Most of the time when I set out to write a blog, it's about something I have figured out. According to some people, that even comes off as a bit pretentious. I guess I see the point there. Today I just want to write about some things I HAVEN'T figure out and maybe never will. Just so you know, there are a LOT of things that fall under that category. haha.
Number one thing I haven't figured out is eschatology and people's preoccupation with it. End-times theology is an interesting topic--that is until people start touting their knowledge about it like their word is gospel truth. Here's the fact, my friends. "No one knows the hour, no one knows the day" of the Second Coming. And we can speculate as much as we want, but we don't know exactly how things will go down, either. Desiring knowledge and doing research are both laudable things, but when you begin to believe you have all the answers by doing so, you are in error. Some truths are indisputable and very black and white, but there are some issues that will we not understand completely in this life. I just don't get why people are always running around yelling "End times! End times! Get your life right!" (imagine that phrase in a redneck accent). Whether Jesus is coming back now or a hundred years from now, shouldn't we already be living with a kingdom mindset? Shouldn't we be putting forth effort for righteousness regardless of the state of world affairs? I think so. If that is the case, then I don't really need to know when Jesus is returning, just that I am to be His unsullied bride.
Another thing I can't quite understand is human reluctancy to become close to others. As much as it pains me to admit it sometimes, we need each other to survive and maintain any sense of our humanity. So why do we practically isolate ourselves from one another? I think the main reason is fear. Everyone's afraid of getting hurt. I just think that's no way to live your life. You won't experience anything good if you live only trying to escape pain or danger.
I had so many other things I wanted to talk about with this, but I don't think it's going to happen. I've got quite possibly the worst illness I've ever had. I don't know what it is, neither does the doctor. Maybe it's just a coincidental malady at a time when I was depriving myself of rest. I don't know. Either way, it's retardedly awful and I look like hell. So does the apartment without me to clean it. My throat is visibly swollen (externally I mean). It kind of looks like the mumps. But it's not. I find I don't like rest. I don't like being taken care of, and I don't like not being able to do anything. And yeah, yeah, no one likes a complainer. But I kind of don't care right now. I don't like posturing to be a people-pleaser and would much rather communicate what I feel. Truth is, I can love people and still not give a damn what they think about me. I just want to lay aside every concern about looking good in front of everyone, because I simply do not have the energy for that today. Today I question people's concern for anyone but themselves beyond the obligatory/shallow kind, or maybe even the kind that behooves them personally. The past couple of weeks I have both objectively and subjectively viewed some of the worst apathy about the problems of others. A couple of situations were regarding myself, but largely they involved different people--some I barely knew--and yet it made me sick to see the lack of concern we have for one another. It is one of the ugliest things I have ever beheld in people. And I wish I could unsee it.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Blog 16: HayBoo and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day (Illustrated)
One of my favorite books when I was a kid was called Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad Day. It was about this kid (named Alexander, duh) who basically had a typical day with little annoying things in it which he exaggerated to the extreme. His solution to every problem is to say "I'm moving to Australia." It's an excellent book for the grumpies. Anywho, yesterday, I really felt like "moving to Australia." To be fair, the middle of my day while I worked 1-9pm was really just fine. It was the time before and after that in which I found the troubles which at the time seemed to be in hyperbole to the point of generating displeasure of comedic proportions.
The first part of my day was spent just cleaning the apartment and doing laundry. Nothing special, really. I did, however, have so much to do that I didn't have time for the shower I wanted/honestly needed...but, minor annoyance aside, everything was still hunky-dory as I walked out the door. Then I got to my car. The night before, I had parked in front of the apartment building next to ours. It was the only spot that wasn't very far away, as the people in the building down the hill from us ALWAYS use our parking spots instead of their own (for some God-forsaken reason). In any case, I thought "how lucky to get so close." How very wrong I was. Presumably because they felt entitled to that particular parking space, someone in the building I parked in front of poured some sort of sticky liquid all over the front of my car. By the angle of the splotches and streaks on my roof/windshield/hood, you can tell it was thrown from their balcony. I'm fairly certain it's beer (which really seems wasteful, but it's none of my nevermind). Having only fifteen minutes to get to work, cleaning it was not an option. So I drove to work with my window nice and blurry, fuming about the immaturity of it all. Oh, and these same people have parties practically every night and their guests take up all the parking as well. So awesome.
