He watched, devastated, as the children were being torn apart by relentless, vicious evil. To enter into that place, once a picture of idyllic happiness, would require putting Himself in the midst of the horrific destruction, becoming almost as helpless as the children themselves. But the children were powerless to get out on their own.
And so He came.
We are the children. All of us. From infants to senior citizens, from the beginning of time until the end of time, we are the children being torn apart by an unnatural evil. Our childish ways and weaknesses leave us helpless to find our way in the dangerous darkness.
And so He comes..
But He comes empty handed, no shield, no weapons. Is He kidding? We hesitate to follow because the evil has convinced us that evil can only be vanquished with greater evil.
And the darkness grows.
But, the darkness has no power. It is a fraud. It is defenseless against the light of the One who comes.
His hands he leaves empty, and open, perfect to hold onto, or to carry the ones who are too weary.. But how does He carry the light into the darkness?
In His heart.
And in yours.
And mine.
.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Cereality
Saturday. Sofa. Coffee.
A memory surfaced this morning. As I poured my cereal and placed the box back down on the counter, for a moment I was six years old again, sitting at the breakfast table at the Tropical Breeze Motel in Panama City, Florida. Fred, an adult close family friend who also made the annual summer pilgrimage to PC, was sitting with me. He was making fun of me because I was reading the cereal box.
So, as I put the box down this morning, I felt compelled to do a little reading. (Weirdly, I am doing all this in a house that Fred built fifty years ago. Perhaps he is still laughing at me from the great beyond. I hope so.)
Grape Nuts cereal has no grape nuts in it. No grapes. No nuts. No grape nuts because there is no such thing.
I never really thought about it before. I just enjoyed the nutty,crunchy goodness of the Post product mainstay. I always assumed it exuded a natural healthiness, especially containing that mysterious essence of grape nuts.
There is no mysterious essence. Grape Nuts is made of whole wheat flour and barley.
Sometimes I wish I didn't like to read so much. I would still believe in Grape Nuts.
I'm not eating mysteriously healthy Grape Nuts. I am eating flour and barley. Good thing I am not gluten sensitive.
Bummer. Better double up on the fish oil. If that's what it really is.
I should have learned my lesson years ago. When I was a child Cheerios advertised itself as a grain version of Popeye's spinach, with commercials featuring Cheerios Kid and Sue. (Please look at that link, especially you who are younger than 50. It will help you understand your elders) If you ate it your biceps would immediately bulge, and a big round Cheerio tattoo would appear on the inside of the upper arm and you would do heroic things. I skinned my knuckles during a test punch against the pine panelling in the hallway to my room. I guess I buried that painful memory until this morning and the unraveling of the whole breakfast cereal mythology.
The truth is, I still like Grape Nuts. And Cheerios. And the truth is, I really had an idea that Grape Nuts was not really made of grape nuts. And that Cheerios did not instantly make me Herculean.
But it was nice to ignore what I knew was probably the truth. It just made me feel so good.
Feeling good was good enough for Janis and Bobby McGhee. But it didn't last. Janis let Bobby slip away.
And Janis did too, at the age of 27, when she died of an overdose.
Feeling good at the expense of the truth can result in relatively harmless, maybe even humorous, results, like a skinny six year old kid trying to punch a hole in a wall.
Or, it can be deadly.
Some good, Christian Germans who allowed the Holocaust, the cruel murder of millions of innocents, felt good that their homeland was being cleansed. .
Some good, Christian Americans, felt good that black bodies were left swinging from the limbs of southern Oaks or exploding into pieces in Birmingham.
Some good, courageous explorers and pioneers felt good about eradicating native Americans from their homelands.
Some good, religious Muslims feel good about killing Christians and Western devils.
Some good folks feel good about treating Hispanic men, women and children so cruelly that they had to "voluntarily" return home.
The crowd that screamed "free Barabbas" and sent the Truth to the cross to die a torturous death felt good about it, while Pilate, whom we in that crowd tend to blame for the way things turned out, asked, "What is truth?"
