The following is an excerpt from my book in progress entitled "the Real world:"
"My Dad, my brother and I used to be big Jackie Chan fans. We loved the fight scenes and the fact that plot was never really all that good which meant that our brains could be left alone for almost two hours. If you didn’t pay attention, though, you would miss that one move he would make in every scene which might go by so fast that you don’t notice it, but if you did you were amazed at his precision and speed. We would look for it in the previews, we scoured the theater screen for it, and when we rented it, we would keep the remote in hand and replay it over and over again at varying speeds. Sometimes we would even attempt the move ourselves with devastating effects.
"What we saw, however, was the good take. We saw the time he actually moved so smoothly that they could keep it and distribute it to the entire world to be analyzed behind buttery popcorn. Who knows how many times he had to re-hash and re-do each kick and jab in order to perfect the scene.
"I loved the fact that he did his own stunts. So many actors just won’t do that anymore, and I must say that if I were in their shoes and knew that my body and my ability to make another movie was my ability to make money in general, then I would probably desire a six foot, bald guy to pretend like he was me, too.
"The acting in these movies was never that great, but the actors who played the villains were incredible at making you hate their character. I despised them. It was usually the leader of some gang who was terrorizing a neighborhood or a family, or some money hungry drug lord who hated Jackie’s character with extreme passion. I loved to see this character step to Jackie without any thought that he would lose, and Jackie would clean the floor with the guy. Yes, I know its all violent sounding, but the truth is – that’s just plain appealing to a guy!
"What I loved most about these movies, however, were the credits. It was here that the viewers got to see the cast in a very real state: missing lines, screwing up the blocking, and, my favorite part, messing up in the action sequences. I know that sounds a little sick on my part, but I liked it for a different reason than what appears on the surface. I liked seeing how quickly those outside the frame would come to his aid. Gasps and shouts were heard, all the technical equipment was visible, and the cast and crew shot to his side. It made the people and the situation descend to a more real level than what the perfected and polished final product seemed.
"I especially liked to see one particular person with a look of compassion on his face – the guy who played the villain. They could be in a heated argument or an all-out scuffle, and when Jackie got hurt, even the bad guy wanted to make sure he was okay. You could hear the pain in his voice as he attempted to be sure that his co-star was fine or at least coherent. I loved that. It provided resolution, or reconciliation even. It told me that these guys were really friends and that in the end, they weren’t really mad; they were just playing a part.
"It’s a lot like listening to a quartet sing. As their song comes to a conclusion and we’re all waiting on the big finish, they come to the last chord and the baritone and bass move to it quickly while the lead and the tenor hang out one chord back for what seems to be an hour just milking the moment for every penny. When they finally settle in with the other two who have been patiently waiting, the entire audience is relieved and may at last scoot back in their seats.
"That’s exactly what I feel in the Chan outtakes. It didn’t matter how horrible the acting was, just like it didn’t matter how poorly the quartet’s song was sung, when the resolve comes, I feel just fine about everyone in the song and the film. When the bad guy jumps to his side, the chord completes. When a movie doesn’t end with outtakes like Jackie Chan’s movies do, I feel a lot like the quartet never resolved; like if I ever saw the actor who played the villain on the street, then I would be forced by duty to pull a little Chan on him myself. I hate that. I hate it because I can’t really see the man in another film, especially as the good guy, without thinking of the horrible things he did in the last one. It’s like he’s now forced to be bad in every situation. I’m pretty sure this is what leads to the ever-dreaded typecasting.
"I think this is why I like reconciliation so much in relationships. I’m pretty sure I like it more than seeing someone “get saved,” be restored, or be baptized. I mean, I love that stuff as well. There’s nothing greater than when someone else joins the family – like the birth of a child. Still, when two family members who couldn’t get along before make up and mend their brokenness, I like that better than the birth. That’s what really attracts people to our Father. That’s the stuff that causes more births. That’s the stuff that proves beyond doubt that Jesus works. The lost most likely haven’t seen anything quite like that before, and when they see that, when they see our love and how it heals even the deepest most purposefully caused wounds, they’ll be curious."
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Clarification
This time away from going to church has revealed a lot. I really don't think that I'm as far off as others seem to believe. I think I may have said this in a blog, but I've been in a continual search mode seeking the things that are ultimately true about God. When the major leaders of a congregation, and in several others as well, react to sinners and sin the way some of the ones I have seen did and have, I can't help but question the Way they profess. All of the sermons and classes these guys give tell of doing exactly the opposite of what has been done so many times. It didn't make any sense that these people of God who spoke of His forgiveness and acceptance would reject and spread rumors and gossip!
Just last night I walked by a couple who are attending nowhere now because of the rejection they were given due to some domestic issues. They've not gone anywhere and the church's reaction to this is that they don't come because he beats his wife! I say even if he does it everyday, then the church should be the first to come to their aid - not just hers, but his as well! The other day I spoke with a man who divorced his wife and is now on drugs. He is the offspring of church leader and rejected. The very problems which should be the reasons they are being suffocated with love and attention have become the reason they are rejected!
My reactions are based on this thought: if the same church that taught these leaders taught me, have I learned the right things? There are many more things yet to be learned, though I can say that I have learned a lot. Mainly: don't put stock in God's people as being more than people. A friend down here put it best when he told me that if I would be more surprised when church people did things right than when they did things wrong, I would probably like them more.
Most of the time people are just asking about whether or not my wife and I have been to church. No one asked how we were with God, Christ, the Spirit (which would imply the term "spiritually") or otherwise. They simply assumed that no one could ever come to terms with God outside of being in a church building. Even before I began to question and seek a little more about God, I was well aware that that was a strange conclusion. But, now that I have learned more, I can see that even they are simply reacting by saying what they've been taught to say.
No naturally-thinking human being, bringing no biases to the table, can take church attendance away from Heb. 10.25. Neither could the idea of "church," as we have it today where the buildings are bigger than many synagogues and rival Catholic cathedrals, be taken away from the New Testament in general! It was not a legalized religion at the time of the Bible's writing - they couldn't have met in scheduled masses. Pentecost cannot be counted among mass meetings either because Acts 2.6 speaks of the crowd gathering "when this was noised abroad." The apostles were being loud and the people were looking at the spectacle. It is a great example of mass conversion, but not church as we see it today.
