One of the things Ive found is that truth is no a respecter of persons. Truth is as truth is. It's unowned and belongs to no individual person or group of people. Truth transcends time and culture.
Even Jesus once said about people outside of his circle, "You don't know them? You've never met them. They just picked up Love in my name apparently out of thin air, saying the things we say and doing the things we do... and yet they're not one of us.... Foreigners to us...
Don't stop them. For whoever isn't against us, is for us". (Luke 9:50- the story of the unknown demon-driver; paraphrased).
Let me ask you. Was the unknown "demon driver" perfect in his understanding of the truth? Who was he? What were the critical points of his theology? (unknown). What about your pastor yesterday? Did he get it all right? What about the "different" church down the street? The dude on TV? That book you read yesterday?
And how did you and I become the final measure of truth? What about me... Could I have gotten it wrong? What about you?
Truth is truth, and if it begins outside of us, then it must be true for everyone where ever
it can be found. Either that, or it's true for no one at all.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Jews, Tattoos, and The Blues
Ok. It's probably midlife. Some dudes do the girl thing....(twenty-somethingish). Some do the sports car thing. I remember a guy I started my nursing career with who came in one morning with an earring. It wouldn't be a big thing except earrings weren't his style at all. He was an older dude with a big mustache (looked like Rip Taylor), and the sudden earring (like that ruffly Jerry Seinfeld shirt) made him look like a Male-nurse/Pirate. Or at least a little desperate; like maybe he was trying too hard.
The truth is that anything midlife comes off as desperate. If you're gonna do it.... The goal I think is to be honest with it, and keep it somewhat within character. And for me... tattoos aren't that much out of character. I mean. It's not like tomorrow I'm getting hair implants or a rug......
If I were to do something really big, I think I would become Jewish. Really, I think it's a good fit. I'm already circumcised. I'm really familiar with the Old Testament. (They don't like it when you call their Holy Book the "old" Testament). And ultimately I think Jewish people understand the blues (One of their worship places is called "the wailing wall).
But as it is, I'm settling for getting a tattoo (which is the opposite of being Jewish.... Tattoos- not allowed). And that's unfortunate because Jews and Tattoo wearer's and Blues dudes all have something in common. They all take life and mark themselves with it in some way....
Blues guys have the songs....
Jews have it in their holidays and in the normal "stuff" of life... example; Weekly Sabbath. (Rest). Yom Kippur. (New Beginnings). Passover. (Deliverance).
Tattoos are kind of like that. True... Sometimes people get tattoos just cause they think it's cool. But sometimes it's deeper than that. Sometimes it's about saying something about themselves, or someone they've lost. Or who they are. What they've come through.
Thats like a jewish holiday, Right? And it's definitely like a blues song.
The truth is that anything midlife comes off as desperate. If you're gonna do it.... The goal I think is to be honest with it, and keep it somewhat within character. And for me... tattoos aren't that much out of character. I mean. It's not like tomorrow I'm getting hair implants or a rug......
If I were to do something really big, I think I would become Jewish. Really, I think it's a good fit. I'm already circumcised. I'm really familiar with the Old Testament. (They don't like it when you call their Holy Book the "old" Testament). And ultimately I think Jewish people understand the blues (One of their worship places is called "the wailing wall).
But as it is, I'm settling for getting a tattoo (which is the opposite of being Jewish.... Tattoos- not allowed). And that's unfortunate because Jews and Tattoo wearer's and Blues dudes all have something in common. They all take life and mark themselves with it in some way....
Blues guys have the songs....
Jews have it in their holidays and in the normal "stuff" of life... example; Weekly Sabbath. (Rest). Yom Kippur. (New Beginnings). Passover. (Deliverance).
Tattoos are kind of like that. True... Sometimes people get tattoos just cause they think it's cool. But sometimes it's deeper than that. Sometimes it's about saying something about themselves, or someone they've lost. Or who they are. What they've come through.
