I am Stepping up...

Stepping up., originally uploaded by Christopher Rauch.  View the LARGE version

to the plate.
     In soooo many different ways. Dat's whats up. Tonight, on the Starbucks patio, I have coffee at my right hand, and a good cigar in my left. I have been in constant motion for days and tonight I have chosen to sacrifice a little sleep to get my bearings. I am taking stock. I am evaluating a few priorities and taking a personal inventory. 
     I have been accepted into the nursing program. It has taken me over three years to get here (really it's taken about eight... I needed a few years before I could even find the balls to listen to that quiet little voice in my head, and look at the picture I kept seeing...) When I began this journey, I wasn't even a high school graduate. Now, three years hence, I have graduated Magna Cum Laude from the Georgia Military College, and I am awestruck when I pause to consider the sheer enormity of what God has accomplished with an attention-deficit dyslexic who left home at seventeen without ever having learned how to live. I have a degree today, and I am engaged in seeking another one. I dream of one day being able to provide for a family, and impact my world in a positive way for the glory of my God. I also hope like hell that this is not entirely my idea, but my faith in this grows stronger with every miraculously opened door, and I have finally come to a place where I am at least a little bit comfortable with letting God handle his end and concentrating on mine. Concentration is not my strong suite, especially if I am distracted trying to handle God's business.
      As soon as I decided to go back to school, my dying marriage took a nose dive, and I ended up getting a divorce. As I was driving across town to have my wife sign the papers, I got a phone call. My father had died. The next forty eight hours were incredible, and I have never been the same. Depression seems to come and go, and returning to school after a twenty five year break has been indescribably stressful. I got more than a little crazy, and still have a difficult time remembering how I managed to get through school with the grades needed to make it into the nursing program at my college. Several times it seemed that someone else was in the driver's seat, and I am grateful. I have also become aware of how unlikely my success was, in the face of my lifestyle and attitude. The stakes are now much higher, both financially and emotionally. I really don't want to deal with the consequences of dropping this ball, and it has become important to come to clarity about my big picture, what I have been doing wrong, and what needs to change in order to pull this off.
     A little over nine months ago, I heard the clue phone start ringing, and when I answered it... it turned out to be for me. Whaddya know. The voice on the line basically said: "You're fucking up. Not only do I have a much better life prepared for you, but I have a job for you to do, and you're not doing it!"

     I argue with God often, (though he has yet to strike me dead, obviously.) This time, I took the divine asschewing without complaint. I knew I had it coming. I was miserable. I was wallowing in self -pity and had fallen into depression. I was drinking daily, and had returned to some old ways of thinking, which I've posted about earlier. In my anger and disappointment, my prayers became arrogant, accusatory, and infrequent. I began romantic involvement immediately, and began to take several hundred pictures a week. Anything to avoid dealing with multifaceted grief, grow the fuck up, and learn how to live. My life was a mess, and I was ripe for the divine wake up call. I had  gotten off track, to say the least. I am among other things, a mystic. Many of us pray. If the surveys are to be believed, even atheists pray, but as Andy Stanley says, a mystic is someone who believes God talks back...or talks period, I forget which. 
     C.S. Lewis tells us that God "whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, and shouts to us in our pain; It is his megaphone to rouse a dying world." My world was dying, and I heard the shout. I have, along with the every other living creature, experienced my share of pain. I have slowly, stubbornly learned to recognize the voice of my God in these instances, and further- have been growing ever more sensitive to the speaking and whispering. Still, he must shout at me from time to time, because, like D.L. Moody, the sensitivity to God's voice leaks out of me, through the many holes in my character.

