Energy Sustainability: The American Approach

So, everybody is talking about gas prices, many times in crisis-couched language. 

[Sigh]

I want to get something straight before I move on: I am on your side, dear reader.  I would like to see the US be energy independent, I’d like it to be the most energy-efficient nation on earth.  I’d like to see us have the lowest per-capita production of greenhouse gases of any developed country (even though I’m sort-of a skeptic in the global warming area, I really just want the Europeans to find something new about the US to whine about).

I’m on your side OK?

Now, let me shock my conservative friends, and maybe get back a little goodwill with Southern Beale  …

When it came to energy policy, I’d say that Jimmy Carter had things about right.

Excuse me…

…OK, sorry, had to take a shower after that. :)  Seriously, I’d say policy-wise (on energy and energy alone) Carter understood the problem and was WAY ahead of his time.  In fact, I think he could have gone farther.

Have I become a liberal?  Should I sign up for my “Yes We Can” bumper sticker?  Hardly.  Carter was doomed to failure, as any approach by HRC or McCain would be (and maybe Obama - but he MAY be the man to pull this off, I don’t know).  You see, I think what Carter’s approach represented (along with this post by Mack) , is a profound misunderstanding of what makes Americans tick.

We Americans will conserve, for a good cause.  What we will not do, at least indefinitely, is hunker down.

We just don’t do it well.  Yes, there was rationing during WWII.  But my grandpa used to tell me stories.  People whined and complained the whole time.  People cheated when they could get away with it.  Had the war gone on another year, there probably would have been outright rebellion.

I think that what turned my generation off most about Carter was the feeling of hunkering down that flowed though all of his policies, not just his energy policies.  I remember the whole misery index thing, and the “malaise”. 

Remember when he said this?  “I think it’s inevitable that there will be a lower standard of living than what everybody had always anticipated… The only trend is downhill.”

You just don’t say that kind of stuff to Americans.  Only people who don’t understand Americans (individually and corporeally) say things like that. 

Now, I have recently learned that a majority of bloggers are pessimists, but I can tell you from a lifetime’s worth of experience and layman’s study that the majority of Americans are optimists.  Heck, I’d go so far to say that the majority of us are dreamers.

How do I know?  Think about it.  I don’t care what Michael Savage says, people do NOT emigrate to America to get on the dole.  Britain, Germany and France may have their share of that kind of immigrant, but that’s a fairy tale here.  Have you ever spoken to a first generation American?  They are dreamers, every darned last one of them.

I’ve said it before: America is an optimistic country because that’s where all the optimists went.  And it’s in our national DNA.  Yes, even in the poorest neighborhoods - I’ve spent my fair share of time in fellowship with those in poverty (albeit those who are overtly Christian and filed with a certain kind of “joy”) - I hear more optimism than I’ve ever heard in a crowd of college aged suburban kids.

That’s why I believe in American exceptionalism.  NOT that there is something morally superior about our country, or that God blesses us more than other nations.  I think America is exceptional because the majority of its people are optimists and dreamers.

Now, this national character causes us to make some profound blunders from time to time, but it also means that we, as a people, will bravely dare instead of…well, hunkering down.

We alway eventually rebel against walls and ceilings and fences.  Always.  I love that about America.

So, you want energy sustainability, energy independence, lowering of greenhouse gases?  Do not approach the problem as a problem, but a contest.  Americans will sacrifice ANYTHING in the name of winning a contest.

The space race is a good example.  Americans normally do not shine well to runaway government spending, and there was a little complaining at the time, but the idea of BEATING the Russians to the moon caused the people to overlook differences over the insane spending that was neccessary to get to the moon.  To this day, we still consider it a good investment, mainly because, well, we beat the Russians.

The Russians are still pretty good bad guys, but I think that we need new villians if we are going to come together and get energy independent.  And, the middle eastern countries are not powerful enough to be boogeymen (not to mention the fallout from declaring a cold war on Islamic countries).