The end of the chapter spells it out best when the relationships were formed from "house to house" in verse 46. Yes, the term "temple" is also there, but we know that those were Jewish temples not Christian ones because in Romans 12 the Christian ones (N.T. ones) are the bodies of Christians. The Spirit is in the temple as he has always been, and, so that he could reside in us, God just changed where the temple was to be located.
Still, if one would like to farcically imply that the "temple" in v. 46 was actually a meeting place of Christians like we have it today, then that one would have to meet there daily: "and they, continuing daily with one accord in the temple..."
I think a lot of this comes from a complete misunderstanding (even though most would say they know this, though they just don't speak or live according to what they know) of the word "church." It means "a calling out." The Lord added to those who were being called out daily. This means that the church directory in Heaven was growing not the one at the local building. The end of chapter 2 in Acts shows the first reaction to salvation of those at Pentecost to be to sell everything, pool their resources and meet with each other daily "house to house" - communism at its finest! It’s the best deal this side of Heaven!
I am in no way bashing church, leaving church, or making excuses. This is simply a crusade to be pure and know the truth about it all, and maybe I should keep it to myself.
I came to a conclusion last night, however, which I have not entertained before. If we want to meet like that (in big buildings), then as Christians, we can. But the real "forsaking" comes when we don't continue it with each other daily and when we don't seek Him in such a fashion that causes our lives to react. The curser can focus on quitting cursing, the drinker on drinking, the smoker on smoking, and the killer on killing, but just because they stop doesn't make them better people. Christianity was never meant to create moral people - plenty of moral people exist in all religions and walks of life and are going to hell, but I want to follow Him and seek Him in such a fashion that my life naturally reacts. I don't want to stop doing anything just because I'm a Christian - I want my life to look like a Christian and be lived like a Christian because I am a Christian.
I do hope this gives a little more insight into what's been going on in my head lately. I really want you guys to know that I'm just seeking to at least know what the purest way is.
I think God finds a great deal of honor in that.
Just last night I walked by a couple who are attending nowhere now because of the rejection they were given due to some domestic issues. They've not gone anywhere and the church's reaction to this is that they don't come because he beats his wife! I say even if he does it everyday, then the church should be the first to come to their aid - not just hers, but his as well! The other day I spoke with a man who divorced his wife and is now on drugs. He is the offspring of church leader and rejected. The very problems which should be the reasons they are being suffocated with love and attention have become the reason they are rejected!
My reactions are based on this thought: if the same church that taught these leaders taught me, have I learned the right things? There are many more things yet to be learned, though I can say that I have learned a lot. Mainly: don't put stock in God's people as being more than people. A friend down here put it best when he told me that if I would be more surprised when church people did things right than when they did things wrong, I would probably like them more.
Most of the time people are just asking about whether or not my wife and I have been to church. No one asked how we were with God, Christ, the Spirit (which would imply the term "spiritually") or otherwise. They simply assumed that no one could ever come to terms with God outside of being in a church building. Even before I began to question and seek a little more about God, I was well aware that that was a strange conclusion. But, now that I have learned more, I can see that even they are simply reacting by saying what they've been taught to say.
No naturally-thinking human being, bringing no biases to the table, can take church attendance away from Heb. 10.25. Neither could the idea of "church," as we have it today where the buildings are bigger than many synagogues and rival Catholic cathedrals, be taken away from the New Testament in general! It was not a legalized religion at the time of the Bible's writing - they couldn't have met in scheduled masses. Pentecost cannot be counted among mass meetings either because Acts 2.6 speaks of the crowd gathering "when this was noised abroad." The apostles were being loud and the people were looking at the spectacle. It is a great example of mass conversion, but not church as we see it today.
The end of the chapter spells it out best when the relationships were formed from "house to house" in verse 46. Yes, the term "temple" is also there, but we know that those were Jewish temples not Christian ones because in Romans 12 the Christian ones (N.T. ones) are the bodies of Christians. The Spirit is in the temple as he has always been, and, so that he could reside in us, God just changed where the temple was to be located.
Still, if one would like to farcically imply that the "temple" in v. 46 was actually a meeting place of Christians like we have it today, then that one would have to meet there daily: "and they, continuing daily with one accord in the temple..."
I think a lot of this comes from a complete misunderstanding (even though most would say they know this, though they just don't speak or live according to what they know) of the word "church." It means "a calling out." The Lord added to those who were being called out daily. This means that the church directory in Heaven was growing not the one at the local building. The end of chapter 2 in Acts shows the first reaction to salvation of those at Pentecost to be to sell everything, pool their resources and meet with each other daily "house to house" - communism at its finest! It’s the best deal this side of Heaven!
I am in no way bashing church, leaving church, or making excuses. This is simply a crusade to be pure and know the truth about it all, and maybe I should keep it to myself.
I came to a conclusion last night, however, which I have not entertained before. If we want to meet like that (in big buildings), then as Christians, we can. But the real "forsaking" comes when we don't continue it with each other daily and when we don't seek Him in such a fashion that causes our lives to react. The curser can focus on quitting cursing, the drinker on drinking, the smoker on smoking, and the killer on killing, but just because they stop doesn't make them better people. Christianity was never meant to create moral people - plenty of moral people exist in all religions and walks of life and are going to hell, but I want to follow Him and seek Him in such a fashion that my life naturally reacts. I don't want to stop doing anything just because I'm a Christian - I want my life to look like a Christian and be lived like a Christian because I am a Christian.
I do hope this gives a little more insight into what's been going on in my head lately. I really want you guys to know that I'm just seeking to at least know what the purest way is.
I think God finds a great deal of honor in that.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Happy Holidays!
This is getting ridiculous!
Christians: IT'S OKAY TO SAY "HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!"
It's okay to hear it, read it, buy it, smile about it and even endorse it! We seem to only stand up about something when we feel there's no real sacrifice, and believe me, there is no honor in this battle.
So what if the employees at your local department store do not say "Merry Christmas?!" They don't sell to Christians only! These are not LifeWays or Family Christian Stores! Bacon's, Dillard's, Parisian and so many others specialize in clothing and home items - not Bibles and Matzo crackers!