     Anyway, I heard the message and made the decision to return to habits and disciplines that had brought me so far, and helped me so much in the past. I began to again seek personal growth, and the struggle to redefine and rebuild my life, this time with a commitment to surrender to God's design for the life of Chris Rauch. 
     Now, a decision is one thing, and for the most part, an indispensible prerequisite to intentional progress, but it is in the theatre of practical application that the rubber truly meets the road. In my resolve, I must answer the question: “How do I do this?" For me, the renovation of life is a process, and it begins with constructive action. I work out before I develop muscles. My inclination is to lose weight, develop muscular definition, and then start going to the gym, but things don’t work this way. I have to figure out what to do. To obtain knowledge I must go to those who profess to have it… and if I am wise, I will go to those professors who are actively engaged in ongoing practical application. The best hospitals are research hospitals, and the best universities are those that research the frontiers of knowledge. 
     Self-actualization, as defined by Maslow, is when the desire for fulfillment drives us to reach our maximum potential. When our life is lacking joy/fulfillment, this absence drives us to grow. So the question for me is "Who is busy today, taking practical action to reach self actualization? Who is doing the research?" 
     I find upon reflection that it is usually not the politicians, not the proponents of religious piety, and not the millions of couch potatoes that claim Oprah Winfry as their guru. In all of these cross sections of western society, those who actively seek personal growth are a tiny minority. Honestly, there is no demographic that that is not dominated by apathy, but there is a global community represented my members of all areas of humanity where the minority seeking to actively improve their lives reaches the point of statistical significance. This is the recovery movement. The Twelve Step Programs. It is the alcoholics, the addicts, the codependents, the gamblers, and the compulsively promiscuous, that are driven by the pain of their dysfunction, to apply spiritual principles in their lives and strive toward their maximum potential. These people with all their failings, are my teachers. 
     
     I'll post next on the twelve steps programs, and my take on how the steps operate, but it is late, and this post has gotten a helluva a lot longer than I intended. 


"Now, With God's Help, I Shall Become Myself" ~ Soren Kierkegaard.

   


       Good Night. :)

10 Things to Think About Before Pulling the Plug

The view from the from the 4th floor, originally uploaded by use2blost.

According to the House of Lords Select Committee on Medical Ethics, the precise definition of euthanasia is "a deliberate intervention undertaken with the express intention of ending a life, to relieve intractable suffering".^*

     Well.
     This has become more than  intellectual. The DNR protocols here at the Houston County Medical Center have three levels of `Letting Someone Die"  The questions I am asking are:

1. Is letting someone die all that different from euthanasia?
2. Are one or both of these Okay?  
3. Is this analogous to other moral issues? (for instance, murder is bad, letting a murder occur when you have the power to prevent it is bad as well...They are on the same side of the Good /Evil line. Is euthanasia/DNR like that...both on one side of the morality coin, U.S. law nonwithstanding?)
4. Where are you with all of this Christopher? Whats your opinion, and why?
5. Does scripture speak to this?...More importantly, does God speak to this? (remember...God and scripture are not synonymous. Can you say idolatry?)
6. Is there a  protestant interpretation?
7. Does it differ from the Catholic?
8. Do you give a shit about 6 and 7?
9. What does it mean that you are to determine these things for a retarded person? What defines your responsibility in this situation?  
10. Is this a good reason to have a cigarette ?

     

*wikipedia

Going to Hell.

Anonymous said...

December 3, 2009 12:06 PM

Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. And that is what some of you were. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.

(NIV, 1st Corinthians 6:9-11)

Chris, have any thoughts on the "washed" part? I call myself a Christian yet I drink more than my wife thinks I should. Why haven't I been washed of the desire to drink? Greed, I would rather put money in my bank account than give it to a church (don't attend), yet I don't mind sharing with the guy who has the 'will work for food' sign. "...will not inherit the kingdom of God.." does this mean I am going to hell? Didn't Noah dring alot?