No, if I were the president, I would name the Chinese the enemy, and I would couch a goal of energy independence as THE way we could kick Chinese ass.  One, China really is the biggest long-term threat to the superiority of the US on the world stage.  And two, the people that run the country are very, very bad guys.

Finally, if America were to become the most fuel efficient on earth, we would have an economic advantage over the Chinese (they have fuel costs, too) that would far outweigh their advantage in labor costs.  If we want to stay number one, we need an advantage.  Energy indepenence is it.

Have a goal?  The answer with Americans is to ALWAYS appeal to their optimism and competitive instincts.  Asking them to hunker down is just a good way to lose elections over and over again.

Celebrities

I’ve seen it four gazillion times lately:  Britney Spears is the poster child for the downfall of modern American society.  There are serious things going on in the world, but the news is reporting the latest exploits of various celebutards like Lohan, Hilton and Spears.  We are most certainly going to hell in a handbasket.  Back in the day, we took national and world affairs SERIOUSLY, and did not obsess over celebrities.

 Really?

Well, our uncles and aunts ushered in the age of Aquarius.  They didn’t obsess over celebrities.  Ummm…

Keep readng, I’m not done yet!

Eliot Spitzer And The Apostle Paul

I’ve had theological ideas floating around in my head a lot lately.  Mostly, I’ve been reading the first few epistles of Paul.  Sometimes, I’ll read this or that blog, and come back to Romans or second Corinthians, and I’ll say to Paul, “You da man.  Sometimes I think you and me are the only ones who ‘get it’”.

Of course this isn’t true (egomania is not beyond me).  But, perhaps it’s the nature of blogs to run counter to the gospel of freedom.  After all, if we werent all sitting around wagging our fingers at one another, what would we talk about?

But, I look at Eliot Spitzer, and all I feel is pity.

Being a crusader over long periods of time has got to be exhausting.  With each new crusade, with each episode of pointing out the evil and corruption of others, the burden on oneself becomes ever greater and greater.  As the years pass, the pressure to appear “good”, in order to continue to point out others as “bad”, becomes almost more than one can bear.  The scale we use to judge others is always there in the corner, waiting to be used against us.

When goodness is defined as a list of rules that must be followed, what a toil life becomes!  Whether those are religious rules, or political principals, or any number of “ist” definitions of goodness, or a list of environmental actions, or even the Christian concepts of mercy and forgiveness - when one becomes the arbiter of “good” in these matters, he has placed a yoke around his own neck.  It is only a matter of time before the word is uttered: hypocrite.

The gospel I share with people, the one the apostle Paul speaks of, is one that sets us free from all that.  You can call me many things, but one thing you cannot call me is a hypocrite.  This is because my starting point is this:

I suck. 

I compare myself to the only perfect One, and I realise my own suckiness.  I am an egomaniac, I am not beyond being manipulative, I envy, I lie, I lust.  On my own, I’d really rather not be bothered with helping the poor.  I am prone to guttony and hoarding and drunkenness.  Like I said, I suck.

Any goodness I have in me is a gift I cannot claim as my own.

Do you have any idea how liberating this knowledge is?

And, the more I admit my own suckiness, the more something within me moves me to want to do right.  This is what we Christians call the Holy Spirit, working in me.  I cannot save the world, but Jesus can.  But first, He has to inhabit my body, like some scif-fi body snatcher.

When one realises that there isn’t a lick of difference between himself and a homeless man, when he can see his own reflection in the most wretched criminal, when he ALSO realises he is no different from the rich and powerful (their pain is no less real than anyone else’s) , he is free to love all of them as he would himself.

You can continue crusading, if you will.  But, I know from experience, that’s a burden that none of us can bear for too long.

You can be free.

Civics Lesson

My daughter is mad as heck, and she’s not going to take it anymore.  We’ve talked about it before, but I guess with the presidential election going on, it has come to the forefront in her consciousness. 

Trillian blurted out in the car this afternoon, “I’m angry that I can’t run for president.”

I asked her, “Do you WANT to run for president?”

“No.  But if I wanted to, I can’t.  That’s wrong.”

