huh.

Jesus says the greatest love is laying down your life for your friends. For most of my searching, starving, "where are you God?" life I thought this referred to the whole cross thing, but does it? If I died for you, as like a real big favor, because you sucked so bad you needed to be killed, but then I showed up 3 days later, what was my sacrifice?

Say a man goes from the age of accountability to the time of his death at 33, focused only on God's agenda for the benefit of those he loves. He rejects the women who want to marry him (you know there at least a couple). As the heir, he turns his back on the family carpentry business, to wander about as an itinerant rabbi, and serve God's purpose. Say he does this in the face of grave abuse, and crushing disappointment. Doesn't that more accurately describe the laying down of life? Could that be agape? Even the spiritual giants (and I use this term respectfully) that I know personally have families, homes, lives. Their ministry is just a part of it.

Perhaps agape sojourned here for 33 years, visiting from another world, the only place it occurs naturally. Perhaps love left a picture. Maybe we are just trying to sketch the photograph we have been given. Perhaps some of us sketch better than others. Teresa of Avila comes to mind:

Oh God, I don't love you, I don't even want to love you, but I want to want to love you!

*BTW, I have since been told that bastards (which Jewish culture would have considered Jesus) would not have been allowed to inherit... so I guess Jesus didn't turn away from the family business...oops.

Belonging to God

Anonymous said...

hmm, maybe you and I don't belong to God..,

"He who belongs to God hears what God says. The reason you do not hear is that you do not belong to God." - John 8:47

I cannot say that I have fully given my life to God or Jesus, I have lots of attachments like beer, money, etc.

Reckon these vices keep me from belonging to God?

TJG

April 23, 2009 7:51 PM

Perhaps you and I don't belong to God... but maybe we do.

³⁴When the Pharisees heard that Jesus^£ had silenced the Sadducees, they met together in the same place. ³⁵One of them, an expert in the Law, tested him by asking, ³⁶“Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” ³⁷Jesus^£ said to him, “‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.’^{£ 38}This is the greatest and most important^£ commandment. ³⁹The second is like it: ‘You must love your neighbor as yourself.’^{£ 40}All the Law and the Prophets depend on these two commandments.”

This is what Jesus says we must do. This is the most important thing, according to him. What is interesting is that Jesus, who knows a whole lot, including the hearts of men, chooses to answer a one - answer question, with two answers. He tells us that All the Law (a vast do-and-don't database) and All the Prophets can be distilled to these essentials... hmmm. All means all. Law..... Prophets.... This tells us that when we violate the Law, or fail to apply the wisdom of the Prophets, we are either not loving God, or not loving our neighbor (and remember, Jesus tells us these are flip sides of the same coin, goes so far as to say that not loving our neighbor is not loving God: "first be reconciled to your brother...." ).
Now, I don't like the notion that breaking a commandment means that I am not loving God. It is a nagging rebuttal from the peanut gallery, that rings out when I am trying to bask in self-righteousness, or privately congratulate myself on my down-to-earth spirituality. I would LOVE to correct Jesus. (Whoa, Lord! you've made a mistake in your thinking... let me explain it to you...) To tell us that obeying the Law, and applying the wisdom of the Prophets, are manifestations of loving God and my Neighbor, and that these two things are the One Thing that matters most to God, is shining an inconvenient light into the corners and shadows of religion.

TJG, you ask if your vices keep you from belonging to God:

I cannot say that I have fully given my life to God or Jesus, I have lots of attachments like beer, money, etc.

Reckon these vices keep me from belonging to God?

I think everything already belongs to God, but here is perhaps some food for thought.

1. Must you love God in order to surrender to him? Hopefully these are issues of degree, with a correlation between them.
2. If drunkeness and goldigging cut the telephone line to God, What about hypocrisy, chasin' ho's (or just thinking about it :D), overeating, ...driving past the homeless, hungry dude on the way to Wallyworld to get a fishing license? ...ordering the first (or any) crusade? What sins are exempt?
   

Love Your Neighbors, Except the Homosexual Ones?

Bug Love, originally uploaded by use2blost.

     Update: This was a piece crafted to encourage the reader to take a hands-off approach to the issue of homosexual matrimony. I no longer feel this way... Today, I believe a follower of Jesus should take an actively encouraging stance toward homosexual equality. I just can't help it. I read my Bible, I think, and I have known too damn many homos with the fruit of the spirit within them. Also... it occurs to me, that Paul never got 'saved'. If we want to be honest, Paul's conversion as documented in Acts was one of duress. Can you freely choose Christ when you've had your ass kicked off your ass (LOL) and been struck blind?
Just sayin...
Chris 6/7/11


Disclaimer:


     Dang, y'all. In the last year, This has become the busiest post on this lil' ol' blog. Whodda thunkit! I'm a little bit nervous, I notice many of you arrive here after Googling Andy Stanley+Homosexual. Hopefully, if he's noticed this (I've seen a hit or three from North Georgia.), he is amused. At no time/place/dream have I ever read/heard/been told about Andy's position on homosexual marriage ect. He is just one of my favorite speakers. I have heard him imply that homosexuality is a sin in an old sermon. This was a critical thinking exercise for an English class, Never met Andy, don't own an Ipod. Been to NPC twice... I like to catch a service on my way home from hiking.
Chris, 2/22/2010