Work went by, no big deal, besides my usual feeling of being the odd one out. Guess it's just new kid syndrome. It just doesn't take me long to warm up to people, but I think I make people feel awkward by treating them as if we're friends pretty much when I meet them...anyway, that's not the subject of this entry. It was a decent but awkward day, as per usual--that is all I'm saying.
Once I was finally off work and ready to skedaddle, I discovered that I had left my lights on and consequently killed Maurice's battery. Again, no big problem. One of the smartest and best gifts I have received in this past year is a set of jumper cables (courtesy of my wise and thoughtful parents)--a must-have for anyone with a car like mine. After a short wait and the shifting of vehicles, Zack (coworker at Starbucks) graciously came and gave me a jump. Thought I was good to go. Shut the hood, replaced the bungee cord (an extra precaution because the hood latch has been loose for awhile), then started home. As I was driving down the interstate, jamming out to a good song and enjoying the warm wind, Maurice's hood flew up with such violence that my rearview mirror detached from the windshield and fell into the trashy abyss that is my front passenger floor. I quickly pulled over (alternately cussing and thanking the Lord that the traffic wasn't bad at that time) and realized that the hood latch was now completely broken. So on this windy Spring evening, I had nothing to hold my car hood down but one single bungee cord. I spent the next 15-20 minutes driving 40mph to get off on Callahan and get to the Clinton Highway Wal Mart while my hood flapped up and down, threatening to try and kill me again any moment.
I bought bungee cords at Wal Mart, not knowing what else to do, and went out to the parking lot. I then preceded to crawl around on the ground around the front of my car trying to attach 5 bungee cords in a fashion that would ensure even the slightest sensation of sweet safety and security. SO there I was at 10pm, crawling around the parking lot in my frazzled work clothes, and the security guard drove by, eyeing me rather warily. I tried not to notice the other weird looks I was getting. At this point in my life I have very little pride left and am not embarrassed half as easily as I used to be, thank goodness. Along with my unshowered grungy look, I then found myself covered with black smudges all over my face, hands, and khaki pants. The front of my car, because of the fender bender I had over the summer, has a lot of microscopic fiberglass shards which like to embed themselves in one's skin when the front end is touched even slightly--so my hands and arms got quite scratched up. This whole fiasco gave me the appearance of a little orphan child living on the streets, which I will later prove with the photos I took just in case any of you are skeptical of the extent of my disheveledness.
Once I finally got that all taken care of, I came home and did something very bad. I'm trying really hard to be healthy and not eat late at night. Any nutritionist, fitness guru, or bossy big sister (*ahem*) will tell you that doing so is a surefire way to gain weight. However, I felt like I was starving to death and kind of threw a pity party for myself, as silly girls do from time to time. I have a bad habit of rationalizing that when I'm having a rough day I deserve to eat what I want. I know, I'm so mature and disciplined. I preceded to wander around the kitchen, eating bits and pieces of whatever was on hand, which just happened to be Doritos, cheese, and chocolate chip cookie dough. Momentarily, I felt so much better. A few minutes later, nonetheless, I was dealing with a large sense of guilt and general plumpness, to be honest. Needless to say, I was not pleased.
So how does one cure a bad day then, if not with sweet and savory treats? Well, so far my plan to eliminate the lingering stress is to pour maple syrup and dirt all over the doormats of the jerks who sullied my poor Maurice on Sunday night...then they'll track all kinds of crap into their apartment, which would be a glorious retaliatory moment for me.
Or maybe I'll just move to Australia.