She even pointed out a certain injustice I had never thought of before.  She reminded me that the children of illegal immigrants can become president, if they were born in the US.  Yet, even with citizen parents who went through all the right channels to get her to the United States, her 8 months in Korea at the beginning of her life disqualify her for our nation’s highest office.

Now, I didn’t want to get into a deep philosophical discussion with her about the sins of the father.  I admired her critical thinking skills (especially for a 10 year old), and suggested she write to her congressman and two senators.  She is working on it right now, and with her permission, I will post the full text of her letter here. 

She even has an idea: to keep the original intent of the constitution, she suggests that naturalized citizens should be allowed to run for president after being a citizen for 20 years.  Makes sense to me.

If she gets responses from any of the officials she writes, I will post those here as well.

A Tennessee Political Primer

If you are an ideologue, living in Tennessee can be maddening.  For all the talk about our fair state being a “red state”, such labels are superficial and do not tell any kind of meaningful story.  We do not, nor have we ever run super-hot or super-cold.  When it comes to political passions, Tennessee has always been lukewarm.  A cursory look at our history bears this out.

• Although not a state at the time, the citizens of what would become Tennessee were divided about the Revolutionary War. 
• Tennessee did secede from the union in 1861, but did so tepidly.  It was the last border state to do so.  It was also the first state to rejoin the union.  Because Tennessee had ratified the Fourteenth Amendment, it was the only one of the formerly seceded states that did not have a military governor during the Reconstruction period.
• For all of our bible-thumping conservative misogyny, Tennessee became thirty-sixth and final state necessary to ratify the Nineteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution, which provided women the right to vote.
• The TVA and segregation guaranteed that politics in Tennessee would be dominated by the Democratic party throughout most of the 20th century.  Yet, even that must be understood in the context of machine politics, specifically Memphis Boss Ed Crump.  The state has had a political division by geography since before the civil war.  As one heads west, Republican control cedes to Democratic control (with the exceptions of the donut counties around Memphis and Nashville).
• Starting in 1970, the governorship has ping-ponged back and forth between the two parties:  Ellington (1967-71) D,Dunn (1971-75) R,Blanton (1975-79) D,Alexander (1979-87) R,McWherter (1987-95) D, Sundquist (1995-2003) R ,
  Bredesen (2003- ) D .
• Our state legislature is split.  And, even when Republicans first took control of the state Senate in 2005, they still elected John Wilder (D) speaker.
• Although it could be argued that Tennessee is very conservative religiously, such a statement is relative.  Compared to, say, Connecticut?  Certainly.  Compared to Alabama?  I don’t think so.  You can point to Stokes Scopes (that’ll teach me to write a post before two cups of coffee…) all you want, and you’d be showing your ignorance.  The Scopes monkey trial was a publicity stunt - a way to spur economic development.  Not to say we don’t have our share of fundamentalists.  But, even our fundamentalists are lukewarm.

There are many examples I’m leaving out, but, you get the picture.  Check out this page for a really cool timeline of TN political history, starting in the 2nd half of the 20th century.

To understand politics in TN, you need to look at power.  The most powerful Republicans are moderates, the most powerful Democrats are moderates.  Tom Tancredo and Cynthia McKinney would not cut it here.  We have our occasional Campfield and Cohen, but you will never see a mercurial type like that ascend to the top of their party here.  They are distractions. 

Tennessee is, no matter what the two parties try to claim, a moderate state.  I like it that way.

Bravo, Kevin

He doesn’t have comments enabled so I can’t tell him at his place, but this post by Kevin (the Homeless Guy) is outstanding.  A sample:

People in this part of the country can be deeply biblically religious, and they will either give thanks to God for being spared from the storm’s devastation, believing their faith saved them, or they will call on God for the strength to carry on after suffering greatly, as the storm devastated their lives.  There will be some who will lose their faith in God because He did not protect them, as they felt He should.  And, they may chose to no longer believe in God, and may carry a heart of anger towards God for the rest of their lives. 