"But, Joey, we have got to stand for something or this world is going to walk all over us!"
Where were you when Gone With the Wind gave us cursing?! Where are the massive protests over the deaths of innocent babies everyday?! How many times have you changed the channel or ignored the Christian Children's Fund?! (and don't give me the junk about not knowing if all of the money goes to the kids - God calls you to give and He calls them to be good stewards!) Where are the protests over the fact that our country's minimum wage hasn't increased in 10 years?! I didn't hear your voices protesting the government's slow-as-molasses response to the Katrina disaster! (again I don't want to hear the crap about how they brought it on themselves - WE BROUGHT SIN ON OURSELVES AND WE STILL EXPECT GOD TO JUST FORGIVE US WITHOUT REAL RECOMPENSE! Let's revere Him a little more for not making calls that reflect the ones we would have made!)
I'm telling you the truth - there are much grander and heavier issues than this whole Christmas versus Holidays thing.
I will continue to shop at Target.
I will continue to be annoyed by those stinking bell-ringers.
And, while I do not shop there, I will still listen with joy to the great Garrison Keillor who advertises Land's End quite often.
I'm so flustered right now about the way "Christians" are acting about this that I can't continue this blog right now.
Christians: IT'S OKAY TO SAY "HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!"
It's okay to hear it, read it, buy it, smile about it and even endorse it! We seem to only stand up about something when we feel there's no real sacrifice, and believe me, there is no honor in this battle.
So what if the employees at your local department store do not say "Merry Christmas?!" They don't sell to Christians only! These are not LifeWays or Family Christian Stores! Bacon's, Dillard's, Parisian and so many others specialize in clothing and home items - not Bibles and Matzo crackers!
"But, Joey, we have got to stand for something or this world is going to walk all over us!"
Where were you when Gone With the Wind gave us cursing?! Where are the massive protests over the deaths of innocent babies everyday?! How many times have you changed the channel or ignored the Christian Children's Fund?! (and don't give me the junk about not knowing if all of the money goes to the kids - God calls you to give and He calls them to be good stewards!) Where are the protests over the fact that our country's minimum wage hasn't increased in 10 years?! I didn't hear your voices protesting the government's slow-as-molasses response to the Katrina disaster! (again I don't want to hear the crap about how they brought it on themselves - WE BROUGHT SIN ON OURSELVES AND WE STILL EXPECT GOD TO JUST FORGIVE US WITHOUT REAL RECOMPENSE! Let's revere Him a little more for not making calls that reflect the ones we would have made!)
I'm telling you the truth - there are much grander and heavier issues than this whole Christmas versus Holidays thing.
I will continue to shop at Target.
I will continue to be annoyed by those stinking bell-ringers.
And, while I do not shop there, I will still listen with joy to the great Garrison Keillor who advertises Land's End quite often.
I'm so flustered right now about the way "Christians" are acting about this that I can't continue this blog right now.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Explain this for me, please.
It is no secret to those who know me that I have not been of the church-going mindset for quite some time now. This place marketed as a center of hope, peace, reconciliation and family seems to contain a few sincere people who are sincerely fooled and a few false people who are falsely sincere. It's just too much because you never know which one with whom you are dealing. If you get the sincere ones, the conversation will lack substance. If you get the false ones, you won't know if you've gotten substance or not.
Confusing?
Exactly my point. A place of enlightenment for the down-trodden and weary forfeits its purpose if no one can figure it out. It's okay if the purpose is lost, however, because the place can always become, as most churches have, a social club. Holiday parties, gospel meetings, concerts, benevolence by proxy and so many other things have clouded the ability to see the void.
As depressing as all this sounds, I do have a point.
I don't know whether we are genetically built to go to church or we just get so used to it that we long to return to what was a mainstay for so long, but I am beginning to miss it.
"Just go then," you say, but it's not so easy.
My absence has not been the result of laziness or worldliness (as some of the self-righteous may say) because I have been in a constant search. I believe I have found a purer truth having not been there than I did in all the years I was there. But, I still find myself missing it all.
So, at the beginning of this week, I called God out. Karen went to the church this past Sunday (I was at work) and told me that she had put $30.00 in the collection plate. Cynically, I looked at the sky and said, "God, I want to see a $60.00 check this week!" I was thinking that if it happened, I would go back, but I knew this wasn't going to happen and thought it to be a safe way to get out of the supernatural pull this realist has been feeling.
Now, I don't believe in what I call the "kookiness" of this religion stuff. I don't want to hear about the miraculous disappearance of cancer overnight; angels visiting and saving from certain death; resurrections; feelings during prayers; and everything else that makes no sense in the real world. It lacks intelligence on the part of what God designed. You can try to convince me with all the times it has happened to you and tell me the story you think to be immutable, but it doesn't work with me. It isn't logical.
Still, I can't explain the $125.00 check which came unexpectedly yesterday. My apprehensions are great, but I cannot dismiss that peice of paper which now resides in the bedroom and that we had no idea was coming. Part of me would like to brush it off because it wasn't the $60.00 to which I challenged Him. Another part would like to forget about it because I was thinking it would come in the mail (if it were even to come) - this check was handed to us.
But, I do know this: in spite of all my attempts to forget about it, or attribute it to chance, I still know in the back of my mind that it would be absurd to give it no attention.
I guess I'll be pondering this all week.
Confusing?
Exactly my point. A place of enlightenment for the down-trodden and weary forfeits its purpose if no one can figure it out. It's okay if the purpose is lost, however, because the place can always become, as most churches have, a social club. Holiday parties, gospel meetings, concerts, benevolence by proxy and so many other things have clouded the ability to see the void.
As depressing as all this sounds, I do have a point.
I don't know whether we are genetically built to go to church or we just get so used to it that we long to return to what was a mainstay for so long, but I am beginning to miss it.
"Just go then," you say, but it's not so easy.
My absence has not been the result of laziness or worldliness (as some of the self-righteous may say) because I have been in a constant search. I believe I have found a purer truth having not been there than I did in all the years I was there. But, I still find myself missing it all.