And now, a photographic review of the stages I went through after the Maurice debacle:
The first part of my day was spent just cleaning the apartment and doing laundry. Nothing special, really. I did, however, have so much to do that I didn't have time for the shower I wanted/honestly needed...but, minor annoyance aside, everything was still hunky-dory as I walked out the door. Then I got to my car. The night before, I had parked in front of the apartment building next to ours. It was the only spot that wasn't very far away, as the people in the building down the hill from us ALWAYS use our parking spots instead of their own (for some God-forsaken reason). In any case, I thought "how lucky to get so close." How very wrong I was. Presumably because they felt entitled to that particular parking space, someone in the building I parked in front of poured some sort of sticky liquid all over the front of my car. By the angle of the splotches and streaks on my roof/windshield/hood, you can tell it was thrown from their balcony. I'm fairly certain it's beer (which really seems wasteful, but it's none of my nevermind). Having only fifteen minutes to get to work, cleaning it was not an option. So I drove to work with my window nice and blurry, fuming about the immaturity of it all. Oh, and these same people have parties practically every night and their guests take up all the parking as well. So awesome.
Work went by, no big deal, besides my usual feeling of being the odd one out. Guess it's just new kid syndrome. It just doesn't take me long to warm up to people, but I think I make people feel awkward by treating them as if we're friends pretty much when I meet them...anyway, that's not the subject of this entry. It was a decent but awkward day, as per usual--that is all I'm saying.
Once I was finally off work and ready to skedaddle, I discovered that I had left my lights on and consequently killed Maurice's battery. Again, no big problem. One of the smartest and best gifts I have received in this past year is a set of jumper cables (courtesy of my wise and thoughtful parents)--a must-have for anyone with a car like mine. After a short wait and the shifting of vehicles, Zack (coworker at Starbucks) graciously came and gave me a jump. Thought I was good to go. Shut the hood, replaced the bungee cord (an extra precaution because the hood latch has been loose for awhile), then started home. As I was driving down the interstate, jamming out to a good song and enjoying the warm wind, Maurice's hood flew up with such violence that my rearview mirror detached from the windshield and fell into the trashy abyss that is my front passenger floor. I quickly pulled over (alternately cussing and thanking the Lord that the traffic wasn't bad at that time) and realized that the hood latch was now completely broken. So on this windy Spring evening, I had nothing to hold my car hood down but one single bungee cord. I spent the next 15-20 minutes driving 40mph to get off on Callahan and get to the Clinton Highway Wal Mart while my hood flapped up and down, threatening to try and kill me again any moment.
I bought bungee cords at Wal Mart, not knowing what else to do, and went out to the parking lot. I then preceded to crawl around on the ground around the front of my car trying to attach 5 bungee cords in a fashion that would ensure even the slightest sensation of sweet safety and security. SO there I was at 10pm, crawling around the parking lot in my frazzled work clothes, and the security guard drove by, eyeing me rather warily. I tried not to notice the other weird looks I was getting. At this point in my life I have very little pride left and am not embarrassed half as easily as I used to be, thank goodness. Along with my unshowered grungy look, I then found myself covered with black smudges all over my face, hands, and khaki pants. The front of my car, because of the fender bender I had over the summer, has a lot of microscopic fiberglass shards which like to embed themselves in one's skin when the front end is touched even slightly--so my hands and arms got quite scratched up. This whole fiasco gave me the appearance of a little orphan child living on the streets, which I will later prove with the photos I took just in case any of you are skeptical of the extent of my disheveledness.
Once I finally got that all taken care of, I came home and did something very bad. I'm trying really hard to be healthy and not eat late at night. Any nutritionist, fitness guru, or bossy big sister (*ahem*) will tell you that doing so is a surefire way to gain weight. However, I felt like I was starving to death and kind of threw a pity party for myself, as silly girls do from time to time. I have a bad habit of rationalizing that when I'm having a rough day I deserve to eat what I want. I know, I'm so mature and disciplined. I preceded to wander around the kitchen, eating bits and pieces of whatever was on hand, which just happened to be Doritos, cheese, and chocolate chip cookie dough. Momentarily, I felt so much better. A few minutes later, nonetheless, I was dealing with a large sense of guilt and general plumpness, to be honest. Needless to say, I was not pleased.
So how does one cure a bad day then, if not with sweet and savory treats? Well, so far my plan to eliminate the lingering stress is to pour maple syrup and dirt all over the doormats of the jerks who sullied my poor Maurice on Sunday night...then they'll track all kinds of crap into their apartment, which would be a glorious retaliatory moment for me.