     I have not posted since last year. A couple apparently manageable situations swelled up, grew fangs, and broke free of their restraints, suddenly my daily routine was anything but ... I let a lot of stuff go: blogging, commenting, photography, sleep. This is a paper I was told to write... one where I attempt to persuade the audience to accept my viewpoint (fat chance! :D), and one where passive voice was obsessively avoided, under the red-inked lash of Mrs. Wilcox's correcting pen. This is why it possibly sounds nothing like me, is choppy (I had a space limit), and many of my points are not fleshed out. The issue is interesting, though it seems to only break the headline barrier when election looms on the horizon. Working through my opinions, and the reasons behind them, was an eye-opener for me, and made me remember with embarrassment an earlier time, when I would take words from the pulpit, slap a few out of context verses underneath them as a foundation, and adopt it as my personal doctrine. I practice a LOT more critical thinking now, I hope.


BTW... I found myself completely out of my depth in Mrs. Wilcox's eng 101 class. I could not have explained the difference between active and passive voice to save my life, but passive voice sure does come easier. One of the things we were taught to look for was the use of passive voice signal words, i.e.-


Have, has, had, do, does, did, be, am, is, are, were, being, been, can, could, may, might, must, shall, will, would, ought to. These counted off...16 of them would get you an F. It's really harder than it sounds... you should give it a try.


Also, a few words about Andy Stanely: I've noticed if you google "Andy Stanely and Gay rights" this post is on the fourth page, and someone from south carolina googled " Andy Stanley Homosexual" and this post is the first entry...Go figure.

     

     The opposition of gay rights by Christians undermines Christian credibility and the spreading of the gospel. Popular culture uses the word “marriage” to refer to two different things. The institution ordained by God,[1] and the civil contract, often of short duration, facilitated by secular authorities. Mainstream Christian religion struggles to prevent homosexuals from acquiring the benefits of the civil union, and where that has failed, to fight for a prohibition against using the term marriage to legally define long term cohabitative arrangements between members of the same sex. This hinders the dissemination and acceptance of the gospel, as well as the goodwill of a significant slice of the population that needs to hear it. Additionally, the legitimacy of Christian culture as salt and light suffers a negative impact in a world sorely lacking in clarity and palatable flavor. This mindset also conflicts with the examples of Jesus, and God the Father. The evangelical community best serves the agenda behind the Great Commission (Holy Bible, New International Version "Matthew 22.36") by keeping a healthy distance from a movement espousing political aggression against the homosexual population’s attempt to grasp equality. 
     Sadly, in a society of overwhelming literacy, busyness leaves the typical modern layman relatively unfamiliar with scripture, in contrast to the new testament Jew, who walked in a world where ninety-five to ninety-seven percent of his peers lacked the ability to read or write (Ortberg), but shared a rich oral tradition with his community, and was required to memorize the Pentateuch prior to being granted the privileges of adulthood. This twenty-first century failing effectively handicaps critical thinking in the majority of Church attendees, encouraging a herd mentality/mob rule approach to the selective legislating of morality, targeting the Equal Rights for Gays issue. For a segment of the population with a divorce rate virtually indistinguishable from the rest of western culture, to draw a line in the sand over the sanctity of marriage, while remaining conspicuously silent on the issue of heterosexual cohabitation showcases a terrible arrogance.  
     The critical thinking Christian, a grateful recipient of grace, should rejoice with love that gay people may, through legal commitment, obtain things that a heterosexual partner in marriage takes for granted: A more attractive tax status, the ability to provide affordable family health insurance, public acknowledgement of love for a spouse, and an environment that discourages promiscuous eroticism (Boteach).The ongoing attempts to deny these benefits to homosexuals contradict the doctrine of “love your neighbor as yourself” (Holy Bible, New International Version "Matthew 28.18-20"). It places the participant in the company of bigots and hypocrites, and flies in the face of the example of relational evangelism modeled in scripture by Jesus. In Mark 2:13 Jesus approaches Levi at the tax collection booth, and says simply: 
     “Follow Me.” (Holy Bible, New International Version "Mark 2.14").  
     Today’s reader tends to overlook the significance of this invitation. Israel, at this time a conquered nation, reserved its deepest contempt for the tax collector, a man employed by Roman authorities. This man made the choice to grow rich from the subjugation of his countrymen. The tax collector warranted his own category, demonstrated by the biblical cliché “tax collectors and sinners” (Stanley, Simple "Follow"). Jesus commits the faux pas to end all faux pas, equivalent to inviting a known pedophile to tag along while he goes to pick up the kids. This shows bible readers ( not sermon listeners) the first step in evangelism according to Christ, the establishment of relationship. In the war of personal conflict, there exist two fronts: The battle of the heart, and the disagreement . Lasting peace necessitates harmony in both. Human selfishness tends to prioritize the argument, and having won, will from time to time magnanimously condescend to make overtures toward the vanquished heart. The wisdom of this method remains questionable. Remember, the victor deals with another selfish human, and human hearts can break upon losing an argument. They become scarred, hardened, closed. They begin to malfunction. The loyalty of the defeated seldom manifests itself, and bitter tears provide excellent nourishment for the seeds of future discord. The opportunity for lasting peace withers away, choked out by the weeds of resentment. The issue arises again, and who knows the outcome? Victory in the matter of the disagreement decreases the probability of winning the battle of the heart. By winning the heart first, Jesus neatly sidesteps the problem of acrimony, and opens the door to win the argument, with reason and loving example in the near future.This rationale lies behind his unconditional invitation to “Follow me”. (Stanley, "Life Rules")
     Jesus’ logic follows a precedent, not a radical departure from God’s previous treatment of humanity. After all, he did only the will of the Father. For example, Israel receives the Ten Commandments only after a dramatic rescue and three months divine babysitting during a walk through the desert (Holy Bible, New International Version "Exodus 19.1-8"). Three months after trying God’s patience time and again. Three months after God says: “Follow me.” Three months after God makes an impression. When the Church takes an aggressive stance against gay marriage, it communicates a message diametrically opposed to “Follow me”. It communicates a message that undermines Christian credibility and the spreading of the gospel. It communicates someone else’s message. The critically thinking believer asks himself: 
     “Whose message is that? Why would the average man or women spare the time necessary for aggressive intolerance?”  
     The difficulties of life demand the bulk of the average person’s attention. Western humanity rushes about at a frantic pace, driven to wallow in it’s prosperity, often thoughtless as to the source of the blessings. The Christian that gives credence to scripture understands that a loving God, allows himself to be opposed. God permits the existence of evil for the sake of good, and a desire for voluntary faithfulness. Free will, seldom swayed by power, makes love possible. Phillip Yancy explains this with compelling clarity:

