"Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!" Psalm 133:1 A very scientific poll was taken a couple days ago and the conclusion was rather troubling: “Over 80% of Americans think the world is going to hell in a handbasket.” What does that even mean? And is it really that bad? Those who think so must have never read their history books: Ever hear of WW2? The Black Plague? The Flood of Noah? I’ll bet those days were pretty bad? But underlying this poll is the feeling that people don’t know how to get along with each other anymore. People are furious, pointing fingers, mad at the President, mad at football players, mad at the news, and mad at the nieghbor who drives a better car than you. Everyone has ideas how others can change, we all can cry how there is a need for more church and government programs to make the world a better place...but nothing will work until individuals learn to “Go To” instead of “Going Through.” The Reformation is one of the strongest cases in point on this. Let me explain. The Bible declares in Colossians 1:21 that "Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior." Alienation means there is separation, animosity and a real distancing between two people. And the first broken relationship according to this verse was between mankind and God. If you look really closely, this brokenness begins in the mind of the one who was wrong. We were God's enemies because we did evil, and we blamed our separation on him. People still do that. To make amends and bring peace, God first sent his Son to be a bridge between an angry world and a perfect God (2 Corinthians 5:18). He was the mediator, he came to us, he talked face to face to those who hated God, and personally won over hearts. He paid the highest price to prove his love, he died! Overtime this message of love (Gospel) was proclaimed by those who were changed, those who found peace with God went from person to person to share that peace. It is the only way to spread love. Paul says in Acts 20, he went "house to house, to proclaim repentance toward God and faith in Jesus Christ." The Gospel was a very clear and personal invitation from God where you could "go to" him directly. History tells us that the Gospel started to become buried under man made regulations and rites, new hoops to jump "through" instead of going to God directly. The biblical church "an assembly of those people who were changed by God's love" morphed into "The Church Proper." This was the new means by which people had to "go through" to find God. Instead of needing Jesus as the only middle-man to get to God (1 Timothy 2:5); "The Church" instituted a new army of mediators: Priests, Cathedrals, Sacraments, Indulgences and Masses were all necessary if you wanted peace with God. Enter a man named Martin Luther. After reading the Bible on his own, he found the verse Romans 1:17 and realized, the Gospel got gunked up over time. And he gave everything he had to try to dust off the Gospel and breathe new life into the truth that Jesus alone gave an individual direct access to God. This is what is known as the Reformation, changing "The Church" back into 'the church." Instead of needing an institution to "go through" to get to God, you only needed faith in Jesus to directly to "go to" Him! Just think, you can find peace with God right now, on your own, by faith alone! That is what sets a single person's heart aflame! This is the same way individual relationships are restored as well. Don't "go through" to find peace, "go to" people personally, one to one, house to house. We are too caught up with methods to go through, and they will never work, they only add to the distance. Example One: Parents and Grandparents, do you want to know your kids and grandkids? "Go to" them. You don't need a youth pastor, your spouse, or teacher to get to know your child. I know a grandparent that goes through his children to try to know his grandkids. But the grandkids feel alienated from him because he doesn't go to them directly. "Go to" if you want a relationship, don't "go through." Example Two: These race wars have become completely directed by "go through" methods instead of "going to." I am sick of the Social Justice Warriors telling the government to develop more programs to cause all the bad people to make peace. (And why are Social Justice people always above the rest of us?) It won't work. Classes in colleges on developing multi-cultural sensitivity won't work either, it just makes some people feel guilty and others smug and self-justified. We need to learn to "go to." I have a brother-in-law who is white who had dedicated his life to go "house to house" to make peace with African Americans. It is easy to point the finger and tell others how predjudiced they are, but you don't really know them until you meet them one on one. I had a high minded white person tell me recently how black people think. I asked them if they had a relationship with any? No. Than how do you know? I had a black roomate for two years in college and I found out a couple things. (1) He was a human being just like me. He wanted a girlfriend, he wanted a well paying job, he liked watching the Cleveland Browns with me. (2) He was a sinner just like me. He knew he was often misunderstood because he was black, but he often misunderstood me because I was white. I talked to him about it. We argued and laughed. We shared a room, bought groceries together. I brought him home to my house, he brought me to his. I also learned he was a whole lot more like me than many of my white friends. His blood was also red like mine. I heard on the radio today, "the only way change will happen is when white people finally open up their eyes." What does that mean? Pointing fingers again. I heard yesterday, "the only way change will happen is until black people stop expecting us to do everything for them." What does that mean? Pointing fingers again. Stop it!!!! People need to go to people. "Go to", not "Go through." And until you really know a person, stop acting like you do. Jesus came to me personally to win me over. If you really want peace, you must "go to." Stop "going through." Otherwise all you are full of is hot air. Maybe that is the real cause of why people feel like this world is going to hell, every one is giving off heat.
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For I envied the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked They have no struggles; their bodies are healthy and strong. They are free from common human burdens; they are not plagued by human ills. Therefore pride is their necklace; they clothe themselves with violence. They say, “How would God know? Does the Most High know anything?” Psalm 73:2-6, 11 The integrity of college basketball is about to take a major hit. FBI investigators have found evidence that illegal secret deals to procure top athletes has recently been uncovered involving some well known schools and coaches. Big money has been back-channeled by a large corporation to the tune of $100,000 in order to get a high school recruit to commit to a certain school. As I am writing this, no specifics have been released, but they are looming. On the way into work I was listening to some discussions concerning how to stop all this illegal wheeling and dealing in college sports. One commentator said, "Hey, why not just forget the charges and start paying the players? Let it slide because I don't see who this would hurt if coaches and recruiters would just be honest, admit thier secret dealings because, 'In some shape or form, everyone is doing it.'" Right after that comment was made, a serious, rather measured voice made this comment, "If you let people off the hook, colleges, recruiters and players just because 'everyone is doing it' there still is a victim." The first commentator asked "who would it hurt?", and here was the man's answer, "The real victim is the school, the coach, the player that is following the rules. They are the ones who get hurt because they lose when other people violate the standards and get the advantage." When I heard that answer, my heart said, "That is exactly the problem." We live in a country where everyone is claiming victimhood in some sense, but what is being completely ignored is who often the real victim is. It is the person who is living life right. Not only is their voice not heard, nor solicited, but they are often the ones blamed for problems of others. If our country is not careful, they are not seeing how this group is growing more angry and cynical by the day when they hear the cry of all the other victims. Let me give you an example: When I was dating my wife, I was determined to do right for her and our God. I told her parents that if they would allow me to have her hand in marriage I would provide for her, work hard and never let her go hungry. Her welfare was on me. Through my Christian convictions I knew it was sin to sleep with her before marriage. I also wanted to have a stable job and house before we had any children. After we got married we waited a few years to have children so we could properly care for a child: we went to birthing classes, and we read many books on parenting so we would have every advantage to raise our children right. Yes, those were our convictions, but they also were traditionally tried and true principles on how to have a healthy marraige and family. And scripture even says that "those who honor God he will honor." So we did our best to honor God. We did our best to prepare our child for the most favorable environment possible. We only wanted to give our children the best opportunity to start into this life well. We are not heroes, just people that took raising a child seriously, and we wanted our kids to grow up living under the blessing of God. So we finally had our first child, a beautiful baby girl. It was a wonderful time and a scary time to figure out how to raise this baby. We had both of our respective parents come visit, my mom and dad even came all the way from Cleveland to celebrate our firstborn. It was a great time, we felt blessed. After two months of having our daughter home, I will never forget a visit I recieved one quiet weekday afternoon. A 17 year old student that was in and out of my youth group came over to my house. He was a hard-headed kid who was in trouble with the law for damaging some property. I agreed to try to help him to get his life straight and hopefully begin making right decisions. One of those decisions I was trying to advise him on was getting rid of his 16 year old girl friend. She was a loose girl that he was hanging around with after school. It was clear this girl was a sexually active teen, and I told him for weeks that he had better be careful with her. Well to make a long story short, he slept with her and she was found to be pregnant - - he then came to share the great news that he was having a baby. When he came over he saw my daughter sitting in her play-pen in the other room and here is what he said, "Just think, our kids will be friends! Wouldn't that be cool having them hanging out and growing up together?" I didn't say a word. And I must admit it took everything out of me to even say "congratulations" on the news of his teenage girlfriend's pregnancy. After he left, I have to tell you, I was furious. I don't know how to say it, but his news seemed to tarnish the wonder of having a child. We did it right, and he did it wrong - - but somehow I was suppossed to be happy for him? It also infuriated me knowing he was going to more than likely need government aid that I paid taxes for to raise his child. I also had a pretty good idea that this young girl he was with knew nothing about raising a child, and that it was obvious they would break up in a few months leaving this child to be tossed between two immaturre parents. Here is my point: those who try to play by life's rules are feeling like they have no voice anymore in our culture. The popular credo has become "everyone is doing it, so why can't you just accept it?" The problem with that credo is that someone has to pay for the consequences. And usually it is the group that has been trying to live right. They have become the real victim in our society. Over the summer I was in California visiting my sister to perform her son's wedding. It was a great time. But while we were pulling into her driveway she turned to me and said, "You see