Jesus said that the truth will set us free. He said that He, Himself, embodied the Truth. The truths that he revealed are clear. Love God. Love everyone, including, especially, your enemies (anyone can love their friends). Turn the other cheek. Do not judge others. Take care of and love the poor, the widow, the orphan, the children, the sick, the outcast, without condition. Love and serve. Sacrifice. Do not store up treasure for yourself. The least are the greatest and vice versa.
But that's not the way Jesus' truth has been packaged by those of us who have been called to advertise it. We have not been truthful. We just want to justify feeling good. Feeling good about being judgmental. Feeling good about the failures of others. Feeling good about revenge. Feeling good about winning at all costs. Feeling good about our wealth and excused for the plight of those less fortunate.
Maybe it's time we got back to the Truth again. It's simple enough for a six year old to read and understand.
Maybe it will renew our strength.
To truly do heroic things.
.
.
A memory surfaced this morning. As I poured my cereal and placed the box back down on the counter, for a moment I was six years old again, sitting at the breakfast table at the Tropical Breeze Motel in Panama City, Florida. Fred, an adult close family friend who also made the annual summer pilgrimage to PC, was sitting with me. He was making fun of me because I was reading the cereal box.
So, as I put the box down this morning, I felt compelled to do a little reading. (Weirdly, I am doing all this in a house that Fred built fifty years ago. Perhaps he is still laughing at me from the great beyond. I hope so.)
Grape Nuts cereal has no grape nuts in it. No grapes. No nuts. No grape nuts because there is no such thing.
I never really thought about it before. I just enjoyed the nutty,crunchy goodness of the Post product mainstay. I always assumed it exuded a natural healthiness, especially containing that mysterious essence of grape nuts.
There is no mysterious essence. Grape Nuts is made of whole wheat flour and barley.
Sometimes I wish I didn't like to read so much. I would still believe in Grape Nuts.
I'm not eating mysteriously healthy Grape Nuts. I am eating flour and barley. Good thing I am not gluten sensitive.
Bummer. Better double up on the fish oil. If that's what it really is.
I should have learned my lesson years ago. When I was a child Cheerios advertised itself as a grain version of Popeye's spinach, with commercials featuring Cheerios Kid and Sue. (Please look at that link, especially you who are younger than 50. It will help you understand your elders) If you ate it your biceps would immediately bulge, and a big round Cheerio tattoo would appear on the inside of the upper arm and you would do heroic things. I skinned my knuckles during a test punch against the pine panelling in the hallway to my room. I guess I buried that painful memory until this morning and the unraveling of the whole breakfast cereal mythology.
The truth is, I still like Grape Nuts. And Cheerios. And the truth is, I really had an idea that Grape Nuts was not really made of grape nuts. And that Cheerios did not instantly make me Herculean.
But it was nice to ignore what I knew was probably the truth. It just made me feel so good.
Feeling good was good enough for Janis and Bobby McGhee. But it didn't last. Janis let Bobby slip away.
And Janis did too, at the age of 27, when she died of an overdose.
Feeling good at the expense of the truth can result in relatively harmless, maybe even humorous, results, like a skinny six year old kid trying to punch a hole in a wall.
Or, it can be deadly.
Some good, Christian Germans who allowed the Holocaust, the cruel murder of millions of innocents, felt good that their homeland was being cleansed. .
Some good, Christian Americans, felt good that black bodies were left swinging from the limbs of southern Oaks or exploding into pieces in Birmingham.
Some good, courageous explorers and pioneers felt good about eradicating native Americans from their homelands.
Some good, religious Muslims feel good about killing Christians and Western devils.
Some good folks feel good about treating Hispanic men, women and children so cruelly that they had to "voluntarily" return home.
The crowd that screamed "free Barabbas" and sent the Truth to the cross to die a torturous death felt good about it, while Pilate, whom we in that crowd tend to blame for the way things turned out, asked, "What is truth?"