Or maybe I'll just move to Australia.
And now, a photographic review of the stages I went through after the Maurice debacle:
 |
| Mechanic's hands... |
 |
| Smudgy pants... |
 |
| Questioning why I look like a little orphan child... |
 |
| Beginning to feel indignant, saying "Really? Really?" several times over (mostly to myself)... |
 |
| Crying uncontrollably for about thirty seconds... |
 |
| Plotting my revenge... |
 |
| Feeling sorry for Maurice, who looks almost as bad as this car... |
 |
| Figuring out that this is probably the substance covering my windshield and splotching up my hood...and thinking that there's probably no other use for that crap. Way to use your resources, dumb redneck neighbors. I applaud you. |
 |
| Relating to poor, unfortunate Alexander... |
 |
| Yep. Australia it is. |
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Blog 15: The Vlog.
I just felt like talking...for a few minutes...and it felt less weird doing so with an audience (perceived or present in actuality--I really didn't care which). Hence came my first "vlog," of which I am rather proud. It wouldn't upload, though...so you'll have to click on the link. Also, I'm posting it on Facebook, of course.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Blog 14: The Time Has Come, the Walrus Said...
...to talk of many things--of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax--of cabbages and kings.
Honestly, I have no idea what it was that brought "The Walrus and the Carpenter" to my mind today. In my opinion, the time has always come to talk of many things. There's constantly something that needs addressing or someone who needs encouragement...or upbraiding. Don't mistake me, though--just because there's always something to say doesn't mean there's no time for silence. In all that, I'm really not sure I even had a point to make except to say that I think too often, people keep their mouths shut when words would be so much more appropriate or constructive.
One of the most annoying things that a person can do, in my opinion, is avoid telling me that I have upset/offended/annoyed them. Often, I find myself "the bad guy" because no one has had the guts to comment on a person's behavior that bothers them. I don't relish it. I try to say it in the kindest terms because the object is not to sow discord, but rather assure future harmony (admittedly, I do not always succeed in cushioning the blow as well as I might've hoped). It seems to me, though, that in simply running away from a person because of their habit of irking you, you become part of the problem and are not only harming the offending party, but quite possibly robbing yourself of a good friend. I can't say how many times I finally worked up the courage to confront someone, only to find that they had no idea they had been doing something that others construed as negative. I would then explain the situation and what the general view seemed to be, and they would both feel remorse and then take action to improve or discover the root of the problem.
In many cases, people have petty worries on their minds. When avoiding confrontation, it is usually one of two things that is the culprit: 1) The person cannot bear to think that someone might dislike them for being honest. Or, they may not care a bit what people think of them, but are 2) Too lazy to trouble the inconvenience of approaching the topic. If the first, becoming a people-pleaser usually earns you loathing in the end, because usually your true feelings are discovered, branding you a liar. If the second, that excuse is so invalid and full of apathy that I do not even wish to address it.
In order to illustrate this point, I want you to imagine that you are going out for a day on the town with a bunch of people. You wake, up late, however, and so get ready in a hurry. If you are a girl, you accidentally get mascara all over your face and don't notice. If you're a guy, you put on your shirt inside out and your tag is in the front. You carelessly leave your fly unzipped. Then, you stop for a meal and get broccoli in your teeth and some sort of sauce on your shirt. Now imagine that you hang out with these dozen or so people all day and no one whispers "X-Y-Z!" Not one "friend" says "Dude, do you need a napkin to wipe that crap off yourself?" No one offers you a hand mirror and a toothpick. At the end of the day you return home, feeling great, looking sassy (or so you think), and then realize all the intricacies of your unkempt appearance. Do you really like any of those people for letting you walk around like that, or do you kind of want to punch all of them? Letting someone walk around repelling people left and right and never opening your mouth about it is the same thing.