that kid across the street, he just broke his ankles illegally jumping off of hotel roofs into pools and posting it on YouTube. He is a spoiled rich kid and he loves getting attention online doing cool jumps." I asked my nephews if they knew the kid. They said, "Yeah, we can't stand him. He is always getting in trouble and his parents have to keep bailing him out of jail. And then he gets all the attention for being this 'edgy and extreme' thrill seeker at school. The truth is he is a narcissitic jerk living off the wealth of mom and dad." Notice, those who do right don't get attention - - and those who do get attention are infuriating the rest. I am writing this because I believe there will be a breaking point if we are not careful. As one man recently said about this NFL controversy, "The problem with our nation is the majority doesn't want my help, nor my opinions, but they sure do want my tax money." So if you are doing right and you feel taken advantage of, what should you do? I have three suggestions: (1) Keep living right: God does honor those who honor him. Psalm 11 says even when the foundations seem like they are crumbling and the morals of a society are being destroyed, God is still on the throne. And he is watching. (2) Have compassion for those living wrong: This is the hardest part, the teen that came over I everntually had to help him time and time again. His child is still made in the image of God and needed prayer and support. (3) Be Angry and Sin Not! Anger is not wrong in and of itself, it is what you do with it. I do not think we are called to be doormats, but we should not be bombastic fools either. Use reason, patience and measured tones and hopefully someone will listen. So if you are doing wrong what should you do? I just have one thing to say... * Dont be surprised when good people get mad at your decisions because they probably will be the ones who will end up paying for you in the long run. I want everyone to hear one more thing, the real victim is the one who died on the cross to pay for all of us. Psalm 69:4 is a perspective on what Jesus did for all of us, "What I did not steal, must I now restore?" And the answer is "Yes." Chapter Eighteen: On the Edge of the Rim by Tina Semanas Beck was exhausted. She collapsed on an antique wooden bench in a tiny side room of the Cathedral’s rectory. Her body felt like lead. Leaning a heavy head back against the dark oak paneled wall behind her, Beck looked up and saw the carved image of a gaunt man hanging on a crucifix. Nails were piercing his hands and feet. Looking at this gothic relic of the forgotten past was strangely soothing - - as a small girl her mother secretly taught her the ancient story that was forbidden: a man who was said to be God was murdered on the crossbars of wood for the brokenness of the world. This obscure and rather bloody story was deemed psychologically dangerous by the state. Those who dared to believe this message were known to leave their senses, abandon reason, lost forever in philosophical flights of fancy. A tale only whispered on the lips of fools in the madhouse. But somehow, on this dark night shrouded in loneliness and fear, the idea of God sacrificing himself out of love for all people was the only thing that lifted Beck’s spirits. Everyone she worked with and everywhere she turned people were so self-occupied, narcissistic and obsessed; considering a God who was self-giving was the only thing that gave Beck hope. It was reassuring, even more than that, soul strengthening to trust that there was a powerful Being watching over her that she could fully trust. Someone who wouldn't use her for their advancement; but wanted only her best expecting nothing in return. But were these merely the errant wanderings of a weary mind? Maybe these high religious thoughts were nothing more than illusions born from exhaustion? The fading memory of a naive little blond headed girl with pigtails named Rebecca that didn’t exist anymore? And yet she couldn’t stop looking at those eyes! The sad, sorrowful, but piercing eyes of the man on the cross. They seemed to be pleading with her to give up her running, and to forget trying to satisfy her unrelenting desires to be someone important? The pursuit of fame had finally drained her, leaving her empty. Emptiness? Wasn't that the Latin meaning of the word “vanity”, an existence devoid of purpose? She longed for a life with real meaning, she was tired of the show, the bright lights and the chasing of the wind. . .such vanity. She longed for the childish mind of that pig tailed girl, a mind that seemed more sane believing in a loving God than the insanity of chasing fashion, pleasure and popularity. Maybe it was time to believe in hope? A light knock on the half opened door caused Beck to sit up straight and look over as Brother Dominic bowed deeply as he entered the room. “Madam, would you like a cup of green tea as you wait to speak with Mother Joan? I think it may still be a few more hours until she finishes her prayers?” “That would really be great. Thank you Brother Dominic.” The small monk left and two minutes later returned with a cup of steaming liquid on a small white dish. “Thank you,” Beck said as she reached out to grab the tea, “that smells so good.” Brother Dominic replied, “Let me know if there is anything else I can get you. I will be right outside the door sitting in the hallway chair.” After taking another bow, he quietly exited the room leaving Beck to herself and her warm cup of tea. Taking a slow deep sip, Beck said, “Oh this really hits the spot.” A short minute later as Brother Dominic sat in his chair, he heard what sounded like the smashing of porcelain on the floor in Beck’s room. “I forgot how quickly the sedative takes effect on a more petite woman. Mother Joan always takes double that amount.” Opening his nearby flat-pad he dialed a number that was quickly answered, “Yes, this is Brother Dominic at St. Patricia’s Rectory - Mother Joan of Ark is happy to inform you that we have Beck Paris passed out in our rectory. If you would like to send someone to pick her up she can be found at our location on Madison Avenue.” Waiting for a response, Brother Dominic donning a gentle smile which was learned from years of religious refinement, replied, “Oh good, I will see you soon and the Mother would hope that our small gesture of service will go far in strengthening ties between The Sisters and St. Patricia's...I will be here waiting.” Brother Dominic turned off the pad, grabbed his large rosary chain that was on the small reading table next to him, and closing his eyes, began the rhythmic chanting of his nighttime prayers. ----------------------------------------------------------- “Dr. Gladstone, You were right again, Beck Paris - just like a stray dog - has shown up on the front doorstep of St. Patricia’s and they have her waiting for us to come get her.” The smiling attendant was hoping for a look of approval from her boss, but Dr. Gladstone was staring out the nearby window lost in her thoughts. “Hmm, Beck Paris should most definitely be made a spectacle for how she mocked the state openly on a live broadcast. However, if I play this right, I can use her as bait to catch a much larger fish.” Turning to the attendant Dr. Gladstone barked, “Bring Ara Dias to me, it is time for her to learn on the job training.” “Yes Doctor.” The attendant hurried out of the large Manhattan apartment while a contemplative Dr. Gladstone sat down on a black leather chair strumming her fingers on the armrest. Ten minutes later Ara arrived. Motioning for the attendant to leave, Dr. Gladstone stood up and shook Ara’s hand. “Come in my dear, have a seat.” Ara sat down nervously in the matching leather chair facing across from Dr. Gladstone. It was hard to look into her eyes, it was if she could read your every thought and decipher your hidden motives. Sitting with her shoulders high and back straight, Ara folded her right hand over her left on her lap hoping to look older and more composed than she felt. “So Ara,” grinned Dr. Gladstone, “what do you think? How have you enjoyed the last couple days?” Ara knew she must not show fear, and gulping down some invisible bravery she answered back, “Dr. Gladstone, I am not sure how I am supposed to feel? Everything has happened so fast, I haven’t had time to think. I hope you do not think I am acting rude, I just don't know what to say and I want to be honest?” “Of course you’re not rude, and I want honesty. In fact, I require honesty! Just between you and me, I am not sure how you are supposed to feel either? This is new for all of us. Never before have we exalted a 12 year old girl to such an important position as a joint head of state. But in due time, we all will learn and adjust accordingly. We must - - the people are depending on us!” Ara let out a small pent up breath of air feeling relieved that her answer didn’t provoke any wrath from this dangerous and mysterious lady sitting across from her. “So Ara, how important is it for you to have a society that maintains the peace of it’s people? Should we turn a deaf ear to rebellion or is it our responsibility to crush it before it gets out of hand?” Ara squirmed in her chair. “Well I don’t know? That is a difficult question when I don’t know the situation, and one I am not truly prepared to answer.” Dr. Gladstone stood up with a red face and clenched fist, “That is not an acceptable answer, it is your duty to know! You cannot waver, and you must make quick decisions or the people, like a pack of wolves, will recognize weakness and pounce. Rebellion must be crushed. Do you understand?” Ara’s eyes widened, and two moist puddles started forming above her eyelids. Ara blinked quickly to try to stop them and hide the evidence of her fear. Dr. Gladstone sat down releasing the tension on her fist and massaging her fingers. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so quick tempered. It is just that at this moment people are scheming against our state. And the arrogance of these rebels have the potential to destroy what we as a Doyenne Counsel have worked so hard to build. I understand your hesitation to answer, but I am sure you have been taught how feminine power must awaken, never relent, we must be strong and decisive.” “Yes,” said Ara, “Duenna Black daily stressed the importance of female empowerment.” “Good, good! So then you understand how necessary it is to act quickly. And now is your chance to help me stamp out a possible uprising. I want you to do a special job for me.” Doctor Gladstone stood up to look out the window as she developed the plan she was about to have Ara set in motion. “What is the job?” Ara asked. Turning to Ara watching for her response Dr. Gladstone said, “Do you know Beck Paris?” “You mean ‘The Beck Paris’? The famous vlogger? I don’t really know her but I know of her.” Ara looked surprised and wondered how a popular celebrity like Beck Paris could be a threat to the state? “I thought she was only interested in fashion?” Dr. Gladstone responded methodically as she sat down again across from Ara, “I want you to be my spy. Can you do that?” “A spy? I guess I can do that? Just tell me what you want.” Ara said as she noticed the look of pleasure that spread across Dr. Gladstone’s face. She was hiding a secret, and Ara knew she was the type of woman that would only keep it to herself. