Owning the Penn State tragedy

And so we say goodbye to an icon in college football. Yesterday was the first game in 359 years that Joe Pa did not coach the football game for Penn State. If you haven't heard as to why this was, well, then Patrick from Sponge Bob must be your roommate. (Patrick lives under a rock you see, and so, apparently, do you) 

All you have had to do over this past week is turn on a tv or listen to the radio and you heard of the tragedy at Penn State. We have certainly not heard the end of this one. Nor should we. The humor I use inthis note is in no way meant to make light of what happened there. It is a huge tragedy and it points to one of the biggest problems we have in America- and the world beyond- the abuse of children. Certainly there is nothing at all funny about that.

I have an image of Joe Paterno in my mind and it is how I hope to always remember him. A few years ago they did a commercial showing different Big 10 coaches speaking into the camera as if they were trying to recruit a highly touted high school athelete. Paterno stole the commercial. He looks at the camera, hands clenched, looking like he is about to jump off the couch, and way too enthusiastically growls/shouts COME TO PENN STATE!!!!

It was, and is, awesome. I was inspired and almost signed up on the spot. Until I realized that no team is looking for a bald, over 40 white dude that is 30 pounds overweight. But if they did... I would have gotten on that bus! 

The Joe Pa I want to remember was the coolest grandpa ever. Seriously, this dude is 143 and is still coaching football?!?! I was convinced that the real Joe Pa had actually died years ago and the guy on the sideline was either a:

robot

cyborg

clone

Any of the 3 options is very cool. I seem to recall that a few years ago a player ran into him on the sideline and broke his leg or something. Let's face it, for most octogenarians that would confine them to a nursing home pronto and screaming "I've fallen, and I...." yah, you get it.

Not Joe Pa. Legend has it that after breaking his leg they actually let him play in the game as a running back and he gained 123 yards. 

And now this. A scandal. Shame. A firing. Who didn't think that Joe Pa wouldn't go out on his own terms? He could have coached another 10 years. They would have let him coach from the nurising home. 

Now I will make it known that I am no fan of Penn State, but how couldn't you be a Joe Pa fan? 

And today the sentiment is "How could you be?"

To recap the tragi-scandal, one of Joe Pa's assistant coaches- Jerry Sandusky- was caught molesting a 10 year old boy... 10 years ago. 

Another coach on Joe Pa's staff allegedly came into the shower and saw Sandusky and the boy naked in the showers and something inappropriate was going on. He reported it to Joe Pa and Joe Pa reported it to his boss. Not much more was done after that. 

I don't know what was going on in the shower. I don't know what the person reporting the abuse saw and I don't want to. There are certain images that I don't want in my head. I don't need to know. Neither do you. But we are a society based on the sensational, and I'm sure there are thousands of people who have dug up and read all the disgusting details. 

Based on the reports I have heard, the reporting coach reported the incident to Joe Pa as "horseplay". Does this let Joe Pa off the hook at all? Well, here is more to the story unfortunately. Then ask the question again.

Sandusky had started a charity involving children. I'm sure that people thought he was doing this out of the goodness of his heart. Now we know otherwise. He was, and is, a predator. Much of his motivation seemed to be to find other boys to abuse to feed his dark desires. This went on for years. 

Now a couple of clarifiers. This man, Sandusky, has not yet been convicted of anything, but he has been arrested and there are dozens of charges against him. I am not aware of any of those that were abused stepping up yet- at least to the media- and I wouldn't blame them if they never do. At first Penn State released press releases saying the allegations were unfounded and they were confident they would be found to be false. 

Now they are running as far and as fast as possible from all involved. Typical. They had a chance to stop this and they blew it. 

It is very popular right now to quote "Everything happens for a reason" when something bad happens. Spare me the bull this time. Yeah, this did happen for a reason. One man's desire got twisted and distorted and he preyed upon little boys. He didn't or couldn't control it. Does it matter which one is more accurate? I bet his victims dont' care. 

If somebody did this to one of my 4 children... I would want to kill them. I can not argue against castration. Harsh?

You bet. 

Do you realize that some studies suggeest that 1 in 3 girls is sexually abused and 1 in 7 boys? The word "tragedy" seems way too weak of a word to describe this atrocity. One report I saw said that child pornography makes 3 billion dollars annually. Dear God. 

What in the hell happened to Jerry Sandusky? Was he abused? Was he exposed to pornography at an early age? 

Does it matter? YES. 

We need to figure out how people end up like this. It is very easy to get caught up in the fringe debates of this story:

Should Joe Pa have been fired?

Will Joe Pa go to prison?

What will happen to Penn State's program?

What more should Joe Pa have done?

But lets not ignore the center of the story. We can get lost inthe media uproar. We can have the meaningless arguments. But let's not forget the tragedy and what we can do to stop it. 

How many pedophiles were exposed to porn- just good old fashioned sex being depicted in magazines and videos- at a young age? Usually there is a progression to things like this. Almost every adult has seen some type of porn. Guys (and sometimes women) start watching porn and they get bored with it. They rarely see it and stay away from it because it seems tacky and exploitative. But for others- it catches them. They want more and more and more. And for some of them- it takes a dark twist. Their lust intertwines with some pain or memory in them- and they turn to children to fulfill their desires. 

