This is intended to be a quick, on-the-run blog, as it's Saturday and there's errands to run and life to live (apart from this laptop). I feel motivated right now, though, to write briefly about passions. Being passionate about things in life is so important. I realized this as I was reading through a college friend's blogspot site. She is raising money to return to Africa, where she will teach and counsel others in the mission field. This, right now, is her life's work and her life's passion. Service. Selfless service. She is passionate and that passion speaks quite loud from her Web site. That made me think about my current passions. I'm passionate about my field of work, ministry, but it's not quite as black and white as that. That's very broad. I am finding myself passionate about so many things – using my graphic design skills for the Lord, leading classes that teach others how to handle money responsibly, coordinating a course that will help couples in their marriages, starting small groups that will deeply connect young adults at our church, helping those in our community who don't have enough. The list continues to grow. It's kind of weird. Some days I just go through the motions and kind of forget to look at the big picture. I forget why I do what I do. I'm passionate about justice, but what am I doing to seek justice for others? I'm not a doom-and-gloom person; there are many good things in this world and I try to focus on those things. But our economy is suffering and while I don't care if a CEO has to take a pay cut ('bout time), I do care about the guy that just lost his job and has to carry that weight on him as Christmas approaches. Let us find our passions and do something, anything, to live them out.
http://sendmeghantoafrica.blogspot.com
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Religious Email Hell
I love email. I'm just not a fan of forwarded emails. They're basically chain letters of the computer age. To be fair, forwards can be cute. I'm sure they honestly inspire some people. They just don't work that way for me. Most forwards are harmless notes that provide a brief break from work, making us smile and leaving us feeling a little better than before. Then there's the religious forwards. We've all seen them. Some have an inspiring personal story. Some, a message of hope. Others, a digital guilt-trip that belongs in the virtual trash bin. An example might be helpful, right? Okay. Here's a portion of the latest one I received:
If you love this man please forward to 10 people.
He did something for you, now do something for him.
Spread his word, and you'll be rewarded. How?
Matthew 10:32...'Whoever acknowledges Me before men, I will acknowledge him before My Father in heaven. But whoever disowns Me before men, I will disown him before My Father in heaven.'
Wow. I had almost forgotten how absurd these forwards had become. I say absurd because that's what they are. Period. They're just as ridiculous as the ones that claim Microsoft will donate two cents to the Make-A-Wish Foundation for every email that you forward. Yeah, right. Microsoft isn't a heartless company whose generosity depends on people's willingness to send forwarded emails. In the same way, Jesus Christ didn't die on a cross with an extra requirement that not only must we believe in him, we must also forward ten emails to prove it.
The problem is that people send these religious forwards out of guilt, not out of faith. Let's be real – these forwards do more harm than good and don't seem to serve a fruitful purpose. It's helpful to think about it in this way. Do you think a jaded person who's not a Christian will decide to come to faith because of a forwarded email? Maybe, but my guess is they'll find it very annoying. That forward will then probably reinforce a negative stereotype that already surrounds Christians. Here's a thought. Why not send a nice email to someone asking them how their day is going? That's a better example of doing something Christ-like than sending some cliché forward.
Forwarding an email is also a cop-out. Just as it's easier to share deep feelings using an instant message, it's easier to share your faith by sending a forward. That's not the way to share your faith. Sharing your faith is real when it's done in person, over a cup of coffee or while taking a walk with a friend. That's authentic faith. That's the type of faith that really does change lives. It's not always easy and is a lot harder than pressing "send" from your inbox. It's the type of faith, though, that truly gets others interested in your God. No email has that power.
I guess I'm going to hell because I deleted a religious forward. I just couldn't bring myself to send it on. It would only increase the gap that stands between authentic Christianity and damaging Christianity. As it is, that gap is too big and prevents far too many souls from crossing. I'm writing this blog because I don't want anyone else to send a religious forward out of guilt. It's wrong. The concept of 'earning' salvation by forwarding emails eerily resembles the days when Christians would buy penance from priests to have their sins forgiven. God's grace doesn't work like that. You don't get brownie points with God if you send the gospel over the World Wide Web. These religious emails use ignorant and damaging language like, "what goes around comes around," and, "if you love Jesus, you'll send this on." The people who write up these emails are using guilt like a gun. They load their magazine and fire a hundred rounds into cyberspace. Nowhere in the Bible does it mention a stipulation to God's grace. Belief alone saves a man. No one is going to hell because they delete a religious email without forwarding it to a dozen people. There is no ancient law regarding email forwards. It's not in the Bible. If I'm wrong, you can forward me an email with the chapter and verse.
(John 3:15, 16, and 17)
If you love this man please forward to 10 people.
He did something for you, now do something for him.
Spread his word, and you'll be rewarded. How?
Matthew 10:32...'Whoever acknowledges Me before men, I will acknowledge him before My Father in heaven. But whoever disowns Me before men, I will disown him before My Father in heaven.'
Wow. I had almost forgotten how absurd these forwards had become. I say absurd because that's what they are. Period. They're just as ridiculous as the ones that claim Microsoft will donate two cents to the Make-A-Wish Foundation for every email that you forward. Yeah, right. Microsoft isn't a heartless company whose generosity depends on people's willingness to send forwarded emails. In the same way, Jesus Christ didn't die on a cross with an extra requirement that not only must we believe in him, we must also forward ten emails to prove it.
The problem is that people send these religious forwards out of guilt, not out of faith. Let's be real – these forwards do more harm than good and don't seem to serve a fruitful purpose. It's helpful to think about it in this way. Do you think a jaded person who's not a Christian will decide to come to faith because of a forwarded email? Maybe, but my guess is they'll find it very annoying. That forward will then probably reinforce a negative stereotype that already surrounds Christians. Here's a thought. Why not send a nice email to someone asking them how their day is going? That's a better example of doing something Christ-like than sending some cliché forward.
Forwarding an email is also a cop-out. Just as it's easier to share deep feelings using an instant message, it's easier to share your faith by sending a forward. That's not the way to share your faith. Sharing your faith is real when it's done in person, over a cup of coffee or while taking a walk with a friend. That's authentic faith. That's the type of faith that really does change lives. It's not always easy and is a lot harder than pressing "send" from your inbox. It's the type of faith, though, that truly gets others interested in your God. No email has that power.
I guess I'm going to hell because I deleted a religious forward. I just couldn't bring myself to send it on. It would only increase the gap that stands between authentic Christianity and damaging Christianity. As it is, that gap is too big and prevents far too many souls from crossing. I'm writing this blog because I don't want anyone else to send a religious forward out of guilt. It's wrong. The concept of 'earning' salvation by forwarding emails eerily resembles the days when Christians would buy penance from priests to have their sins forgiven. God's grace doesn't work like that. You don't get brownie points with God if you send the gospel over the World Wide Web. These religious emails use ignorant and damaging language like, "what goes around comes around," and, "if you love Jesus, you'll send this on." The people who write up these emails are using guilt like a gun. They load their magazine and fire a hundred rounds into cyberspace. Nowhere in the Bible does it mention a stipulation to God's grace. Belief alone saves a man. No one is going to hell because they delete a religious email without forwarding it to a dozen people. There is no ancient law regarding email forwards. It's not in the Bible. If I'm wrong, you can forward me an email with the chapter and verse.
(John 3:15, 16, and 17)
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Scars Remain
It was probably a month ago. A cold night and I was tired. My dog, Lucy, was outside in the backyard. I went outside on the deck to call her in for the night. Her usual reaction is to run up to me, ready to go inside the house. Every so often, though, she likes to do this thing my wife calls, "pussyfooting," in which she clearly sees me on the deck, calling her, yet chooses to take one or ten final sniffs before relinquishing to my summons. This was one of the "pussyfooting" nights. I was a bit agitated that she knew what she was supposed to do yet refused to do it. When this happens, I usually walk out in the yard, grab her by the collar and pull her along. As I walked up to her, Lucy, sensing that she was in trouble, started to run in circles and sideways to avoid the impending wrath of her daddy. I don't mean to sound like I'm abusive or even harsh with her. Lucy's a wonderful dog who we've trained in the 'Caesar Milan' style. We are strict, but not harsh. She ran to and fro, trying to avoid me. I finally grabbed a hold of her and brought her up on the deck. On this night I was a bit rough when I forced her on the deck. I was making her lie down so that she would know that she had misbehaved. In doing this, I hit my hand on one of the wood planks, cutting my left ring finger. Ouch. The last thing I needed along with irritation was pain and blood. And so began a lesson that I think God is trying to teach me.
As I said in the opening sentence of this blog, it's been around a month since that incident. My 'wound' is still visible and is healing at a painfully slow pace. I emphasize painfully because almost every day since cutting my finger I've found a way to hit it on something. It really, really hurts when I do that. It's a very physical reminder to me that I should have been more patient with Lucy that night. It's also a reminder that I will need to have extra patience in several months when I become a father for the first time. While I've come along way with patience since high school, I still somehow have a long way to go. Thank God for scars that keep reminding me of my stupidity and impatience. Most days, a quick, painful slap on the hand is probably just what I need. As I look down at my left ring finger, I smile. I'm sure I'll bump it on something today and immediately cringe. But then I'll smile again. I need those reminders. I'm too impatient to reflect on my stupidity otherwise.
