Ain't NOTHING easy about Sunday morning...

Saturday, January 15, 2005


God is still jealous...
We miss his purpose in the scriptures. It's so funny how we tuck certain verses away and assume that we understand him. What's the first commandment?

No Gods before me.

Why is it first? So that after we eff up again, it won't be hard to find.

God is even jealous of the HILLS. This is one of the most MISUNDERSTOOD and MISQUOTED scripture in the Bible. Can you tell how emphatic I am?

PSALM 121 (Message Translation)
1 I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from mountains?
2 No, my strength comes from GOD,who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.

David effed up cause and effect too.
Our strength does NOT come from the hills or mountains...Hills are powerful and symbols of strength, and in old battles, armies would tactically attack FROM the hills, so in a losing battle, a soldier would always look to the hills to see if there were reinforcements coming...
But the REAL reinforcement doesn't come from the hills...

Your bank account is a hill.
Your family is a hill.
Your education is a hill.
Your pastor is a hill...

God made the hills. They're not inherently evil...but they weren't created to sustain us. Check out how Peterson renders the verse two...God MADE MOUNTAINS. Why go to a bank when you can go to a mint? Why go to a person you love when you can access LOVE itself??

We're confused.

We don't see with our eyes, and our ears are stopped up, I swear.

See, Ms. Adams...

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 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.

Thursday, January 13, 2005

Parts of me...

...covertly rebel.

--Romans 7 (Message)

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

My Tithe

Sometimes it feels like I'm tithing to the world...
as if MY struggle is to make sure that the WORLD gets its 10%.
Anytime I have money, it's blown on video gear of some sort, or books.
I'm always buying books these days...and music. And blank DVDs.

In other words, everything I do, all that I'm devoted to is of God.
(What, ultimately, ISN'T of God?)
God automatically gets the 90%...
Such rules have become so confusing.
Giving to God in EVERY WAY has just become my nature.
And it doesn't feel as though I've been trained to do so.

It's just interesting to think about, that's all.
For the people to struggle so hard to find time or inspiration to give 10% to God...
where's the rest of that resource going??

I sound might self-righteous...I'm not implying that I never waste anything...
and as far as time, I've spent my fair share of mediocre masturbating midnights...
But sometimes God is just a no-brainer, and the WORLD is the conundrum.


I just heard my grandfather's voice for the first time in my LIFE today.
My grandmother has doznes of tapes of their racism seminars.
The man had a neo-british american accent! Such a dignified voice. Hearing him speak made me feel better about the way I speak. Just listening to 45 mins of one seminar affirmed so much of who I am. Parts of me were viciously exposed as fraudulent, and other parts seemed to sigh huge sighs of relief, having finally found themselves to be authentic.

I'm taking some tapes home. You wouldn't believe me if I put them online.
I'm leaving in the morning. This has been the best 4 days of my life. Very refreshing. A real vacation.


Sunday, January 09, 2005

I reckon....

That in the end, this life of mine will be a splendid euphoric symphony.
It's just that I can harldy hear for the basses and bassoons and french horns and timpanis right now.

No Use For Me

Jesus Christ is on a roll/
He controls the souls/ from the boroughs/
To the grassy knolls/
My past, he knows/ I flash my GOLD/
but I still get smashed/ like a plaster mold/
He's not impressed by the/cash I hold/
I pushed a nice whip/but then I crashed the 'Rolls/
I was dealt a nice hand/ but then I had to fold/
I spit irrational/
There's nothing left from the stash of the hash I sold.

This Fucking World

They move so rhythmically that it can't be wrong.
Can it?
Can two move together so untrained and instinctively?

We all sin the same, in harmony.

We are two, tone deaf in a room, relishing our blasphemous tune.
And one of us climaxes before the other, and our eyes finally catch their focus
And you're not quite as ready for an encore as you thought you'd be.
Now she's the whore, and you don't feel like it anymore.
But maybe tomorrow, I will.

It's no wonder.
At all.