I don't often buy the line "Everything happens for a reason" and certainly not in this situation, but... there can be positive things that CAN spring from this. 

We need to own this. In a few months another story will catch our ears. We will have a new tragedy to be shocked over and feel bad about. By reacting this way, we make sure that nothing every changes. We just keep surfing the sensational to keep ourselves from being bored, and it makes us feel better to be outraged about something every now and again. 

But you can do something. Find a group against human trafficking. Help them. Donate. Volunteer at homes for abused women. I'm sure there are many other things you can do.

My biggest challenge is this. Stop watching and buying porn. I believe that it contributes to the problem. I am not saying that all pornographers contribute to or film child porn. Few would deny that having a child view hardcore porn is a healthy thing. Having more porn and more readily available is a BAD thing. I should know. Having an addiction to porn (only adult stuff, by the way) tore apart my marriage. 

I have tried my best to stay away, and hearing stories like this only strenghtens my resolve. So please, don't just play the "white guilt game" and feel bad about this. Have the courage to do something.  As they say- people don't try and sell stuff there is no market for.

Lovely Autumn

The rain and the wind slowly but inevitably rob the trees of their splendor. In a matter of weeks we will see nothing but cold barren skeletons that only serve to remind us of the beauty that has been stripped away. Like a gorgeous woman whose beauty has slowly been eroded, scrubbed away by the sands of time to leave an old wrinkled hag, a faint and distant echo of what she once was. The colors of the leaves themselves are a harbinger of death themselves, the radiance of the fall kaliedascope simply a thin veiling of the death the leaves are experiencing. Their short lives are coming to an end. They hang on stubbornly but eventually die and wither, falling to the ground to be deliciously crunched and oblitereted, and often, burned.

The gray skies are starting to become more and more common, echoing the moods and outlooks of the people the dismal weather affects. The cold, wet rain is driven by the angry winds coming out of the north, not so subtly hinting at the freezing tempatures that lie just a few weeks out. The sun feels like a stranger, it is rare and surprising when it shows up. It carries little of the warmth we remember, it is a friend that we have grown away from and we wonder if we overestimated the relationship.

A funereal pall is cast over our lives. We can only watch in sorrow as the warmth and light flees the area for another deadening, soul-sucking winter. Soon the streets will be full of dirty, frozen slush. We will feel the wind biting our exposed skin and making a mockery of our attempts to ward it off. We will step into a icy puddle of water, soaking our shoes and socks. White knuckles will grab steering wheels, as if clenching it will increase the grip of our tires on the icy roads. It is coming soon.

Winter. We have chosen to live here so we have no right to complain. We must endure, if we can, another 6 months of everything being cold and wet. The world turns to black and white, the color fleeing with the warmth and sun.

Heating bills will be opened in great trepidation. We will wish and dream and hope before we see the astronomically inflated number. We will turn down the thermostat and swear to bundle up, until it is so cold in our homes that we don't even dare to leave the semi-warmth of the blankets we are bundled under. Than we return to the thermostat and hope that somehow the energy company makes a mistake.

We wake in darkness, drive to work in darkness and when we head home, again, darkness. There is no reason to go outdoors. Going outside feels like an expidition, requiring a ridiculous amount of clothing and preparation. Gone are the days when you can run outside barefoot with a t-shirth on. Taking the trash out becomes a real chore.

Winter isn't just a season, it is an oppressive, depressing presence seeking to smother us all in despair.

Thanks for reading! Have a great day!!!!!