     This is a written reprimand against denominations. (my first heresy of the day!) the other stuff is incidental, and I myself will place the words in red before the words of Paul, and I don't believe that ongoing sin causes us to lose favor with God. Ya know, I don't read Greek or Hebrew (I've actually got some curriculum laying around, for when I get caught up...when I got it the first glance was intimidating :D), but your average churchy fella will probably say that this refers to our being "cleansed" of sin. There are lotsa verses people quote. I like "as far as the east is from the west." Quite a few Christians I have talked with teach that God does not even remember our sin (This is total bullshit...as Andy Stanley observes, if this were the case, every sermon that mentioned David nailing Bathsheba would leave God puzzled, and disoriented...divine Alzheimer's.)      Another popular doctrine is that we must ask for forgiveness each time we sin, in spite of the fact that Jesus died for every sin, past present or future. There are a dozen posts just in that concept alone...thanks for the fodder.           God has not removed your desire to drink. I don't know that he ever will. I predict if you continue to drink, the desire will become more entrenched. If we wanna go on a doctrinal acquisition foray through the Gospels, we find an interesting take on what mainstream religianity calls substance abuse.

•       There is a serious party that has run out of the most popular drug of choice for that culture and that time.
• Jesus's  Ma nudges him about this (she must think it's a problem...furthermore, she seems to think he can fix it and his first miracle, according to some, hasn't happened yet)
• Jesus responds with an irritated "so what, Ma...you ain't the boss of me anymore"
• Mary ignores him and tells servants to do whatever he says. ( Have you ever told your Mom you didn't wanna do as she asked, and she just acted like you never spoke? Mary invented this technique. I always forget, as this point in the story, Mary has got to at least  be in her early forties.
• I've been to large weddings. When a large wedding has been drunk dry, their are a few serious buzzes stumbling around.
• In spite of this, Jesus miraculously manufactures between 120 and 180 gallons of wine.
• It's better than anything that has been drank so far that day/evening. (When Jesus makes drugs, he makes 'em good. You would expect no less.)
• This takes us to a spiritual place the average Baptist (or any 'Alcohol Bad!' denominational) cannot bring himself to visit...Jesus has "kept the party going" with over 100 gallons of badass hooch when several people have already got a bellyful. This is recreational drug use.
  

     I get a few unconventional doctrines out of this.

1. Obviously, Alcohol is not a sin.
2. Quite possibly, getting mildly ripped upon occasion is viewed benevolently by God. Let it be so.
3. It's okay to get irritated with your mother. Do what she asks, anyway.

Of course, Alcoholism is real. Will bite your ass. Just ask my ex wife.
     As to greed, IMO greed is not a have/don't have characteristic for most of us. It is a question of how much you got, and what form does it take. If you will give to a homeless guy, you must have a nugget of compassion, or guilt, or something buried in that little heart of yours. :)
    We know Noah got shitfaced at least once, we don't know if Noah drank a lot. I feel safe in assuming he didn't drink enough to be a fuckup.We all have a point where enough alcohol or any recreational drug for that matter, begins to degrade the quality of our life. I assure you that if we have begun to notice it, significant damage has already been done. There are places where "Hell" refers to the Jerusalem town dump, in the red ink, no less. There are references to the "Lake of Fire". Neither is a good spot to aim for, I would imagine. There is no place I know of where Jesus said "This is how to stay out of Hell"
     Religianity will detail things you must do to obtain what they call "The Free Gift Of Grace", which seems a contradiction to me, but I am a heretic. They will list ways you must feel, motives you must have, and even a chant you must utter, as in "repeat after me, to get saved".
     I don't think they quite grasp the reality of unmerited favor. I don't think you are going to hell.

     
Anonymous,
     I would like to mention a couple things.
     More than once, your comments have been sad. You drink. I don't know how much you drink, but drinking and sadness can precipitate a helluva nasty spiral and you know this, though it is easy to forget. If your wife has a problem, You have a problem. Period. Love comes with complications. Also, I've never met a wife who thought her husband drank too much....who was wrong about it. Your wife is afraid. Do something. These things don't go away and they will contribute to your sadness. And we know what sadness will contribute to, in a man who likes to catch a buzz. Be very careful.
    