As I said in the opening sentence of this blog, it's been around a month since that incident. My 'wound' is still visible and is healing at a painfully slow pace. I emphasize painfully because almost every day since cutting my finger I've found a way to hit it on something. It really, really hurts when I do that. It's a very physical reminder to me that I should have been more patient with Lucy that night. It's also a reminder that I will need to have extra patience in several months when I become a father for the first time. While I've come along way with patience since high school, I still somehow have a long way to go. Thank God for scars that keep reminding me of my stupidity and impatience. Most days, a quick, painful slap on the hand is probably just what I need. As I look down at my left ring finger, I smile. I'm sure I'll bump it on something today and immediately cringe. But then I'll smile again. I need those reminders. I'm too impatient to reflect on my stupidity otherwise.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
The Bailout
A Fictional Short Story
My story, though still in progress, starts about seven months ago. A college graduate two years removed and my life was going nowhere. You get the idea in college that the whole world is at your feet; that with this degree I'll be able to do anything. Unfortunately, I didn't plan on a dead-end job and a crap economy that prevented me from finding anything better. When you're in that type of situation, you start to look for fulfillment outside of work. My first couple of years at this job found me enjoying my new apartment, taking care of my own bills, and paying for a new car. It was an office job, nothing really special. My job was to take over-the-phone orders for mailing labels and business cards, design them, and send them on down the line for printing. I worked the noon-to-eight shift because our company, like so many others, wanted to provide their customers the convenience of "after-hours" service. Lucky me. Actually, I enjoyed the shift. I could sleep until nine-thirty or so in the morning, take my time getting ready, and stroll into work by noon. Once or twice a week I went out to eat by myself after work. For the first year or two, some of my coworkers would invite me to go out with them after work, but I wasn't into the bar scene. Plus, I really didn't have the money to spend anyway. As time rolled on, though, I felt my life needed something more.
It's funny how you become comfortably numb to your surroundings after a while. What was once exciting isn't special anymore. I was so glad to find my first job out of college and to be on my own. I craved the independence. Now that I had it, I kind of missed the company of my family. I ate dinner alone. I took walks alone. I went shopping alone. It makes sense to me, in hindsight, why I started spending more money and going out with coworkers after a couple years of doing life alone. Sometimes we would go to a bar and drink a few beers, complaining about the day and talking about the next "initiative" at work. Other times, if it was just the guys, we might go to a strip club for a couple of hours. Early on, I felt a sense that I should distance myself from these places as I would watch the morning news and hear of shootings or fights at bars and strip clubs. Since I had never experienced anything like that myself, I gradually talked myself into believing these activities were fine and that I didn't need to worry about it. It felt good to have something to look forward to at the end of the work week. When you live by yourself, something as trivial as grocery shopping becomes an excuse to wear your new jeans and get out for a bit. I had tired of looking forward to grocery shopping, though, and wanted a little more excitement—or at least something that felt more meaningful—outside of work. It became more and more common to find me at a bar with coworkers on Thursday night, at a strip club on Friday night, and alone on Saturday and Sunday nights. It occurred to me that my coworkers didn't really ever call me to get together on weekends. We only went out after work. Still, it was companionship and I desperately needed it.
The weeks rolled by, one by one, and I couldn't even see the rut that was being carved in my life. I was drinking more than I ever had in my life, even if it was only two to three nights a week. I never had really felt comfortable gawking at women, but every week, there I was, gawking at women and throwing my money at them. When we went to the bar on Thursday nights, my coworkers and I would get more of a chance to talk. The conversations were stupid and pointless, but it continued to feel good to have people around. I think deep down I knew I was lonely, but what could I do? I had my independence and I sure didn't want to move back to my parent's house. These thoughts consumed me on Saturday and Sunday nights. "I want something more in my life, but isn't that why I'm hanging out with my coworkers at the bars?" "If I'm lonely, isn't it better to be out with people than to be sitting on my couch at home?" I would rationalize it any way I could. That's why I continued to live the single, bar-hopping lifestyle. As the months progressed, I sometimes felt the sense that my life was out of order. When I started this job, I had plans to save a lot of money. I even had a budget laid out. I would get up early on Saturday mornings and jog around my apartment complex. There were even a couple of Sundays where I went to a local church. It felt like I had a good balance in my life. Unfortunately, it's hard for a single guy out of college to meet people. Most of my friends from college had married or didn't live close enough to hang out with regularly. I think that's what eventually drove me to take up the offers given by my coworkers. "Sure, I'll go to the bar tonight. What else am I doing?" That became a common response. As the rut indentation became deeper and deeper, I felt I was at a crossroads. I had the companionship I had longed for and I had weekly 'outings' to look forward to, but now I felt like it had become dull and meaningless. I guess I was either afraid or confused as to what to do about it. Afraid that if I tried to change my life, I'd end up where I started a couple of months before—alone. Confused as to what exactly I needed to do to get my life back on track. Too many of my evening consisted of mediocre American beer and deep-fried appetizers. All I had to show for my 'fun' times was clothes that smelled like a cigarette. This wasn't me. Yet I just kept rolling along. It was all I knew to do.
If I felt like I wasn't myself, that should indicate that I knew myself. Ironically, I didn't. As I tried to figure it out, I felt like I wasn't having much success. I didn't want this lifestyle anymore. I wanted a girlfriend. I wanted to take weekend hiking trips. I wanted to go to local football games. The thing that made me so mad was that all of these 'dreams' didn't really work if I was doing it by myself. So I resigned myself to renting sub-par movies and eating at one of three tables available at a small Chinese take-out restaurant a couple of blocks from my apartment. Sometimes I wanted to invite a coworker out to eat with me on the weekend, but then I thought more about it and decided to just go out by myself. I felt different than my coworkers. Don't get me wrong, they were nice and friendly overall, but I didn't feel like I quite fit in with them. They didn't seem to have any grand plans for their lives. They seemed content to just drift through the weeks and months, complaining about their jobs but exerting no energy into making a change. Sometimes I'd look at them and think, "Is this my future?" "Do I really want to be in this job in five years, spending my weeks complaining about insignificant problems at work?" It felt like I was waiting on something big to happen. When would a new job opportunity arise? When would I find a girlfriend? I needed something to complete my life. Something to provide greater meaning to this existence.
Growing up, I had never really been in trouble. There were a few detentions in high school, but that was about the extent of it. That's what makes the next part of this story so nonsensical. It had been about seven months since I had starting going to clubs with my coworkers. During this time, as I have mentioned, I was trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted out of life. It was at that point in which I found myself dumbfounded as I sat in a 20-foot-by-20-foot jail cell several weeks ago. I was out with my coworkers on a Friday night. We were at a sports bar and Jeff, one of my coworkers, turned his opinion up to an annoying volume. Jeff was kind of a jokester. He was the guy who didn't seem to mind if it was Monday morning at work—he'd be joking and smiling just the same. After drinking a little too much, Jeff began yelling at the television about a trade that the Cincinnati Reds had made that day. We all knew he was being a bit loud, but didn't say anything to him. Unfortunately, someone else did. A verbal testing of wills broke out, which led to a shove. A few punches were thrown, and I found myself trying to split up the fight. Out of nowhere came two bouncers who threw us all to the floor. I felt as low and dirty as the sticky floor I was lying on. Minutes later, I was in the back of a police car, being questioned about what had occurred. Since no one came to my side as a witness, it was up to me to defend my cause. "Officer, all I was doing was trying to split up the fight." "Well, the bouncers here said they saw all three of you getting into it," the officer replied. I knew arguing would get me nowhere, so I just sat in silence, trying to come to terms with this bizarre reality in front of me. The police drove us across town to the station and arrested us for public intoxication and disturbing the peace. We were each being held on a bond of fifteen-hundred dollars. I was worried. Not only did I not have fifteen-hundred dollars, but the last thing I wanted to do was to call my parents. Somehow I hoped this whole incident could just blow away. I wanted to get out of the situation and keep myself out of trouble for the rest of my life. But unless I made a call and admitted my mishap, I was stuck in that jail cell. Deep down I knew I shouldn't have been in that situation, but, again, I was lonely and craved the company of my coworkers. An hour or two had passed and all I could do was stare at the concrete blocks of the wall, wondering how I ended up in this place. I wasn't a bad person, was I? So why was I sitting in jail on a Friday night? Would this affect my employment? So many questions swirled through my mind. It was overwhelming and I hated myself for getting into this situation to begin with. It didn't matter that I didn't do anything wrong. Besides, they did have me honestly on one account—public intoxication. I had drunk more than my usual two beers on this night and knew I would have to stay at the bar until early in the morning for it to wear off. By this time, the lingering effects of that alcohol had worn off, but the guilt remained. "If I could just think of someone to call to get me out of here; I will pay them back and steer clear of bars for the rest of my days," I thought to myself. If this was some divine wake-up call for my life, it was coming through loud and clear.