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Don, I don’t mean to be rude, but I see no possible way to distribute thousands of blocking tablets to the men one by one?” Phen sat discouraged as he pleaded with the group of men in the living room of the cabin. “It was a miracle that Drew and I even escaped. Cameras in the plant are everywhere, audible sensing devices are hidden around the factory recording every conversation and monitoring the decibels so the levels don’t exceed above whispering. There is no way you can bring a person in there without getting caught by the guards. The blue smoke, the high grade security systems and the stupidity of the drones is no match for the Tergament guards.” His words landed like cold water on the dying embers of a fire. Athan stood up in a burst of excitement, “I’ve got it! I know what we can do. Since we now have the blocker’s chemical formula, all we need to do is mass produce it in a clear liquid form. If we can bottle it in containers that look like the 8 ounce squares of water that the men drink at lunch, we should be able to sneak it in on delivery pallets through the gates without notice.” “How do we get the formula in the water?” Don asked Athan. “I still have connections through my father’s suppliers. They always are having inspections from state, and we can slip in as government regulators. If we can somehow get the formula in a dense concentrated form, the water will dilute it where it will not be able to be detected in clear bottles. No one ever checks water!” Samuel and Thomas both high-fived each other and said, “I love it! How can we help?” “Not so fast,” said Donald, “I will need to figure out how to produce it in concentrated form. We will have to ask some of the other chemists that have taken up residence here. Tomorrow we will meet at The Rim for our Lord’s Day ceremony, and community food share. Phen, Drew and Athan, tomorrow will be a big day for all of us.” Jonathan, Samuel and Thomas left the cabin to go their houses that were through the woods nearby. The three new guests slept on Don’s floor. Before closing his eyes, Drew turned to Phen, “I have never felt more safe or hopeful of our future.” Phen smiled and rolled on his side pulling a heavy woolen blanket over his shoulders. Though the floor was cut of hardwood planks, the men quickly fell to a comfortable heavy sleep. Athan dreamed of Beck. In the morning, after Don’s wife cooked pancakes and bacon for all the men, including Jonathan and his family, and Samuel and Thomas. After the all the last scraps of food were eaten, and the morning laughter and colorful conversation came to an end, the small party helped clean dishes, repacked backpacks and headed south following the river. After hiking the few miles of a scenic walk, the group came to a large area known to the community as The Rim. It was a massive natural half-cave enclosure measuring 700 feet end to end. Phen noticed there already were hundreds of people there putting out morning campfires and getting ready for the larger community gathering. The Rim was impressive, Drew couldn’t help looking around at the vastness of the horseshoe’s sandstone shelter. The top of the cave’s ceiling rose a good 90 feet, allowing for enough sunlight to shine down on the happy faces and smiling families hugging and sharing handshakes of familiar hellos. A tall older man with a clean shaven face approached Don and asked, “Who are these men? And why would you bring unexamined strangers to The Rim?” Don turned to the man putting his both hands on his shoulders, “Don't worry my good friend, they have been baptized in the ‘Devil’s Bathtub’ and they are for us. You will soon hear, just trust me.” The man turned away wearing a quizzical look, eyeing Drew and grunting as he walked away. “Wow, I must really look sneaky.” Drew sarcastically muttered. Thomas laughed and said, “Don’t worry, Stan always questions everyone. We call that the hairy eyeball, he gives it to everybody. But when I first saw you I wondered about you too. You are very ugly you know?” Thomas tussled Drew’s hair as he walked away laughing. After more people gathered, a loud horn sounded which caused everyone to take a seat on the sandy floor of the cave. A white haired man wearing a purple robe raised his arms and with a loud voice echoing off the cave walls he said, “This is the day the Lord has made,” and the response of everyone in the community blasted forth, “Let us rejoice and be glad in it!” The man continued, “I have been told by Elder Don that we have three special guests, and in his own words, ‘direct answers from God’ here with us. Don, please come up and share.” Don who motioned for Athan, Phen and Drew to accompany him, began by saying. “My friends, I must say, Our Lord has brought to us three men we have been praying for for five years. Not by name but by purpose. Phen Dias, one of the fugitives we have been watching on projections screens, is here with us. Just a few months ago Phen was a drugged drone of the state. Muted by Xenon drips, he was stationed at one of the Midwest rivet factories subjected to a life of forced labor. As you can see, here he stands in his right mind.” Many gasps could be heard, tears wiped from watery eyes, people were hanging on Don’s every word. “Phen received through Liam O’Malley, one of our own residents, two Xenon blocking pills that stopped the drugs effectiveness and allowed Phen to be brought to his right mind. Phen is evidence that our research has worked!” Loud cheering erupted. Bewildered people sat stunned. Others raised hands in praise. “I will need some of the chemists to meet me during meal sharing time. We have much to discuss. This is Drew his son, and many of you know Nathan Stone, he has been with us back and forth for many years. These men are our brothers, welcome them.” Many in the crowd enthusiastically came up to hug the new arrivals to the community. There was a sense of expectation, joy was tangibly present. Phen felt a different presence, an old familiar friend he forgot he missed, the Spirit of God. The purple robed man stood back up and motioned for the whole crowd to rise. With tears streaming down his face he proclaimed, “It is time to give Our God Praise.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Beck had a throbbing headache. Waking up in with a start, Beck was coming to the realization this was a strange bed, and strange room. “Where am I?” Looking out of heavy eyelids, and semi-blurred vision, a young girl's voice could be heard on the other side of the room. “You are in my hotel room. And don’t worry, you are safe. Get some rest, you have been drugged.” Beck asked in a groggy voice, “Who are you?” The soft young voice said, “My name is Ara Dias, nice to meet you Beck.” But the wisdom from above is first of all pure, then peaceable, gentle, accommodating, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial, and sincere. Peacemakers who sow in peace reap the fruit of righteousness. James 3:17-18 There is a major fault line in our country and it isn’t the San Andreas. Its the American Flag. As a pastor trying to know how to respond, here is my two cents worth.
When I first started working for a church, I was assigned oversight of the church’s teenage population: Ages 12-20. I was the youth pastor, the hired gun to control all the other young guns. One Sunday morning two boys wore blue jeans to church. They were not your average church kids who came reluctantly with thier mom and dad, but they were neighborhood kids who 'wanted' to come. They came to church on their own. But in the eyes of some, they were disrespecting God when they wore blue jeans. One parent in the congregation who did not like this, let me know how they felt a little offended and protective of the majesty of God. So after church they said, “Some of your students are dishonoring God by wearing jeans in the sanctuary. You need to do something about it.” So I asked him what the proper dress code before God was and he said, “In the Old Testament priests wore robes in honor of God and we should wear suits and ties in the same manner to honor God.” I told him I didn’t see the connection and these two students simply wanted to worship God as they were, they had no other agenda. He looked at me and said, “Jeans are an active sign of rebellion going all the way back to the sixties with sit-ins and out of control Woodstock parties and orgies.” I said,”These kids weren’t born until the late 80’s, they have no idea what a sit-in is and jeans are no longer signs of rebellion but rather standard fair in every part of life.” The man walked away in a huff. I realized we were at a generational impasse. As much as we both tried to argue our case, the more we discussed the more entrenched we became. I had the same sort of discussion with another man a few years later about drums in the sanctuary. “Those are the devil’s drums playing demonic beats that arouse animal spirits.” I said it is simply background accompaniment for “Lord I Lift your Name on High.” He too walked away in a huff. Another impasse. Today while driving my kids to school, all over the radio were discussions concerning the kneeling by the NFL players and President Trump's response. I think we are at another major impasse that may divide our country if we are not careful. I, by nature and the way I was raised, have a deep respect and regard for the flag. I have learned to see the American flag as a symbol of dedication, sacrifice and honor. My grandfather was scarred from mustard gas in WW1 and the American flag was cherished by him. When France was liberated he was able to walk through the Arch De Triumph in Paris behind the banner of the red, white and blue. My dad who was an MP in Army was given a military salute with flag and bullet shells for his funeral. The American flag means something to me. But to a large part of our country the American flag symbolizes white privilege and an unjust criminal justice system. Now to be honest with you, I don't understand why that is when those who are kneeling make more money in one year than my grandfather and father, who sacrificed for this country, have ever seen in their life. But for many reasons, and some of it is from a ginned-up media conflict that brings in ratings, they feel marginalized in our country. Now I can scream at them until I am blue in the face and tell them to stop disrespecting my flag, but they don't see it that way. They just don't. We are truly at an impasse, and race has become the demarcation line. So what do we do? Do we get mad and ramp up the anger? Do we hate "one another?" Or as Christians do we become instruments of peace? Let me offer you a few ideas…
Honestly, this issue will not go away. But if we don't change as Christians, it may get very nasty before all is said and done. As it stands, so will I when the flag is flying during the national anthem. And as an American I will give others their free right to protest. That is what America is about. Chapter Seventeen: A Baptism of Ice by Tina Semanas “Take your clothes off!” Drew stood frozen in place staring down into a 3 foot pool of icy blue water. “If this is the ‘Devil’s Bathtub’ than why does it look so freaking cold? Doesn’t Satan bathe in fire and brimstone? This is more like an ice bath.” “Just strip and jump in. The longer you think about it, the worse it will seem.” Phen glared at Drew before unbuttoning his shirt, taking a deep breath and plunging into the swirling cold waters of a natural tub cut into the black sandstone of the riverbed. After a few seconds under the water Phen shot out gasping for a quick breath of air. He said as he dried off from the pool, “Wow, that was much colder than I thought it would be - - after being caked in dirt and sweat for the past few days, it actually feels great!” Drew pleaded, “Do I really have to jump in too? What’s the big deal if I don’t?” Jonathan looked at him smiling, “We are making sure there are no electronic bugs or detection sensors attached to your body. You know how small they make chips these days, smaller than a speck of sand. One could be stuck in your hair, ear hole or who knows where else? The frigid water will make sure those devices are disabled. Never forget, The Sisters and their neophyte compadres are a sneaky lot. So Drew, sorry, but the rules are the rules and if you want to be welcomed into our community you have to pass through this small discomfort.” Samuel chuckled, “Think of it like your baptism into the family, after this moment we will forever call you brother.” “Baptism? Never heard of it.” Drew said. Taking off his pants he gingerly walked up to the edge of the basin and slipped on a mossy stone. He crashed hard onto his bottom and slid straight into the chilly water. Seconds later he was out, “Ouch, I think I broke my butt!” The men tried not to laugh, but the distorted expression of pain on Drew’s face was hilarious. Thomas snorted, “I like this guy already.” Leaning over, he extended a friendly hand and helped the wet naked teen back up and onto the dry path. Athan was the last to enter, he knew the routine, and exited the water as if he did this a million times. “Got that over with, now let's go talk to your father.” The small party of men walked the winding trail that followed a fast flowing river through a picturesque gorge, passing waterfalls and underneath steep rock cliffs. “There it is! Old Man’s Cave.” Athan knew