Insidious Adaptation

If all experienced God in the same way and returned Him an identical worship, the song of the Church triumphant would have no symphony, it would be like an orchestra in which all the instruments played the same note. - C.S. Lewis, The problem of Pain The Old Testament, full of grotesque stories, wretched, horrible incidents, sacrifice, killing, animal sacrifice and many, many verses dedicated to the specific way and how and where to atone for wrong against the Law set forth by God himself. The Old Testament, as I see it now, was in fact, about sacrifice. I will venture a bit further and state that the entire Bible, human existence actually, is about human sacrifice. A preacher ordained in theology can break down certain sections of the historically accurate text known as the Bible. There are many intricacies and contextual components about the time and history of the timeline laid out. There are pieces that are read and read again, only to have them make sense at one time more...

I shouldn't be able to write and publish these words. Honestly, they are more clatter to an already loud world. Noise or noisy by the very context is contributing to the pollution of the environment. Even words that are meant to be read, not spoken cause noise. I saw the news report, I see the words float across the screen while in a public area, all the while listening to my own music. Yet, these quiet words have never been so loud. Trust is a concept that people take for granted. We trust without acknowledging it. We don't always take a bold stance when we trust, but by trusting, we are being bold. When someone gives us information and we are to trust them as a source, internalize the message, and then live with those words in our mind, there is no greater stance, no more boldness than the trust we give the source. Unfortunately, that trust that tends to come naturally, or found in nature, may not be trustworthy. Maybe Lisa is a gossiper, a liar, a manipulator of truths. ...

What is achievement other than a never-ending goal? What is success, but something defined by those outside? What is hunger defined by those who need? What is love desired by those who are lonely? On one side of a door, there is wood paneling, on the other, an entire room, unless of course you are on the inside, then there is an entire world out there. The possibilities behind any door, any thought fulfilled, any thing you've ever wanted available right here. (Points to one's head) I don't want it though. The pleasure, for I don't feel I am worthy. I have to keep working, striving, trudging through because I am not going to hold it properly. There are the times I want to give up, give in, quit, but then I remember that this is the gift. The entire reason I exist it to serve, and how can I serve if I achieve? How can I be washing feet when I have nice things? My entire life up until now, has remained in this current thought process. I am going to fail. I have t...

Look at her, miserable. She probably hates it here.  “Why can’t I find a place where people want to work?" Uh, scratch that.  When you are sad, everything is dismal. As though the very paint that paints the world is that of a flat brown and any color attempted to paint over it, pale, flat as well. The picture exists, it forms the same structure after all, but there is no vibrancy. What is lacking is the essence of flavor, the subtle aroma of fresh smells and exciting possibilities. Sadness makes anything negative seem possible, takes away a compliment, and instead of trying to get out, the self-defeat prevents much of what little effort is had. I can only write these words by being in the state of sadness, an extreme, acute, feeling that comes and goes. Possibly from over exertion, or some dietary restriction, which happens. All to often the sadness is remedied through my spiritual connection with God and what he wants for me, but this one lingered longer, maybe long enough...

Explosions erupting all round, the central nervous system kicks in, this must be battle . The physical feeling of impending conflict, its fight or flight. The worst part, the mind knows, the conscious intellect reminds the physically-stimulated body that things are OK and this is not a "battle." It is the body's familiarity with explosions associated with impending death of self or loved ones that a soldier must endure while children run around laughing and a father with beer in hand lights another one. Light it up Johnny! This is what the Fourth of July might mean to those who served so we could celebrate. This is PTSD as reported to me and this is what America tends to forget. However, the blanket way in which we refer to mental health has become an overlooked nuance. "I was anxious last night." Much different than, "I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder." "I was feeling depressed." Much different than being sad. "He'...

She has always been such a formal display of cruelty. For me, I have known her more as a Halloween prop than anything else. Through a few history lessons, I understood lynching. Now, I see her differently. I see the craft and variety of ways she is made. Rarely is she actually made the way I saw growing up. We visualize a rope, in reality she can be a tie, a t-shirt, a blanket even, for the rope can be too obvious a giveaway. When you say rope I think of water skiing, I think of a ladder up to a tree house, rarely do I consider the same rope used for someone to exit stage left, early. Yanked out while the audience looked away, never to return. There is no bow after this performance. The play keeps going without skipping a beat, reminding the audience that character, you, were background at best. The play wasn’t about you. Even a lead actor, taken off stage, the one we were meant to look at, he is a shock, he grabs your attention. Luckily there are many others and things to satiate...

Shame seeping into the brain, like a molasses being poured over a rotten apple, slowly the tainted fruit engulfed in a brown, sticky substance no longer seen, for now it is a mere blob of that which consumed it. The treachery of the feeling, enough to fuel poor decisions in life to try and escape, avoid, compensate even. The feeling was there upon waking up, like it existed before my conscious mind did, like it knew of the world and it was here to show me how hard it was going to make this place.  Since the dawn of fallen man, shame has existed to remind us of our overall wicked ways. In Genesis 3:7, Adam and Eve cover themselves with fig leaves to indicate a shame from the Lord for going against what he asked. Shame is supposed to be a benefit in some way, for all emotions are. If we are living with inefficient emotions, then is this not like the digestive system deciding not to do its job, only to have the food sit, rot, producing life-threatening situations? Our bodies are t...