Sitting in that cell, I had no desire to talk to my coworker Jeff. I was angry and bitter towards him for shooting his mouth off. Other nights when we would go out, his clamorousness had just slightly annoyed me. This time it infuriated me. I wondered why I even hung out with him. I guess it was simply because he was there. We didn't really have much in common, or even see eye-to-eye on most issues. The other guy that fought with Jeff sat in the corner with his head in his knees. I think he had drifted off to sleep. Jeff didn't really say anything, either. At first, he tried to defend himself, saying he'd done nothing wrong. I started to retaliate with my opinion, but quickly bit my tongue. It didn't matter at this point. After several hours and a thousand thoughts later, a police officer came back to our shared jail cell. "You guys might wanna listen up," the officer said. "I know it sounds odd, it certainly sounds that way to me. There's a gentleman out front who came in and offered to bail out you three, no questions asked. He says he'll be out in the office for about an hour. You have 'til then to take him up on his offer." The officer walked away and we all looked at one another in disbelief. "Is this for real?," I asked out loud. "Did someone call a relative or something?" Jeff then spoke up. "I didn't call anybody. That officer's yanking us. No one's gonna put up thousands of dollars to bail us out." We talked about it for a few minutes and called for the officer again. "Sir, who is this guy? How do we know this is legitimate?," I asked. The police officer said all that he knew was that a man was sitting out in his front office, claiming that he wanted to pay our bond. Jeff asked if we could talk to the man. The officer left again and when he came back, he said, "The gentleman agreed to walk back here, but says that there's nothing else to say about his offer. He says it's plain and simple." "Sir, we're just having a hard time believing that someone we don't know would offer to bail us out," I said. "How does he know us?" "He doesn't," the officer replied. "He indicated it was his business as to why he wanted to bail you out." We were skeptical yet curious at the same time. The officer returned with the gentleman. He was a tall, African-American man, probably in his 60s. He managed a half-smile at the three of us, then a quick nod as if to say, "believe it." He turned and walked back down the hall towards the front office. We sat there, not sure of what to make of this offer presented to us. "This guy's a whack," said the guy that fought with Jeff. "I'm not taking any bond money from some rich old 'brotha.' He can keep his black money." Jeff and I stared at one another, shocked at the guy's response. "It does sound too good to be true," Jeff replied. "This old man could use this as blackmail or who knows what else. I don't know that I want to be indebted to someone I don't even know. What if he follows us once we leave?" I sat there thinking about their responses. It did seem too good to be true. It seemed very strange and mysterious, too. Why was this man here? Was he watching us at the bar? It was almost like a storyline from a horror movie. There was, though, a calming sense of peace that I felt when I looked at the man. He seemed very humble, very sincere. Maybe he was just a nice old man who wanted to use his money to help out others. I wasn't sure, but I felt like I should accept his gift and walk away from this incident. I knew that I had made some mistakes, but I also knew I was ready to leave them there in that grungy jail cell. I wanted to turn my life around and maybe this was my chance to do that.
After about forty-five minutes, I had decided that I wanted to take the man up on his offer. It didn't make sense, but then again, neither did this whole night. The past seven months of my life hadn't made sense. I was ready for a new path. Calling for the officer, I told him that I wanted to accept the man's offer. He nodded and said he'd be back in a minute. Jeff shook his head at me. At this point, I didn't care what Jeff or anyone else thought of me. I didn't belong in this place anymore. It was too painfully reflective of how I felt inside—dirty, cracked, and broken. If this was for real, I was taking it. No looking back. The officer returned, informing the other two guys that their time to decide was up. He escorted me out of the cell and out to the front office. I looked around for the man to thank him. "Where'd he go?", I asked. "He paid your bond and left pretty quickly," the officer replied. "He was polite and didn't say much." It was only about three miles to my house, so I decided some fresh, early-morning air and a little time to think would do me good. I looked over my shoulders a few times, wondering if the man would be there. He wasn't. This was all sort of overwhelming to me. A random man, out of nowhere, offers to pay my bond. Why? Did he know me? All I knew for certain was that I was a free man and was given a second chance to get my life back on track. A weight had been removed from my shoulders. It felt good to have a fresh start. I had been shown grace and it felt as refreshing as the brisk morning air that rushed over my face. It was a new day and I now had a greater understanding of what a new day could be.
My story, though still in progress, starts about seven months ago. A college graduate two years removed and my life was going nowhere. You get the idea in college that the whole world is at your feet; that with this degree I'll be able to do anything. Unfortunately, I didn't plan on a dead-end job and a crap economy that prevented me from finding anything better. When you're in that type of situation, you start to look for fulfillment outside of work. My first couple of years at this job found me enjoying my new apartment, taking care of my own bills, and paying for a new car. It was an office job, nothing really special. My job was to take over-the-phone orders for mailing labels and business cards, design them, and send them on down the line for printing. I worked the noon-to-eight shift because our company, like so many others, wanted to provide their customers the convenience of "after-hours" service. Lucky me. Actually, I enjoyed the shift. I could sleep until nine-thirty or so in the morning, take my time getting ready, and stroll into work by noon. Once or twice a week I went out to eat by myself after work. For the first year or two, some of my coworkers would invite me to go out with them after work, but I wasn't into the bar scene. Plus, I really didn't have the money to spend anyway. As time rolled on, though, I felt my life needed something more.
It's funny how you become comfortably numb to your surroundings after a while. What was once exciting isn't special anymore. I was so glad to find my first job out of college and to be on my own. I craved the independence. Now that I had it, I kind of missed the company of my family. I ate dinner alone. I took walks alone. I went shopping alone. It makes sense to me, in hindsight, why I started spending more money and going out with coworkers after a couple years of doing life alone. Sometimes we would go to a bar and drink a few beers, complaining about the day and talking about the next "initiative" at work. Other times, if it was just the guys, we might go to a strip club for a couple of hours. Early on, I felt a sense that I should distance myself from these places as I would watch the morning news and hear of shootings or fights at bars and strip clubs. Since I had never experienced anything like that myself, I gradually talked myself into believing these activities were fine and that I didn't need to worry about it. It felt good to have something to look forward to at the end of the work week. When you live by yourself, something as trivial as grocery shopping becomes an excuse to wear your new jeans and get out for a bit. I had tired of looking forward to grocery shopping, though, and wanted a little more excitement—or at least something that felt more meaningful—outside of work. It became more and more common to find me at a bar with coworkers on Thursday night, at a strip club on Friday night, and alone on Saturday and Sunday nights. It occurred to me that my coworkers didn't really ever call me to get together on weekends. We only went out after work. Still, it was companionship and I desperately needed it.
The weeks rolled by, one by one, and I couldn't even see the rut that was being carved in my life. I was drinking more than I ever had in my life, even if it was only two to three nights a week. I never had really felt comfortable gawking at women, but every week, there I was, gawking at women and throwing my money at them. When we went to the bar on Thursday nights, my coworkers and I would get more of a chance to talk. The conversations were stupid and pointless, but it continued to feel good to have people around. I think deep down I knew I was lonely, but what could I do? I had my independence and I sure didn't want to move back to my parent's house. These thoughts consumed me on Saturday and Sunday nights. "I want something more in my life, but isn't that why I'm hanging out with my coworkers at the bars?" "If I'm lonely, isn't it better to be out with people than to be sitting on my couch at home?" I would rationalize it any way I could. That's why I continued to live the single, bar-hopping lifestyle. As the months progressed, I sometimes felt the sense that my life was out of order. When I started this job, I had plans to save a lot of money. I even had a budget laid out. I would get up early on Saturday mornings and jog around my apartment complex. There were even a couple of Sundays where I went to a local church. It felt like I had a good balance in my life. Unfortunately, it's hard for a single guy out of college to meet people. Most of my friends from college had married or didn't live close enough to hang out with regularly. I think that's what eventually drove me to take up the offers given by my coworkers. "Sure, I'll go to the bar tonight. What else am I doing?" That became a common response. As the rut indentation became deeper and deeper, I felt I was at a crossroads. I had the companionship I had longed for and I had weekly 'outings' to look forward to, but now I felt like it had become dull and meaningless. I guess I was either afraid or confused as to what to do about it. Afraid that if I tried to change my life, I'd end up where I started a couple of months before—alone. Confused as to what exactly I needed to do to get my life back on track. Too many of my evening consisted of mediocre American beer and deep-fried appetizers. All I had to show for my 'fun' times was clothes that smelled like a cigarette. This wasn't me. Yet I just kept rolling along. It was all I knew to do.
If I felt like I wasn't myself, that should indicate that I knew myself. Ironically, I didn't. As I tried to figure it out, I felt like I wasn't having much success. I didn't want this lifestyle anymore. I wanted a girlfriend. I wanted to take weekend hiking trips. I wanted to go to local football games. The thing that made me so mad was that all of these 'dreams' didn't really work if I was doing it by myself. So I resigned myself to renting sub-par movies and eating at one of three tables available at a small Chinese take-out restaurant a couple of blocks from my apartment. Sometimes I wanted to invite a coworker out to eat with me on the weekend, but then I thought more about it and decided to just go out by myself. I felt different than my coworkers. Don't get me wrong, they were nice and friendly overall, but I didn't feel like I quite fit in with them. They didn't seem to have any grand plans for their lives. They seemed content to just drift through the weeks and months, complaining about their jobs but exerting no energy into making a change. Sometimes I'd look at them and think, "Is this my future?" "Do I really want to be in this job in five years, spending my weeks complaining about insignificant problems at work?" It felt like I was waiting on something big to happen. When would a new job opportunity arise? When would I find a girlfriend? I needed something to complete my life. Something to provide greater meaning to this existence.
Growing up, I had never really been in trouble. There were a few detentions in high school, but that was about the extent of it. That's what makes the next part of this story so nonsensical. It had been about seven months since I had starting going to clubs with my coworkers. During this time, as I have mentioned, I was trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted out of life. It was at that point in which I found myself dumbfounded as I sat in a 20-foot-by-20-foot jail cell several weeks ago. I was out with my coworkers on a Friday night. We were at a sports bar and Jeff, one of my coworkers, turned his opinion up to an annoying volume. Jeff was kind of a jokester. He was the guy who didn't seem to mind if it was Monday morning at work—he'd be joking and smiling just the same. After drinking a little too much, Jeff began yelling at the television about a trade that the Cincinnati Reds had made that day. We all knew he was being a bit loud, but didn't say anything to him. Unfortunately, someone else did. A verbal testing of wills broke out, which led to a shove. A few punches were thrown, and I found myself trying to split up the fight. Out of nowhere came two bouncers who threw us all to the floor. I felt as low and dirty as the sticky floor I was lying on. Minutes later, I was in the back of a police car, being questioned about what had occurred. Since no one came to my side as a witness, it was up to me to defend my cause. "Officer, all I was doing was trying to split up the fight." "Well, the bouncers here said they saw all three of you getting into it," the officer replied. I knew arguing would get me nowhere, so I just sat in silence, trying to come to terms with this bizarre reality in front of me. The police drove us across town to the station and arrested us for public intoxication and disturbing the peace. We were each being held on a bond of fifteen-hundred dollars. I was worried. Not only did I not have fifteen-hundred dollars, but the last thing I wanted to do was to call my parents. Somehow I hoped this whole incident could just blow away. I wanted to get out of the situation and keep myself out of trouble for the rest of my life. But unless I made a call and admitted my mishap, I was stuck in that jail cell. Deep down I knew I shouldn't have been in that situation, but, again, I was lonely and craved the company of my coworkers. An hour or two had passed and all I could do was stare at the concrete blocks of the wall, wondering how I ended up in this place. I wasn't a bad person, was I? So why was I sitting in jail on a Friday night? Would this affect my employment? So many questions swirled through my mind. It was overwhelming and I hated myself for getting into this situation to begin with. It didn't matter that I didn't do anything wrong. Besides, they did have me honestly on one account—public intoxication. I had drunk more than my usual two beers on this night and knew I would have to stay at the bar until early in the morning for it to wear off. By this time, the lingering effects of that alcohol had worn off, but the guilt remained. "If I could just think of someone to call to get me out of here; I will pay them back and steer clear of bars for the rest of my days," I thought to myself. If this was some divine wake-up call for my life, it was coming through loud and clear.