But, is any of this really about God?   Is it really about us humans?   Do the natural forces of our planet act against our immoral tendencies?   God is sometimes said to be capricious - that there is no rhyme or reason to His actions.  But perhaps that is because we give God too much credit for what happens in our lives.  Do we succeed because God likes us?  Do we win against others in the competitions of life because God prefers us to others?

This is deep stuff, and many clergy struggle with these questions.  As I read the entire post, I found myself nodding along.  I have some minor quibbles on some of the theological aspects, along with a couple of philosophical questions (I think mankind is at once insignificant and of greatest importance to God -that whole triune things gets people every time).  But that doesn’t take away from how profound and eloquent Kevin’s post is.  Go read it.

On a related note, y’all (and you know who you are), LAY OFF the Union students!!!!  They are mere kids, they just survived a traumatic event most of us will never have to go through, and they are trying to make sense of it all.  Let’s discuss the philosophical ramifications of their saying that God was “with them and protected them” some other time.  I think criticising these kids,at this time, is of the suck.  Like you were some great philosophical and theological mind at 20 years old.  Give them a little leeway.  Later, ‘k?

Sex And Disney World

Has there ever been a group of people more misunderstood than those who have a sense of modesty about sex?  Hollywood created a stereotype decades ago, and it has stuck.  The world sees us as Bree (Van De Kamp) Hodge, the uptight character from Desperate Housewives.  As described in Wikipedia:

Bree is known for her cooking, cleaning, ironing, gardening, doing her lawn, and reupholstering her own furniture, on the level of Martha Stewart. Besides being a dedicated homemaker, she also is well-versed in regards to firearm training: she owns four guns and is a card-carrying member of the Nation Rifle Association. She is a staunch conservative, owning and displaying a framed photograph of noted Republican President Ronald Reagan in her home. She is also a conservative Christian and homophobic, though as of the third season Bree has slowly renounced her disdain for homosexuals with the revelation that her son Andrew was gay, and also his revealing that her homophobic response towards him when he came out of the closet was the driving force towards the pain he inflicted upon Bree during season two.

We, and I say “we” because I count myself in this group, have not helped matters by making so much noise when others who do not share our view are more open and vulgar about sex.  It’s a natural impulse, I guess (I’ll get to that later), but it only feeds the stereotype that we think sex is dirty, that we very infrequently have sex, and even then, only the missionary position.

We are very easily mocked.  Television especially does this, but also politicians, the non-religious, liberal Christians, novelists, and bloggers to name a few.  Here’s a good example.  B’s original post was poignant and funny, but some of the comments were terribly, awfully bigoted. (Me?  I would have added one more question to B’s list: “I just had sex with a straw man.  How do I get rid of all this itching and chafing?”)

Well, I’ve always thought this outside criticism amounted to punching a man who was tied to a chair: since “we” don’t openly talk very much about sex, it’s kind of hard to refute the mocking.  I’m going to step out of my silence for a bit to speak for others who will not speak for themselves.

Now, in order to do this, I’ll have to make a few assumptions, so you don’t bombard me with exceptions.  Just for discussion’s sake, let’s use some media stereotypes.  For the “uptight” side, we’ll use Bree Hodge from Desperate Housewives.  For the open, more libertine side, we’ll use Samantha Jones from Sex and the City, described in Wikipedia thusly:

…an independent publicist and a seductress who avoids emotional involvement at all costs, while satisfying every possible carnal desire imaginable. She believes that she has had “hundreds” of soulmates and insists that her sexual partners leave “an hour after I climax.” In season 3, she moves from her full-service Upper East Side apartment to an expensive loft in the then-burgeoning Meatpacking District. Over the course of the show, she does have a handful of real relationships, but they are more unconventional than those of her friends, including a lesbian relationship with Brazilian painter played by Sonia Braga.

Now, I would opine that in real life, statistically speaking, nether woman exists.  But, for purposes of example, one extreme stereotype deserves another.