it immediately. “Does he still keep his daytime hours up in the rooms of the cavern?” Jonathan replied, “Not any more, he has handed over security duties to me. For the most part he is spending his time in his home lab - - he is convinced he will succeed on the Xenon blocking formula. Personally, I think he should give up, it is a lost cause.” “Jonathan, not so fast.” Athan called over Phen, “Does this man seem like a lost cause to you?” “Huh?” After examining the face of a clear-eye Phen, Jonathan replied, “You mean to tell me this man was once a mindless drone? It can't be? We have to tell father!” Scrambling quickly up the path they came to a large cabin in the woods, Jonathan burst through the front door. “Dad, you there?” A gray haired woman with a surprisingly young brown face came to the front room wiping her hands on her long yellow apron. “Jonathan what’s happening? Did you have some trouble out on patrol? And who are these men?” “No problems Ma, we need to see dad right away. These men are the miracle we have been hoping for!” Looking intently in her eyes, Jonathan grabbed the shoulders of his mom and said, “Ma, it works! It actually works!” “What’s all the noise in here - I can't figure my calculations with so many distractions!” A short bald headed man in a white lab coat came walking into the room as he was cleaning off a pair of wire rim spectacles. “And who are these men?” Putting them back on he took a long gaze at Phen, “Wait I think I know you - you’re Stephen Dias! But that is impossible, you were…” “Dad, before you get going,” Jonathan demanded, “You might want to be sitting down for this?” “Son, I think I know what this is about? I think I know?” A tear formed on the corner of the old man’s eye. ------------------------------------------------------ The small ruby studded masquerade mask and black top hat was enough to hide Beck’s identity in the mass of the riotous throng. Slipping into the orgy of people parading down 6th Avenue, Beck felt like eyes were everywhere watching her -- so vulnerable and so alone. She had to get out of this city, she could taste the terror of being hunted by The Sisters welling up in her bones. Her paranoia was fierce, it was as if every painted face, every bump and nudge on her arm, and every small glance of the strange crush of people knew she was Beck Paris and they all wanted to take a pound of her flesh. No place was safe. Taking a quick right down W. 51st street, Beck remembered St. Patricia’s Cathedral was a mere two blocks away. Maybe she could find refuge in the large gothic fortress? It was rumored that a small remnant of the old Christian cult was still allowed to practice their ancient rites as long as they paid the exorbitant taxes to the Mayor of the city. She had to take a chance. Weaving through the twisted tangle of people made walking the two blocks to the church seem almost impossible. It was like swimming up current against a flooded river. She passed by every type of human being imaginable: lizard ladies and blue skinned men, eunuchs on stilts and bearded fat princess’ swilling pints of dark ale, tattooed children and grandmothers with spikes and chains hanging from tongues, ears and other unmentionable appendages. The saying was true, on the last night of Vanity Night “the freaks come out at night!” Passing by a bordello full of male escorts kept exclusively for high society women, Beck was shocked to see her face on a large projection screen through their open window. People were pointing and laughing at what was being said as a 10 foot picture of her beamed brightly on the wall; she wanted to find out what was so funny, but she couldn’t risk it. Winding around the corner of 51st and 5th Avenue, she arrived at the front of St. Patricia’s. Beck passed by a large encampment of beggars and gypsies all soliciting passers-bye for money and drugs before getting to the famous bronze doors of the entryway. The smell of dung and urine hung like a thick cloud around the group of tents and make-shift shanties that were set up on the concrete surrounding the entrance. Pinching her nose, she bolted past the line of pleading hands and arms and up to the giant doors. They were astonishingly easy to open, and slipping into the entrance of the cavernous cathedral, Beck fell back leaning against the cold stone wall breathing in the luxury of a rare moment of silence. “Ahhhh, finally, quiet….” Taking a deep breath Beck closed her eyes and whispered a secret prayer. “God, if you exist, help?” After a few minutes Beck opened her eyes and looked up at the towering ornate gothic architecture of columns, arches and old stain glass windows. Thousands of flickering candles and lanterns on stands lit up the inside of the massive cathedral causing dark shadows to dance across the many statues and paintings that were lining the walls. Dark silhouettes of old ladies hunched over broken down pews could also be observed murmuring odd phrases and chanting mysterious prayers that echoed off the stone walls. Beck noticed the same smell of urine lingering in the damp air, but it was not as pungent as it was outside. “Mam, good evening. My name is Brother Dominic, I am a servant of Mother Joan of Arc, head priestess of St. Patricia's. Can I help you?” Beck looked down on a small ferret faced man with a severe hunchback carrying a large wooden chain of rosary beads and dressed in a brown frock. Tattooed across his face were five small black crosses. For some strange reason the tattoos made Beck laugh. They looked like the scribblings a bored second grade student would make on his hand during math class with a magic marker. How she missed the simplicity of youth. “Brother Dominic, would it be possible to have a meeting with Mother Joan of Ark? I’m desperate and I need some shelter. I think I am being stalked?” Signaling for Beck to follow, the short steward led her to a quiet sacristy behind the high altar. There sat the 300 pound matriarch, with a large greasy face and wrapped in a thick scarlet robe that reached to the floor. Beck was shocked to see that this obese woman was snoozing on a throne of velvet. Brother Dominic whispered to Beck, “Mother Joan is praying for the world, we must not disturbed her. If you need a place to stay for the night I will have Brother Nicholas bring you over to the rectory that is just outside and around the corner on Madison. You can wait there in the first room off the foyer as long as you like until you are able to talk to Mother Joan once she is done with her prayers.” “That would be fine. Thank you so much.” Ringing a small golden bell brought a young attendant hobbling into the room. It was a boy no older than 10 years old who also had on a similar brown frock holding the same type of wooden rosary chain as Dominic. Leaning over, Brother Dominic whispered into his ear. Without saying a word the small boy grabbed Beck’s hand and led her out a side door of the cathedral out into the dark street. “Mother Joan, Mother Joan, please wake up.” Brother Dominic was pulling on the priestess’ robe trying to get her attention. “Mother Joan…” Coughing with a spasm of phlegm filled guttural coughs, the Mother opened her heavy eyelids. Turning her head over the rolls of sweaty layers of fat on her neck, she peered down through two small swollen pink eyes at her timid attendant. In a low pitched growl, Mother Joan said, “What is it you slob? Can’t you see I was in a state of ecstatic communion with my Lord? This better be good, or you may have to pay more restitutional penance tonight at prayer?” “Well my Royal Mother, that woman showed up. We were warned she might come. Remember?” The small man uttered while bowing to Mother Joan. “What woman?” She asked. “I’m sorry, you have had much to concern you. But the secretary for Dr. Gladstone notified all possible places of sanctuary that might give safe harbor to a runaway criminal in the city, and naturally we were the first place to call. This woman is named Beck Paris, she is to be turned over to the Doyenne Council’s Tergament force if she is found.” Dominic replied while still remaining bent over. “Not my concern. But we must comply if we are to keep our property and title. Do what you must Dominic - the church has no power against the state, and the gates of hell always prevail when we try to resist - so in the meantime I must resume my prayers. And do not interrupt me!” Brother Dominic slowly slinked away while replying, “You know best my queen. I will take care of it!” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sitting in the cozy room of the cabin Athan explained everything. After he was finished the bald headed man said in disbelief, “Liam was Stephen’s bunkmate? That is sweet Providence.” Phen spoke up, “Excuse me sir, I have two questions for you if you don’t mind?” “Call me Don.” He replied. “O.K. Don, how do you know me? And how do you know Liam?” Phen was leaning forward in eager anticipation of some secret about his life that he longed to know. Don took off his glasses again and started to rub them,”Believe it or not I met both you and your wife Dia 12 years ago. At the time I knew her as Lydia Dias. She was pregnant and wanted to have a natural birth. Where she worked, Madam Curie Labs, demanded that she have a non-invasive routine abortion procedure done during lunch hour like every other lady who was found to be, as the state puts it, a carrier. We all know, if she refused she was to be immediately terminated from her high paying job as engineering technician in the same laboratory I was working in...and in course, be blacklisted from all subsequent government positions.” Phen said, “I remember when we both decided to have our child because the study group we were a part of at the time helped show us what God in Heaven thinks about the baby in the womb and how conception is the true beginning of life.” Looking to Drew he said, “Ara was so beautiful when she was born...I’m sorry Don, continue.” “No problem,” Putting his spectacles back on he continued, “Well to make a long story short, she came to me because we worked together in the same lab for many years. Over the course of time she learned about my past university work and how I studied family medicine. I knew I could trust her, so I secretly disclosed my involvement with rescuing the babies of pregnant women by giving assistance to the black market birthing services. I insisted on the day of the delivery she bring you to the birthing safe house so you could be there to care for her when you brought her and Ara home. I met you a couple times preparing for the birth and after, but each time we talked I was in my scrubs so you probably don't remember me?” “Wow, I’m sorry, that whole night was a blur because it was so late and secretive. I was terrified. And Don, why do you keep calling me Stephen?” Don said, “Because of Lydia. She did like not like taking the Christian roots out her name or yours or even Andrew's, her faith meant everything to her?” Phen wiped a tear, “It sure did. And she always referred to me as Stephen at home. Now how about Liam?” “Athan hired a team of laboratory chemists to work on the Xenon blockers once his father was exiled by the state. We ran in the same medical circles, and he first met me and the team of researchers he put together to plan here at our community were we would have cover from government interference. He financed our research and Liam was a part of that.” Don said. Athan jumped in, “Liam took one of the formulas which we code named 'Milk', and he and a team of three chemists went to work using the sophisticated labs in upstate Ohio where there was the proper equipment needed to manufacture it. Somehow they were compromised, and right when he was getting close to developing the blockers he was arrested and taken to the rivet factory where he met you.” “So…” Don questioning Athan asked, “All this time we thought the formula he took with him was a failure, but by the looks of Stephen, I guess not? It has worked all this time?” Athan said, “Yes, that is correct! And the next big question I have is for you Don...I hope you still have the files on ‘Milk’?” “I do!” For the time will come when men will not tolerate sound doctrine, but with itching ears they will gather around themselves teachers to suit their own desires. So they will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. 