Sitting in that cell, I had no desire to talk to my coworker Jeff. I was angry and bitter towards him for shooting his mouth off. Other nights when we would go out, his clamorousness had just slightly annoyed me. This time it infuriated me. I wondered why I even hung out with him. I guess it was simply because he was there. We didn't really have much in common, or even see eye-to-eye on most issues. The other guy that fought with Jeff sat in the corner with his head in his knees. I think he had drifted off to sleep. Jeff didn't really say anything, either. At first, he tried to defend himself, saying he'd done nothing wrong. I started to retaliate with my opinion, but quickly bit my tongue. It didn't matter at this point. After several hours and a thousand thoughts later, a police officer came back to our shared jail cell. "You guys might wanna listen up," the officer said. "I know it sounds odd, it certainly sounds that way to me. There's a gentleman out front who came in and offered to bail out you three, no questions asked. He says he'll be out in the office for about an hour. You have 'til then to take him up on his offer." The officer walked away and we all looked at one another in disbelief. "Is this for real?," I asked out loud. "Did someone call a relative or something?" Jeff then spoke up. "I didn't call anybody. That officer's yanking us. No one's gonna put up thousands of dollars to bail us out." We talked about it for a few minutes and called for the officer again. "Sir, who is this guy? How do we know this is legitimate?," I asked. The police officer said all that he knew was that a man was sitting out in his front office, claiming that he wanted to pay our bond. Jeff asked if we could talk to the man. The officer left again and when he came back, he said, "The gentleman agreed to walk back here, but says that there's nothing else to say about his offer. He says it's plain and simple." "Sir, we're just having a hard time believing that someone we don't know would offer to bail us out," I said. "How does he know us?" "He doesn't," the officer replied. "He indicated it was his business as to why he wanted to bail you out." We were skeptical yet curious at the same time. The officer returned with the gentleman. He was a tall, African-American man, probably in his 60s. He managed a half-smile at the three of us, then a quick nod as if to say, "believe it." He turned and walked back down the hall towards the front office. We sat there, not sure of what to make of this offer presented to us. "This guy's a whack," said the guy that fought with Jeff. "I'm not taking any bond money from some rich old 'brotha.' He can keep his black money." Jeff and I stared at one another, shocked at the guy's response. "It does sound too good to be true," Jeff replied. "This old man could use this as blackmail or who knows what else. I don't know that I want to be indebted to someone I don't even know. What if he follows us once we leave?" I sat there thinking about their responses. It did seem too good to be true. It seemed very strange and mysterious, too. Why was this man here? Was he watching us at the bar? It was almost like a storyline from a horror movie. There was, though, a calming sense of peace that I felt when I looked at the man. He seemed very humble, very sincere. Maybe he was just a nice old man who wanted to use his money to help out others. I wasn't sure, but I felt like I should accept his gift and walk away from this incident. I knew that I had made some mistakes, but I also knew I was ready to leave them there in that grungy jail cell. I wanted to turn my life around and maybe this was my chance to do that.
After about forty-five minutes, I had decided that I wanted to take the man up on his offer. It didn't make sense, but then again, neither did this whole night. The past seven months of my life hadn't made sense. I was ready for a new path. Calling for the officer, I told him that I wanted to accept the man's offer. He nodded and said he'd be back in a minute. Jeff shook his head at me. At this point, I didn't care what Jeff or anyone else thought of me. I didn't belong in this place anymore. It was too painfully reflective of how I felt inside—dirty, cracked, and broken. If this was for real, I was taking it. No looking back. The officer returned, informing the other two guys that their time to decide was up. He escorted me out of the cell and out to the front office. I looked around for the man to thank him. "Where'd he go?", I asked. "He paid your bond and left pretty quickly," the officer replied. "He was polite and didn't say much." It was only about three miles to my house, so I decided some fresh, early-morning air and a little time to think would do me good. I looked over my shoulders a few times, wondering if the man would be there. He wasn't. This was all sort of overwhelming to me. A random man, out of nowhere, offers to pay my bond. Why? Did he know me? All I knew for certain was that I was a free man and was given a second chance to get my life back on track. A weight had been removed from my shoulders. It felt good to have a fresh start. I had been shown grace and it felt as refreshing as the brisk morning air that rushed over my face. It was a new day and I now had a greater understanding of what a new day could be.
Friday, October 3, 2008
When It Comes To Politics, I Ain't Talkin'
Sometime between my years in college and now, which is a span of about 7 years, I've become a news junkie of sorts. I get my daily fix by opening up the paper over a turkey sandwich during lunch. I turn to the Op-Ed pages and pour through different columns and reader opinions. A person learns and is able to develop their own opinion by listening to others. I guess that's why I read so many of these articles. I soak them in and let them marinate, all the while wanting to discuss my feelings on the latest newsworthy issue of the week. Lately these newsworthy issues have been centered on the Presidential campaigns. While I'd love to talk about what candidate I'm more supportive of and what issues concern me the most, I will not do that here. The point of this blog is to explain exactly why I won't be doing that here. More so than religion, I've discovered why you just can't talk about politics.
This has been somewhat hard for me because I love to talk. I love to discuss issues that are hot on American minds. I get a lot of enjoyment out of conversing about religion or social justice or energy independence or the local government. I don't have many new ideas on these subjects, just what I've heard and read in magazines and the newspaper. For some reason, though, politics draw such an ugly, black line that I choose to distance myself from it. People seem to be either hard right, hard left, or undecided. It's easy to be undecided because no single candidate has all the right answers for our country. Sometimes people will choose to support a candidate based on their position of one or two issues. I don't think that's healthy, either. Another situation that upsets me - when a person votes Republican or Democrat because their parents vote that way or because they've always considered themselves 'liberal' or 'conservative.' In fact, I will applaud anyone, no matter who they want to vote for, so long as they've researched and are educated on the candidate. We should vote based on a candidate's position on key issues, not because of the color of their party.
It's more important to be united as a country. Politics and party lines divide, but at least we live in a democracy. Along with that, it's important to avoid the subject of politics if it divides, which it usually does. Most minds aren't going to be swayed by my reasoning, so why fan the flames of contention? What's the point? It's better to find common ground with your fellow man than to be right simply for the sake of being right. What good is being right if you're the only one who believes you're right? Another way to look at it is this: we all have different opinions and no two people will agree on everything. To accept this and find a common ground is the key.
So the next time politics come up, mum's the word from me. If you're looking for a more in-depth opinion on key issues, I'll be the guy in the lunchroom with his head buried in the editorial pages and duct tape over his mouth.
This has been somewhat hard for me because I love to talk. I love to discuss issues that are hot on American minds. I get a lot of enjoyment out of conversing about religion or social justice or energy independence or the local government. I don't have many new ideas on these subjects, just what I've heard and read in magazines and the newspaper. For some reason, though, politics draw such an ugly, black line that I choose to distance myself from it. People seem to be either hard right, hard left, or undecided. It's easy to be undecided because no single candidate has all the right answers for our country. Sometimes people will choose to support a candidate based on their position of one or two issues. I don't think that's healthy, either. Another situation that upsets me - when a person votes Republican or Democrat because their parents vote that way or because they've always considered themselves 'liberal' or 'conservative.' In fact, I will applaud anyone, no matter who they want to vote for, so long as they've researched and are educated on the candidate. We should vote based on a candidate's position on key issues, not because of the color of their party.
It's more important to be united as a country. Politics and party lines divide, but at least we live in a democracy. Along with that, it's important to avoid the subject of politics if it divides, which it usually does. Most minds aren't going to be swayed by my reasoning, so why fan the flames of contention? What's the point? It's better to find common ground with your fellow man than to be right simply for the sake of being right. What good is being right if you're the only one who believes you're right? Another way to look at it is this: we all have different opinions and no two people will agree on everything. To accept this and find a common ground is the key.
So the next time politics come up, mum's the word from me. If you're looking for a more in-depth opinion on key issues, I'll be the guy in the lunchroom with his head buried in the editorial pages and duct tape over his mouth.
Friday, September 12, 2008
My Wrestling Match With Financial Peace University (It Won)
At the beginning of the year, my wife and I enrolled in a class at our church called, "Financial Peace University." If you're reading this blog, my guess is that you've heard of it. It was created by a man named Dave Ramsey. Just a quick background on the scenario of the class: it consisted of 13 sessions where we watched pre-recorded performances of Dave Ramsey teaching his course to a live audience. We would also follow along with a workbook, filling in the blanks as we went. There was some discussion after the video and then we would wrap up the session in prayer.