I’ll give you a shocker: in the real world, Bree has more sex than Samantha.  Here’s a scholarly study to back it up (warning: pdf).  And, it’s only common sense. Literally sleeping with the same person every night raises the availability factor exponentially.  Also, common sense would say that Bree has better sex than Samantha.  There are stages of sex between two specific people: that first, fumbling time, the getting more familiar stage, the comfortable stage, and then finally the stage that Jeff Foxworthy describes like this:

“I love married sex. After all these years together, I know I’m going to enjoy it, and so does she. I know the combination to that safe - 3 to the left, 2 to the right, 6 to the left and then Wheeeeeeee……and you are welcome baby.”

Samantha certainly rarely even gets to stage 2; stages 3 and 4 take many, many years with one person to achieve.

So, let’s see.  Bree has more sex than Samantha, and it’s better sex at that.  But, since Bree doesn’t talk about sex in public, certainly she doesn’t talk about it at all, right?  For the answer, let’s peruse the Sex and Pregnancy section at the quite conservative Christian Booksellers, shall we?  134 results?  Titles like Sex God:  Exploring the Endless Connections Between Sexuality and Spirituality, The Gift of Sex: A Guide To Sexual Fulfillment, and so on.  Man, for people who don’t talk about sex, those uptight Christians sure talk about sex a lot.

Part of the problem is our own.  We not only like to keep our sexual conversations behind closed doors, but we have a very bad habit of insisting that others do the same.  Part of the reason, I think, is because, if we wish to remain true to ourselves, we have to drop out of the conversation altogether, to become societal wallflowers.  And nobody wants to be left out.  So we try to ban the conversation altogether.  Me? I like being overtly different from my more “open” friends, and I like the fact that people notice that I’m somehow different, that I speak with allegories and euphemisms, without my having to shout it from the rooftops.

So let’s keep score:  we have more sex, better sex, and we talk about it a lot (behind closed doors).  Yet the stereotype of the undersexed, hypocritical, conservative Christian persists.  I think there’s only one explanation for this: there is a fundamental misunderstanding of why we are the way we are.  I’d like to set the record straight.

We love and revere the mystery of sex.  We want it to be more than the matter-of-fact “this part goes into this part, and it feels good”.  By not relegating sexuality to the ordinary,something we discuss over dinner with strangers as we would the latest Stallone film, we make it more special.  Well, actually, we don’t make it more special, we properly recognise it’s special-ness.

Let me change gears. I have a love that borders on mania for Walt Disney World.  Many share this particular feeling with me.  I have been there three times, and I’m going again next year.  I can tell you the best shortcut from Dumbo to Space Mountain.  I can tell you the best days of the week to visit the Magic Kingdom, the best route to take through Animal Kingdom, the best restaurants at EPCOT.  To many, Disney World is just another theme park; a crowded, overpriced one at that.  And, if I were ever totally objective about it, I’d admit they were right.

However, I remember so well my sense of awe and wonder upon first visiting the Magic Kingdom in 1976.  I will not let that wonder go.  I hold onto it, I cherish it, I guard it jealously as a lover, keeping that wonder hidden in a safe place inside myself.  When, as an adult, I take that familiar monorail from the TTC to the gates of the Magic Kingdom, I am 12 years old again, basking in the awe of this perfectly magical place that sprung from the imagination of Walt Disney, just for me.  I reconnect with my family in a way that is hard to describe.   I surrender myself to it - here I am a 43 year old man giggling under my breath like a child - knowing full well that I am blowing $5K in a place that at its heart is designed specifically for that purpose, to separate me from my $5K.  Yet, I surrender to the magic, and allow myself to be reborn, if only for a little while.

It’s like that with sex.  It’s more than a biological act that sometimes results in reproduction.  It’s a Magic Kingdom, sprung from the imagination of God, just for me and my wife.  I get to reconnect with my wife in a way that is hard to describe.  I don’t want to lose that sense of awe and wonder.  I want to surrender to the magic, to drink deep from the well of the love my wife and I have for one another.  The only way to do that is to hold on to that wonder, cherish it, guard it jealously like a lover, to hide it away in a safe place.

And that’s why you won’t find me having casual, public, graphic conversations about sex.