So, at the beginning of this week, I called God out. Karen went to the church this past Sunday (I was at work) and told me that she had put $30.00 in the collection plate. Cynically, I looked at the sky and said, "God, I want to see a $60.00 check this week!" I was thinking that if it happened, I would go back, but I knew this wasn't going to happen and thought it to be a safe way to get out of the supernatural pull this realist has been feeling.
Now, I don't believe in what I call the "kookiness" of this religion stuff. I don't want to hear about the miraculous disappearance of cancer overnight; angels visiting and saving from certain death; resurrections; feelings during prayers; and everything else that makes no sense in the real world. It lacks intelligence on the part of what God designed. You can try to convince me with all the times it has happened to you and tell me the story you think to be immutable, but it doesn't work with me. It isn't logical.
Still, I can't explain the $125.00 check which came unexpectedly yesterday. My apprehensions are great, but I cannot dismiss that peice of paper which now resides in the bedroom and that we had no idea was coming. Part of me would like to brush it off because it wasn't the $60.00 to which I challenged Him. Another part would like to forget about it because I was thinking it would come in the mail (if it were even to come) - this check was handed to us.
But, I do know this: in spite of all my attempts to forget about it, or attribute it to chance, I still know in the back of my mind that it would be absurd to give it no attention.
I guess I'll be pondering this all week.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Sentence Fragment of Truth
"...any man who afflicts the human race with ideas must be prepared to see them misunderstood, and that is what happened to Jesus."
H. L. Mencken
from Treatise on the Gods Part IV
H. L. Mencken
from Treatise on the Gods Part IV
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Decorations for Generations
The entire house will be finished soon, and when it is complete, it will look as if we would need a soundtrack to set the tone for each of our steps as we walk through and look at the alluring array of cozy Christmas decorations.
You know, it is said that half of the fun of these comfy cottage caparisons is found in the actual act of decorating, but I say "BAH!" to such a notion. I would hate to think that once I'm finished, it's half over! There has to be more. In fact, there is more and I am forced to go through it with you...
Concerning decorations...
As we enjoy the season, it is an integral part of one or more of our evenings to drive around admiring the houses donned in their holiday apparel while thinking on days we've forgotten until that very moment. Days when snow was not a question; when aromas were never void of apples, cinnamon and spices; when Granny was alive and laughing in that chair by the record player; when batteries were included but power switches were not; when a bag of switches was the ultimate deterrent. We smile to ourselves and continue the trek to find bigger houses with more lights and larger nativity scenes.
Every community seems to also have within driving distance a house which begins the festivities months in advance stringing thousands of lights whose combined energy will exact double that of their house payment. We drop a dollar or two into a homemade box nailed near the entrance or exit and step into another world. A world where Santa really does exist; where he's never bothered with health conscious gratuities but is lavished by longing little ones with cookies cooked with cautious care in order to more fully thank him for the wonder he brings; where candy canes are currency; where elves are the majority and adults are the lurking Jabberwockies seeking only to remove our place on the precious "nice list." These are the only places which contain a feeling for which children long almost as much as that blessed dawn.
These are just the outside decorations! We've hardly come inside which is where we must go for the true sentiment. I'm talking about the pieces which are bigger than any yard could contain for neither Macy's nor Bloomingdale's could even price these objects and heirlooms.
There's always that one piece which conjures more reminiscence than a library of photo albums. For me it is/was a small, half-of-an-egg shaped, musical, ice-skating scene. It was barely the size of two or three of my father's palms wide, candy cane red on the bottom, and flattened on top by a mirror underneath which was a set of rotating magnets. These magnets were attached to a type of mechanism which, when wound, would guide a most in love Mr. and Mrs. Claus across the "ice" while spinning the two lovebirds to music and rendering an Olympic skating performance worthy of Greece itself all within the confines of the Harris living room.
Just the thought of this takes me back to days when the journey from the majestic hills of east Tennessee was as anxious and amazing as the final peregrination to Heaven itself; when the load of bright, colorful, gifts all loaded in clothes baskets slept tightly in the back of a maroon Nissan mini-van bound for paradise; when only Mom knew what was in these presents and Dad, like other dads, would simply say "You're welcome! Merry Christmas!" when thanked by their recipients because he had no idea what they had opened, but he was more than thankful for that blessing of blessings who barely slept so that the gifts would all be wrapped; when the pile of surprises beneath Memaw's tree seemed to spill onto the floor and consume an entire room; when the greatest honor which one could receive was the moniker of "Santa" which meant you would be the one passing out all of the gifts; when any given member of the family could find a small, soft, lovingly wrapped bag of the finest, white, calf-length tube socks money could buy; when the kids would have to be told to open them anyway, though they already knew what the wrapping contained, because no one would want to make sweet Edith King feel bad; when the tree on Taggart avenue was the organic version of Babel reaching high into Heaven itself entertaining deity.
Laughter, love, longing, family, faith, fudge, beauty, babies, hope, Heaven, cold days, icy nights, wood stoves in Memaw and Granddad's living room, people sleeping in every room of every house, holiness, Jesus, Mary, mangers, music, pies, packages, and pizza potatoes.
No. I have yet to enjoy a time of decoration so much that I would attribute half of their enjoyment to simply pulling them out of the basement corner and placing them on hearths, mantles, pianos, coffee tables, counters, dining tables, bathrooms, rain drains and yards. As fun as that is, I must give all but one tenth to the days when we were gods, kings, jesters, servants and beggars all in the same day.
And, in the midst of complaints and weariness over broken ornaments, molded boxes, needle-covered floors, crowded stores, annoying remakes of Christmas songs by punk kids with electronic explosions in the place of the traditional wood-block sounds in the "...pop, pop, pop..." line of "Let it Snow," please remember that someone did it all for you so that deep in the exiles of the hallways of our hearts we could exhume these warm feelings and memories once a year of days when Harrises, Jenkinses, Maxies, Cherrys, Brookses, Mustains, Maultsbys, and Kings were still found physically present around our holiday tables, and we, too, must continue these traditions for the generations ahead so that all who come behind us find us faithful in our decorations.
You know, it is said that half of the fun of these comfy cottage caparisons is found in the actual act of decorating, but I say "BAH!" to such a notion. I would hate to think that once I'm finished, it's half over! There has to be more. In fact, there is more and I am forced to go through it with you...
Concerning decorations...