About 2 weeks into the course, I felt as if my soul was being challenged. Here I was in a church-sponsored class listening to a Christian financial guru teach his ideas, yet my soul felt the need to wrestle Dave Ramsey's teachings. You see, Dave Ramsey is a great financial expert but throughout the first few sessions of the course, it seemed to me that Mr. Ramsey's goal for himself and for all Financial Peace participants was to gain wealth. From my understanding of the Bible, the rich have a harder time finding themselves in heaven than do the poor. Of course, some will inherit wealth and some will find themselves wealthy through hard work, but, nonetheless, all of this talk of 'gaining wealth' made me a bit concerned. It was time to ask myself hard questions such as, "Should my goal in life be to gain wealth?," and, "Does God really want me to be rich?" So I prayed and I talked to my wife about my feelings. I decided to continue in the class and just hear the man out. I'm here to write about why I'm glad that I continued and completed "Financial Peace University."
Dave Ramsey uses plenty of scripture to support his case for being debt-free, saving money, and never using credit cards. It's a bit hard to swallow these types of ideas given the world we live in. It's to be expected that most people unfamiliar with Dave Ramsey's teachings will crinkle their noses and think to themselves, "Cut up my credit card? This guy is nuts." Although, when you hear personal stories of people who have to file bankruptcy and feel trapped by debt, you start to realize that money is more than digits that we transfer from computer to computer. Money and how we handle it is one of the most important things that we will work with in our lives. What kind of car we choose to drive - not terribly important. What kind of music we like - obviously not life-or-death. What restaurants we favor - not much of a big deal. How we handle money - huge.
I cannot stress my stance on this enough. Other than finding a personal connection to God, time spent with family, and working hard at whatever job we have, I believe that how we handle our finances is one of the most important things that we will ever have to deal with. Money affects everyone. No one is immune to it. No one is so rich that they can't lose it all. Dave Ramsey's class helped my wife and I to write out a budget, where every single dollar we earn is accounted for before a new month begins. Not one single dollar is left without a name. Four-hundred to groceries, ninety to restaurants, seventy to clothing and on down the line. Money unnamed is money put to waste. "Didn't I just have a twenty in my wallet three days ago?" Yeah, Scott, it went to Burger King two days ago, buying a book of stamps yesterday, and sodas from the vending machine throughout the week. "Oh yeah, I forgot."
When you live by a written budget, you gain a new-found freedom. Doesn't make sense, does it? How can confining your spending to a written plan bring freedom? Confinement - freedom. Doesn't add up. But in fact it does. When you know that you have enough money set aside within your checking account to pay for bills, groceries, clothing, restaurants, entertainment, and even some savings, then the extra amount that you're earning on every paycheck can be directed more efficiently. To paraphrase Dave Ramsey, you're telling your money what to do, rather than it telling you what to do. Money has a funny way of leaving our hands. As soon as I make it, much of it is already spent. My wife and I used to save, but not very regularly. The shame of it is that we had the money, we just didn't put much of it into a savings account. When you write out a budget and have to account for, or give a name to, every dollar that you make, you suddenly find money that you can put to savings. This was a revelation to me. "Wait a minute! I can pay all of my bills, buy groceries, eat out a couple of times, get an oil change, buy myself a CD and a new pair of shoes, give some money to the church, and still have money to put towards savings?" For many of us, the answer to that hypothetical question is YES. It might not be much money that can go to savings, but any amount into savings is better than sitting in a no-interest checking account, only waiting to be spent at a vending machine in the office.
To wrap up, I feel that following a written budget has reigned-in my spending habits. It's made me a better financial steward with the money God has entrusted to me. To put it in other words, I earn money and I'm called to spend it responsibly. Thanks to Dave Ramsey's class, I can now do that. Sure, I have always given money to church and to some charities. The difference is that now I'm prioritizing and I'm doing it on paper. I'm taking care of the necessities and paying off debts that I've accumulated first and then the extra that I have can be freely spent on buying a "just-because" gift for a friend or splurging on that new video game. There is no guilt and, more importantly, there is no debt. Responsible spending - what a great idea. I wrestled with Dave Ramsey's teachings but found that gaining wealth isn't the ultimate goal - being responsible with my money is. I pray more Americans will join in this type of thinking.
There are "Financial Peace University" classes forming all over America. A local bank in my town is even offering one. Check out www.DaveRamsey.com for more information. He's also on the Fox Business Network and has an excellent radio show. I encourage anyone who feels like their money is in control of them to find a class in your area and sign up. If you dedicate yourself to it, the class and its teachings will change your life for the better.
Please see www.daveramsey.com/fpu/home/ and enter your zip code for classes offered in your area.
More info: www.daveramsey.com, www.myspace.com/dave_ramsey, 1-888-22PEACE
About 2 weeks into the course, I felt as if my soul was being challenged. Here I was in a church-sponsored class listening to a Christian financial guru teach his ideas, yet my soul felt the need to wrestle Dave Ramsey's teachings. You see, Dave Ramsey is a great financial expert but throughout the first few sessions of the course, it seemed to me that Mr. Ramsey's goal for himself and for all Financial Peace participants was to gain wealth. From my understanding of the Bible, the rich have a harder time finding themselves in heaven than do the poor. Of course, some will inherit wealth and some will find themselves wealthy through hard work, but, nonetheless, all of this talk of 'gaining wealth' made me a bit concerned. It was time to ask myself hard questions such as, "Should my goal in life be to gain wealth?," and, "Does God really want me to be rich?" So I prayed and I talked to my wife about my feelings. I decided to continue in the class and just hear the man out. I'm here to write about why I'm glad that I continued and completed "Financial Peace University."
Dave Ramsey uses plenty of scripture to support his case for being debt-free, saving money, and never using credit cards. It's a bit hard to swallow these types of ideas given the world we live in. It's to be expected that most people unfamiliar with Dave Ramsey's teachings will crinkle their noses and think to themselves, "Cut up my credit card? This guy is nuts." Although, when you hear personal stories of people who have to file bankruptcy and feel trapped by debt, you start to realize that money is more than digits that we transfer from computer to computer. Money and how we handle it is one of the most important things that we will work with in our lives. What kind of car we choose to drive - not terribly important. What kind of music we like - obviously not life-or-death. What restaurants we favor - not much of a big deal. How we handle money - huge.
I cannot stress my stance on this enough. Other than finding a personal connection to God, time spent with family, and working hard at whatever job we have, I believe that how we handle our finances is one of the most important things that we will ever have to deal with. Money affects everyone. No one is immune to it. No one is so rich that they can't lose it all. Dave Ramsey's class helped my wife and I to write out a budget, where every single dollar we earn is accounted for before a new month begins. Not one single dollar is left without a name. Four-hundred to groceries, ninety to restaurants, seventy to clothing and on down the line. Money unnamed is money put to waste. "Didn't I just have a twenty in my wallet three days ago?" Yeah, Scott, it went to Burger King two days ago, buying a book of stamps yesterday, and sodas from the vending machine throughout the week. "Oh yeah, I forgot."
When you live by a written budget, you gain a new-found freedom. Doesn't make sense, does it? How can confining your spending to a written plan bring freedom? Confinement - freedom. Doesn't add up. But in fact it does. When you know that you have enough money set aside within your checking account to pay for bills, groceries, clothing, restaurants, entertainment, and even some savings, then the extra amount that you're earning on every paycheck can be directed more efficiently. To paraphrase Dave Ramsey, you're telling your money what to do, rather than it telling you what to do. Money has a funny way of leaving our hands. As soon as I make it, much of it is already spent. My wife and I used to save, but not very regularly. The shame of it is that we had the money, we just didn't put much of it into a savings account. When you write out a budget and have to account for, or give a name to, every dollar that you make, you suddenly find money that you can put to savings. This was a revelation to me. "Wait a minute! I can pay all of my bills, buy groceries, eat out a couple of times, get an oil change, buy myself a CD and a new pair of shoes, give some money to the church, and still have money to put towards savings?" For many of us, the answer to that hypothetical question is YES. It might not be much money that can go to savings, but any amount into savings is better than sitting in a no-interest checking account, only waiting to be spent at a vending machine in the office.
To wrap up, I feel that following a written budget has reigned-in my spending habits. It's made me a better financial steward with the money God has entrusted to me. To put it in other words, I earn money and I'm called to spend it responsibly. Thanks to Dave Ramsey's class, I can now do that. Sure, I have always given money to church and to some charities. The difference is that now I'm prioritizing and I'm doing it on paper. I'm taking care of the necessities and paying off debts that I've accumulated first and then the extra that I have can be freely spent on buying a "just-because" gift for a friend or splurging on that new video game. There is no guilt and, more importantly, there is no debt. Responsible spending - what a great idea. I wrestled with Dave Ramsey's teachings but found that gaining wealth isn't the ultimate goal - being responsible with my money is. I pray more Americans will join in this type of thinking.
There are "Financial Peace University" classes forming all over America. A local bank in my town is even offering one. Check out www.DaveRamsey.com for more information. He's also on the Fox Business Network and has an excellent radio show. I encourage anyone who feels like their money is in control of them to find a class in your area and sign up. If you dedicate yourself to it, the class and its teachings will change your life for the better.
Please see www.daveramsey.com/fpu/home/ and enter your zip code for classes offered in your area.
More info: www.daveramsey.com, www.myspace.com/dave_ramsey, 1-888-22PEACE
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Final Thoughts
If I were a musician, I would end my album with a "Final Thoughts" track. It wouldn't be a song; it would probably be me on the mic, spouting off some quick thoughts to tickle the listener's brain. On that note, here are some text "Final Thoughts."