Beware of sharp objects

The year is 2001. It is September. I am the children's pastor for First Assembly of God in the rockin' city of Des Moines, IA. It's a Sunday and I will be opening the service for our annual Back to School rally. It will be my first opportunity to talk in front of "the big people". Cause normally I am with the kids in the mornings and just sit in a pew during the evening service. But now, after being a pastor at this church for 8 months, they finally will allow me to open the a service with actual adults making up most of the crowd. Sheesh. What took them so long? I can't imagine why the senior pastor would be nervous about putting ME in front of the congregation. What could possibly go wrong?
Right. Never say that.
I arrive at church a good 45 minutes before the service, just to be sure I won't be late. As I enter the building, I have about 8 plastic lunchboxes precariously perched in one hand and a utility knife in the other. See, I thought it would be cool to take the evening offering in lunchboxes. Cause it's a back to school rally. Get it? It's a clever tie in. And it was my idea, so I instantly liked it.
That explains the lunchboxes- but what about the knife? Well, I thought it would be better to cut a hole in the top of each one rather than pass the lunchboxes open and floppy. Andy, the hip youth pastor sees me as I walk in and asks what I am doing with all the lunchboxes. I decide to allow him a small glimpse into my brilliance and tell him of my intentions. He asks me if I am going to hurt myself with the knife- to which I reply "Probably". Yes, I know, you see where this is headed.
As I am sitting in my office I am discovering that my 100 watt bulb idea is more like a 25 watt. This plastic is tough to cut!! Seriously, did they design these buggers to withstand a nuclear blast? After the big war all that will be left will be cockroaches and these plastic lunchboxes. At least the roaches could use them a houses in the post-apocalyptic world.
I might have said a few choice words if I had not been a pastor at the time. Service is drawing nearer and I still haven't cut a hole in the first stinkin box. But I will not relent. I will see my idea come to fruition! So... I extend the blade all the way out. I am sitting in my chair behind my desk. I am holding the stubborn lunchbox firmly in place with my left hand while I have the blade in a small hole that has taken me 10 minutes to carve in the box. I am cutting in a downwards motion. The blade slips- and I have a lot of force behind it. I plunge the fully extended utility knife into my upper thigh and quickly pull it out again.
There is no pain. I look down at my leg and see that while I cannot cut through plastic, I am successful at cutting my own flesh. For the first 2 seconds my leg does not bleed. It is almost as if it is stunned by the stupidity of it's owner. And then the blood gushes.
Unfortunately, I forgot to pack a survival kit in my office, and I am not sure it is a good idea to be running through the church, bleeding profusely while clutching my leg by my groin area. This is generally frowned upon behavior for children's pastors. Luckily a few of my children were in my secretary's office next door. (yes, I actually had a secretary!) I call the kids and tell them to get their mother. She, for some reason, thinks I am playing a joke on her. Seriously? Would I do that? Ok. Ignore that question. They assure her that I am not kidding and she comes into my office.
I am trying to staunch the flow of blood with kleenex and my pants. Which I have removed. Look, I didn't have any other cloth! She walks in to this sight. Oh, have I mentioned I don't like blood? And church is going to start in about 20 minutes. Being a woman and a mother, she immediately formulates a plan and dispenses advice: "always cut AWAY from your body!!"
Yes. Got it. Thank you Bob Villa.
Fortunately, she found bandages, went to the mall across the street and bought me new pants. I wrapped my leg up nice and tight and stopped the bleeding. And I opened the service. And then we went to the emergency room. The wound took about 5 stitches to close.
About 2 weeks later, or however long it takes stitches to heal, I went to get them removed. As I am sitting there, again with my pants off, the doctor asks my an odd question.
"Do you work out?"
Uh, no.
His hands are 3 inches away from my privatey type area and he apparently admires my physique.
Uh, doc? Did I mention I was a pastor? Did you want to ask Jesus into your heart? And could you fold your hands so as to remove them from my upper thigh? I'll take care of the stitches myself, perhaps my WIFE could remove them....
Oh yeah, I still have the lunchbox.

Do you believe this?

I am intrigued. Curious. And a little confused.

For those of you who don't know, I am a sermon junkie. Yes, I even attend a group for those of us addicted to the spoken word in sermon form. Hello, my name is Dave...
Yes, we all stand up one and a time and introduce ourselves. Unfortunately, we only get through one or two people at a time. Most of the group is made up of former or current pastors, and it's tough to get us to shut up once we have peoples attention. But seriously, if there was such a group, it would certainly be made up of clergy. Who else likes sermons as much? This might be one of the most disturbing addictions, come to think of it.

I listen to about one sermon every weekday. Not just any old sermons- ohhhh nooo. I only listen to the best! Rob Bell, Erwin McManus, and John Ortberg chiefly.

I am still mulling over the sermon I heard today. It has struck something within me. And I'm not sure what. But when in doubt, write about it!

This story is about Jesus. Do you sometimes don't even want to mention his name? It is a shame that his name has become such a cliche. People hear the name Jesus and they roll their eyes, whether internally or externally. Prejudices form so quickly and defenses spring up.
Please put all that away and let me tell you what is happening inside me. First of all, I had waaaay too much guacamole last night. What? Right. Not what you wanted to hear. Ease up, skippy, just trying to lighten the mood.

So, back to Jesus. Deal with it if it makes you uncomfortable.
I am a firm believer that some of us are so used to hearing certain Bible stories that we miss how interesting they are. Take the story of Lazarus being raised from the dead for instance. There is so much going on behind the scenes that we miss a lot of what the story was meant to communicate. So please indulge a little backstory before I get to what has me tweaked internally.

This story is found in John 11, for those of you unfamiliar with the Bible (or as I like to call them- Catholics). Ok, ok, settle down, I am just mostly kidding!

Jesus is hangin' with his peeps by the Jordan river. He recently left Jerusalem-probably because the religious leaders wanted to kill him. Once again he said something that they found incredibly blasphemous. He claimed that he and the God they worshiped, the God whose name they wouldn't even say- he had the gall to claim that he and this God were one. Course, it was true, but they didn't seem to see it that way. Jesus and the disciples booked out of there and went to hang out where John the Baptist did his thing (he was the crazy dude that lived in the desert and ate bugs). People heard about this and a bunch of them went to see him. He gave a really, really short sermon and a bunch of people decided to believe in him. (take note preachers! not every sermon has to be 45 minutes long)

As he is out there, he gets word that one of his closest friends was really sick. Maybe the swine flu? That would have been ironic! Cause Jews don't eat pork, see, and pork is pig. In meat form. Get it?
Anywho, Jesus and his disciples hear this and he tells them not to worry about it. He says ol Laz, will be just fine. And he stayed where he was for 2 days. No big deal, right? Jesus said it would be ok. I'm sure his disciples believed him. Why wouldn't they? They had seen the dude walk on water. Kinda ups the believe-ability factor.