Don’t Be A Grima

This is something I’ve been meaning to talk about for a long time, and interestingly, there has been a sort of convergence lately that finally forces my hand.  I think this will make a good end/beginning of year topic, fulfilling the role my post on living without fear had last year.

I feel that this post should have more disclaimers than an Alli ad.  Keep the following things in mind as you read on:

• Every man is ultimately responsible for his own actions.
• It is helpful to point out societal problems.
• Everyone has their own style, and all styles are useful.

Now, clear your mind and be willing to challenge yourself. 

One of the most intriguing characters in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Ringswas Grima, who was sometimes called Grima Wormtongue.  Now, to refresh your memory, Grima, son of Galmod, was advisor to King Theoden, but also in league with the evil wizard Saruman.  His task was to weaken Theoden through lies and persuasion.

Grima’s methods are many times misunderstood.  Yes, he told lies, but he wisely kept outright deceptions to a minimum.  Instead, he told half-truths, and played to Theoden’s weakness and fear.  He gave the king a constant drip, drip, drip of cants and why bothers and most importantly, painted a general picture of hopelessness.  This had the desired effect.

Now, I want to say this: poverty is sad.  Discouragement, however, is heartbreaking.

Let me say, I know you , my fellow blogger, are a good person.  You mean well, and wish to help your fellow man.  But you must ask yourself:  am I a modern day Grima Wormtongue?  Believe me, you might not can see it, but I do.  Many of you provide a constant drip, drip, drip of everything that’s wrong with the world.  Most likely, you do this because you seek a particular political or religious solution to a very real set of societal problems. 

Look at your posts and comments from this past year.  Be honest with yourself.  Many of you send these messages to the poor downtrodden, and discriminated against:

• As things stand now, it is hopeless for you.
• The deck is stacked against you.
• We have arranged our society so that you will always be poor or downtrodden, or those discriminated against.
• You are not extraordinary.  Only the extraordinary can rise above tough circumstances.
• Others are the ones responsible for your condition.
• A person of your stature should not dream, it only leads to disappointment.
• You can’t. You can’t.  You can’t.

Drip, drip,drip.  And then, one of the downtrodden himself gives reason after reason for not even trying, and his reasons sound vaguely familiar, almost as if they were spoon-fed to him over the course of many years.  Almost as if they were whispered in his ear by someone who only wanted to help.

We do this, especially we bloggers.  We can do better.

How about, instead, we begin to look at each and every person as extraordinary?  How about not discouraging dreams, but nourishing the spark that lies within us all?  What would the world look like if we weren’t constantly whispering into each others’ ears how hopeless things are?  What if we became a source of encouragement and energy?

Reagan saw the shining city on the hill, Kennedy sought do do things not because they are easy, but because they are hard, Martin Luther King saw the other side of the mountain.  These men did not shirk from problems, but they sought to solve them by harnessing the fire within us all.

Ask yourself: in this new year, are you going to inspire, or are you going to discourage?

Would Jesus Be An Enabler?

Josh Tinley wrote a great post.  So great, I tried to write a comment, and ended up with something so long I felt it would best be its own post.  You see, we’ve been talking a lot at MCB and other places about extending Christian mercy to those who are suffering, even those who are in the situations they are in due to unwise decisions.  I think the conversation is specifically about certain elements of the homeless population.

We have actually discussed this in Sunday School before, without coming to any kind of consensus:

As followers of Christ, what do we do when we suspect someone receiving our aid is gaming the system, or at the very least, taking advantage?  I know what common sense says, but what does Christ say?  Are we supposed to care if we strongly suspect we are, basically, giving a drunk a drink?  Do we even give any consideration to the thought that we’re possibly doing more harm than good, that we’re enabling a person in a way that will keep them in misery, instead of getting them out of it?

I ask, because I struggle with this.

I have no problem extending mercy to even to criminals who have committed what could be awful crimes; I’ve prayed with such men many times before, and made many friends behind prison walls.  Same goes for just about any situation a person gets himself into.  There but for the grace of God go I.