As we enjoy the season, it is an integral part of one or more of our evenings to drive around admiring the houses donned in their holiday apparel while thinking on days we've forgotten until that very moment. Days when snow was not a question; when aromas were never void of apples, cinnamon and spices; when Granny was alive and laughing in that chair by the record player; when batteries were included but power switches were not; when a bag of switches was the ultimate deterrent. We smile to ourselves and continue the trek to find bigger houses with more lights and larger nativity scenes.
Every community seems to also have within driving distance a house which begins the festivities months in advance stringing thousands of lights whose combined energy will exact double that of their house payment. We drop a dollar or two into a homemade box nailed near the entrance or exit and step into another world. A world where Santa really does exist; where he's never bothered with health conscious gratuities but is lavished by longing little ones with cookies cooked with cautious care in order to more fully thank him for the wonder he brings; where candy canes are currency; where elves are the majority and adults are the lurking Jabberwockies seeking only to remove our place on the precious "nice list." These are the only places which contain a feeling for which children long almost as much as that blessed dawn.
These are just the outside decorations! We've hardly come inside which is where we must go for the true sentiment. I'm talking about the pieces which are bigger than any yard could contain for neither Macy's nor Bloomingdale's could even price these objects and heirlooms.
There's always that one piece which conjures more reminiscence than a library of photo albums. For me it is/was a small, half-of-an-egg shaped, musical, ice-skating scene. It was barely the size of two or three of my father's palms wide, candy cane red on the bottom, and flattened on top by a mirror underneath which was a set of rotating magnets. These magnets were attached to a type of mechanism which, when wound, would guide a most in love Mr. and Mrs. Claus across the "ice" while spinning the two lovebirds to music and rendering an Olympic skating performance worthy of Greece itself all within the confines of the Harris living room.
Just the thought of this takes me back to days when the journey from the majestic hills of east Tennessee was as anxious and amazing as the final peregrination to Heaven itself; when the load of bright, colorful, gifts all loaded in clothes baskets slept tightly in the back of a maroon Nissan mini-van bound for paradise; when only Mom knew what was in these presents and Dad, like other dads, would simply say "You're welcome! Merry Christmas!" when thanked by their recipients because he had no idea what they had opened, but he was more than thankful for that blessing of blessings who barely slept so that the gifts would all be wrapped; when the pile of surprises beneath Memaw's tree seemed to spill onto the floor and consume an entire room; when the greatest honor which one could receive was the moniker of "Santa" which meant you would be the one passing out all of the gifts; when any given member of the family could find a small, soft, lovingly wrapped bag of the finest, white, calf-length tube socks money could buy; when the kids would have to be told to open them anyway, though they already knew what the wrapping contained, because no one would want to make sweet Edith King feel bad; when the tree on Taggart avenue was the organic version of Babel reaching high into Heaven itself entertaining deity.
Laughter, love, longing, family, faith, fudge, beauty, babies, hope, Heaven, cold days, icy nights, wood stoves in Memaw and Granddad's living room, people sleeping in every room of every house, holiness, Jesus, Mary, mangers, music, pies, packages, and pizza potatoes.
No. I have yet to enjoy a time of decoration so much that I would attribute half of their enjoyment to simply pulling them out of the basement corner and placing them on hearths, mantles, pianos, coffee tables, counters, dining tables, bathrooms, rain drains and yards. As fun as that is, I must give all but one tenth to the days when we were gods, kings, jesters, servants and beggars all in the same day.
And, in the midst of complaints and weariness over broken ornaments, molded boxes, needle-covered floors, crowded stores, annoying remakes of Christmas songs by punk kids with electronic explosions in the place of the traditional wood-block sounds in the "...pop, pop, pop..." line of "Let it Snow," please remember that someone did it all for you so that deep in the exiles of the hallways of our hearts we could exhume these warm feelings and memories once a year of days when Harrises, Jenkinses, Maxies, Cherrys, Brookses, Mustains, Maultsbys, and Kings were still found physically present around our holiday tables, and we, too, must continue these traditions for the generations ahead so that all who come behind us find us faithful in our decorations.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
A Typical Morning
The sun rose quite slowly (more than what seems to be normal) over these Alabama fields this morning. It seemed as if we were going to have to live another wet day in the south, but as the clock did what it does best, we found a wonderful, mid-fall day with plenty of that deceptive sunshine which only looks like it gives warmth on days like these.
I think I've discovered that just-above-freezing temperatures can seem as slightly more chilling than if it were 32 on the nose. I guess that's because we are fooled by the "above-freezing" status and wear a bit less out. (Anything below 50 degrees does seem to fortify the flavor(s) of our coffee though,doesn't it?) I speak as if an Alabamian would ever even need to compare parka prices. A cold front comes through dropping the typical fall temperature of 60-65 degress down to 40 degrees and they're letting schools out early and salting sidewalks!
I really do believe this to be the reason the people down here are not necessarily as educated as students in the north. It has nothing to do with the quality of educators (over half of the professors in my department at the University were trained in Indiana!) or the capability of southern children to learn. The poor kids simply aren't in class as often! I've seen class dismissals here more than I ever thought possible!
Too, you can make more money off of the stock prices in bread and milk than Martha Stewart ever dreamed just by watching the good ol' Weather Channel! If a storm's a-brewin', the lines are long! And, why in the world we choose bread and milk to be our staples of survival may forever escape me. Other than as ingredients, we rarely combine the two in any meal purposefully! They are quite possibly the two most perishable products at any given grocery store! I guess that will have to be another post.
I hope this finds you all at least having days which, at worst, need not to be recalled.
I think I've discovered that just-above-freezing temperatures can seem as slightly more chilling than if it were 32 on the nose. I guess that's because we are fooled by the "above-freezing" status and wear a bit less out. (Anything below 50 degrees does seem to fortify the flavor(s) of our coffee though,doesn't it?) I speak as if an Alabamian would ever even need to compare parka prices. A cold front comes through dropping the typical fall temperature of 60-65 degress down to 40 degrees and they're letting schools out early and salting sidewalks!
I really do believe this to be the reason the people down here are not necessarily as educated as students in the north. It has nothing to do with the quality of educators (over half of the professors in my department at the University were trained in Indiana!) or the capability of southern children to learn. The poor kids simply aren't in class as often! I've seen class dismissals here more than I ever thought possible!