After those 2 days Jesus says- You know what? Let's go to Judea again! Remember that little restaurant they have there? I'm dying for some of their lentil soup.
To which the disciples astutely remind him- Uh, Jesus? You might have forgotten, but that's kinda close to where the religious leaders tried to kill you. Just a gentle reminder, there Messiah boy. I think they probably remember how cheesed off they are at you, it's only been what? 2 days? You might really die for that soup.

To which Jesus responds "Are there not 12 hours in the day? If anyone walks in the day he does not stumble, because he sees the light of this world. But if one walks in the night he stumbles, because the light is not in him"


To which the disciples let out a collective "Huh?" And then Bartholomew, the lesser disciple, takes Jesus aside and whispers to him "Dude- you're doing it again- that thing where you sorta slip into evangelical preacher mode. You asked me to tell you when you did that remember? Some of us ain't real bright, member? Could you say it again in English? (well, actually he would have said "Hebrew" but just stay with me, ok?)


Jesus looks around the circle and sees the blank stare in their eyes he has come to know so well. Except for Matthew, who is nodding as if he understands everything. He doesn't. 


"Lazarus is sleeping and we should go wake him up"- Jesus


"Excellent plan. He will feel tons better after a good healthy nap! My mom always used to make me nap when I had a tummy ache. In fact the other day...


Jesus- brutally interrupting Peter- says, while slapping his forehead with his palm says "DUDES. Laz is dead"


Ok- why didn't he just say that in the first place? Why the mystery? What is Jesus trying to be, one of the writers of Lost? Jesus. Just make it plain. Please. For the love of your dad.

No really, I don't get all that. If I was a disciple I would have thought the same thing. Laz was a good friend, they had spent a lot of time with him and his sisters Mary and Martha. Why say he was sleeping when he was dead? 


Thomas then replies- "Well, guys, lets go and die with Him." Is he being sarcastic? Fatalistic? Did Jesus hear? 


Ok, I admit I made up part of the interaction, especially the part where Bart speaks. I really wanted to give the bro some face time. You probably didn't even know he was a disciple, did you? I feel bad for the poor guy.


Now the story gets interesting. As Jesus was getting close, one of the sisters, Martha, comes out to greet/confront him. Depending on how you read this, she basically says its Jesus' fault that Lazarus died.


 "If you would have been here he would not have died". 


Now THAT'S bold. She knew who he was. Remember, this is GOD she was accusing. Did she have her angry finger out? Did she point in his chest? Did she wave it in his face? What would you have done? 
What do you want to do now when God doesn't come through? Don't you want to do that sometimes? 
Please give me some license here- I don't mean to offend- but if we were accurately and honestly translating this to modern English- she is saying "Where the hell where you! You say you love us?!? And you let THIS happen?!?" 


Can you picture it?
Can you hear it? 
Can you feel it? 


Did Jesus take a step back? Martha seemed to be one of those ladies you didn't mess with. 
Jesus says- "Your brother will rise again"


Martha thinks this is a good Sunday school answer. I can hear the resignation in her voice. The defeat. She was looking for something. Hope. Promise. A miracle. And she gets a tired old scripture she has heard before. Or, that's what she thinks she hears. 


Did Jesus hold her face and look into her eyes? Did his voice become gentler? 
He says "Oh Martha. Listen to me. Abandon your religious framework. Don't you see? Haven't you seen? 
I AM the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die." And I think he really made sure he had her attention when he finished talking to her, saying, "Do you believe this?" There is a whole lot packed in these 4 words, isn't there?


Those of you who believe- we read the Bible. We go to church or mass. We want to follow and we try to obey. We want to be "good". And sometimes life still sucks, doesn't it? Shitty things still happen to you don't they? And he asks you: 
Do you believe this? 
When everything around you seems to contradict the existence of a good God- Do you believe this? Will you still believe? Will you still trust? 


Martha seems satisfied by this. She affirms her belief in Him. And she goes to get Mary. Now Mary is a much much different girl than her sister. Isn't that usually the case? She comes to Jesus and says the exact same thing Martha said.
If you had been here my brother would not have died. 


I bet there was not as much accusation in her voice, but more betrayal. Mary was the soft touch. She sat at his feet while Martha cleaned. She was truly hurt and devastated. How could Jesus have let this happen? They had seen him heal before. He healed strangers! Anyone who clambered around him! And he ignores the requests of those he "says" he loves. They had sent for him in plenty of time. I mean, c'mon! One time he healed a guys servant and he was miles away! And the guy wasn't even a Jew! But when WE needed help, you were too busy! 


Can you hear the fury?
The betrayal?
Have you felt this?


Two things happen that are fascinating to me. Jesus responds to Mary in a completely different way than he does with Martha. After she repeats what Martha says, Mary collapses, weeping. He does not engage in conversation with her. He simply asks where they put Lazarus. And he weeps with her.


This is very very cool. Jesus responds to each sister according to their personalities. He responded to them with what he knew they needed. 


But now, finally, we get to the point of the story that really grabs my attention. 
Look, I know this story. I grew up in the church. I have read the Bible through multiple times. Not bragging. Just sayin'. 


And I missed this next detail for years.
. 
Check out this verse: 
John 11:33 Therefore, when Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her weeping, He groaned in spirit and was troubled.