People are often amazed at how very close I am to my best friend Whitteny. We are so completely opposite sometimes, but then others it's like we're the same person. On very rare occasions, people find their soulmate in the form of a friend rather than a romantic interest. She is mine. But the reason that our friendship is so deep and strong and unfathomable (to a lot of people) is that one of the foundations of our relationship is the practice of an uncompromising frankness every day. She can tell me things I don't want to hear without flinching (even though because of my temper she often calls me a land-shark), and I can do the same for her. We can argue and debate and always find common ground and love each other more at the end of it. It clears the air rather than allowing clouds of pollution to gather and taint our everyday dealings.
A caution exists here, though. If you have shown someone only contempt, you should invest in them a bit more before you can justifiably earn the right to say something to them about necessary change. When moving to settle a turbulent situation, you should always come from a place of love and understanding. Be willing to at least conjecture reasons for the person's behavior. Just to be clear--reasons and excuses are not the same thing. Never make excuses for discourtesy, because then you are only condoning it. But finding out why a thing is done always helps me to be more patient with it. For example, consider how you would feel if you perceived that someone you just met treated you with coldness and disdain. Awful and annoyed, right? It might soften you a bit, however, if you found out that said person had just lost a loved one who you reminded them of; clearly this is an extreme example, but I am finding more and more that people are rarely offensive for no reason at all. Upbringing, personal problems, even something you did could be the cause. Maybe a bit of Sherlocking (digging deeper, if you will), would bring healing and resolution in the hearts of both parties.
I guess part of why I always just choose to open my mouth (however imprudent it may be), is that I truly believe that perfect love casts out fear. And if we're loving one another with perfect love, why should we be so deathly afraid of honesty?
Honestly, I have no idea what it was that brought "The Walrus and the Carpenter" to my mind today. In my opinion, the time has always come to talk of many things. There's constantly something that needs addressing or someone who needs encouragement...or upbraiding. Don't mistake me, though--just because there's always something to say doesn't mean there's no time for silence. In all that, I'm really not sure I even had a point to make except to say that I think too often, people keep their mouths shut when words would be so much more appropriate or constructive.
One of the most annoying things that a person can do, in my opinion, is avoid telling me that I have upset/offended/annoyed them. Often, I find myself "the bad guy" because no one has had the guts to comment on a person's behavior that bothers them. I don't relish it. I try to say it in the kindest terms because the object is not to sow discord, but rather assure future harmony (admittedly, I do not always succeed in cushioning the blow as well as I might've hoped). It seems to me, though, that in simply running away from a person because of their habit of irking you, you become part of the problem and are not only harming the offending party, but quite possibly robbing yourself of a good friend. I can't say how many times I finally worked up the courage to confront someone, only to find that they had no idea they had been doing something that others construed as negative. I would then explain the situation and what the general view seemed to be, and they would both feel remorse and then take action to improve or discover the root of the problem.
In many cases, people have petty worries on their minds. When avoiding confrontation, it is usually one of two things that is the culprit: 1) The person cannot bear to think that someone might dislike them for being honest. Or, they may not care a bit what people think of them, but are 2) Too lazy to trouble the inconvenience of approaching the topic. If the first, becoming a people-pleaser usually earns you loathing in the end, because usually your true feelings are discovered, branding you a liar. If the second, that excuse is so invalid and full of apathy that I do not even wish to address it.
In order to illustrate this point, I want you to imagine that you are going out for a day on the town with a bunch of people. You wake, up late, however, and so get ready in a hurry. If you are a girl, you accidentally get mascara all over your face and don't notice. If you're a guy, you put on your shirt inside out and your tag is in the front. You carelessly leave your fly unzipped. Then, you stop for a meal and get broccoli in your teeth and some sort of sauce on your shirt. Now imagine that you hang out with these dozen or so people all day and no one whispers "X-Y-Z!" Not one "friend" says "Dude, do you need a napkin to wipe that crap off yourself?" No one offers you a hand mirror and a toothpick. At the end of the day you return home, feeling great, looking sassy (or so you think), and then realize all the intricacies of your unkempt appearance. Do you really like any of those people for letting you walk around like that, or do you kind of want to punch all of them? Letting someone walk around repelling people left and right and never opening your mouth about it is the same thing.