“In a concentration camp, as so many witnesses have told us, the guards possess nearly unlimited power. By applying force, they can make you renounce your God, curse your family, Work without pay, eat human excrement, kill and then bury your closest friend or even your own mother. All this is within their power. Only one thing is not: they cannot force you to love them.

The fact that love does not operate according to the rules of power may help explain why God sometimes seems shy to use his power. He created us to love him, but his most impressive displays of miracle—the kinds we may secretly long for—do nothing to foster that love.”

  Mr. Yancy goes on to quote Douglas John Hall, author of God and Human Suffering: “God’s problem is not that God is not able to do certain things. God’s problem is that God loves. Love complicates the life of God as it complicates every life.” (Yancey)
The questions remain: “Whose message is that? Why would the average man or women spare the time necessary for aggressive intolerance?” 

Seventy years in the past, as God watches from a timeless eternity, people in Germany, a supposedly Christian nation decide the Jews, a minority population that believes the wrong thing threatens the way of life they desire to recapture. Their world falls apart, the different ones the source of their problems. They hear another message, that it’s okay to treat the wrong people the wrong way. It’s okay to give them less than the right people, the good people. Less privileges, less rights, less space, less freedom, less food, and less air. Seventy years spans less than the blink of the divine eye. God watches, with omnipotence held in check, unlimited power in voluntary restraint. He desires the love of humanity, toward himself and each other (Holy Bible, New International Version "Matthew 22.36"), and waits in divine abdication for humanity to get off this familiar path. He waits for his people to exercise the free will bestowed in love, for the sake of love, to foster that love. He waits for the Church to realize that the opposition of gay rights by Christians undermines Christian credibility and the spreading of the gospel. I wish we would hurry up.

Works Cited

Holy Bible, New International Version "Mark 2.14". Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2006.

Holy Bible, New International Version "Matthew 22.36". Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2006.

Holy Bible, New International Version "Matthew 28.18-20". Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2006.

Life rules. By Andy Stanley. Perf. Andy Stanley. Northpoint Community Church, Alpharetta.

Simple "Follow". By Andy Stanley. Perf. Andy Stanley. Northpoint Community Church, Alpharetta .

Yancey, Phillip. Disappointment With God. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1988.

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[1] God, in this post, refers to Elohim/Yaweh, God the Father. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, acknowledged as the creator of reality by Islam, Judaism, and Christianity. Religion refers to Christianity. Though exceptions exist, Christianity in general, and this author acknowledge in Yeshua, or Jesus Christ, a paradoxically divine nature. One with God, yet separate… different, yet the same.

Once again, woken up spontaneously

  at 3:30 a.m.-in time to do my homework, after prioritizing family and health...oh yeah, my dad gave me a night vision scope. can hardly wait to go camping , now...and check this out, this is an israeli photographer ( Ilia Shalamaev)and this bird is local (to him). Being the Birthplace of My God, mention of israel makes me sit up and take notice, lately. and this guy's online portfolio is amazing...along with a couple of dowloadable powerpoints. I think of israel as desert wasteland... what a reminder . http://www.focuswildlife.com/