Jesus said that the truth will set us free. He said that He, Himself, embodied the Truth. The truths that he revealed are clear. Love God. Love everyone, including, especially, your enemies (anyone can love their friends). Turn the other cheek. Do not judge others. Take care of and love the poor, the widow, the orphan, the children, the sick, the outcast, without condition. Love and serve. Sacrifice. Do not store up treasure for yourself. The least are the greatest and vice versa.
But that's not the way Jesus' truth has been packaged by those of us who have been called to advertise it. We have not been truthful. We just want to justify feeling good. Feeling good about being judgmental. Feeling good about the failures of others. Feeling good about revenge. Feeling good about winning at all costs. Feeling good about our wealth and excused for the plight of those less fortunate.
Maybe it's time we got back to the Truth again. It's simple enough for a six year old to read and understand.
Maybe it will renew our strength.
To truly do heroic things.
.
.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Meanwhile, back at the house . . .
Saturday. Sofa. Coffee.
It's good to be back. As happens to everyone from time to time, I have had to put much of my normal life aside for several weeks to focus on other things. It is peaceful to be back on the Saturday morning sofa. Deer are grazing on the acorns under the huge canopy of the white oak down the hill. A ridiculously bold coyote struck a Rin Tin Tin pose on the hill behind the house. And a mostly white skunk, with similar hair problems to my own, looking as if he had a pretty rough night, seems perturbed by something as he waddled by the window a couple of times. I will leave him alone. Even though I suspect he eats my cherry tomatoes. Or perhaps he uses the juice as cologne.
There is much to be done. I have absolutely ignored house maintenance for a couple of months. This requires a deep clean. When I moved into this house, there were some things I didn't do. One of them was removing the layers of old contact paper lining the shelves of the kitchen cabinets. When I moved in I tore off small pieces which came off easily, but left the rest. I was satisfied with just covering it up with rubber mesh liner. It looked fine. But every time I opened the cabinet doors to get a glass or a bottle of olive oil, the shelf never seemed clean, even though it looked good. So, last night I decided to go deep. Take everything out of the shelves. Remove the rubber mesh shelf liner. Remove the old, nasty, glued on generations of cover-ups. Get it back down to the bare wood shelf. Then I would know it was clean.
The kitchen was a wreck before I started. But now it qualifies for an EPA Superfund cleanup. Everything has been removed from the shadows of the cabinets and is stacked on the counters, the floor, and even extending to the few empty spaces on the den coffee and end tables.
I knew the task would be daunting. The covering that had been in place that long would not give up easily So last night I perused the shelves of the local building supply for something to make the removal easier. I bought a bottle of blue goo that made bold claims about easy removal. It also warned me that it might remove my own skin if I was not careful.
First thing this morning I slapped some of the goo on a portion of the old shelf liner and waited as instructed. With great anticipation I dug my fingernails into the side of the covering and pulled. A micro-sliver of the blue speckled paper ripped away. I tried again, with a knife. Another sliver. And both slivers left another layer of glue and covering underneath. I tried again, this time scraping. Nothing. The blue goo was not going to work.
Then I remembered what I forgot. I had used heat to remove wall paper, so maybe that would work on the shelf liner. Brandishing the hair dryer like Marshall Matt Dillon on the hunt, I drew down on that crusty old paper. For a moment I tried to remember if the blue goo had mentioned anything about being flammable, but then I thought, what the hey, the worst that could happen is that the dadgum liner burns off.
Holding my blazing heat gun in one hand, I searched for an edge with my other hand, digging my thumbnail around the edge. Eureka. It began to come up. In large sheets. I kept applying the heat, sometimes having to linger over the places that the covering hung particularly tough.
Thirty minutes later, the nasty layers of shelf liner were gone, wadded up and tossed at the trash can across the room. String music.
The shelving wood is completely bare. Now it can really be cleaned up.
Like the Refiner's Fire or Aroldis Chapman, sometimes the only thing one can do is bring the heat.
Now to clean up this mess.
.