People are often amazed at how very close I am to my best friend Whitteny. We are so completely opposite sometimes, but then others it's like we're the same person. On very rare occasions, people find their soulmate in the form of a friend rather than a romantic interest. She is mine. But the reason that our friendship is so deep and strong and unfathomable (to a lot of people) is that one of the foundations of our relationship is the practice of an uncompromising frankness every day. She can tell me things I don't want to hear without flinching (even though because of my temper she often calls me a land-shark), and I can do the same for her. We can argue and debate and always find common ground and love each other more at the end of it. It clears the air rather than allowing clouds of pollution to gather and taint our everyday dealings.
A caution exists here, though. If you have shown someone only contempt, you should invest in them a bit more before you can justifiably earn the right to say something to them about necessary change. When moving to settle a turbulent situation, you should always come from a place of love and understanding. Be willing to at least conjecture reasons for the person's behavior. Just to be clear--reasons and excuses are not the same thing. Never make excuses for discourtesy, because then you are only condoning it. But finding out why a thing is done always helps me to be more patient with it. For example, consider how you would feel if you perceived that someone you just met treated you with coldness and disdain. Awful and annoyed, right? It might soften you a bit, however, if you found out that said person had just lost a loved one who you reminded them of; clearly this is an extreme example, but I am finding more and more that people are rarely offensive for no reason at all. Upbringing, personal problems, even something you did could be the cause. Maybe a bit of Sherlocking (digging deeper, if you will), would bring healing and resolution in the hearts of both parties.
I guess part of why I always just choose to open my mouth (however imprudent it may be), is that I truly believe that perfect love casts out fear. And if we're loving one another with perfect love, why should we be so deathly afraid of honesty?
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Blog 13: Nice Day for a White Wedding
*Before I begin this entry, I have an important request. I created this blog to look good on my writing resume. I know I have way more readers than followers because I've heard from some of you. If you read my blog even occasionally, PLEASE become an official follower. It's really easy. Just click "Follow" on the top left and follow the very short steps. It will help me immensely. Thank you.*
Yes, the title may be familiar. For those of you not in touch with your inner 80s rocker, I did, in fact, get the title and idea for this blog while listening to "White Wedding" by Billy Idol. Now I sort of want to watch The Wedding Singer...but I digress. My current entertainment choices are not what this blog is about (well, not mainly, anyway), so be glad.
Some of the lyrics to that particular tune go like this:
There is nothin' fair in this world
There is nothin' safe in this world
And there's nothin' sure in this world
And there's nothin' pure in this world
Look for something left in this world
Start again
Surprisingly enough, those lyrics are actually somewhat inspirational. I know, right? I didn't realize it until today. haha. Seriously, though, one thing that has been on my mind is the huge disparity between people who embrace purity in the classical sense and those who think that such ideas are unrealistic and outdated. On the one side, you may find Victorian sentiments that create guilt and hypocrisy, hindering honesty and raw emotion. On the other, you may find jaded and lonely people who think everyone they know has some sort of angle or hidden intent. In many cases, both are making excuses and both have some learning to do. It seems like the skill of balance is not one people want to learn and practice, and therefore we facilitate erring on either side of the issue. I have, at different times, been privy to the thought process of both camps; I certainly do not think I've found equilibrium yet, but I like to think my logic on the subject is not as flawed as it once was.
Now, to address the Victorian impulses--well, just in case I'm the only one who relishes history, let me explain what I mean with that phrase. Victorian: of or relating to the attitudes and values of this period (during the reign of Queen Victoria), regarded and characterized especially by a stifling and prudish moral earnestness. That is to say, Victorians were outwardly quite puritanical, but often behind closed doors debauchery of all kinds would be practiced. The literature and societal commentary of the time points to a sort of pharisaical existence being common. Jesus called the Pharisees white-washed tombs. Externally, they did everything to appear clean, but internally, the stench of death and foul earth clung to them.