Did you get the shot? Can I quit smiling, now?

Did you get the shot? Can I quit smiling, now?, originally uploaded by use2blost.   BIGGER

I wondered if it was worth it to take a camera on some of the rides. Got this pic with a little samsung about the size of your wallet, when you need the clean the junk out of it. I'm pleased. Would have hated to drop the Nikon. I heard someone repeating " My God, oh, My God, please, please." But Shep's not religious. Maybe  it was someone else.

Doggie Diabetes, and The Decline of Political Character.

     Not necessarily in that order.
     I found an amazing little nugget in my political science textbook. In 1787 the absence of a Bill of Rights was proving to be quite a hurdle in ratifying our Constitution. So the guys who supported the constitution said (This is Chris's paraphrase):

It's all good, dudes. You can go ahead and ratify this baby.We will put in a Bill of Rights. We promise. It's the first thing we'll do. We give you our word.

     The Second Group of Politicians then withdrew their objections, the Constitution was ratified, and The First Group of Politicians did exactly what they said they were going to do.
 This seemed really strange to me.

105 Years Old, originally uploaded by use2blost.  Shot by MY BABY! Detail     

      Jack has got diabetes, I guess. He's also having a helluva time getting around. Soozers, an exuberant  fifty pound muscle covered with black hair, casually slams him around, making his life a little more difficult. Because of the diabetes, Jack drinks constantly and pees all the time. For 15 years Jack has been an immaculately housebroken dog. He is still excellent in this regard, though he can have an accident if I oversleep. When we were both younger and my irresponsibility left Jack between a rock and a hard place, he would hop into the bathtub, and cut loose. (Whatta Dog!) Now hopping into the bathtub is just too difficult. He can still get in there during a thunderstorm (yeah. He's a wimp about thunder.) but a quick hop is out of the question for Jacks old, arthritic ass. Wednesday morning I overslept until six-thirty or so, and Jack pissed on the rug I keep for him to lay on. (Jack is allowed on the bed, unless he needs a bath and I haven't gotten around to it.) Jack is mortified when something like this happens. 
     Another effect of the diabetes is extreme weight loss. Jack is heartbreakingly scrawny, and because of this he is also almost always cold. I've talked to a vet, and was advised to put him on a high fiber diet to slow glucose uptake, and maybe that would help. Jack and Suzy get about the same level of health care that I do, so treatment for Jack's diabetes is gonna be a home remedy and/or euthanasia when things get a little worse. I had my first serious consideration of euthanizing Jack yesterday, while driving. It was an embarrassingly tearful episode with a little bit of snot, too. This could be kinda bad. We really need a success with the high fiber diet. I'm hoping that a heating pad, and half a children's aspirin daily will allow Jack to have a life worth living, until he hopefully dies in his sleep.
    Jack has been my friend for fifteen years. He is just a Damn Good Dog. He understands when you point, to look at what you point at, not your finger.That's a smart dog.  I haven't really asked God for a big favor in about eighteen months. (Dad died while I was carrying divorce papers to my wife, so she could sign 'em. For hours I was like "Papa, hold off on one of these, for a day or two. I never ask you for shit. C'mon. Please? ") I am quite upset about the dog thing. Irrationally, I hope he will handle the Dog thing a little better than the Father thing, and Marriage thing. For the Record, I want Jesus to make my 15 year-old dog gain some weight or kill him in his sleep. If he doesn't mind. Please.


                   

Nice Beginning To a Fall Camping Trip

Nice Beginning To a Fall Camping Trip, originally uploaded by use2blost.