Too, you can make more money off of the stock prices in bread and milk than Martha Stewart ever dreamed just by watching the good ol' Weather Channel! If a storm's a-brewin', the lines are long! And, why in the world we choose bread and milk to be our staples of survival may forever escape me. Other than as ingredients, we rarely combine the two in any meal purposefully! They are quite possibly the two most perishable products at any given grocery store! I guess that will have to be another post.
I hope this finds you all at least having days which, at worst, need not to be recalled.
Thursday, November 24, 2005
I'm Sorry, Penn
Some people just get mad everytime they hear an atheist voice his/her opinion. A Christian will read it, say something about what the world is coming to, and then move on angrily digging deeper into his/her hole which shelters from reality. It's sad.
Christians, look at what we've done:
"So, I'm saying, 'This I believe: I believe there is no God.'
"Having taken that step, it informs every moment of my life. I'm not greedy. I have love, blue skies, rainbows and Hallmark cards, and that has to be enough. It has to be enough, but it's everything in the world and everything in the world is plenty for me. It seems just rude to beg the invisible for more. Just the love of my family that raised me and the family I'm raising now is enough that I don't need heaven."
The preceding is a quote from Penn Jillette (the Penn of Penn and Teller). Apparently he has become disenfranchised with the materialistic, leprechaun-like, future-weaving view Christians now have of God. If I were God (a subjunctive which I know will never change), I would be quite angry at this farcical idea, and I'm sure He is.
Multi-million dollar buildings, preachers making $100k+/yr., arena-sized "sanctuaries." It really seems like we, as American Christians, have really looked at God as this love-all, bless-all softy. "I've done this, but God will bless me," or "I know this is wrong, but God can't reject his own." I promise this - He won't reject His own (for actions do determine that category), nor does he hand out millions of dollars. In fact, the only time Christ ever performed a money miracle was to prove to a preacher that he, in fact, should pay taxes!
More of Mr. Jillette...
"Believing there's no God means I can't really be forgiven except by kindness and faulty memories. That's good; it makes me want to be more thoughtful. I have to try to treat people right the first time around."
Perhaps we should hire atheists to be the full-time preachers instead of the crap we get now. I heard an entire lesson, one of those goofy holiday ones, on all the things the minister was thankful for in his life. It was like a thirty minute greeting card without anything funny at the end! There's more in the above paragraph than in the majority of the sermons I have heard in life! I mean, I'm the first one to be quite thankful for grace, but what if we didn't have it? What if we began to live as if our every action was the deciding factor - heaven or hell? That sounds a little extreme, doesn't it? I don't think so. I think grace was/is there for people who think like that. It is a miserable crutch.
"Believing there's no God stops me from being solipsistic. I can read ideas from all different people from all different cultures. Without God, we can agree on reality, and I can keep learning where I'm wrong. We can all keep adjusting, so we can really communicate. I don't travel in circles where people say, 'I have faith, I believe this in my heart and nothing you can say or do can shake my faith.' That's just a long-winded religious way to say, 'shut up,' or another two words that the FCC likes less. But all obscenity is less insulting than, 'How I was brought up and my imaginary friend means more to me than anything you can ever say or do.' So, believing there is no God lets me be proven wrong and that's always fun. It means I'm learning something."
If you haven't heard the sermon you needed to hear by now, then I don't have much faith in your ability to continue with this blog.
It's so true! We are so enamored with this romantic idea of "in the world - not of it" that we have put off the odor that we are no longer in touch with reality! I know some of you probably wear that trophy like a Star of David (or a scarlet "A"), but you need to know that that is quite scary. If you can't prove your "street-cred'" to the average unbelievers, then you may as well not say anything to them at all. The faith-blanket was never meant to cover laziness.
It's a good thing to be open-minded! Learning is your friend. If the world was so horrible, then why did he spend 5.9 days on it and .1 on man?!
"Believing there is no God means the suffering I've seen in my family, and indeed all the suffering in the world, isn't caused by an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn't bothered to help or is just testing us, but rather something we all may be able to help others with in the future. No God means the possibility of less suffering in the future."
And again - we have proven ourselves to have missed it again! Our incessant exodus from each other IS NOT APPEALING! I think some of us really believe that every unpleasant situation in which we are found is the direct result of our divine drill sergeant's regimen of examination. I have to give some of the blame to the preachers again. Firstly, it goes to us for our sloth-ridden practices which give God all the sowing and reaping tasks while expecting Him to generously deliver the harvested stock in which we may decandently drown in surplus. But, the preachers have forgotten the reality of hell! They don't preach, write, or even speak on it anymore. You can even go to the "Christian" section in a bookstore and find ridiculous titles like Your Best Life Now by the motivational speaker in disguise, Joel Osteen. It's all about making audiences feel like this hamster wheel really does move forward even if everything looks the same no matter how long you stay on it. If we don't hear about hell, then we're not so worried about going there. And, if we're not worried about it, then we are incapable of giving a rip about whether or not someone else goes. So what do we do? We attempt to cover it all up and accept everything as being the result of a test God is sending instead of an attack by the landlord of hell - SATAN. Why? Because this way we don't have to be bothered with the extra burden of maintaining healthy relationships.
Mr. Jillette, while I do not agree with you, I am quite sorry that you have had to endure such Christians. I promise that these people aren't the example of Christianity because they have not read. They have simply accepted what was given to them, and their attention spans couldn't even hang out long enough to get all of that.
(For Penn Jillette's entire article please click here.)
Christians, look at what we've done:
"So, I'm saying, 'This I believe: I believe there is no God.'
"Having taken that step, it informs every moment of my life. I'm not greedy. I have love, blue skies, rainbows and Hallmark cards, and that has to be enough. It has to be enough, but it's everything in the world and everything in the world is plenty for me. It seems just rude to beg the invisible for more. Just the love of my family that raised me and the family I'm raising now is enough that I don't need heaven."
The preceding is a quote from Penn Jillette (the Penn of Penn and Teller). Apparently he has become disenfranchised with the materialistic, leprechaun-like, future-weaving view Christians now have of God. If I were God (a subjunctive which I know will never change), I would be quite angry at this farcical idea, and I'm sure He is.