Big deal, right? So what. Of course he was troubled. Except, John used a very odd word that was translated "groaned". From what I have read and heard, this word meant Jesus was furious. "Troubled" would more accurately be translated "deeply agitated".
Jesus sees their weeping and he is furious. Livid. 
What? Come again?


And when he comes up to the tomb the same word translated "groaning" is used again. Jesus was so mad, so disturbed and upset he might have even been visibly trembling. 


Ok. This is not good. Have you ever seen any seen anyone this angry? Even if it is somebody who isn't physically intimidating, it is still scary and upsetting. There is something very disturbing and unsettling about seeing somebody incredibly angry, isn't there?
Ponder a few things with me. 
Jesus probably was physically intimidating. After all, he was a carpenter until he was 30. 
Worse, yet, He was freakin' GOD for cryin' out loud! What could be scarier than that!!
Why was he so mad?
What was he so mad about?
Who was he mad at?

There are, of course, different theories about this. Some say Jesus was mad at death. Others that he was upset about seeing those he loved very upset. Maybe he was mad at Satan for causing pain and death. Still others say that he was mad at everyone for their lack of faith. I don't think that last one is accurate. It doesn't fit the story at all, but it sure fits the way some people seem to see God- but that's another blog.

But let's not forget, he could have prevented all of this.
If
he
just
would
have
showed
up.
-when he was supposed to. expected to. should have. but he didn't.

I don't know why he was mad. I hope it was because he was so angry to see those he loved upset.
I hope he gets that mad when he sees me weeping, or when he sees you weeping and upset.
When you heard those words you didn't want to hear. When your world was shattered. When your dream died.
He saw it when it happened, dear one. It hurt him to see it. I believe He wept when you wept. He sees you as you look over your life and are filled with deep disappointment as to how it has played out. He comes to you as he came to Martha and Mary. He loves you enough to respond in the way you need it most.
He knows you wanted to be married years ago. He feels the ache in your heart. He knows that you wanted children of your own but now you can only indulge that yearning by being with the children of others.
I do not understand why life has turned out this way for you.
But I do know this. He is furious about what has happened to you. I know you may not feel that. But I offer this story as hope.
He sees. Someday He will take your head in His hands and explain it all. But you still live in today.
And he says to you: Do you believe this?
And when you do, somehow, in some way, I hope it helps.

The beginning of a book I wanted to write

                                                                    
 This is the start of an idea I had for a book. See what you think. 


                                                                  Beginnings

 Dearest reader, I implore you with all that is in me, please stop reading. For you have no idea of what is waiting in the pages ahead. My words, I am sure, ring as melodramatic in your ears. To be truthful, you would not be the first to ascribe such attributes to my meager scratchings. And yet, how can I write any other way? Is it not an extension of who I am? Can I pretend to be something other that what I am? Oh, I have certainly pursued that particular avenue of folly. How often have I strongly desired to be other than what I am? More times than I can number, assuredly. I must reference the all-wise Solomon that this, as in all things, is simply vanity.
You have guessed it correctly by now, I am sure; I have very few friends. Perhaps that is as good of a reason as any to why things unfolded, nay, unraveled the way they have.

Fool! Are you still reading? Do you think I jest? Do I sport with you? How can I accurately convey the urgency of my words! If there was some way you could hear the tone of my voice, see the panic in my blood-stained eyes, perhaps then you would be convinced. Perhaps then you would discard this parchment, or better yet, set it aflame. If there is any justice in the world, this will be the only copy ever made, and you, you alone can stop this before it starts.

Ah, what is the use? There is no way for me to know...yet... if you have continued to read or not. Have any eyes chanced to find these words? How, dear reader, did you happen across my accursed manuscript? Dost thou think that I wanted to write these words? Nay, nay, nay! A thousand times I deny it! Why would I want to perpetuate that which threatens so?

Again, I am sure you take me for a fool as so many have before your witless eyes found this page. Perhaps I am only writing for myself. Mayhaps these are just the ramblings of an idiot, writing for his own purposes. If only it could be so! But it can not be. He would not allow it.

Yes, I know you are reading these words even as I type them. Curse you! I don't care anymore! Kill me as you have threatened so many times. Empty promises to be sure. 

Hmm. So sorry about that dear reader, you just can't understand, and what's more, I don't want you to! Yet I fear that I must offer some explanation or my sanity will be lightly esteemed. I could not be more aware of what I am about to tell you but somehow the reality of it still fills me with surprise and terror. You see, the sad truth is that I am bound to another. It is as hard to explain as it is for you to comprehend. Long ago I ...oh, what is the right word...became entangled...with another. Not emotionally, relationally or even physically; but were it so that the chains were based an such flimsy attachments! The bond is irrevocable, unbreakable. He is ...in me. He sees what I see, knows my every thought, comes just short of controlling me. I despise him for it, but in truth, it is my own fault. No, he is not a god or demon. He is a man, and yet so much more and certainly closer to demon than deity.

I also wish you to know that HE is the one coercing me to pen such a vile tale. For it is HIS tale and none other, although mine has become woven into it's filthy tapestry. Perhaps if you are obtuse enough to continue to read, you will see how I could never have known what was happening before it was far,far too late. Perchance I may even find some form of absolution in your eyes.