Thats like a jewish holiday, Right? And it's definitely like a blues song.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
The Gay Samaritan
It's funny how close sane people come to insanity every day. (or every night as it were).
I was driving home from work. The sky was ridiculously blue, and I was letting my imagination run wild. I was remembering a dream I had of a time when I was at Seminary learning everything there is to know about God (they would have you believe). And in my dream, Jesus was there; teaching one of my classes.
And also there was a ferret sitting next to me taking notes.
(The ferret who was dressed like a hipster with an anti-stylish coffee mug setting on his desk, was making sure that everyone around him knew he was drinking the finest freshest roasted coffee in the land).
As Jesus was speaking I could tell that my seminary professor (known for his stand on moral issues and family values) was concerned about the apparent "reckless" teachings of Jesus on the subject of love. And so he stood up with a question to test Jesus and he stated his question like this: “So, Professor...... what do I NEED to do to GET eternal life?”. He asked.
Jesus answered, “What’s written in the Bible. How do you interpret it?”He said,
“That you love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and muscle and intelligence—and that you love your neighbor as well as you do yourself".
The ferret leaned towards me and whispered, "All you need is love".
"Good answer!” said Jesus. “Do it and you’ll live.
But looking for a loophole, he asked, “And just how would you define ‘neighbor’?”
Jesus answered by telling a story. “There was once an old blues man traveling down 11th street. He was walking with nothing but the clothes on his back and a well used electric-blue guitar. About half way down the road he was attacked by some young punks. They took his clothes, and his guitar, and beat him, and went off leaving him half-dead.
Luckily, a preacher was on his way down the same road, but when he saw the beaten man, he angled across to the other side of 11th street.
Then a religious man, a political activist, a real angry guy (looked just like Fred Phelps ...) showed up carrying his God hates fags signs. But already late for his protest, and his hands full, he also avoided the injured man.
But just then a gay man was traveling down 11th street and came up on the injured blues man. And when he saw the injured mans condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he put him in the back seat of his car, made him comfortable and took him to the nearest Emergency Room just down the street.
He gave the receptionist his own information along with 500 dollars and told her, ‘Take good care of him. Im late for an important meeting and have to go. But if it costs any more, I’ll be coming back to check on him, and I'll pay you on my way back.’
“What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man attacked by these young punks"?
“The one who treated him kindly,” the Seminary professor responded.
Jesus said, “Go and do the same.”
My mind was coming back to the road, but not before I noticed the clock on the wall melting (Salvador Dali-style). The ferret, sitting at my side, took off his thick black rimmed glasses and stood (on his hind paws) giving a rousing round of applause. And then ebbing into my "crazy", I resisted the returning sound of traffic (and "reality") and with one last burst of imagination I lifted up off the ground like a dragon-fly and flew off into the ridiculous, lunatic, electric-blue sky.
I was driving home from work. The sky was ridiculously blue, and I was letting my imagination run wild. I was remembering a dream I had of a time when I was at Seminary learning everything there is to know about God (they would have you believe). And in my dream, Jesus was there; teaching one of my classes.
And also there was a ferret sitting next to me taking notes.
(The ferret who was dressed like a hipster with an anti-stylish coffee mug setting on his desk, was making sure that everyone around him knew he was drinking the finest freshest roasted coffee in the land).
As Jesus was speaking I could tell that my seminary professor (known for his stand on moral issues and family values) was concerned about the apparent "reckless" teachings of Jesus on the subject of love. And so he stood up with a question to test Jesus and he stated his question like this: “So, Professor...... what do I NEED to do to GET eternal life?”. He asked.
Jesus answered, “What’s written in the Bible. How do you interpret it?”He said,
“That you love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and muscle and intelligence—and that you love your neighbor as well as you do yourself".
The ferret leaned towards me and whispered, "All you need is love".
"Good answer!” said Jesus. “Do it and you’ll live.
But looking for a loophole, he asked, “And just how would you define ‘neighbor’?”