Multi-million dollar buildings, preachers making $100k+/yr., arena-sized "sanctuaries." It really seems like we, as American Christians, have really looked at God as this love-all, bless-all softy. "I've done this, but God will bless me," or "I know this is wrong, but God can't reject his own." I promise this - He won't reject His own (for actions do determine that category), nor does he hand out millions of dollars. In fact, the only time Christ ever performed a money miracle was to prove to a preacher that he, in fact, should pay taxes!
More of Mr. Jillette...
"Believing there's no God means I can't really be forgiven except by kindness and faulty memories. That's good; it makes me want to be more thoughtful. I have to try to treat people right the first time around."
Perhaps we should hire atheists to be the full-time preachers instead of the crap we get now. I heard an entire lesson, one of those goofy holiday ones, on all the things the minister was thankful for in his life. It was like a thirty minute greeting card without anything funny at the end! There's more in the above paragraph than in the majority of the sermons I have heard in life! I mean, I'm the first one to be quite thankful for grace, but what if we didn't have it? What if we began to live as if our every action was the deciding factor - heaven or hell? That sounds a little extreme, doesn't it? I don't think so. I think grace was/is there for people who think like that. It is a miserable crutch.
"Believing there's no God stops me from being solipsistic. I can read ideas from all different people from all different cultures. Without God, we can agree on reality, and I can keep learning where I'm wrong. We can all keep adjusting, so we can really communicate. I don't travel in circles where people say, 'I have faith, I believe this in my heart and nothing you can say or do can shake my faith.' That's just a long-winded religious way to say, 'shut up,' or another two words that the FCC likes less. But all obscenity is less insulting than, 'How I was brought up and my imaginary friend means more to me than anything you can ever say or do.' So, believing there is no God lets me be proven wrong and that's always fun. It means I'm learning something."
If you haven't heard the sermon you needed to hear by now, then I don't have much faith in your ability to continue with this blog.
It's so true! We are so enamored with this romantic idea of "in the world - not of it" that we have put off the odor that we are no longer in touch with reality! I know some of you probably wear that trophy like a Star of David (or a scarlet "A"), but you need to know that that is quite scary. If you can't prove your "street-cred'" to the average unbelievers, then you may as well not say anything to them at all. The faith-blanket was never meant to cover laziness.
It's a good thing to be open-minded! Learning is your friend. If the world was so horrible, then why did he spend 5.9 days on it and .1 on man?!
"Believing there is no God means the suffering I've seen in my family, and indeed all the suffering in the world, isn't caused by an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn't bothered to help or is just testing us, but rather something we all may be able to help others with in the future. No God means the possibility of less suffering in the future."
And again - we have proven ourselves to have missed it again! Our incessant exodus from each other IS NOT APPEALING! I think some of us really believe that every unpleasant situation in which we are found is the direct result of our divine drill sergeant's regimen of examination. I have to give some of the blame to the preachers again. Firstly, it goes to us for our sloth-ridden practices which give God all the sowing and reaping tasks while expecting Him to generously deliver the harvested stock in which we may decandently drown in surplus. But, the preachers have forgotten the reality of hell! They don't preach, write, or even speak on it anymore. You can even go to the "Christian" section in a bookstore and find ridiculous titles like Your Best Life Now by the motivational speaker in disguise, Joel Osteen. It's all about making audiences feel like this hamster wheel really does move forward even if everything looks the same no matter how long you stay on it. If we don't hear about hell, then we're not so worried about going there. And, if we're not worried about it, then we are incapable of giving a rip about whether or not someone else goes. So what do we do? We attempt to cover it all up and accept everything as being the result of a test God is sending instead of an attack by the landlord of hell - SATAN. Why? Because this way we don't have to be bothered with the extra burden of maintaining healthy relationships.
Mr. Jillette, while I do not agree with you, I am quite sorry that you have had to endure such Christians. I promise that these people aren't the example of Christianity because they have not read. They have simply accepted what was given to them, and their attention spans couldn't even hang out long enough to get all of that.
(For Penn Jillette's entire article please click here.)
Friday, November 18, 2005
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Real Evolution
Life really can change.
CORRECTION:
Life really can change things.
Yes, there is a difference. In the first it seems like things just evolve and we have to keep up and adapt. That all sounds well and good until you look at history. You see, when I study U.S. history, I can read of towns that still exist and rivers which still flow. When I look at the Elizabethan age, I can close the book and go to England. When I read of Rome being burned by the Indo-European Barbarians, I may still go to Rome and do as they do. I can still visit Alexander's great library dedicated to his mother in that beautiful Egyptian city of Alexandria, and sail north to visit that masterful city his father built, Macedonia.
The above series could continue as long as the knowledge, and each thing proves further that this world isn't changing (Geological specialists in plate tectonics may differ in terms of locomotion, but I am not addressing that specifically). We still revolve, evolve and devolve!
It is a much better statement to say that life can change things. It has an effect on those in it who depend on it, live by it and at times are betrayed by it.
Like this...
I can recall hating salsa. It didn't look, smell, or especially taste good. I was much younger and my tastes were far below what they are today. One day, I just decided that I was going to like salsa. All the adults enjoyed it and seemed to like it as much as the cheese dip (though I still must point out is the only one of the two which actually costs at Mexican establishments). The first bite was, of course, the hardest. I couldn't have winced more had I attempted to bob for a cactus in boiling water, but I simply had to stay the course and show the world that I liked salsa.
Now, it took a few more "heart-warming" experiences like the above, but now I love salsa; it's the chips which do me in. The point is: life changes things.
Humor also has undergone somewhat of an evolution in my lifespan as well...
I remember as a young boy in east Tennessee listening to my parents joke with family and friends. Everyone would laugh, but I had no idea why. I had heard every part of what was being called the joke, but none of it was funny. Now, I can watch children my age interact and I don't think they have a clue about what they're saying. They seem to just laugh like it was some sort of gag-reflex to spilling food on themselves.
Life changes things...
I would never own a dog - her name is Heidi.
I would never own a cat - her name is Alley.
I would never be married - her name is Karen.
I would always drive American - 2 Hondas.