Understand dear, foolish reader, he can punish me. Any time. Anywhere. If I displease him, he does something, that causes me to prefer death above all else. How to explain the explosion of pain that thunders through my oversized skull? There are not words adequate... Dost thou think thou knowest pain? Thou art an amateur! Unskilled in what suffering truly is. But I know all too well. Forgive me if I start to rant at him. There are limits to what I can endure, even with all the experience the years of cruelty have deemed to teach me. He is a cruel despicable ...being.

NO, I don't care how you threaten me! You can't make me write these words! I am my own man and I can arrange and create the words that I want to say, not what YOU want me to say.

Ahem. Once again I have been proven wrong, by your strong and merciful hand. Please forgive me for my insistence on freedom of will and thought. Too long ago have we been bound, and by my own choice and words. Fool that I am. 

In truth, dear reader, despite my chastisements (I mean well deserved punishment) I plead you to stop following my words with your eyes. Do not allow these words to penetrate your mind; for fear that you will be dragged into the story as I once was. There is still time for you to escape, to be sure. Maybe you are not the one. Most will read these words and think nothing of it. It will be just another story and you will discard it. Perhaps you may even enjoy it, if such twisted and depraved people actually still walk the Earth. But I know they do. For I am such a man.

Yes, I know. You think I'm mad. Perhaps I am. How can one determine their own madness? As a point of fact, nobody really thinks they are mad, just as no man believes that what HE believes is false. Yet assuredly, not all beliefs can be true. In point, some beliefs are false and some that think they are sane, quite simply, are not. Could I be such a one? Of this I have often thought, despite there being no possibility of a trusted answer. Is that not the way of the human mind? To ponder that which can not be answered? To endlessly ponder and question that which does not have an answer? Can not have an answer? For perhaps the answer would be far too terrifying for it to be true, which often makes it all the more so.

Well. It appears that you and I are along for the ride. You have made it this far, so perhaps you are fated to read this whole tome. I can only pray... I'm sorry again dear reader, but I can't believe I just wrote that! Pray! Me! My what an amusing thought.

Yes, yes, I can hear your laughter. We do not need the link for me to know you are laughing at me. How often have I heard that mocking sound ringing in my ears at the slightest mistake or tremor in my voice? That grating noise that stretches my nerves thin? I am only glad that there is not a way, currently, for me to hear the audible guffaws. 

Once again I must beg your forgiveness, my dearest of readers. I digress by talking to HIM. And yet I must address him when he speaks to me, surely you must realize that? But how could you? Your folly once again rears its ugly face, although in truth it is no match for mine! Hah!

Reader, dear, dear reader, please know that this is not my fault. As I have already stated numerous times... Am I being a bore? Am I repeating myself too often? Oh how I DO hate a bore...I do not want to write these words. Do you see? Whatever happens isn't my fault! If you are the one, the one he intends to read these words, what could I have done to prevent it? What could I have done to stop his nefarious plans? I am nothing but a reed in a hurricane. I have to obey. The consequences are... never mind. You don't want to be bothered by such things. And if I were to speak even half the truth of what would lay in wait for me... He does not suffer the rebellious lightly. If I even began to describe how he expresses his fury, sleep would elude you for many nights, nay weeks, for those of you with weak minds and hearts.

The story must be told. Perhaps it is inevitable. What you read will not be entirely original. You will recognize parts of it as you faintly hear melodies present in other songs. What will be done will be done. Who am I to stand in the way of fate? But how can I absolve myself of my role that I most assuredly play? My hands certainly will not be declared clean, for my role is a chief one.

I have warned you though, haven't I? I told you over and over in this beginning of beginnings to stay away. Nobody can deny that fact. Perhaps I will be partially absolved from this sin; from my participation in his quest. In truth, I can not believe he is allowing me to write what I have. The warnings... the honesty of his intentions...perhaps his hold is weakening? My heart leaps at the thought! Could it be??? Are you no longer watching? As I wrote that, nothing happened!! Hello? This can not be!

Dear reader, fret not! My story will NOT be told! The great tyrant, the hater of men, the destroyer of worlds is... gone? Surely he would not allow me to be so bold with my words! He is far too cruel of a master to allow such freedom! Perhaps I am free?!? How could this be? It is too sweet to be true. I can almost begin to experience the sweet savor of freedom on my tongue. I was a fool to ever think you could always bind me to your will! You are not as powerful as you thought, were you? You are nothing more than an egotistical boaster! You are a fool! If I could write for years I could never begin to tap into the depths of contempt I have for you! Hah! He is gone! Perhaps his rule is somehow over! Rejoice with me dear readerrrrrr

Perhaps I was wrong. You know that was all in jest, correct almighty one? The reader always needs a pinch of levity, don't you think? No, you don't have to prove the link still exists. Yes, you are very clever. Making me think you were gone, absent, to test my loyalty. Yes, I admit I failed your test. It will be eons before I try that again. I mean, your excellency, that I will NEVER try that again. My words are my bond, as always. They are TOO worth more than the excrement of a sow! You can certainly torture me as you do, but you don't have to insult me. I do have feelings. 