Yet, I have this blind spot about people who I know, or very strongly suspect, COULD work, but do not. 

The backdrop to this is that I come from pretty humble beginnings.  Everything I say has the backdrop behind it of where I come from, where I am now, and the concepts that got me from there to here.

My father never really preached religion to his three sons; he just sent us to church and let us get our religion by osmosis.  But, he preached nonetheless.

The only thing my blue collar father ever preached about, what he did drill into me was sermon after sermon on the value of work.  He would preach, “If you don’t have a job, and aren’t spending every waking moment looking for a job, you have shamed your name.”  Well, he didn’t say it like THAT, but I got the meaning loud and clear.

He believed that if you have a condition that keeps you from working, do everything possible to alleviate that condition - make it your number one priority - so you can WORK.  The work is the most important thing a man can do. Not the getting paid part - working itself.   Always work, and if you can’t, make a job of looking for work.

He taught me not to turn turn my nose up at ANY job, whether I found it beneath me or not, whether it could support me or not - the act of working was more important than the pay.  He taught me that taking a menial job, and outworking everyone, is the way to having a job that DOES support you and your family.  Other rules include never being late, that sick time is NOT “Not Feeling Well” time, that volunteering for the hardest tasks will get you ahead.  No matter what you do, be the best there is at that job, outwork EVERYONE, and prosperity will follow.  Approach the world of work with the attitude that you have something to prove, because you do. 

And my life has taught me that he was right.

I always have this voice in the back of my head telling me that a well spoken person in an area with 4% unemployment should be working.  He just should, period.   I can see my dad, shaking his head. And I just can’t shake that voice.

So, I have to square this teaching with my Christian beliefs. 

And, let me tell you, it’s hard.  Paul had some things to say about the slothful, and Jesus used them as a “bad example”, but we are not told if Jesus was ever taken advantage of, and if so, what he did about it.  Something tells me that he would have helped.  His prodigal son parable makes me think that; although I wonder: the son had given up “riotous living” - Jesus never makes it clear that the father did not go to the faraway country and help the son financially while he was still living in a way that would just mean his help was wasted.  So, I don’t know.

I am torn.  You can’t just throw away 20 years of paternal teaching - it kind of gets under your skin.  And it has served me well.  So, sometimes, I guess, this Christian has what appears to be an unmerciful attitude.  I’m not proud of it - but now you know why.

I guess all I can do is pray about it.

Where Do We Dwell?

I often think of my life as a house.  In my mind’s eye, it is designed very closely to our dream house in reality: there are two wings, joined by an open-air atrium in between.  From the atrium, you can see fully into both wings, and the decor of each wing spills over into the atrium, mixing into quite an eclectic decorative scheme.

On one side is the Turmoil wing.  It is decorated darkly and starkly, it’s a mess, and demons can often be found there as house-guests.  Scattered throughout the wing are reminders of the past: mementos of heartaches, tears, pains, struggles.  They are permanent additions; I’m not allowed to get rid of them entirely.  It is nearly impossible to feel at ease here.

On the other side is the Peace wing.  Its decor is bright and airy, and not surprisingly, peaceful.  It is pretty much immaculate all of the time, sometimes because I pick up after myself.  And sometimes because angels, who are my silent house-guests in this wing, do the cleaning.  Sometimes I see them do it. Sometimes I just notice it got clean while I wasn’t looking.  Scattered throughout the Peace wing are photos and mementos of happy milestones and loved ones.   Each piece, no matter how tacky, holds a memory that makes my heart soar, if only just a bit.  This is altogether a happy place, and here I can rest.  

Now, I think all of our houses are designed like this.  And life is not lived in either wing, it is lived in the atrium, where pieces of each wing spill over and mix together in a strange incongruent sort of decor;  where we can turn and look into each wing and see all that they hold, and what’s going on in them.  We have no choice in the matter: this is where we live.

But, where do we dwell? 

Where are we drawn to lay our heads when we are weary?

In this matter, I consider myself the luckiest man on earth. 