I have always been of the opinion that one should try very hard to remain abstinent until marriage. When I erred on the side of Victorianism, however, I judged (rather harshly) those who did not maintain celibacy. I spurned anything sexual as repulsive and anyone who "fell" as weak and tainted. Here's the thing, though. We are all rightful wearers of the scarlet A. If you are holding tight to purity, congratulations--but don't go patting yourself on the back. Every time you sin (or even have unguarded thoughts on the very things you judge other people for doing), you are still committing adultery. The Church is the Bride of Christ. And until we surrender our imperfections to Him, we each represent a beggar in a tattered and soiled wedding dress.
As for hindering honesty and facilitating guilt, sometimes people mistake fiction for virtue. To completely deny sensuality as a part of your humanity is both ridiculous and harmful. If we constantly beat ourselves up about what we've thought or done in this arena--if we cannot even be honest with our closest friends and accountability partners, then we are doing more harm than good.
I've known so many leaders who created ascetic pedestals for themselves (me included, back in the day) that made those who followed them feel ashamed and like they could never measure up. Similarly, we cannot hide behind purity and run away from knowledge. One should never knowingly enter a situation where sin is served on a silver platter, but if a person cannot be faced with temptation or truth and still stand for righteousness, there is a problem. One issue I have with home-schooling (generally, not in every specific case) is that it can place the child in an ivory tower. Once faced with the battlefield of real life and worldliness, it is all too easy for that child to be slaughtered. I'm grateful to know what I know; the good, the bad, and the ugly can all work toward my good if I use the intelligence correctly. Matthew 10:16 says it this way: "Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves. Therefore be wise as serpents and innocent as doves."
I addressed the Victorians more thoroughly than I set out to, but oh well. Now to the jaded ones who foolishly consider purity an impossibility. This mindset is always upsetting to me, but especially when it is found in Christian communities. Setting aside the oft-quoted verse about being able to do anything through Christ, I'd like to introduce you to something we all conveniently forget: self-control. It's one of the fruits of the Spirit. All sin and fall short of the glory of God, of course. Everyone messes up every once in awhile, but if you find yourself habitually unable to exercise self-control, I have to question if you've really consecrated your heart to the pursuit of the Holy or if you just always do whatever makes you feel good at the time. You're a Christian when you get to go on fun trips and have a good cry at the altar, but you're a hedonist when no one is looking and you're feeling horny enough (pardon the frankness). I'm thankful to say that I've still got my, er, virtue, but I've dabbled in unsavory things and experienced much that I am less than proud of.
Going back to the lyrics I quoted earlier, I do have to disagree with one line ("there's nothing sure in this world"). Morality is never relative and truth is truth. So why not at least TRY to keep it in your pants instead of just making "Nobody's perfect" your personal mantra? If you are always readily promiscuous when an opportunity presents itself, then perhaps you are a situational pansy and should practice care and concern accordingly. As Mr. Idol said, it's a nice day for a white wedding. Get over your past and "start again." Choose to do better and believe that you can. Stop making excuses. Plenty of times, I've done stupid things and pardoned myself by blaming it on those who hurt me. Well, sometimes people will treat you like crap. Your significant other might leave, your friends might ignore you, but in the end YOU are in control of what you do. So grow up and take responsibility.
Yes, the title may be familiar. For those of you not in touch with your inner 80s rocker, I did, in fact, get the title and idea for this blog while listening to "White Wedding" by Billy Idol. Now I sort of want to watch The Wedding Singer...but I digress. My current entertainment choices are not what this blog is about (well, not mainly, anyway), so be glad.
Some of the lyrics to that particular tune go like this:
There is nothin' fair in this world
There is nothin' safe in this world
And there's nothin' sure in this world
And there's nothin' pure in this world
Look for something left in this world
Start again
Surprisingly enough, those lyrics are actually somewhat inspirational. I know, right? I didn't realize it until today. haha. Seriously, though, one thing that has been on my mind is the huge disparity between people who embrace purity in the classical sense and those who think that such ideas are unrealistic and outdated. On the one side, you may find Victorian sentiments that create guilt and hypocrisy, hindering honesty and raw emotion. On the other, you may find jaded and lonely people who think everyone they know has some sort of angle or hidden intent. In many cases, both are making excuses and both have some learning to do. It seems like the skill of balance is not one people want to learn and practice, and therefore we facilitate erring on either side of the issue. I have, at different times, been privy to the thought process of both camps; I certainly do not think I've found equilibrium yet, but I like to think my logic on the subject is not as flawed as it once was.