It's good to be back. As happens to everyone from time to time, I have had to put much of my normal life aside for several weeks to focus on other things. It is peaceful to be back on the Saturday morning sofa. Deer are grazing on the acorns under the huge canopy of the white oak down the hill. A ridiculously bold coyote struck a Rin Tin Tin pose on the hill behind the house. And a mostly white skunk, with similar hair problems to my own, looking as if he had a pretty rough night, seems perturbed by something as he waddled by the window a couple of times. I will leave him alone. Even though I suspect he eats my cherry tomatoes. Or perhaps he uses the juice as cologne.
There is much to be done. I have absolutely ignored house maintenance for a couple of months. This requires a deep clean. When I moved into this house, there were some things I didn't do. One of them was removing the layers of old contact paper lining the shelves of the kitchen cabinets. When I moved in I tore off small pieces which came off easily, but left the rest. I was satisfied with just covering it up with rubber mesh liner. It looked fine. But every time I opened the cabinet doors to get a glass or a bottle of olive oil, the shelf never seemed clean, even though it looked good. So, last night I decided to go deep. Take everything out of the shelves. Remove the rubber mesh shelf liner. Remove the old, nasty, glued on generations of cover-ups. Get it back down to the bare wood shelf. Then I would know it was clean.
The kitchen was a wreck before I started. But now it qualifies for an EPA Superfund cleanup. Everything has been removed from the shadows of the cabinets and is stacked on the counters, the floor, and even extending to the few empty spaces on the den coffee and end tables.
I knew the task would be daunting. The covering that had been in place that long would not give up easily So last night I perused the shelves of the local building supply for something to make the removal easier. I bought a bottle of blue goo that made bold claims about easy removal. It also warned me that it might remove my own skin if I was not careful.
First thing this morning I slapped some of the goo on a portion of the old shelf liner and waited as instructed. With great anticipation I dug my fingernails into the side of the covering and pulled. A micro-sliver of the blue speckled paper ripped away. I tried again, with a knife. Another sliver. And both slivers left another layer of glue and covering underneath. I tried again, this time scraping. Nothing. The blue goo was not going to work.
Then I remembered what I forgot. I had used heat to remove wall paper, so maybe that would work on the shelf liner. Brandishing the hair dryer like Marshall Matt Dillon on the hunt, I drew down on that crusty old paper. For a moment I tried to remember if the blue goo had mentioned anything about being flammable, but then I thought, what the hey, the worst that could happen is that the dadgum liner burns off.
Holding my blazing heat gun in one hand, I searched for an edge with my other hand, digging my thumbnail around the edge. Eureka. It began to come up. In large sheets. I kept applying the heat, sometimes having to linger over the places that the covering hung particularly tough.
Thirty minutes later, the nasty layers of shelf liner were gone, wadded up and tossed at the trash can across the room. String music.
The shelving wood is completely bare. Now it can really be cleaned up.
Like the Refiner's Fire or Aroldis Chapman, sometimes the only thing one can do is bring the heat.
Now to clean up this mess.
.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Thurvey 8/30/2012
Thursday is here and it is time for the Thurvey. The poll questions are on the right. If you are on a mobile device you may have to go to "web version" to see the questions. If you want to comment further on the questions, just do os below. There will be no separate essay questions.
Last week we learned that most people look forward to the Autumn weather after Labor Day, with football season a close second. Medicare needs to remain as is with fixes to make it sustainable. Climate change should be addressed with an aggressive program for green energy. And we don't know much about what to do about Alabama's budget/revenue crunch.
I like my politics, but there are things that trouble me about this political campaign. Maybe you are troubled as well. Feel free to let your thoughts be known.
Otherwise, have a wonderful Labor Day Weekend.
.
Last week we learned that most people look forward to the Autumn weather after Labor Day, with football season a close second. Medicare needs to remain as is with fixes to make it sustainable. Climate change should be addressed with an aggressive program for green energy. And we don't know much about what to do about Alabama's budget/revenue crunch.
I like my politics, but there are things that trouble me about this political campaign. Maybe you are troubled as well. Feel free to let your thoughts be known.
Otherwise, have a wonderful Labor Day Weekend.
.
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