Up until my thirties or so, I mostly dwelled in the Turmoil wing.  I thrived there, I wallowed in the decor.  I’ll admit, it made me a better writer; my writing was biting,and incisive, and could always, always bring tears.  From the doorway, I could see across to the Peace wing.  Although a small part of me longed to go over there, I mostly considered the idea boring, and the demons whispering in my ear convinced me of that fact.  Besides, I had friends over here, I thought.  They played a little rough, but I felt safe in their company.  And, even if I wanted to go over there, the atrium was open to the elements; the crossing could be dangerous.

Now, I can’t point out exactly when it happened.  I think it was a slow transition, because one morning I just woke up and I was in my bed in the Peace wing.  I noticed, “This isn’t boring!  It’s perfect”.  And that is where I have laid my head ever since.

Oh, I haven’t totally abandoned the Turmoil wing (for some reason, I’m not allowed to).  Every now and then I’ll journey over there, and make sure the demons have enough beer and fluffy pillows.  But I do not linger there long, as in the days of my youth.  I desire to go “home”.

I thought of this the other day,when I noticed almost all of my blogging friends going through such turmoil.  My goodness, there is a lot of pain lately.  I pray for each and every one of you, and I’ll do anything you ask to help get you through these times.  Believe me, you mean so much to me, your pain goes into my Turmoil wing, lest I forget.  Yet, I will aways guard our friendships and put them in places of honor in the Peace wing.

Anyway, I thought about how the world must see me (from reading Shoot The Moose).  Because of the particular time I started this blog, I come across as somewhat of a pollyanna.  Compared to 99% of the world, I’m wealthy.  I almost never have health problems. (I wish you could see me knocking on wood).  I have a very good job, that I love.  I’m always going on and on about my beautiful children, and my beautiful wife, and my beautiful house in a beautiful part of town.  I lead a very fulfilling, almost exciting life.

And all of these things are true.

Yet, sitting over there, I can see it from where I sit, there is turmoil.  Here in the atrium, it spills over and bumps into me, forcing me to move from time to time.  There are mementos of illness, and deaths of loved ones.  There are whole sections decorated with the pain of infertility.  One of the back rooms, where I try to avoid at all costs, is filled with my most unfortunate youth.  There is pain, and rejection, and shame of being “white trash”.  There is loneliness, lots of loneliness.   There is extreme material loss.  There is the heartache of watching a dear loved one wither away from a vibrant youth, stricken with an incurable, slowly debilitating disease.  One that I love as a brother (because he IS my brother), has gone from being the greatest guitarist I ever knew,to being unable to hold a guitar up to play it.  There is the fear and care of watching my parents impoverish themselves taking care of him, and worry about their stubborn refusal to let their other sons share the burden.  There is the general care and pain of living with other people, of being a parent and husband, and all the little heartaches that go along with them.

And as I get older, I know new additions are coming, with illnesses and deaths of immediate family and dear friends, and my own health failing.  I dread to see them erected.

Turmoil is always there, and the demons therein are not shy of pointing it all out and mocking me.  “HERE is your home!”, they taunt.  “Come back, have a beer and join us in cursing the wretchedness of life!”

Yet, my head is turned to the Peace wing.  The angels sing beautifully and remind me of all the good in my life.  Their song reminds me that, in time, all mementos in the turmoil wing will be melted in the hottest of fires and molded into the most beautiful gold items I have ever seen.  Their call is irresistible, and I am drawn to Peace. 

My life is lived in the atrium.  I am surrounded by Turmoil and Peace.  But I have been given a miraculous gift.  

I dwell in Peace.

I don’t know how it happened, or where. I am no better than anyone else (probably worse).  I have a huge Turmoil wing in my life, yet, most of the time I my eyes are turned elsewhere.  For this, for the draw of Peace, I will thank God through all eternity.

I hope, no I pray, that you can lay your head in the room of Peace.  Turmoil is still there; it will always be there, until it is burned down and all of its contents forged into Beauty.  I know it’s alluring to linger there.

But the angels are singing, calling to you.  Can’t you hear them?