     I left the battery to the Nikon in the charger. I also did not bring a fishing pole. I ended up buying a rod and reel combo from a Ma and Pa store. Said combo came with what looked like 20lb line. There was no notation on the packaging. Attaching a tiny rooster tail to the ah, rope, I proceeded to catch trout. It was wonderful, one of those times when the fish are biting so well, you begin to think it's YOU. You are a badass. An expert. You can sling a 1/24th oz rooster tail on the end of a freakin' hawser, and catch fish anyway.
     Fishing with this rig is kinda like circumcising with a broadsword. Not just anybody can do it. So I shot this with the little point and shoot, and really like it. The fall colors do it for me, but I'm not gay. The textures of the various lichens and algae on the water-rounded stones, and the scattered autumn leaves tickle my manly fancy. The earth tones, they call out to the  heterosexual outdoorsman within. Too bad I had to shoot it with the low-res fujifilm. I wanted to get it uploaded so I can send the link to some folks I want to make jealous, but that's it. I need to stay off this computer for a couple days.
     Trout fishing is a treat for me. There are no trout where I live, though bream are perhaps a reasonable equivalent, sport-wise. I think it may be the environment. Trout are an oily fish, having oils throughout their body, unlike a whiter fish. Trout are rich in the omega-goodstuff that helps the ticker. These fish generally prefer cooler water, and The local waters around here are like soup much of the year. Usually when I go to North Georgia, it is to hike. As I was leaving this time, Jack my oldest screamed a howling protest. Jack knows what a backpack is for, and my ear and guilty conscience picked up a note of anguished abandonment in Jack's plaintive wail. It occurred to me that I could backpack less, and camp more, until Jack dies. I really don't think it will be long.
     So I changed plans, upgraded a couple items, and threw a second dog in the car, but I forgot my fly rod...and my battery for the Nikon.

Youth, and Bucking the System..

Bucking the system., originally uploaded by use2blost.

I am trying to take mostly conventional portraiture, lately. I wish to hone my skills. Today is the Day, the powers that be have sworn that my financial aid will be in my possession. I await it nervously, sure something will go wrong. There is much I should do, but a lot of time I find myself lost between my ears, thumb inserted in posterior. Not only do I have some overdue bills, But I am desperate to get away to the mountains. Backpacking is my idea of a good time, and once you have your gear, the cost of a getaway is minimal, determined by how much gas you need to get where you're going. However... I've had a bad road trip experience in the past, related to mechanical failure and prefer not to go out of town without a little chunk in the bank. The experience of spending several days in the forest without hearing a machine is a drink of water to my soul. I feel less distracted from God, and usually manage to sort out a thing or two. This happens when I am alone, and last break, I simply did not have the right combination of time off and an empty schedule to get away. I prepare myself for disappointment.
The van reminds me of my time living in Little Five Points, a neighborhood in south Metro Atlanta. I had flunked out of college at 19, and It just really seemed like a good idea to not come home (they have been throwing me out of schools since I was a HS sophomore). Of course, in Little Five the van woulda had a peace sign or two on it. Little Five is THAT place. The place in the city where you can buy crystal (meth), crystals (not meth), Birkenstocks, tie-dyed shirts, nude paintings of artist's tattooed and pierced girlfriends, and LSD. And you can go into a restaurant and get a special meal. One with no animal in it. At all. It was wild. (Not the vegan meal...that whole period of my life.) I went up there for a party and ended up getting an apartment with another dumbass who had flunked out of college, though he was a little older than me. It is amazing, what can seem like a good idea sometimes. The adventure didn't go to well. Moving my roommate's couch in, I found a magazine under the cushion.
The magazine had been folded backwards, probably so the reader (Ha!) could peruse with one hand as he gazed upon the muscular nudity of a blond man with an erection much more impressive than my own. Wow. I stuck it back.
That was the start of my two year attempt to be a grown up. My rent took all of two week's checks and dollar or two of a third. After my roommate fell in love, he moved out and moved in with Micheal. They were both named Micheal. I lost weight. A lot. I had a friend  murdered. I learned a few things about commerce. Acquisition, distribution, profit. I remember a titty dancer got raped outside the apartment one night. (I had forgotten about that...but as I write I can see her face streaked with tears, as we waited for the police.)
Life in Little Five was a struggle, but I had some good times, and quite a few coming-of-age experiences. I want a good job, later so we won't really go into a lotta things about this part of my youth, but the van made me smile. We drove past it Thursday night as Debbie took me to a movie (The Proposal). I ran out the next day, sans tripod, and shot these with the Nikkor AF-S 70-300mm, resting the long-ass lens on my vehicle windowsill.
I'm gonna go check my account.