Let's keep this blog going; feel free to respond and add your "final thoughts."
• Sometimes I wish people would take their poor attitude for a walk in the woods and let it get lost out there.
• As hard as I try not to sin, I will always fall short of God's glory.
• Complaining is fun, but it sure stinks to be on the receiving end of it.
• Our attitude is one of the most important choices we will ever make.
• Save up a lot of money over your lifetime and be willing to give it all away when you're old.
• Life is not easy and it's not fair, either. Accept it and move on.
• It's usually best to just keep your mouth shut. It'll keep you out of trouble with man and with God.
• Love other people. Accept other people. Don't judge other people.
• Though the above is easier said than done, we should all strive to that end.
• Smile at someone today.
• Work hard.
• Be friendly to people.
• Cell phones were a great idea – now they just seem to be a social crutch.
• Life is better with a soundtrack.
• I gave up cable TV and don't think I'm really missing much.
• I'm almost 30 years old – does that make me too old for MySpace?
• I don't have all the answers.
• Forget the "Lifeboat Theory"; We all have value in this world.
• Johnny Cash was the man.
• The Internet is one of the greatest inventions mankind has ever developed. It's too bad there's so much bad crap on it.
• Forgive others and allow yourself to be forgiven, too.
Let's keep this blog going; feel free to respond and add your "final thoughts."
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Guided Like Oxen
Not long ago, as I laid in bed before ending my day, I had a thought. I was reading a chapter of Psalms. The thought was a metaphor for the way in which God might "guide" us. As a Christian, I often hear people say things like, "I felt God guiding me" or "God led me to do this or that." I've always taken those statements with a touch of skepticism. I do believe that God "guides" us, but I guess I'm still trying to figure out exactly how he guides us. This metaphoric thought has stuck with me long enough that I thought I should write it down. And so I type.
Here was the thought: in my mind, I saw oxen in a field, pulling a plow. The path was laid out for them. They knew where to go. The oxen really didn't even need a farmer behind them. The path was clear and they knew to follow it. That thought led me to a recent memory. While on a mission trip to India last year, I saw oxen pulling sugar-cane wagons along the road. The amazing thing was that the drivers were typically lying atop the sugar cane, asleep at the wheel. The oxen knew to follow the paved road. Their path was clear. They didn't even need a driver to direct them from the fields to their final destination; they just knew to follow the road. It was pretty astonishing.
Could this be how God "guides" us?
Within our free will, are there "paths" in our lives that are clear and that we should follow? Does God lay out the path, leaving it up to us to take it or to go another way? Without a path, we could go any number of ways—left, right, north, south. When it's clear, much of the confusion is removed from life's mysterious path. I found comfort in those thoughts. When we pray and trust in this God, maybe he will guide us. To paraphrase Leo Tolstoy, we may walk drunkenly along the path sometimes, but that doesn't mean it's the wrong path.
Here was the thought: in my mind, I saw oxen in a field, pulling a plow. The path was laid out for them. They knew where to go. The oxen really didn't even need a farmer behind them. The path was clear and they knew to follow it. That thought led me to a recent memory. While on a mission trip to India last year, I saw oxen pulling sugar-cane wagons along the road. The amazing thing was that the drivers were typically lying atop the sugar cane, asleep at the wheel. The oxen knew to follow the paved road. Their path was clear. They didn't even need a driver to direct them from the fields to their final destination; they just knew to follow the road. It was pretty astonishing.
Could this be how God "guides" us?
Within our free will, are there "paths" in our lives that are clear and that we should follow? Does God lay out the path, leaving it up to us to take it or to go another way? Without a path, we could go any number of ways—left, right, north, south. When it's clear, much of the confusion is removed from life's mysterious path. I found comfort in those thoughts. When we pray and trust in this God, maybe he will guide us. To paraphrase Leo Tolstoy, we may walk drunkenly along the path sometimes, but that doesn't mean it's the wrong path.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
My Art Museum Is A Panera Bread
While I was in college, I studied fine art. I've always considered myself an artist. I am always seeing the world from an artistic set of eyes. In college, we were encouraged to visit as many art museums as possible. For art students in a small West Virginia town in the state's eastern panhandle, that meant that we should take full advantage of school bus trips to Baltimore or Washington, D.C. Though I enjoyed seeing museums in Baltimore, Washington, and even New York City, I must admit I wasn't truly inspired by the art I was taking in. Don't get me wrong. I appreciated classic paintings at the National Museum of Art and even some of the SoHo district's contemporary installations. It's just that I felt those particular pieces didn't reflect the type of artwork that I found appealing.
As time has passed since my days at Shepherd College, I have become aware of the art that motivates and inspires me. I have found this art in the designs of CD covers that I look at when I'm at Target or Borders. I've found this art on movie posters outside the Kerasotes theater. I find myself wanting to read certain books simply because the cover art is so engaging. This is the art that appeals to me.
This past week I found myself finding an art museum in an unusual place—a Panera Bread in Wheeling, West Virginia. My wife and I stopped at this Panera for a quick lunch on a long trip back to our home in Indiana. It was a new Panera store, and the large seating area and décor immediately reflected this when we entered. As I sat down with my food, I noticed some charcoal pencil drawings framed on the wall. They were rough sketches of a Panera bread-baker at work, kneading dough, icing scones, preparing desserts, and so forth. I thought the sketches' minimal use of detail provided a perfect amount of intimacy and beauty. After our meal, as were were walking around to refill our drinks, I saw a sepia-toned photo of a loaf of bread. It was shot in such a way as to highlight the detail of the bread in a very charming manner. I was impressed at how a photograph of bread could be so attractive. I then noticed a quilt hanging on the wall. It wasn't that it was a quilt so much as it was a rich display of autumn colors, each square of the quilt possessing its own portion of the season. As a graphic artist, I appreciated how those different colors complimented each other. As one single color, they are not very impressive, but to combine them shows their true beauty and significance.
As I think about it more, I realize that art museums sometimes intimidate me. There's a feeling that if I don't understand the work that I'm viewing, then maybe I'm not really an artist at heart. Shouldn't an artist enjoy art museums? Art, of course, is everywhere. I found my art museum at a Panera Bread. It took finding it at Panera for me to realize that art is always subjective. I relate to art that reflects my faith, my heart, and my passions and I will continue to enjoy finding it in the most unlikely places.
As time has passed since my days at Shepherd College, I have become aware of the art that motivates and inspires me. I have found this art in the designs of CD covers that I look at when I'm at Target or Borders. I've found this art on movie posters outside the Kerasotes theater. I find myself wanting to read certain books simply because the cover art is so engaging. This is the art that appeals to me.
This past week I found myself finding an art museum in an unusual place—a Panera Bread in Wheeling, West Virginia. My wife and I stopped at this Panera for a quick lunch on a long trip back to our home in Indiana. It was a new Panera store, and the large seating area and décor immediately reflected this when we entered. As I sat down with my food, I noticed some charcoal pencil drawings framed on the wall. They were rough sketches of a Panera bread-baker at work, kneading dough, icing scones, preparing desserts, and so forth. I thought the sketches' minimal use of detail provided a perfect amount of intimacy and beauty. After our meal, as were were walking around to refill our drinks, I saw a sepia-toned photo of a loaf of bread. It was shot in such a way as to highlight the detail of the bread in a very charming manner. I was impressed at how a photograph of bread could be so attractive. I then noticed a quilt hanging on the wall. It wasn't that it was a quilt so much as it was a rich display of autumn colors, each square of the quilt possessing its own portion of the season. As a graphic artist, I appreciated how those different colors complimented each other. As one single color, they are not very impressive, but to combine them shows their true beauty and significance.
As I think about it more, I realize that art museums sometimes intimidate me. There's a feeling that if I don't understand the work that I'm viewing, then maybe I'm not really an artist at heart. Shouldn't an artist enjoy art museums? Art, of course, is everywhere. I found my art museum at a Panera Bread. It took finding it at Panera for me to realize that art is always subjective. I relate to art that reflects my faith, my heart, and my passions and I will continue to enjoy finding it in the most unlikely places.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Thoughts On Happiness...
This week I thought I'd write about happiness. The older I get, the more complicated life gets. It's hard sometimes to reconcile with the fact that life is rough and tiring. Sometimes we feel overwhelmed by it all.
Jobs. Bills. Family responsibilities. House maintenance. Lawn maintenance. Errands. Extracurricular involvement. I never seem to feel totally caught up.
Oh well, that's life. Right?
I think that life can get better as you get older, even if it gets more complex. I've found in my own life that I must prioritize and focus on what I have accomplished, rather than what I have yet to accomplish.
My wife and I do daily clutter-control. This allows us to not feel overwhelmed by chores at the end of the week. We go through our mail every day, quickly sending junk mail to its final resting place - the recycling basket. We take time to take walks and talk, which is very therapeutic for me. We make time to read and to watch a little television together.
Life is complex. The older you get, the harder it seems to be. But that's not the whole story. I always have something that I'm looking forward to, whether it's eating out at a new restaurant over the weekend or a mini-vacation next month. When I focus on what I've accomplished, I normally feel really good. I feel productive instead of lazy. It's important for us all to take time to reflect on goals met and hopes for the future. It's also my belief that some daily quiet time with God is a very healthy way to put one's life in the right perspective.
Good luck to everybody, 'cause we're all in this same boat called "life".
Jobs. Bills. Family responsibilities. House maintenance. Lawn maintenance. Errands. Extracurricular involvement. I never seem to feel totally caught up.
Oh well, that's life. Right?
I think that life can get better as you get older, even if it gets more complex. I've found in my own life that I must prioritize and focus on what I have accomplished, rather than what I have yet to accomplish.
