I think it keeps us on our feet.
The ultimate game, I suppose.
Back when I was so enthralled with Pop Christian Culture, (in other words, when I was on like book 6 of the Left Behind Series), this interesting techie character named David Hassid would send out these encoded messages of the gospel. Of course the focus wasn't on the gospel, but on the encoding technique: it was a code that had like 28 different alpha numeric characters, and each character would change like every two minutes, so there was only ever a two minute window to crack the code or something...I'm sure I've jacked up all the details, but you get the point.
The code keeps changing.
Teh coed kpees canhgnig.
Teh Cdoe Kepes Cahngnig
And the code keeps changing to ensure that the person for whom the message is intended is truly up to the challenge.
Imagine a damsel in distress. She can be like a seven year old girl so that the story is less sexist. So there's a little girl in trouble, and Jane Bond (safer still) is sent to rescue her. That's the objective: rescue the girl. The objective stands forever. The girl is still in trouble, and Jane Bond is still RESPONSIBLE for rescuing her. Enter confusion. Jane keeps getting mixed messages from headquarters. Some messages self-destruct before she can read them, some messages say to forget the girl for now, and go mow the freakin Czar's lawn, some messages say that the girl is now a boy, some messages say that there is no girl, headquarters is a cult, and you should have just gotten married and copulated all day long, and that your life thus far is a total and complete waste...
But Jane knows that in her soberest of moments, in the BEGINNING, when she got the very first CALL, that there was indeed a girl, and that she was indeed in danger. Even though the code keeps changing.
And how fitting! This isn't just some random suburban prepubescent Ashton Kutcher-worshiping kiddo. It's like the freakin SOMEONE's daughter and she's worth Some-hundred-billion dollars and the whole world depends on it. So the mission is crucial, Jane Bond was called, and the girl still needs to be rescued even though the code keeps changing. See, Ms. Adams?
So we can't be mad at our doubting loved ones. After all, we only see as through a fog, or a clouded mirror...
In fact, I like one thing you said somewhere recently:
"...mad cause their pastor isn't God..."
something like that..
I've been mad like that before.
Also mad that my parents aren't God, that the women I'm trying to please aren't God, mad that my professional peers aren't God, mad that Hollywood isn't God, mad that Madison Avenue isn't God...
just mad, and wrong to be mad.
We forget that even "Pastor" is human, and so is "Mom"...
and get this kids...in my case, my "Mom" is "Pastor"
So she's freakin TWICE as human.
Sucks. But it's true.
Spit in the wind, right?
As you can see, I'm very sober right now. I could't have written this last week or a few days ago...maybe not next week...but now.