2 Timothy 4:3-4 I was handed an article this week that sang the praises and exaltations of dirt. Yes, dirt, mud, dust and ashes - we should be proud we are people of the dirt. The author of this article wanted his readers to buy into the idea that dirt was the stuff of magnificence! Here is what he writes, "The atoms in mud, the same kind of atoms that comprise my children and you and me, have existed for billions of years...This mud is spectacular, and we believe that God made it so. This mud is rich, pregnant with possibilities." He goes on to rightly say the word "humility" comes from the Latin root humus, "of the earth." But for him humility isn't an expression of humanity's lowly position in comparison to God, but rather it means we are made from the stuff of greatness. So when the Bible says "from ashes to ashes" he wants us to see it as something grand. "To see ourselves as made of the same stuff that rests under our boots as we journey a mountain path is no insult to human dignity, no affront to the image of God in us; it is rather a reminder of the majesty of inspired mud." You see mud to the modern ear is no longer to be defined by the mud of the ancient past. What once was something to clean off your boots, is now to be cherished and put in our trophy case. "All Hail to Mud!" So next time your kids come tramping in the house with muddy shoes, don't shout them down, praise them for spreading magnificence! I know what all tired mom's are thinking right now - - mud is mud. Dirt is dirt. And it is nothing to get all teary eyed over and poetic about. The truth is, when God says we are made from the dust of the earth it is meant to express our lowliness. Psalms 103:14 describes dust as something that is weak, helpless and needy. Psalm 78:39 says dust and dirt are transient things, easily blown away. So, truth be told, to say we are made of dirt, ash, dust and mud is not meant to be a compliment by any means. It signifies our need. But modern people don't like to be told the truth. We want to always feel good about ourselves and the choices we make. So to keep us feeling good, we must continually feed the lie. As one recent writer penned, "There is No Place for Truth." For truth is not cool! "Coolness" is the ultimate goal these days of the human condition. Advertisers say "cool" is what sells. Movie makers are forever trying to capture "cool" on screen, and "cool" is what now defines what is successful. Even mud and dirt is now something that is made to be cool - "the majesty of inspired mud!" C'mon....seriously? So how do you define cool? Instead of trying to find a dictionary definition, I think cool is best expressed by a person, and that person is James Dean. Especially as he is characterized by the title of his most famous movie - "Rebel Without a Cause." It is a terrible movie: bad acting, far fetched plot, and all around shoddy writing. But that is the beauty of "cool" it doesn't focus on the substance of a thing, it is all about image. "Cool" is meant to only capture the look and the feel. "Cool" doesn't want you to think - - it wants you to "experience." Here are four traits of "Coolness": (1) Trendy: It is what is youthful and "In" with regards to fashion and style. If it isn't popular it isn't cool. (2) Aloof: Cool carries with it an "indifferent conceit." It says, "I'm better than you and I don't care what you think." James Dean was a master of that. (3) Independent: Cool is not bound to "The Man." In other words, a cool person determines his or her own rules. And rules are made to be broken. So any lame authority figure needs to be ignored or mocked. Coolness has no time for established patterns and dusty old institutions. (4) Sexy: A cool person is a physically desirable person. Sex is the highest sign you are wanted, and sleeping with someone has become the highest achievement in a cool culture. In other words the sexiest person wins! What do you do then if you aren't sexy to the opposite sex? Hmm, enter our obsession with transgender and LGBT issues? That is why it is now cool to be gay! Here is the biggest problem with our hunt for capturing "Coolness" - truth must die. Truth is the opposite of all four things. Truth is not trendy, it is written into the ancient fabric of reality. Proverbs 8:7-27 even says, "Truth and Wisdom is what created the earth with its fields, and the first dust of the world (26)." Truth is what declared mud to be made mud and will always be mud. It also defines what is sin, justice, righteousness and peace. Truth is not aloof, it requires a fountain of knowledge outside of itself. Truth is no respector of persons and it makes no exceptions for different groups of people, races, genders or creeds. If coolness is James Dean, truth is Jesus Christ (John 14:6). We must bow to his greatness, and aloofness is not acceptable before the King of Kings. This also means truth is not independent from him, but rather it is dependent on him. And truth doesn't care about sexiness, it's only concern is covenant fidelity. "So what?!?!" if you can sleep with someone, if they are not your spouse scripture calls this the highest form of deciet. Listen to what Paul says in 1 Thessalonians 4:3-6, "It is God’s will that you should be sanctified: that you should avoid sexual immorality; that each of you should learn to control your own body in a way that is holy and honorable, not in passionate lust like the pagans, who do not know God; and that in this matter no one should wrong, lie to or take advantage of a brother or sister." In other words, sexual immorality by nature is a bold faced lie. When you tell someone you love them and then sleep with them outside of marriage you are giving God a reason to judge them. If you love someone you will never put another person under the curse of God. If someone really loves you they will wait. It may be cool to take a person to bed, but never forget, "The Lord will punish all those who commit such sins, as we told you and warned you before." That really isn't cool! Suppossedly we live in a post-modern culture where truth is relative, mud is the stuff of magnificence, women are men and hell is just a figment of your puritan imagination. Then how come 2 + 2 still equals 4? Because truth still is truly true, and will always be true. So in your desire to be cool, don't compromise with truth. It really is the only thing that will set you free. Even if you are made of mud! Chapter Sixteen: Spotlights and Indians by Tina Semanas The stage lights fired hot on Beck’s face. She could feel a small bead of sweat rolling down her back as she looked over a packed auditorium filled with an antsy audience waiting for this year’s winner of the “Selfie Awards” to be presented. There was no higher honor, to be chosen as the most beautiful and more importantly, the most liked and secretly stalked woman in the hand-held media age. And on this night all eyes were fixed on Beck Paris - - waiting for her to open the golden envelope and announce to the world this year's winner. The atmosphere was tense. 10 very nervous finalists were standing up on stage behind Beck hoping to be chosen. Beck, however, was in no mood for this, all she could think of was seeing Athan. He was alive! And she needed to prove her trust and loyalty to the man she grew to love more than anything else in the world - more than his money - and even more than taking center stage and receiving the popularity she once craved. Now all she wanted to do was run from the lights and into his arms. The music in the auditorium lowered to a soft fade as the teleprompter next to the presentation podium was counting down the seconds for Beck to begin. 5- 4 - 3 - 2 - 1… “Welcome Ladies, Eunuchs, Plastics and Beasts. Can you believe it? This incredible week has flown by and tonight we await the final award, the most prestigious and coveted prize, ‘The Selfie’.” The raucous crowd burst forth in booming applause. “Before we begin tonight, let us all stand up to give our appreciation to the five glorious women that have made all of this possible. The Doyenne Conclave, more endearingly known as ‘Big Sis’!” On the far back balcony shrouded in an haunting soft purple light, stood The Sisters all dressed in impeccable dark blue pant suits. Standing tall in the middle was Dr. Gladstone smiling and waving to the crowd with a measured, casual wave, not wanting to bring too much attention to herself. Four of the other sisters were flanked next to her, with two on her right, Octavia Hulambu, President of Smith College, and Dr. Sybil Sorenson, Women’s Study Professor at Agnes Scott College. And there were two on her left. The first was the well known social justice fighter Roxanne Clement, Professor of Revolutionary Change from Scripps College in California and standing next to her was a new fresh unknown face: Ara Dias, dumbstruck before the fawning crowd. A mere 12 years old. Ara was being esteemed as an equal with four of the most powerful women in the world. She pinched herself wondering, “Is this real? Or am I back home dreaming, lying in my soft bed while Drew is downstairs playing on his video console and Dia is making early morning cinnamon rolls in the kitchen?” Roxanne leaned over to put a reassuring arm around Ara while whispering in her ear,”Don’t worry, this will all take a bit of getting used to. But you are a Sister now, it is your duty to put on a good face of strength and confidence. All the people want is a female hero to follow, they don’t care who, just as long as she can sell strength. It is our duty to give them someone and something to believe in. Now wave!” Ara gulped down the anxiety that was rising up in her throat and slowly lifted her hand in a diminutive salute. The crowd didn’t question the new addition to the Five, but cheered all the louder knowing that The Sisters were once again pioneering a new path to greater societal change. Seeing a young girl rise to the highest ranks was bound to raise hope in even the youngest of hearts. This was the true triumph of feminism - - “Having a little girl to lead them!” The teleprompter was directing Beck to begin the presentation… ”Thank you again Big Sis! Now, it is time. Please take your seats, take your seats.” The crowd went silent and a soundtrack of a drumroll started to play in the auditorium. Lifting the golden envelope high, Beck gave a pregnant pause to hook the attention of every person in the hall and those watching online: “This year’s winner…(pause)... with her personal selfie project entitled '52 Poses in 52 Places'...(pause)...and with the astonishing news of her recent marriage to herself…(pause)...the judges have unanimously chosen…(pause)...model, housewife, career woman, world-traveler, and also a charter member of the 'Narcissists Society'... Selfie award winner for 2185 is….Juliette Odette.” The crowd went wild. Walking up to the center of the stage was a smiling 6 foot brunette wearing a tight fitting white dress, wiping tears from her eyes and waving to the adoring crowd in stunned disbelief. Three attendants came out carrying a bouquet of red roses, a glittering red sash with the words Diva 2185 artistically displayed across the front, a pointed crown and a trophy of a large, gold plated, flat pad. After receiving the flowers, crown and sash, Beck motioned for her to walk to the center of the stage and down the 6 foot high runway that flowed into a sea of delirious fans. Stopping half-way Juliette Odette took the golden flat pad and shot a quick selfie of herself with a sea of admirers which instantly went viral across the national cyber grid. Just as the flash of the flat pad went off, thousands of streamers were let loose while fog machines cranked out various colors of smoke and vapor. Plastics and teen transgenders in the front row screamed to get a personal shot with Juliette. Two young fans who touched Juliette’s dress passed out from the excitement...the pit around the stage was sheer pandemonium. Forty Tergament guards lined the runway ready to use their stun sticks on any foolhardy groupie who tried to jump up to grab the preening Juliette. Laughing to herself, Beck said in a quick outburst, “This is so stupid. The Sisters reward a person just because she took a picture in 52 different places around the globe? Humanity has truly hit rock bottom - at least when men were in charge they would reward accomplishment, now all we praise people for is how they look on camera. So much for societal advancement?” Beck noticed the teleprompter was flashing a singular message, “Beck you're live and your mike is hot!