Now, to address the Victorian impulses--well, just in case I'm the only one who relishes history, let me explain what I mean with that phrase. Victorian: of or relating to the attitudes and values of this period (during the reign of Queen Victoria), regarded and characterized especially by a stifling and prudish moral earnestness. That is to say, Victorians were outwardly quite puritanical, but often behind closed doors debauchery of all kinds would be practiced. The literature and societal commentary of the time points to a sort of pharisaical existence being common. Jesus called the Pharisees white-washed tombs. Externally, they did everything to appear clean, but internally, the stench of death and foul earth clung to them.
I have always been of the opinion that one should try very hard to remain abstinent until marriage. When I erred on the side of Victorianism, however, I judged (rather harshly) those who did not maintain celibacy. I spurned anything sexual as repulsive and anyone who "fell" as weak and tainted. Here's the thing, though. We are all rightful wearers of the scarlet A. If you are holding tight to purity, congratulations--but don't go patting yourself on the back. Every time you sin (or even have unguarded thoughts on the very things you judge other people for doing), you are still committing adultery. The Church is the Bride of Christ. And until we surrender our imperfections to Him, we each represent a beggar in a tattered and soiled wedding dress.
As for hindering honesty and facilitating guilt, sometimes people mistake fiction for virtue. To completely deny sensuality as a part of your humanity is both ridiculous and harmful. If we constantly beat ourselves up about what we've thought or done in this arena--if we cannot even be honest with our closest friends and accountability partners, then we are doing more harm than good.
I've known so many leaders who created ascetic pedestals for themselves (me included, back in the day) that made those who followed them feel ashamed and like they could never measure up. Similarly, we cannot hide behind purity and run away from knowledge. One should never knowingly enter a situation where sin is served on a silver platter, but if a person cannot be faced with temptation or truth and still stand for righteousness, there is a problem. One issue I have with home-schooling (generally, not in every specific case) is that it can place the child in an ivory tower. Once faced with the battlefield of real life and worldliness, it is all too easy for that child to be slaughtered. I'm grateful to know what I know; the good, the bad, and the ugly can all work toward my good if I use the intelligence correctly. Matthew 10:16 says it this way: "Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves. Therefore be wise as serpents and innocent as doves."
I addressed the Victorians more thoroughly than I set out to, but oh well. Now to the jaded ones who foolishly consider purity an impossibility. This mindset is always upsetting to me, but especially when it is found in Christian communities. Setting aside the oft-quoted verse about being able to do anything through Christ, I'd like to introduce you to something we all conveniently forget: self-control. It's one of the fruits of the Spirit. All sin and fall short of the glory of God, of course. Everyone messes up every once in awhile, but if you find yourself habitually unable to exercise self-control, I have to question if you've really consecrated your heart to the pursuit of the Holy or if you just always do whatever makes you feel good at the time. You're a Christian when you get to go on fun trips and have a good cry at the altar, but you're a hedonist when no one is looking and you're feeling horny enough (pardon the frankness). I'm thankful to say that I've still got my, er, virtue, but I've dabbled in unsavory things and experienced much that I am less than proud of.
Going back to the lyrics I quoted earlier, I do have to disagree with one line ("there's nothing sure in this world"). Morality is never relative and truth is truth. So why not at least TRY to keep it in your pants instead of just making "Nobody's perfect" your personal mantra? If you are always readily promiscuous when an opportunity presents itself, then perhaps you are a situational pansy and should practice care and concern accordingly. As Mr. Idol said, it's a nice day for a white wedding. Get over your past and "start again." Choose to do better and believe that you can. Stop making excuses. Plenty of times, I've done stupid things and pardoned myself by blaming it on those who hurt me. Well, sometimes people will treat you like crap. Your significant other might leave, your friends might ignore you, but in the end YOU are in control of what you do. So grow up and take responsibility.
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