My wife and I do daily clutter-control. This allows us to not feel overwhelmed by chores at the end of the week. We go through our mail every day, quickly sending junk mail to its final resting place - the recycling basket. We take time to take walks and talk, which is very therapeutic for me. We make time to read and to watch a little television together.
Life is complex. The older you get, the harder it seems to be. But that's not the whole story. I always have something that I'm looking forward to, whether it's eating out at a new restaurant over the weekend or a mini-vacation next month. When I focus on what I've accomplished, I normally feel really good. I feel productive instead of lazy. It's important for us all to take time to reflect on goals met and hopes for the future. It's also my belief that some daily quiet time with God is a very healthy way to put one's life in the right perspective.
Good luck to everybody, 'cause we're all in this same boat called "life".
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Advertising God
Recently, on a drive to a friend's house, I passed a church with a large sign at its front entrance. This particular sign grabbed my attention more than most church signs do. I'm not sure if I'm more attentive to church signs because of my Christian faith or if non-churchgoers also scrutinize them like I do. Whatever the reason, this sign grabbed my attention and it said, "Hey, look at me. I'm up here in large capital letters and I have something to say."
Oh, it had something to say alright.
Short but surely not sweet, this church's sign read: "THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY."
Let me choose my words carefully and say that I wasn't supportive of this sign and its message for me and others passing by. If that church's goal is to welcome outsiders, their sign was a pretty poor invitation. I'll readily admit that our modern-day society seems to have a disparaging view of marriage. The divorce rate is higher now than it has ever been before. Many people have committed adultery with little guilt following afterward. With that said, are these people not welcome in church? Maybe what incited this church's signage was the recent news of now-former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer and his connection to a prostitution ring. Still, is Eliot Spitzer not welcome at the table of God's grace? If I had committed adultery, or was divorced, this church's sign would look like a big finger directing me to leave the premises. What I hope this church comes to realize is that there is a difference between accepting sinners into the house of God and condoning their sin.
I've written before about the importance of considering how we, as Christians, present ourselves to the world. My wife and I have discussed this topic at length, and we both are very passionate about representing Christ to the world in effective ways. Our words matter and the world doesn't need to know everything that we feel strongly about. When we share every opinion that we have, we begin to tread on the dangerous ground of negativity and intolerance. We must use much diligence as we choose our words and our actions. Others are watching.
Though it seems trivial, even a church sign needs to be handled with care. We are all sinners who need God's grace. Presenting yourself as a holy, faultless person really separates you into a different category from those you should be attempting to connect with. Christians are no better than those who aren't believers. In our attempts to share our faith with others, we must give considerable thought to ways that we can effectively show others who God is and how much he loves them. In a sense, we're advertising God to the world. Our society is jaded and very skeptical. If they think for a second that God is a heavy-handed judge just waiting to condemn them to death row, I suspect they'll turn away from him forever. I tend to believe that most people accept God because of his promises of forgiveness and grace, and that's the message we most need to convey.
I suppose it's God's will that I'm in advertising, because I'm naturally passionate about new methods of communicating a message to the public. I'm always thinking of more effective ways to 'advertise' faith. My wife said that if she were to decide what message was to go on a church sign, it would read, "ONLY SINNERS WELCOME HERE." Now that's a message that feels unexpectedly refreshing to me.
Oh, it had something to say alright.
Short but surely not sweet, this church's sign read: "THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY."
Let me choose my words carefully and say that I wasn't supportive of this sign and its message for me and others passing by. If that church's goal is to welcome outsiders, their sign was a pretty poor invitation. I'll readily admit that our modern-day society seems to have a disparaging view of marriage. The divorce rate is higher now than it has ever been before. Many people have committed adultery with little guilt following afterward. With that said, are these people not welcome in church? Maybe what incited this church's signage was the recent news of now-former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer and his connection to a prostitution ring. Still, is Eliot Spitzer not welcome at the table of God's grace? If I had committed adultery, or was divorced, this church's sign would look like a big finger directing me to leave the premises. What I hope this church comes to realize is that there is a difference between accepting sinners into the house of God and condoning their sin.
I've written before about the importance of considering how we, as Christians, present ourselves to the world. My wife and I have discussed this topic at length, and we both are very passionate about representing Christ to the world in effective ways. Our words matter and the world doesn't need to know everything that we feel strongly about. When we share every opinion that we have, we begin to tread on the dangerous ground of negativity and intolerance. We must use much diligence as we choose our words and our actions. Others are watching.
Though it seems trivial, even a church sign needs to be handled with care. We are all sinners who need God's grace. Presenting yourself as a holy, faultless person really separates you into a different category from those you should be attempting to connect with. Christians are no better than those who aren't believers. In our attempts to share our faith with others, we must give considerable thought to ways that we can effectively show others who God is and how much he loves them. In a sense, we're advertising God to the world. Our society is jaded and very skeptical. If they think for a second that God is a heavy-handed judge just waiting to condemn them to death row, I suspect they'll turn away from him forever. I tend to believe that most people accept God because of his promises of forgiveness and grace, and that's the message we most need to convey.
I suppose it's God's will that I'm in advertising, because I'm naturally passionate about new methods of communicating a message to the public. I'm always thinking of more effective ways to 'advertise' faith. My wife said that if she were to decide what message was to go on a church sign, it would read, "ONLY SINNERS WELCOME HERE." Now that's a message that feels unexpectedly refreshing to me.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Greater Love Has No One Than This...
As Easter approaches early this year, my wife and I have been practicing to perform “Carry My Cross” by rock band Third Day on Palm Sunday. As we were practicing with the church band, we all discussed showing some video clips on the altar screen as we perform the song. This brought me to a site called GodTube.com. It’s a Christian version of YouTube. I found several video montages of “Carry My Cross” overlayed with scenes from Mel Gibson’s “The Passion Of The Christ.” It’s been around three years since I’ve seen “The Passion” and I had forgotten how gut-wrenching a film it is. I was abruptly reminded of Christ’s sacrifice for mankind and what a horrific amount of pain he endured.
We call the Friday that marks his crucifixion ‘Good Friday.’ In light of the resurrection, I understand why we call it this. Although, after watching this video, I couldn’t help but think what a horrible Friday it was. Very few men have ever suffered in this way. His torture went on for twelve hours. He wasn’t guilty of any crime.
If you believe what the Bible says, that Jesus is the son of God and that he died for man’s sin, then this video will be very emotionally-draining for you. This video brought tears to my eyes. I guess that’s appropriate at Easter. Would anyone but God’s son willingly endure such punishment? Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).
We call the Friday that marks his crucifixion ‘Good Friday.’ In light of the resurrection, I understand why we call it this. Although, after watching this video, I couldn’t help but think what a horrible Friday it was. Very few men have ever suffered in this way. His torture went on for twelve hours. He wasn’t guilty of any crime.
If you believe what the Bible says, that Jesus is the son of God and that he died for man’s sin, then this video will be very emotionally-draining for you. This video brought tears to my eyes. I guess that’s appropriate at Easter. Would anyone but God’s son willingly endure such punishment? Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends (John 15:13).
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Let's Call A Duck A Duck (Free Speech)
An offensive comment was recently posted on a local newspaper's blog by an employee of that paper. The comment, a racial slur, was posted by a man of color, interestingly enough. The newspaper made a public apology and dismissed the employee immediately. While I commend the newspaper for the apology, it caused me to question other areas of a newspaper. A racial slur is unacceptable because it is offensive and shows intolerance. I believe, then, that editorial cartoons also need to be examined because they display these same qualities. At the heart of my blog is this: why is it acceptable to mock our government leaders in an editorial cartoon, but unacceptable to use certain words against them in a column or online blog? Both forms of free speech can be offensive, especially to the person at which the cartoon or column is aimed. While I agree with the local newspaper's position, I do question the ethics behind their position.
Why Is One Form Of Criticism Acceptable In A Newspaper And Another Not?
While I'm not sure that I agree with what I'm about to say, I'd like to say it anyway. Some forms of criticism in a newspaper are acceptable while others are not because there are "no-no" words that should not be used in society. These words are off-limits because of how offensive they are. The employee that was dismissed by this local newspaper used a "no-no" word. He was dismissed, yet the newspaper still prints editorial cartoons that can also be viewed as offensive.
Let’s Call A Duck A Duck
Slander is slander. Mockery is mockery. Criticism is criticism. I don't agree with punishing one man for his form of criticism and allowing another's form of criticism to continue unscathed. It should be balanced and fair.
Do We Really Have ‘Freedom Of Speech’?
Free speech is a funny concept. In America, we have freedom of speech, but within the confines of the law. That in itself is an oxymoron: freedom, confinement. We are allowed to state our opinion publicly, but there can be consequences in doing so. I agree with this fact. If someone is threatening someone else publicly, that person should be held accountable and punished. Again, though, let's call a duck a duck. Maybe an asterisk is needed beside the phrase 'freedom of speech' in The Bill of Rights, noting that freedom of speech is not immune to the confines of the law.
Final Thoughts
In the instance of the local newspaper mentioned above, it seems to be a case of a person using a societal "no-no" word, thus putting pressure on the newspaper to apologize and dismiss the person guilty of using the word. This is unbalanced and unfair. Newspapers need to play a role in defining what words are healthy and acceptable forms of criticism and what words are not. If all public criticism can be offensive, then should it not all be under the same accountability?