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Athan, Phen and Drew hid their vehicle behind three large pines off the main road. Athan opening the back trunk and throwing packs to the others said, “It's all on foot from here. The people we need to meet demand that every visitor first enter through the ‘Devil’s Bathtub’, it is only a few miles up the path. We have to keep moving.” While putting on his pack Drew whispered over to Phen, “Devil’s Bathtub? Who are we going to meet - some mutant group of vampires or fanatical cult? I don’t like it.” “We have nowhere else to go. And plus I heard this region is off-limits to any government intervention. When the laws for respecting the “Natural Rights for Indigenous People Groups (NRIPG)” went into effect, any land claimed by original settlers became the sovereign property of that group. In effect, we are no longer under the domain of the The Sisters iron grip, except for the national highway system, that is why Athan wanted us to ditch the car. So Drew, as long as we stick to the paths, we are protected by the boundaries of the native peoples.” “Are they friendly?” Athan jumped in, “They are guarded and secretive. But I know them well. You will see that they have a few precautions set up before they will allow any person into their secret community.” As Athan was talking, twigs snapped in the darkness of the wooded shadows off the dirt path. Suddenly a group of ten brown skinned men with tan loin clothes surrounded the group of three. Holding the sharp points of their primitive spears in the ribs of the men, a large man with a painted red face addressed Athan, “State your business or face certain death.” “Jonathan, is that you? I can’t believe it, has it been three years?” Athan said with a genuine tone of surprise. “Wait...wait...I know that voice. It can’t be. Nathan? Dude! Father will be overjoyed to see you! Samuel, Thomas, look who it is?” Two of the painted warriors dropped their spears and ran over to Athan giving him a big hug. Drew wondered to himself, “Are those tears in their eyes? How does Athan know these strange men?” Athan turned to Phen and Drew, “I would like you to meet my good friends, don't let the tall one scare you, his name is Jonathan and he is tender foot, I grew up with him. And his two cousins are Samuel and Thomas.” The three men reached out their hands to shake. Jonathan, wiping some of the paint off his face turned to Athan, “Father is in the cave under the rim with the rest of the community, but we still require each you to enter the ‘Devil’s Bathtub’, precautionary measures Nathan. You understand?” “Sure,” said Athan. “How far is it?” “Only two more miles. We were monitoring the radar and noticed a vehicle coming this way. Father sent us out to see what we could find. I never guessed it would be you? And these two men that are with you look awfully familiar? Are you the two runaway fugitives of the state? The national news is reporting that you both died from a bomb that exploded in Dayton, Ohio yesterday. It is good to see you escaped the claws of the law!” Phen looked to Athan, “Radar and news, how do primitive savages have access to technology?” Samuel and Thomas laughed, “Ha, our disguises fool them every time! If people think we still are living in a primitive civilized state, they leave us alone, no questions asked. Our brown skin, the funny loincloths and crying out ‘You stole our land’, fools them every time! They think they are helping a poor, ignorant tribe to exist as thier ancestors once did - - unpolluted in our natural habitat. Ha, how rediculous! Playing off their false guilt works wonders! We love it when those who think they are fighting for our indigenous rights act like they are helping us be more true to who we are when we run around naked in the woods. Actually, our loincloths are all a front to keep the authorities away from what is really going on in our community.” Drew asked, “What community?” “We call it Hocking Hills Family, other people know us as the Cave. We are 2,000 strong dedicated to traditional family values, fear of God with the right to worship, and promoting natural child rearing, the need for a mother and father, and respecting the sanctity of life, property, marriage, and the dignity of our God assigned gender. The State doesn’t like it, they would love nothing more than to destroy and suppress us, so we formed a free community behind the protection of NRIPG laws.” Drew never heard of such a thing. He blurted out in disbelief, “You mean you have live births here? How? Why? And your women allow this?” Athan laughed, “It is not so wierd when you are raised that way Drew. Believe it or not, in the Rock House the community keeps in a hidden cavern a library of books; including bibles, non-deconstructed volumes of history and classic literature. We have a team of scholars whose whole job is to teach and pass on what was once called “Judeo-Christian” traditions throughout the community. Some of the members also live secret lives traveling in and out of the state’s system trying to recruit more seekers of truth.” Turning to Jonathan, Athan insisted, “Jonathan, I need to see your father. It works, he was right all along, it works!” “What? You can’t be serious?” Jonathan said scratching his head. “But not so fast, the ‘Devil's Bathtub’ awaits!” --------------------------------------------------------------- “I’ve been wanting to meet you for years now. I can't believe it, The Beck Paris? Dowager extraordinaire, Media Queen, and Vlogging Whore, you have been causing The Sisters quite a bit of trouble as of late. And security reported to me your live feed -- did you not know your mike was hot? “So stupid, huh? Tell me, who is the stupid one?” Smiling a vicious smile, Dr. Gladstone looked especially sinister as she placed her hands on Beck’s shoulders looking at her tremble through the reflection of her dressing room mirror. “Please, after the night’s festivities are over I insist that you join me in my hotel room for some tea. We have much to talk about. Like a man named Athan, a boy named Drew, a dead guard named Lacy, and the future of your career. It will be fun.” As Dr. Gladstone turned to leave, she looked back at Beck and said, “I love your choice of black dress. It fits the occasion and my mood. See you soon…” Beck sat motionless. Gladstone was in her dressing room! Lacy was dead? And why Athan? One thought crossed her mind, “I’ve got to get out of here, and quick.” Picking up her handbag, flat pad and a pair of flats Beck quietly exited her room making sure the hallway was clear. Pushing the door just a crack, out of one eye Beck saw that the coast was clear. “Now is my chance…” Slipping down the back corridors of Radio City was easier than Beck thought. There were many shadows, crevices and strange angles to hide in waiting for the chance to escape. A distant yet familiar voice echoed off the hard walls, “Beck! Five minutes dear! Finish up your makeup in there so we can rewire you before you go back on!” Faithful Chen was always one for promptness. Out of the corner of Beck’s eye she saw her opening, a steel gray delivery door was flapping between busy workers milling in and out of the building. Bolting toward freedom Beck made her move. She made it! Outside in the big city. Already huge crowds were gathering for the midnight parade of “Debauchery and Drunkenness.” A celebration of everything that once was not allowed but now is virtuous. What was wrong is now forever to be considered right! People everywhere were wearing masquerade hats and assorted outfits that boggled any moralist's narrow mind. For the first time Beck felt sorry for the blatant degradation of life. It sickened her, yes, it sickened her. A drunk half naked woman with horns assaulted her and said in a slurred tongue, “I know you…(hic)...you are that lady…(hic)... the one that vlogs…(hic)...oops, sorry, I spilled my drink…” Falling on the cement the lady sprawled out laughing while singing some unrecognizable tune. Beck stooped over her, grabbed her mask, and ran into the rolling wave of the drunken rabble. “Beck, one minute and you're on!” After knocking for a long time, Chen burst through Beck’s dressing room door. She was gone. Up in the balcony, Dr. Gladstone checked her watch and said, “One more hour to go until mid-night, I can't wait to see how Beck ends this show.” As the stage lights flashed bright, a skinny, pale Plastic man with a horse's tale danced to the center of the stage with a large smile wearing court jester bells and shoes with jingles, “Ladies and eunuchs, Beck Paris has given me the honor of closing out the show tonight, and let me tell you, we have saved the best for last….” Dr. Gladstone rose to her feet calling for the nearest Tergament Guard, “Find Beck Paris now!” Her face was on fire! The first thing that must be said is this, "It's our fault, we are the ones who feed the beast!" Every day our insatiable appetite causes you and I to click on things that mean nothing; but because we click on them, these worthless stories begin to grow. Like the 1958 movie "The Blob", stupid news, celebrity "navel gazing', and the "Theater of the Absurd" is beginning to swallow up and destroy our collective sanity. I am just as guilty as everyone else, I must feed the beast. It is so interesting. One place I go to to find the beast is the search engine "Yahoo". Daily, this left-leaning, pop-culture driven news source discusses the current interests and trends of America. It is "New York Times" lite, which of course, like Fox News, MSNBC, Entertainment Tonight, so on and so forth, are all different tentacles of the beast. Just yesterday one of the articles on Yahoo was so mindnumbingly vacuous I got mad at myself just for reading it. Here is the headline: "Gigi Hadid lost a shoe on the runway at NYFW, but sister Bella saved the day." Can you believe it? In the midst of hurricane wreckage, nuclear threats and budget deficits, Gigi Hadid lost her shoe? Could there be anything more tragic? Why did I even click on that? USA Today is not one to be beaten when it comes to pointless garbage. Over the weekend they had a vapid article on the recent Miss America Pageant. Their headline read, "Miss Texas slams Trump." Oh no! If a beauty queen doesn't like him, he must be a horrible President? Impeach Impeach! Wasn't it just a few years ago when people were mocking the overall intellegence of any beauty contestant after Miss South Carolina couldn't explain why "A 5th of Americans couldn't locate the U.S. on a world map?" and it turned out she was one of them? And the most recent headline you can't get away from is "Hilary's Back!" Why do we care? Because we like to get angry, we want to fight. The beast feeds off of our infantile frustration. Here are some more titles that will drive you crazy: - "Hurricane Telethon Turns Political" - "Cities Swimming in Raw Sewage" - "Planned Parenthood Teams with Satanists to Promote Abortion" - "Starbucks Sued for 'Killing Customer's Dog'" Don't you see, the beast is calling you to feed it. - "Looters Armed with Sledgehammers" Feed Me! - "How Russia Used Facebook to Create Unrest During Election" The beast is on the prowl. Like "Little Shop of Horrors" it wants your blood. Get angry, get mad, 'click me!'" Why do we do this? Is there any rest from this constant onslaught? Psalm 64 reminds us not to worry, or get caught up in fighting the evil beast because God has him under control. Listen to what he says... Hide me from the plots of this evil mob, from this gang of wrongdoers. They sharpen their tongues like swords and aim their bitter words like arrows. They shoot from ambush at the innocent, attacking suddenly and fearlessly. They encourage each other to do evil and plan how to set their traps in secret. “Who will ever notice?” they ask. As they plot their crimes, they say, “We have devised the perfect plan!” Yes, the human heart and mind are cunning. But God himself will shoot them with his arrows, suddenly striking them down. Their own tongues will ruin them, and all who see them will shake their heads in scorn. In other words, don't get caught up in words that are meant to make you angry, furious and wanting to always fight. God has this! And by the way, this post was meant more for me than you. I have