Jesus answered by telling a story. “There was once an old blues man traveling down 11th street. He was walking with nothing but the clothes on his back and a well used electric-blue guitar. About half way down the road he was attacked by some young punks. They took his clothes, and his guitar, and beat him, and went off leaving him half-dead.
Luckily, a preacher was on his way down the same road, but when he saw the beaten man, he angled across to the other side of 11th street.
Then a religious man, a political activist, a real angry guy (looked just like Fred Phelps ...) showed up carrying his God hates fags signs. But already late for his protest, and his hands full, he also avoided the injured man.
But just then a gay man was traveling down 11th street and came up on the injured blues man. And when he saw the injured mans condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he put him in the back seat of his car, made him comfortable and took him to the nearest Emergency Room just down the street.
He gave the receptionist his own information along with 500 dollars and told her, ‘Take good care of him. Im late for an important meeting and have to go. But if it costs any more, I’ll be coming back to check on him, and I'll pay you on my way back.’
“What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man attacked by these young punks"?
“The one who treated him kindly,” the Seminary professor responded.
Jesus said, “Go and do the same.”
My mind was coming back to the road, but not before I noticed the clock on the wall melting (Salvador Dali-style). The ferret, sitting at my side, took off his thick black rimmed glasses and stood (on his hind paws) giving a rousing round of applause. And then ebbing into my "crazy", I resisted the returning sound of traffic (and "reality") and with one last burst of imagination I lifted up off the ground like a dragon-fly and flew off into the ridiculous, lunatic, electric-blue sky.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Tattoos
Obsessed with tattoos these days. (I think this is my mid-life). Feeling like I've been cheating myself by living by all of your rules. It could be worse...... could leave my family for the hot, young blonde girl - (theoretically)...... Could also buy that corvette. But for me its about different stuff than all that (usually). For me its about self expression.
Don't get me wrong. I love you all. But how did I let you guys decide what I was gonna look like?
I mean, there are certain places you guys belong in my life. But my head is not one of them. Time to do the things I would have done had I not been so concerned about what "people" think. (Respectfully) Its time to live my life my way; not yours. Its time to get some ink.
Don't get me wrong. I love you all. But how did I let you guys decide what I was gonna look like?
I mean, there are certain places you guys belong in my life. But my head is not one of them. Time to do the things I would have done had I not been so concerned about what "people" think. (Respectfully) Its time to live my life my way; not yours. Its time to get some ink.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Intimate: a true story
Do you have the blues? She asked.
I was laying close to her in bed. A hand on her breast. (incidental contact). An arm wrapped around her hips, but Tearful. Distant.
The television was on and I was thinking about the stress of Christmas and money and the F word (previous blog-11/22). It was 5:45. There was a blue tint of light coming from the television casting itself over everything in my darkened room. She was checking her Facebook but stopped and looked at my blue face.
You know I love you, she said, like a question. I didn't really know. This is the way it had been since it happened.
(I couldn't talk).
It was unusual for her to be here now. Like this. With Me.
The way I saw it, there was the Blues and there was the dread. I had grown used to doing the blues alone. But being alone had introduced me to the dread. And there was only one way out of the dread. The blues let me feel it like a reminder that I was still alive. But the dread made me feel it like I was dead.
Your face looks blue she said.
The colors from the television changed with it's own movement. From darker blue to light blue. And then darker..., back to light. I was tired of feeling it. Worn out and tired and silently to myself I asked someone to Please help me. And the F word came to my mind again. The other one. Not the angry one.
And then just like that, underneath the revolving blue tones an answer came to me like an unusual gift.... Suddenly a door unlocked and I was permitted to Forgive.
And so I did.
And though the dread had me losing my self entirely; surprisingly it felt like I was dead for just a moment. It felt like at the beginning of things when you're dead, but suddenly coming back to life.
The television changed to a brighter screen and she looked at me curiously, not knowing my secret inside life. You're getting lighter she said. Your getting lighter and lighter. It looks like you're almost white.