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.

...

I'll Have a Double...

I'll Have a Double Originally uploaded by use2blost

I love espresso! A gift from God to illustrate the principle of quality, not quantity. Unlike the Morning Pot of Coffee, espresso does not really lend it self to pre-programming or the the hectic life. The Real Deal is a slow process of preparing your device (old-fashioned, heat driven, baby!) and then waiting.

John Ortberg talks about "ruthlessly eliminating hurry from your life" (The Life You've Always Wanted, I think).

Wait on your espresso.

“Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10)

Toss Me a Beer.

Toss Me a Beer., originally uploaded by use2blost.

this cropduster came in by blowin' treetops out of his way. I've never been that close to an airplane I wasn't boarding. We pulled over in a convenience store parking lot to find my lighter, and then he roared over. I got one or two interesting shots, but I missed the humdinger. My first sight of him was as he blew over us from behind... as he waggled in silhouette, My mind's eye went "click" and I grieved a little.
I did get one of him waving at me...
Large

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.

_____________________________________________

[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.

I have made it through

The first week of school, A little behind on my reading, but I feel, prepared for my first test monday. I have have some feelings of trepidation, over finance, and time management, the pressure of juggling a couple of days a week of work, my studies, the obligations of my guardianship over my invalid aunt, and relationships: romance with Debbie, building bridges with my family, and establishing/maintaining intimacy with members of my small group, and church community. I  believe relationships are the most important thing, and that we most closely resemble the image of the Living God when we interact in loving community, and that our power to do good is multiplied exponentially when we cooperate, The whole being greater than the sum of its parts. The question is, how to do the next right thing? Is it a question of seasons, and should some things simply be sacrificed, or curtailed for the next four years? These are hard decisions. And what of my love of photography, and my need to escape to the mountains, to recharge, and reach the quiet, lonely places to better hear the voice of my Father in Heaven?

compassion

I am so glad this week is over. I felt a constant strain, a pressure to do and speak in a way that would honor my father. In the midst of it, as divorce came over the horizon, the situation with my wife was so confusing, her compassion, and the knowledge that the love one rightfully expects from a spouse was absent, were a source of an explosive cocktail of emotion. I was never comfortable enough to concentrate on my grief. Understanding, rage, disappointment, and bitterness were exhausting me, even now I would do almost anything to be free of them, if only for a little while. Every time she tells me to let her know if I need anything it breaks my heart.

Tired again!

Ahh, sweet exhaustion...
For the 2nd night in a row, I am up past midnight with an early morning planned. I miss my large( by my standards), empty house. I cannot seem to feel secure in the blessings My Father in Heaven showers on me, and my new house, which should have been impossible for me to obtain is something that I dream over helplessly, making impractical plans to furnish and landscape, as paranoid fear lurks in the background, whispering that there must be some mistake. I hunger for more of everything, an abundant life! Time to think, time to write, time to love and be loved, time to know and be known. I get the same twenty-four hours as every one else, yet I feel like most people have a better handle on life then I do. Hence the feelings of insecurity and inadequacy. My stepfather, Chuck, told me tonight that a foundational awareness of self keeps you from allowing others to project onto you. Presumably, this would apply to Satan, also. Lol. I also remember the Desidarada, warning "if you compare yourself to others, you will become vain and bitter, for always there will be people greater or lesser than yourself"

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/