Ah, back you dear reader. Forgive my arguing with a voice that you can not hear. Welcome to my nightmare. Read the story ahead with my own caution. The words must be attached to the page as surely as sparks fly upward to the heavens. What happens after can not be placed at my feet. You have been warned.

Essence

How do you feel about who you are? If you have it figured out, if you are very secure on why you are here, what makes you tick, where you are going, who you should be and how to get there, this is not for you. Jump to the next thing, like walking on water or bending steel with your bare hands or rescuing kittens from trees. Seriously, I'm sure there are some out there that have a good handle on all that esoteric stuff. I hate them and envy them.
For I do not fit into that category. I fear all the spaces have already been taken.
When did you first learn that you were not magnificent?
When you examine your life- do you like what you see? Where are you right now? What brought you here? Do you want to be where you are? Do you feel that you have arrived at this place in your life- this destination, and feel like "What the hell happened?"
Do you have a sense of incompleteness?
Do you fear to do a thorough self examination because it will feel like the trip to the doctor's office that you have put off for years? They usually don't have a ton of great info for you , do they? Do you fear the same diagnosis from the most condemning voice of all? Yourself?
I remember being a child. I was lucky and i grew up in a home where I was very loved. Far from perfect- but many essential things were there. In my house I knew I was loved. I felt valued and special. I was told I stood out, that I was a good, smart boy, that I was normal and like able. Then I went to school.
This is when I learned that I was not magnificent.
When did you learn? And for those of you who are (or think they are) why are you still reading? Go away.
For the rest of us, do you feel a sense of quiet desperation deep inside? You know what I'm talking about, or at least some of you do. You feel a sense of incompleteness, a sense of being somehow less than you were supposed to be. And you don't know exactly what that means.
You do not know what you are supposed to be. You can't see what the finished product of "you" is supposed to be or look like. Or perhaps all you can see is the gap, what you lack. That might be so big to you that it obscures whatever you might be or might have been. Perhaps all you know is that you are not what or who you want to be. So, like may of us, you pretend that what you are is who you wanted to be all along. You try to quiet, or even kill, the voice inside of you that says you could  be more- or more damning- that you should have been more.
And yet here you are.
There are other voices that say "who cares?" live your life and do the best you can.
But you can't.
You try. God alone knows how hard you try, but somehow it all falls short. You are left with what you are and in the quiet alone moments you might even despise what you have become.
Others see you and have no clue, do they? You wonder if anyone knows or cares. You wouldn't know how to phrase it even if they did, so what's the point? Maybe this is all life is supposed to be after all.

I don't think so.
I want to help.

I have some thoughts I think just might do that. Especially those of you who are reading this and something about these words have caused a much stronger emotional reaction than you would even like to admit. These questions and words resonates very deeply in you. Actually, this sort of thinking has been invading your thoughts for a long time now. You are still looking for a satisfactory answer, aren't you? It might even be so bad that you aren't totally convinced that you want to continue going forward if this doesn't get resolved.

Who gets to decide who you are? You? Others? Circumstances? Fate? God? Is it random and unknowable? Do you ever feel that you were supposed to be more than what you are? You imagined life being very different than this and you don't know who to blame. Most likely, you blame your "lack" on your self. Or you are a victim. You could have been something- could a been a contenda... If only.

Fill in the blank. You had this dream of what you could have been, what you could have attained, if only...
If only your                        parents                                                    that sickness                                              the accident                   getting fired                               the dead end job                                     the person who betrayed you
the rape                            bad luck                                           choosing the wrong spouse                           wayward kids

and the list goes on and on and on.

When I first went to school, it didn't take long to realize that not everybody felt the same way about me that my family did. Some of the other kids didn't even like me! And I hadn't even done anything to them!
I was basically an average kid. Growing up, this message became even more firmly entrenched in my brain. I had two messages living in me. One was that I was lacking. I didn't measure up. I didn't have what it takes. I was lazy and not that bright. I was annoying and most people just tolerated me.
And then there was the other message. You are loved. You are special. You are supposed to be more... you could be...
But I didn't know how! It was vague and seemed ensconced in shadow. I am still not entirely sure what the end product looks like.
Maybe there isn't one. Maybe we are never finished growing and learning and becoming.

I have seen the enemy and they are us

It is easy to notice, and quite often recounted, how Jesus treated the Pharisees. Preachers take great delight in the passages of scripture where Jesus takes these "sons of hell" to task. Have you ever read Matthew 23? It's brutal. Jesus completely blasts the Pharisees. It's ugly and mean. But the Pharisees are the villains of the New Testament, aren't they? If the Gospel stories were set in the early 1900's, the Pharisees would all have black handlebar mustaches and they would twirl the ends ominously while cackling under their breaths. Yes, they are undoubtedly the bad guys here and we absolutely love it when the bad guys get what's coming to them, don't we?
This is the ending to most movies we watch. Good guy triumphs over unimaginable odds. The antagonist ends up without the girl, with mud on his face, alone in the cold, or in every action movie- dead in a very violent and creative way. And we cheer! Yes! That slimy son of a ..... finally got what he had coming to him!