I was laying close to her in bed. A hand on her breast. (incidental contact). An arm wrapped around her hips, but Tearful. Distant.
The television was on and I was thinking about the stress of Christmas and money and the F word (previous blog-11/22). It was 5:45. There was a blue tint of light coming from the television casting itself over everything in my darkened room. She was checking her Facebook but stopped and looked at my blue face.
You know I love you, she said, like a question. I didn't really know. This is the way it had been since it happened.
(I couldn't talk).
It was unusual for her to be here now. Like this. With Me.
The way I saw it, there was the Blues and there was the dread. I had grown used to doing the blues alone. But being alone had introduced me to the dread. And there was only one way out of the dread. The blues let me feel it like a reminder that I was still alive. But the dread made me feel it like I was dead.
Your face looks blue she said.
The colors from the television changed with it's own movement. From darker blue to light blue. And then darker..., back to light. I was tired of feeling it. Worn out and tired and silently to myself I asked someone to Please help me. And the F word came to my mind again. The other one. Not the angry one.
And then just like that, underneath the revolving blue tones an answer came to me like an unusual gift.... Suddenly a door unlocked and I was permitted to Forgive.
And so I did.
And though the dread had me losing my self entirely; surprisingly it felt like I was dead for just a moment. It felt like at the beginning of things when you're dead, but suddenly coming back to life.
The television changed to a brighter screen and she looked at me curiously, not knowing my secret inside life. You're getting lighter she said. Your getting lighter and lighter. It looks like you're almost white.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Learning to say the F word
What if I told you God told me to say the F word? Is that blasphemy? offensive to you? What if God wanted me to say it to blow your minds? Challenge your misconceptions of good and bad? Stretch your views of love and tolerance and acceptance? What if by saying it, it set you free from every religious tendency, or legalistic approach to expressing your life? What if it made you less hateful and more free from the justifications that keep you from being real with other people?
To be honest. I'm still uncomfortable saying it. It's just the way I was raised. But underneath the discomfort there's this rebellious spark; a mean feeling of satisfaction. A final realization that if I was ever gonna make a clear and final break with my self-righteous world of the past, I was gonna have to start using the F word.
When it comes to judging people, identifying those who are able to use the F word is the best way to separate the wheat from the chaff. And it's the forceful way out of the blues. It helps you take off the mask and stop pretending. And it feels good to say it, and quite frankly I don't give a..........
hoot,
what people think anymore.
If you're overly religious, self-righteous, I suspect you haven't made it down my post this far. And for that, I give you the F word as well. And though you're probably the hardest person to say it to, the word being so foreign to you and all, it's for your unwillingness to listen, your tendency to judge and prejudge, your inability to hear or see anything outside of yourself and your own very narrow view of the world.... that to you........ In the name of Jesus who first taught me the F word himself. To you, I wanna say, F-you. (And by F, I mean, FORGIVE).
To be honest. I'm still uncomfortable saying it. It's just the way I was raised. But underneath the discomfort there's this rebellious spark; a mean feeling of satisfaction. A final realization that if I was ever gonna make a clear and final break with my self-righteous world of the past, I was gonna have to start using the F word.
When it comes to judging people, identifying those who are able to use the F word is the best way to separate the wheat from the chaff. And it's the forceful way out of the blues. It helps you take off the mask and stop pretending. And it feels good to say it, and quite frankly I don't give a..........
hoot,
what people think anymore.
If you're overly religious, self-righteous, I suspect you haven't made it down my post this far. And for that, I give you the F word as well. And though you're probably the hardest person to say it to, the word being so foreign to you and all, it's for your unwillingness to listen, your tendency to judge and prejudge, your inability to hear or see anything outside of yourself and your own very narrow view of the world.... that to you........ In the name of Jesus who first taught me the F word himself. To you, I wanna say, F-you. (And by F, I mean, FORGIVE).
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