Hard Questions
In this blog, I'd like to take you on a quick journey. It's a journey that goes from the wide, open fields of doubt and skepticism to the narrow path of belief and acceptance. To start this journey, I'd like to share a thought that occurred to me yesterday. Why do Christians tend to acknowledge God's presence when something good occurs, but blame outside circumstances when something bad occurs? An example might be helpful here. Let's say that we pray for God to keep us safe as we drive during the upcoming holiday. If we were then to hear about an accident that occurred over the holidays on the news, we might tend to not blame God, but the conditions that surround the accident. "The driver must have been driving too fast." Do we believe that God protects some and doesn't protect others? Don't accidents occur even to those who pray for safe travels? We all make driving mistakes; what role does God's grace play? Another example might be cancer. When someone is diagnosed with cancer, most Christians wouldn't blame God for that person's cancer. However, when that same person survives their bout with the disease, most Christians would praise God for his hand of healing in the person's life. Does God cause cancer, or does he only heal it?
So why throw out a prayer for protection? Why believe that God is really looking out for us? These are the type of hard questions that people often ask. I don't have the answers to these questions. In thinking about these queries, I quietly ask myself why I believe in God when things aren't fair or logical in the world. Then I remember the story of the widow who gave a couple copper coins, almost worthless, to the temple treasury. Jesus was impressed with her giving, not because of the amount that she gave, but because she gave everything she had to live on. Do you hear truth in that? What about the verse that tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves? The golden rule? Loving those who hate you? Because of the truth I hear in these verses, I want to believe in God. The hard questions are always going to be there. Sometimes they trip me and I fall in the open field of doubt. Then I'm reminded of the truth I've read in the Bible, and I stand up again to continue my journey on the narrow path.
It's easy to choose disbelief. There's plenty of messed-up crap in the world to make us question the presence of God. Do you ask hard questions? Do you want to find some truth in this life? Do you care? I serve a God who can handle all the questions I could ever throw at him. I may not find all of my answers, but that's not surprising. In the shadow of God, I'm about as large and intelligent as a grain of sand.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Money To Burn On Evangelism (revisited)
I-65 between Indianapolis and Nashville, Tennessee, is a rather boring stretch of highway. Don't get me wrong. The drive across the bridge into Louisville is very pretty and the scenery becomes more interesting the further south you go. For the most part, though, it's just highway. So when I drive south of Indy on I-65, I tend to give an eye to the billboards that line the road. It helps that I'm a graphic designer and love to look at advertising. On a recent trip to Nashville, I noticed one billboard in particular that grabbed my attention.
That it grabbed my attention at all is effective advertising. I tend to give most billboards only a passing glance. The problem is that the billboard fired me up, and not in a positive way. It read:
JESUS
SAVES
In an effort not to be a negative Christian, I should explain why a billboard with this message bothered me. Why would a billboard with a Christian message offend a Christian? This whole billboard was dedicated to a phrase that's as vague as a billboard that says 'FREE TIRES.' This hypothetical billboard doesn't tell where you can get these free tires. Are they new tires? Used tires? Is there a catch? You shake your head in distrust and keep driving.
Would anyone come to faith by simply reading the phrase 'Jesus Saves'?
In my opinion, this type of evangelism reduces the gospel message to a vague cliché. I'm sure the person who paid for the ad didn't mean for it to be received that way, especially by a Christian. As part of a younger generation of Christians, I want to be aware of how I'm received by others. I'm very careful about how I present my faith in conversations and elsewhere. I don't want to misrepresent Christ. I'm not perfect and do not pretend to be, but I strive to be honest and authentic.
If a person chooses to use a billboard as an evangelistic method, that's cool with me. It seems, though, that if an organization has enough money to buy advertising space on a highway billboard, a lot of careful thought should be put into the message that will be advertised. What words or images would really engage a passerby? What could be said that would prompt them to seriously evaluate their faith, or lack of faith?
Faith in God is really too big for a billboard. This doesn't mean that billboards or other types of advertising can't be effective forms of evangelism. In the example of the billboard, I might try a phrase such as:
Don't like religious people?
Neither did Jesus.
Luke 11:37-54
I'd like for people to think of Jesus outside of the stereotypes that we've boxed him into. I'd like to give people something to think about – brain food to chew on. A billboard advertisement can be a tool for evangelism. It can also be a tool against evangelism. It doesn't matter if a Christian or an atheist designs the billboard ad, the way the message is received is what's important. It seems too often that I see books, billboards, or preachers on television that have not carefully considered how their message will be received. Of course, the gospel message is always going to be accepted with hostility by many. And while that doesn't give us license to water-down the gospel, believers are taught to "be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity." (Col. 4:5)
This blog isn't meant to harshly criticize. I certainly don't want to condemn anyone who tries to promote the message of Christ. That doesn't mean that I will always agree with their methods.
That it grabbed my attention at all is effective advertising. I tend to give most billboards only a passing glance. The problem is that the billboard fired me up, and not in a positive way. It read:
JESUS
SAVES
In an effort not to be a negative Christian, I should explain why a billboard with this message bothered me. Why would a billboard with a Christian message offend a Christian? This whole billboard was dedicated to a phrase that's as vague as a billboard that says 'FREE TIRES.' This hypothetical billboard doesn't tell where you can get these free tires. Are they new tires? Used tires? Is there a catch? You shake your head in distrust and keep driving.
Would anyone come to faith by simply reading the phrase 'Jesus Saves'?
In my opinion, this type of evangelism reduces the gospel message to a vague cliché. I'm sure the person who paid for the ad didn't mean for it to be received that way, especially by a Christian. As part of a younger generation of Christians, I want to be aware of how I'm received by others. I'm very careful about how I present my faith in conversations and elsewhere. I don't want to misrepresent Christ. I'm not perfect and do not pretend to be, but I strive to be honest and authentic.
If a person chooses to use a billboard as an evangelistic method, that's cool with me. It seems, though, that if an organization has enough money to buy advertising space on a highway billboard, a lot of careful thought should be put into the message that will be advertised. What words or images would really engage a passerby? What could be said that would prompt them to seriously evaluate their faith, or lack of faith?
Faith in God is really too big for a billboard. This doesn't mean that billboards or other types of advertising can't be effective forms of evangelism. In the example of the billboard, I might try a phrase such as:
Don't like religious people?
Neither did Jesus.
Luke 11:37-54
I'd like for people to think of Jesus outside of the stereotypes that we've boxed him into. I'd like to give people something to think about – brain food to chew on. A billboard advertisement can be a tool for evangelism. It can also be a tool against evangelism. It doesn't matter if a Christian or an atheist designs the billboard ad, the way the message is received is what's important. It seems too often that I see books, billboards, or preachers on television that have not carefully considered how their message will be received. Of course, the gospel message is always going to be accepted with hostility by many. And while that doesn't give us license to water-down the gospel, believers are taught to "be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity." (Col. 4:5)
This blog isn't meant to harshly criticize. I certainly don't want to condemn anyone who tries to promote the message of Christ. That doesn't mean that I will always agree with their methods.
What Pro-choice Is Not
Until recently, I believed I was firmly pro-life. Don't worry, this blog won't get too political. Politics seem to have an agenda—I don't. My only goal is to engage readers' minds and share my point of view. In this blog, I'd like to expand on what I believe pro-choice is not.
Pro-choice is not pro-abortion. Pro-choice is not anti-life. Pro-choice is not unChristian. Pro-choice is not Democratic, nor is it anti-Republican. Pro-choice doesn't mean that you're evil. It doesn't mean you have a disregard for human life.
Right now some readers are agreeing with my writing and some are vehemently opposed. But remember, I began by saying that, until recently, I was firmly pro-life. To add a little more confusion, let me say that I still value life. I'm still anti-abortion. But let's take a quick look at what pro-choice means to me and why I believe America should take a pro-choice stance.
To put it metaphorically, Americans have opened Pandora's Box. Yes, we've opened the door to the act of abortion. It's too late to go back and try to 'uninvent' it or forget that it exists. With that said, I believe banning abortion in this country would have the same effect that prohibition had. If people want alcohol, they'll find ways to get alcohol. Certain drugs are illegal in America and yet their use is as rampant as ever. The difference with abortion is the potential effect it can have on two human lives—mother and child. The taking of one human life is horrible enough. If abortion is banned, many young, scared mothers-to-be will seek out abortion in unsafe and often very dangerous ways. I've heard this called "back-alley abortions." If abortion is banned, there is a greater potential for two human lives to be lost rather than just one.
So let's say pro-choice is the lesser of two evils.
I hope and pray that abortions will cease. But it's not likely when we live in a world such as ours. So with that, I believe that safe and legal procedures should be available for this choice, even if it's a choice I would never want a woman to make.
Pro-choice is not pro-abortion. Pro-choice is not anti-life. Pro-choice is not unChristian. Pro-choice is not Democratic, nor is it anti-Republican. Pro-choice doesn't mean that you're evil. It doesn't mean you have a disregard for human life.
Right now some readers are agreeing with my writing and some are vehemently opposed. But remember, I began by saying that, until recently, I was firmly pro-life. To add a little more confusion, let me say that I still value life. I'm still anti-abortion. But let's take a quick look at what pro-choice means to me and why I believe America should take a pro-choice stance.
To put it metaphorically, Americans have opened Pandora's Box. Yes, we've opened the door to the act of abortion. It's too late to go back and try to 'uninvent' it or forget that it exists. With that said, I believe banning abortion in this country would have the same effect that prohibition had. If people want alcohol, they'll find ways to get alcohol. Certain drugs are illegal in America and yet their use is as rampant as ever. The difference with abortion is the potential effect it can have on two human lives—mother and child. The taking of one human life is horrible enough. If abortion is banned, many young, scared mothers-to-be will seek out abortion in unsafe and often very dangerous ways. I've heard this called "back-alley abortions." If abortion is banned, there is a greater potential for two human lives to be lost rather than just one.
So let's say pro-choice is the lesser of two evils.
I hope and pray that abortions will cease. But it's not likely when we live in a world such as ours. So with that, I believe that safe and legal procedures should be available for this choice, even if it's a choice I would never want a woman to make.
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