 You get a feel of that reading Matthew 23. All through out the Gospels the Pharisees have stood in Jesus' way. He has tried to heal people when he wasn't supposed to. He talks to the wrong people. He touches the wrong people. He parties with sinners and tax collectors.
The Pharisees try and trap Jesus with words, thinking they are more clever than he. They talk down to him. Halfway through the Gospels we are more than ready for these arrogant, self-righteous morons to get what's coming to them! And does Jesus deliver...
Sons of hell? Really? Do you remember (or do you know) who these people were?? They were the leaders of the Jewish community! They had tremendous influence over the entire culture. They were not considered villains by many- or probably most- people in their day. They were the pastors and priests for the people. This nobody- this son of a carpenter (who it is quite well known is a bastard) dares go up against this crowd?
Some backstory...
The Jews had been conquered by the Romans long before Jesus came around. In the history of the Jewish people, they had been conquered and exiled numerous times before the Romans had their shot at them. And they were always a big thorn in their tormentors side. I have a brother in law who is Jewish, so I can kinda see how that works.
Whenever this happened, the Jews always run back to their God to save them. Except this time he doesn't seem to be answering. It has been hundreds of years since God had sent a prophet to talk to his people, to rescue them, or to at least tell them what to do so they can be free again. The priests were the ones who held the fabric of the Jewish community together. Probably more than any other tribe, the Jews were mainly identified by the God they served. They were unique in the ancient world- there was one God who ruled them all. One God to find them... sorry, couldn't resist.
The priests/Pharisees were the heroes of the day. Not the villains. By and large, up until now, they were the good guys! They were the ones fighting and arguing against the hated Romans. They were the ones that were going to tell the people how to appease God so that they could once again experience the freedom they had been promised! The people looked UP to the Pharisees. Without their God, the Jewish people would have been nothing. They would have ceased to exist. The priests and Pharisees were the ones holding the nation together!They were not widely considered villains. They were respected, listened to and feared.

Since God hadn't spoken in so long, the Pharisees concluded that his people had made him angry. And they had, truthfully. In the mind of the Pharisee, the solution to this was simple- do what their God had told them to do. Easy. So they memorized the entire Old Testament. Word by word. This is all they knew to do and there is certainly some logic to it. So they memorized the message he had given them. They studied what their ancestors thought and said about it. They argued about it. They developed different schools of thought. I'm glad we don't do that anymore! How silly. But I digress.
The Pharisees decided the people had to follow all the rules to please God. And since God was sooooo angry, they didn't want to take a chance that people could break the rules. So they made rules to protect the rules. And then they made rules to protect the people from breaking the rules that would get to close to breaking the rules that God had set eons before. The same rules that they had broken that had gotten them into their mess in the first place. Only it wasn't working.

And in walks Jesus.
The Jewish nation had gotten so far off course, so lost from the original intent of God's message, that an ordinary prophet wouldn't do. The answer was, of course, that God sent himself. In the form of his son.
Jesus wasn't even a public figure for 3 full years, and he doesn't waste any time. He quickly starts turning everything upside down. He insists they have got it all wrong. He claims that they are sons of hell!
He insults them at every turn.
Jesus has picked the wrong group to take on. They have power. They can make very bad things happen to Jesus, and they do. Jesus knows this and does everything he can to get them to kill him. He goads them and insults them until they feel they have no other choice.

Side note- can you imagine how the disciples felt listening to him blast the Pharisees and willfully disobeying???

Where are the Pharisees today? Do they exist? Most Christians seem to think so. In the past they would have been praised and exalted, now it's an term used to insult. We know there are big rule followers out there and we are sure glad it isn't our church. Or is it?
If Jesus came today, whose tables would he overthrow? Whom would he whip? Whom would he have harsh words for? Whom would he consider to be a "son of hell" or a "white washed tomb"? Weeeellll, if history is any indication, it would be the religious leaders. The ones telling us how to live our lives to make God happy. The ones laying down rules for us to obey...
NO! (You may say) That can't be! I respect and look up to them... They tell us how to draw close to God... I don't want him to be angry with me...

And to be fair, many of them do tell us how to draw closer to God. And many of them are history repeating itself.
Man has a tendency to drift apart from God. Some don't care about this distance, but many do. So we try and find our way back to God- to get back in his favor. And rules are just easier than faith.
 I find it very amusing that we think we are so different, so enlightened. Yes, it is true that we have the teachings of Jesus and his example, and that is huge. But are we really so different?
There is an arrogance to our age that seems to think we have the perfect revelation of the Word. Finally, we have it figured out.
I heard this from someone the other day: "The Bible is easy! You just do what it says and you go to heaven! Otherwise you go to hell! A sip of wine is sin! Just like if you drink a lot. Sin is sin."

We like to play with the things of God. We take the portions we are comfortable with and build a belief system around it. And don't you dare question that structure! Sadly, much of our construct is made of half truths and scripture taken out of context. The construct cannot be questioned seriously, for to do so is to question the authority of the people who built it- although these same people, and the ones who uphold it- would tell you that God built it that way.
True- there is usually truth mixed in. But the truth is often like a gold veneer. It is thin and insubstantial and has far less value than you might imagine. It has been spread so thin that it is almost not there at all.

We scorn and brand "heretic" any who dare question our sacred constructs. Just like they did to Jesus.
There are Pharisees around, but thank God they aren't us.