realized of late, that I let news get to me too much. I need to go back and soak in God's word, take a walk in woods, and turn off the beast. It is shrinking my soul! How about yours? Chapter Fifteen: Morning of Tranquility by Tina Semanas “This is it Ara, after all this waiting, all the demeaning hoops I had to jump through, my time has finally arrived! This is my victory girl, so don't spoil it!” Sitting in the back seat of a large black Rover, Duenna Black nervously tapped her finger on the leather armrest with a timid Ara by her side. “Where are we headed Duenna Black?” Ara asked. Taking a long time to reply, Duenna Black looking out the window said, “Dr. Gladstone’s assistant informed me that our meeting will be at an undisclosed location; but it can’t be far. The whole Doyenne Council is expected to be at the final ceremonies of Vanity Night in New York, so they won't have much time to discuss things with us before they have to leave.” “Does that mean we are heading to New York too? I sure hope not.” Ara said. Duenna Black didn’t respond to Ara’s last comment because she noticed at that moment the driver turned off at Terminal Drive Junction headed toward Cleveland’s Jane Edna Hunter International Airport. Taking a special access road, the Rover was met with two Tan Termagant Vehicles flashing orange lights leading them to the wide open airport tarmac. There it was, sitting out in the middle of an empty runway was Tranquility 5, The Sister’s VC-36 Airbus. Ara recognized the airplane immediately. The giant pink jet was a popular symbol of the State, and the insignia of the Doyenne Conclave, a circle of five white turtle doves, was displayed on the tail wing of the massive aircraft. You couldn’t miss it. “Oh my, Duenna Black, I can't believe it, we are actually getting on Tranquility 5? This is the real deal.” Again, Duenna Black didn’t utter a word. Seeing the size of the giant plane made her realize just how significant this meeting was, and how insignificant she felt. “Isn’t that Octavia Hulambu standing at the top of the airstairs? And look, it’s Lacy heading up to meet her.” Duenna Black noticed that a large white, heavily armored Rover was parked next to the stairs that Lacy was slowly walking up. Duenna Black replied to Ara, “Apparently she must have been called to a meeting with the council as well? I will bet she is being promoted for all the help she provided the State taking you in. Maybe they are going to ask her to join the security force that follows Dr. Gladstone and the rest of the council? Strange she would be here on the same day?” Turning to the driver Duenna Black asked, “Do you know what is going on and why Lacy Dias is here?” “No Mam,” said the driver, “All I have been asked to do is park by the plane and keep both of you waiting in the Rover until further notice.” The black Rover pulled closer to the other vehicle; there the driver slowed to a stop and put it in park. Duenna Black said to herself, “I wonder what they want with Lacy? Maybe this is her big payoff day too?” ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Feeling strong and confident, Lacy took her time walking up toward the entrance of Tranquility 5, relishing every moment. Lacy thought to herself, “Apparently the information I provided Octavia convinced them how valuable of an asset I can be. Who would have thought little Ara would be my ticket to success? I never would have dreamed I would be walking up to meet with the Doyenne Council on Tranquility 5.” Lacy took a deep breath trying to contain an excited smile - she was on top of the world. “Hello Lacy,” Octavia said offering her a welcoming handshake. “Please follow me into Dr. Gladstone’s private quarters. I am sure you remember Dr. Babbitt, we invited her to join us as well.” Nodding a greasy black head toward the direction of Octavia, Lacy noticed how the frail Dr. Babbitt did not look good. Was it fear on her face, or just shock to be included with such powerful and important company? The two ladies were led through the large expanse of the interior of the plane -- plush leather chairs lined the sides of the aircraft, and a thick tan carpet was laid throughout the whole cabin. Lacy also noticed that four aloof security guards were standing at attention by every door. Giving each of them a quick inspection, she was sure not one of them could outlast her in hand to hand action. Walking down the side corridor of the plane, Octavia motioned for the guard to open the first door they came to. Inside this room sat a demure Dr. Gladstone behind a medium sized mahogany desk. Standing up when she saw Lacy enter, Dr. Gladstone motioned for all three ladies to take a seat. “So Octavia,” Dr. Gladstone began, “This is Lacy Dias? The one I heard so much about?” Octavia Hulambu replied, “Yes it is Doctor. She is the helpful concerned citizen who provided us with the corroborating information concerning the refugees and their whereabouts.” “Good, very good.” Dr. Gladstone said as she slid around to the front of the desk with her long arms crossed. “Ms. Dias, I’m curious, what made you decide to get such a hideous tattoo on your face? Do you not like yourself, or are you just trying to be intimidating?” Lacy with an irritated look snapped back, “I don't understand? Was that an insult?” “Why?” Dr. Gladstone asked, “Are you insulted? If you ask me, I think it hides your pleasant sunny disposition. I’ll bet at one time you were quite attractive, but all I see now is a washed up wanna-be rebel. You look more like one of those weekend middle-aged motorcycle riders to me. All image - no substance.” Holding back her rage, Lacy responded, “What...uh hem..well...I didn’t come here to be mocked, I thought….” Dr. Gladstone shot back, “What did you think Ms. Dias? That you could threaten one of the members of the Doyenne Council? Who gave you the right to question our security decisions? Did you think you could play us against each other? Octavia relayed to me your whole conversation. Who do you think you are standing up against two of the most powerful women of the State?” Dr. Gladstone flashing a taunting smile said, “And if you ask me, that tattoo is hideous and an eyesore. Or maybe it is just your face that's the problem?” Dr. Gladstone went back around to sit behind her desk. Lacy was fuming on the inside, but she also realized she was in way over her head. There was an aura of wild danger hovering over this mysterious Dr. Gladstone. Looking towards Octavia, Dr. Gladstone asked her, “So, what should be done with her? Should we offer an employment position to Ms. Dias? Do you think she would make a dependable security agent here on Tranquility 5?” Octavia looked over to Lacy.”What do you think Lacy? Could you be a loyal subject to The Sisters?” Lacy couldn't believe her ears. Was Dr. Gladstone’s stream of insults merely a test? Was she actually just offered a position with The Sisters on board the famous Tranquility 5? Lacy’s anger faded as quickly as a morning squall over a small lake. Working up a grateful smile, Lacy replied to Octavia, “Yes, I definitely could. I am honored, and deeply sorry for all the trouble I caused you both and the threats. It won't happen again.” Grinning a painted-on grin, Dr. Gladstone waved the visitors out. “Thank you Octavia and make sure you help walk these ladies through proper security protocol. Thank you for coming Lacy and Dr. Babbitt, I am glad we could come to a mutual agreement.” Heading back out the door Octavia led them to the far end of the plane. Motioning for the guard to open the last door, Octavia brought the two women into a large conference room with an executive table positioned in the middle of the room with two dimly lit lamps on either side of the table. On top of the dark wood was a syringe containing a clear liquid and a small handgun illuminated by the first lamp. The three ladies each took a seat with Octavia turning to Lacy, “I understand Ms. Dias that you are use to experimenting with new strains of synthetic testosterone? I have heard it helps with boosting both a person’s strength and stamina. In that syringe is a new type of T-shot recently developed by our chemists and The Sisters would like you to try it out. I am not sure how stable some of the elements are in this experimental mix, but if you survive the injection, it will definitely help your performance as you prepare to be a top security guard on board the Tranquility 5.” Turning to the doctor, Octavia said with a low commanding voice, “Dr. Babbitt, I would like you to be the one to administer the shot. And remember what we discussed before Lacy arrived. I would also appreciate it if you would handle that important matter that pertains to you as well with immediate dispatch.” Dr. Babbitt stared straight at the handgun on the table, knowing what she must do, her face losing all color leaving her skin a pasty white. Then standing and heading toward the door, Octavia turned back to the women and said, “Oh I forget to say this earlier, ‘Welcome aboard Tranquility 5!’” --------------------------------------------------------------- It was 7:00 a.m., and Beck’s make-up team was applying some finishing touches to her eye shadow. “Beck, are you sure this is the look you want? I have never seen you look so...how shall I say it...plain.” A small Asian man with hands on his hips looked mildly perturbed inspecting his final touches on Beck’s face. “Chen, I’m positive.” Beck said, I have never felt more sure about my outfit than this.” Looking into the portable full length mirror that her team of assistants brought, Beck looked pleased. Wearing a long black dress, her hair was pulled back into a simple classic bun with minimal make up. Her team never saw her dressed so simply. Where was the sparkle and glitter? There was no flash or flare. Just one small pearl necklace hung loosely around her neck, and two single pearl earrings added a complimentary touch - nothing fancy. Beck normally wanted to be the one who was seen, a peacock flaunting all her colors, especially those haunting blue eyes of hers! But not today. Beck chose flat black. Turning to Chen, Beck gave an assuring nod and said, “I’m ready. Let me just get my flat pad and hand bag.” Walking into the bathroom Beck tried to call Athan’s number one last time. Waiting for the line to connect she heard the familiar robotic voice, “We're sorry, the number you have…” Frustrated, Beck turned the pad quickly off not waiting for the full message to play. “Let’s go”, heading out the door, Beck was in no mood to host a live vlog session for the final day. Winding through a still sleepy city, her entourage pulled off of West 50th street to the back parking lot of Radio City Music Hall. Beck was always impressed with how meticulously this old architectural treasure was kept. Still maintaining the ancient look of the early 20th century art-deco style, Beck sat there in a moment of quiet longing for the days when romance seemed so easy to find, best captured in the old black and white framed portraits of men and women in top hats and gowns, soldiers in uniform watching the Rockettes while on leave, they were simpler times. Times when there were no holograms, no perpetual live media recording every conversation and on-going up close and personal sneak peaks behind the scenes. Beck loved how the old still photographs of people seemed to be more alive than the parade of plastics and angry feminists that were always fighting for a shadow called “justice” and a mirage named “personal rights and equality.” Beck wanted passion out of life, not the controlled political monotony of being nice and tolerant, never offending, and always needing to be excited no matter how strange, twisted or queer a person was behaving. Beck wondered why it was so wrong to have roles defined, simply having it where a man was a man and a woman was a woman? Everything now seemed complicated and twisted. Like a matted ball of knotted yarn. Chen, who sitting next to her in the back seat, was trying to nudge her out of her dream world, “Beck, your pad is buzzing. Pick it up, it may be our producers.” Beck hesitated and finally pulled the pad out from her handbag. She didn’t recognize the number, but she clicked on it anyway. Sitting there stunned, Beck read the cryptic message that flashed on her screen, “Beck, it’s me. I have to know one thing, and one thing only: were you the one who gave information on where the fugitives could be hiding? Are you responsible for the bombings? I need to know! I want to trust you? Can I? Or was everything between us a lie?” “Beck, who is that from?” Chen was curious, wanting to know if the producer wanted them to get ready on set. Beck turned to Chen kissing him on the forehead, “It’s nothing! Can I have some privacy?” With a confused look, Chen shrugged his shoulders and left the glider leaving Beck in the backseat alone. She typed a response on her pad, “You can trust me 100% I have never loved you more!” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The driver turned to talk to Duenna Black and Ara in the back seat, “The Sisters are ready for you.” Exiting the Rover, Duenna Black led the way up the long staircase to the opening of the plane. At the top of the stairs stood Dr. Gladstone smiling waiting for the two ladies to arrive. Ara was terrified. “Thank you Madelyn and Ara for responding so quickly,” Dr. Gladstone said as they reached the top of the stairs. “We don't have much time before the Conclave flies out to make it for the evening closing ceremonies in New York. But I am sure we will get accomplished what needs to be done.” Gesturing for Duenna Black to enter the plane first, Dr. Blackstone stepped aside allowing for the two new arrivals to pass. Ara was amazed at the immensity of the plane, it did not look this big in pictures. Stepping through the open door Ara noticed the whole Doyenne Council standing to shake her and Duenna Black’s hands. Ara noticed there were also guards standing at attention and Vitups recording all conversations on black touchpad tablets. When Dr. Gladstone entered the meeting room she loudly stated, “Ladies, will you all please take a seat. You too Ara. Before we get started in the conference room I would first like to talk with Madylyn Black alone in my office. Shouldn’t take long.” Leading the way back down the side hallway, Dr. Gladstone motioned for Duenna Black to enter her on-board office. Once inside both of the ladies took a seat with one of the guards closing the door behind them. “Madylyn, how was your trip this morning?” Dr. Gladstone began the conversation on a friendly tone. “Just fine Doctor, just fine.” “I have asked you here for one reason, to let you know who we have chosen to take the vacant spot on the Doyenne Council.” Duenna Black knew this was her moment, she could hardly contain herself. Dr. Blackstone continued, “After deliberating long and hard on our decision, the other council members agree with you completely - - Ara Dias is quite a remarkable find! We have never encountered a girl with such young raw talent and precocious curiosity. So for the first time we have decided to train a young mind to come on the council so she can be bent toward our will. We will give her the best mentors to begin training her early, walk her through the steps of how to be a woman of great power, and give her the tools to eventually take a leading role in ten years or so. Thank you for bringing her talents to our attention.” Duenna Black sat in her chair under stunned silence. Dr. Gladstone loved every minute of watching this difficult woman's heart being crushed. There was nothing finer for a leader than humiliating the proud. She turned to Duenna Black and said, “You don't look pleased? Don’t you think Ara will make a fine Sister someday?” “But she is just a child! I thought you wanted me, an experienced woman who has spent her whole life striving for this position, fighting for the rights and advancement of women? I deserve it! It isn’t fair!” Duenna Black was seething. “What isn’t fair? Why do you deserve to be asked to the council? My dear Duenna Black, or should I call you Madylyn, after our second meeting it was then that I realized you were never really fit for this role. You take life and the cause of justice far too seriously. You are quite irritating with your strict feminist ideals and suffocating worldview. When I saw your disdain in my office for the idea of pleasure, it was then I realized I couldn’t stomach 15 to 20 more years of having you and your social justice reforms spoiling the mood of the council. It is hard being with someone who constantly thinks they are right and looking down their nose at you.” Dueanna Black was speechless. Dr. Gladstone continued, “And besides, you play the role of a bitter teacher well. I will quite enjoy seeing you continue working with young spoiled princesses the rest of your life. I think it will feel like hell for you, a fitting place to continue living off the hatred toward others that you so love.” Dr. Gladstone motioned for Duenna Black to follow her into the conference room near the back of the plane. Before she opened the door, she turned and said, “I want you to remember one thing my dear Duenna. Never forget, information is like water...once it gets out it is almost impossible to contain. I am sure Dr. Babbitt and Lacy Dias will agree.” Opening the door, Dr. Gladstone let Duenna Black in. There sat the two ladies sitting quietly at the large table with the back of their heads facing the door. Dr, Gladstone said to Duenna Black, “I will leave you ladies alone for a few minutes to talk among yourselves.” After the door was shut Duenna Black exploded, “Can you believe this indignity?” But there was no response. “Dr. Babbitt? Lacy? Did you hear me?” Duenna Black walked around the large table to get a better look at their faces. There sat Lacy, motionless with eyes wide open, dead to the world. And Dr. Babbitt had a gaping red hole from the bottom of her chin to the front of her forehead...pink shards of brain tissue were lying next to an empty syringe on the top of the bloody table. Dr. Babbitt’s right hand was still gripping a small .38 caliber handgun. Duenna Black wondered to herself in disbelief, "What just happened? My life is as good as over." Does God hate America? Are we all doomed? And why doesn't he stop such devastation? At the time of this writing Hurricane Irma is swirling in the Atlantic as it bears down on the Caribbean Islands and the Southern tip of Florida with catagory 5 strength. It hasn't even been a week since the record setting flooding that was poured out on Houston, Texas from Hurricane Harvey - - what is going on? Is God mad at us or something? Before we crawl into a corner with our favorite blanket and cry "The sky is falling", let's remember what 2 Timothy 1:7 says, "God has not given us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, love and sound mind." A sound mind is what we all need in times like this and to help us think through the theology of disaster I offer you "2 Reasons for what this doesn't and does mean." WHAT THIS DOESN'T MEAN (1) The End of the World is Here! In Matthew 24 the disciples were asking Jesus what to look for as the end of the word drew near, and so he gave a list of things in the first 8 verses that will take place: Famines, Earthquakes, False Prophets, Natural Disasters and Wars across the World. He said all of these events are the beginning of "birth pangs." Meaning, from the time Jesus walked on earth until his second coming, you will see these sort of events happening all over the world all of the time. . . so earthlings, get use to chaos. Part of our problem is we are "Ameri-centric", meaning when something dreadful happens to the U. S. of A. we assume God has to be coming back soon, and very soon. So when two hurricanes threaten America in less than two weeks, Christians are put on high alert because America is God's nation, right? Did you know every week some major disaster is happening around the globe? We have two missionaries from our church who live in the Fiji Islands and last year they had 2 monster typhoons make landfall. No one in America said a word. Or what about the 2004 Tsunami when over 250,000 people in the Indonesian Islands and surrounding countries died? Now that was cataclysmic, and yet people in America merely yawned. Red moons and eclipses notwithstanding, expect disasters until Jesus' return. (2) God must Hate President Trump and his Administration? Last week during the aftermath of Hurricane Harvey and with the wieghty forecast of Irma hitting America, the cheesy televangelist Jim Bakker said these two hurricanes were definately sent as "judgments from God on America!" Sure he wants to sell more of his survival bulk food, but isn't he a credible voice speaking for the Almighty? Or how about that nutty professor from Tampa who tweeted, "I dont believe in instant Karma but this kinda feels like it for Texas. Hopefully this will help them realize the GOP doesnt care about them.” Wow, he believes God is mad at the redneck voters for allowing Trump to get into office. If you remember back just a few years, Christians also blamed President Clinton for hurricanes, President Bush for 911, and President Obama for gang violence in Chicago. So which political party is more righteous? Who did God vote for? Probably not the party you wanted... Maybe the swirling clouds of doom were sent as warnings against our 11 billion dollar a year porn industry? Maybe, just maybe, God is a little miffed at our abortion mills? What about the heroin pushers, or those who traffic in little girls? Do you think he would ever judge us for our sexual experimentation that are setting perverted cultural trends...nah, I am sure God likes it when men dress like women and children become drag queens. WHAT THIS DOES MEAN (1) The World is not the Way is Was Meant to Be! "Thorns and Thistles, sweat on the brow, pain and death." When Adam sinned in the Garden of Eden those are the results that God said mankind could expect to happen from now on. A few hurricanes rolling down the coast of America are just some evidences of a broken planet. In Romans 8:19-22 Paul says creation is now "groaning" as it awaits for God to make everything new. In Hebrews 12:26-27 God says he is going to shake both the heavens and earth one final time. In other words, "we aint seen nothing yet." A new heaven and earth is our final resting place, until that time don't be suprised when you hear the wind moan & howl and earth shake, rattle and roll. (2) His Mercy is Still Available. . .Thank God! One of the strangest stories in all of scripture is found in Luke 13:1-5. I encourage you to read it. Jesus is walking the streets of Jerusalem with his disciples and the talk of the town is about a disaster where a tower fell on 18 people. I can hear the disciples talking amongst themselves wondering why such a tragic event would happen to these 18 innocent people? Maybe they were sinful and deserved it? Jesus responds to their questions by saying, "What about the eighteen people who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them? Were they the worst sinners in Jerusalem? No, and I tell you again that unless you repent, you will perish, too.” Jesus is making an amazing point: When bad things happen, like disasters, hurricanes, or a tower falling on the head of 18 people, don't ask why, ask why not - - "Why not me?" If truth be told disaster and death are our just deserts. The only reason we are not experiencing "thorns and thistles, sweat on the brow, pain and death" is because of God's mercy. He is holding all of these back this moment because of his mercy. Mercy is lovingkindness. It means we have been given another chance. So when disaster comes, we need to look up and realize it should have been us. Romans 2:1-4 says something very scary, "When you say they are wicked and should be punished, you are condemning yourself, for you who judge others do these very same things. And we know that God, in his justice, will punish anyone who does such things. Since you judge others for doing these things, why do you think you can avoid God’s judgment when you do the same things? Don’t you see how wonderfully kind, tolerant, and patient God is with you? Does this mean nothing to you? Can’t you see that his kindness is intended to turn you from your sin?" In other words, that fresh air you are breathing right now is God's mercy on display. Hebrews 12:28-29 gives us the best advice we could hear in the face of the reality of a broken earth, "Since we are receiving a Kingdom that is unshakable, let us be thankful and please God by worshiping him with holy fear and awe. For our God is a consuming fire." Are you thankful? |
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