I would always drive a truck - 2 Hondas.
I hated school - currently in my 20th year.
I wouldn't settle down - 11 acres.
I wanted to play footaball - don't really like sports.
Hated English - looking for a Ph.D. in Linguistics.
Bon Jovi - Mozart
Metallica - Nickel Creek
The list could go on forever I'm sure.
I even have a few ponderings about this when it comes to the Bible writers and characters; especially in my attitude towards it all. I guess this is enough for now though. That will have to be in part two.
CORRECTION:
Life really can change things.
Yes, there is a difference. In the first it seems like things just evolve and we have to keep up and adapt. That all sounds well and good until you look at history. You see, when I study U.S. history, I can read of towns that still exist and rivers which still flow. When I look at the Elizabethan age, I can close the book and go to England. When I read of Rome being burned by the Indo-European Barbarians, I may still go to Rome and do as they do. I can still visit Alexander's great library dedicated to his mother in that beautiful Egyptian city of Alexandria, and sail north to visit that masterful city his father built, Macedonia.
The above series could continue as long as the knowledge, and each thing proves further that this world isn't changing (Geological specialists in plate tectonics may differ in terms of locomotion, but I am not addressing that specifically). We still revolve, evolve and devolve!
It is a much better statement to say that life can change things. It has an effect on those in it who depend on it, live by it and at times are betrayed by it.
Like this...
I can recall hating salsa. It didn't look, smell, or especially taste good. I was much younger and my tastes were far below what they are today. One day, I just decided that I was going to like salsa. All the adults enjoyed it and seemed to like it as much as the cheese dip (though I still must point out is the only one of the two which actually costs at Mexican establishments). The first bite was, of course, the hardest. I couldn't have winced more had I attempted to bob for a cactus in boiling water, but I simply had to stay the course and show the world that I liked salsa.
Now, it took a few more "heart-warming" experiences like the above, but now I love salsa; it's the chips which do me in. The point is: life changes things.
Humor also has undergone somewhat of an evolution in my lifespan as well...
I remember as a young boy in east Tennessee listening to my parents joke with family and friends. Everyone would laugh, but I had no idea why. I had heard every part of what was being called the joke, but none of it was funny. Now, I can watch children my age interact and I don't think they have a clue about what they're saying. They seem to just laugh like it was some sort of gag-reflex to spilling food on themselves.
Life changes things...
I would never own a dog - her name is Heidi.
I would never own a cat - her name is Alley.
I would never be married - her name is Karen.
I would always drive American - 2 Hondas.
I would always drive a truck - 2 Hondas.
I hated school - currently in my 20th year.
I wouldn't settle down - 11 acres.
I wanted to play footaball - don't really like sports.
Hated English - looking for a Ph.D. in Linguistics.
Bon Jovi - Mozart
Metallica - Nickel Creek
The list could go on forever I'm sure.
I even have a few ponderings about this when it comes to the Bible writers and characters; especially in my attitude towards it all. I guess this is enough for now though. That will have to be in part two.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Country Ham
What about country ham?! I don't have it often because I'm still enjoying being alive, but today I had a hot piece of that unclean beast. On mornings when I can, I carry Karen to work and she gets me the discounted hospital cafeteria breakfast which 8 times out of 6 is better than the Cheerios I typically eat. I know that hospital food sounds tantalizing in the most disgusting way, but it really is quite delicious.
If you haven't yet had the pleasure of a good slab of ultra-salty pork then you should be ashamed of yourself. Go on and have a slice - life has been waiting on you! However, I must warn you: there are consequences to consuming a week's worth of sodium for two people in one helping. Aside from the surpassing of a southern rite of passage and the completion of hillbilly initiation, you will suffer a physical drought which will leave you craving moisture in the most desperate way. My lips have dried up, my mouth is a desert and my skin even seems to have gone the route of an old piece of jerky which has fallen through the cracks of a dorm-room couch. And my eyes - oh how my eyes are longing for Ben Stein to grace them with his hydrating products!
I truly believe that the blind man healed by Jesus' spit and some mud was not blind at all! He had simply eaten a slice of country ham that morning for breakfast! The miracle lie not in the healing, but in the fact that a little moist earth did the job on the first application instead of the 7th.
Now, I'm no fool. I realize that half of the readers of this blog have by now burned a trail to the nearest Cracker Barrel to satifsy their salivating palate. So that leaves me with the task of convincing the 50% of those who began this script and are determined to finish the course.
One last astonishing statistic for you (this is the heavy artillery which will render you helpless against your base desire for that "full" feeling): only 3 out 6 people die fat and early after having eaten this at 3 or more of their 7 breakfasts in a week's time consistently! The odds of staying married are worse than that and Americans are entering that institution as if you got free gas and some kind of tax break for it! I knew I would get you with that one!
Savor the sow!
If you haven't yet had the pleasure of a good slab of ultra-salty pork then you should be ashamed of yourself. Go on and have a slice - life has been waiting on you! However, I must warn you: there are consequences to consuming a week's worth of sodium for two people in one helping. Aside from the surpassing of a southern rite of passage and the completion of hillbilly initiation, you will suffer a physical drought which will leave you craving moisture in the most desperate way. My lips have dried up, my mouth is a desert and my skin even seems to have gone the route of an old piece of jerky which has fallen through the cracks of a dorm-room couch. And my eyes - oh how my eyes are longing for Ben Stein to grace them with his hydrating products!
I truly believe that the blind man healed by Jesus' spit and some mud was not blind at all! He had simply eaten a slice of country ham that morning for breakfast! The miracle lie not in the healing, but in the fact that a little moist earth did the job on the first application instead of the 7th.
Now, I'm no fool. I realize that half of the readers of this blog have by now burned a trail to the nearest Cracker Barrel to satifsy their salivating palate. So that leaves me with the task of convincing the 50% of those who began this script and are determined to finish the course.
One last astonishing statistic for you (this is the heavy artillery which will render you helpless against your base desire for that "full" feeling): only 3 out 6 people die fat and early after having eaten this at 3 or more of their 7 breakfasts in a week's time consistently! The odds of staying married are worse than that and Americans are entering that institution as if you got free gas and some kind of tax break for it! I knew I would get you with that one!
Savor the sow!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
