A few moments left of the Fourth of July.  I am not a tremendously big fan of fireworks.  I've seen a few great displays which will be tough to beat.  Don't get me wrong...  I may not be overtly patriotic, but I am grateful for my country.  I'm a citizen by birth, and this is my home.  I don't consider having a barbeque and watching fireworks an act of patriotism, anyway.  Not that anyone really does, huh.  

I was watching this cheesy movie the other day with my sister, and one of the characters mentioned something about the World Trade Center and the Twin Towers.  This movie was made in the late 1990's.  There's no way they could've foreseen what would've happened less than a decade from then.  But this got me thinking.  For some of my students, 9/11 happened when they were very young.  Even for my high school students, some were only 5.  For me, it was yesterday.  

I remember that day clearly...  coming home from my evening/morning shift at work (long story) and turning on the tv (which is not usual practice) and watching in horror as the two towers that was a part of my childhood memory came down one after another.  I remember thinking, "things will never be the same."  This concept was echoed in the many quotes of other fellow New Yorkers that day, as they walked the bridge, many like zombies, in shock and waiting to wake up from some terrible nightmare.  Dozens of people interviewed on the street said the same thing: "Things will never be the same."

I wonder now what we meant.

I wonder if we expected the world to stop.

Technology sure didn't.  But we didn't mean that the iPad would never come to be, or that we would forever be living in a non-Android phone world.  It wasn't that we didn't anticipate not having to deal with regular modems and "dialing in" to hear the AOL-dominated world say, "you've got mail!"  

And although for months after the incident, almost everyone in NY (and all over the country, I suppose, but I can't vouch for it) had flags on their car antennae, we didn't mean that we would do that forever.  Maybe we thought we would.  But they're gone, for the most part.   

I guess we were just grieving.  And when you grieve, you want everything to stop and grieve with you.  

Color-codes in airports are pretty standard now, along with long lines and heavy scans.  Maybe we expected this.  But it's normal now.  

The "War on Terror" is still in effect.  Troops are still being deployed and being killed.  I wonder about the lives of those soldiers.  Truly, the lives of them and the lives of their family members will never be the same.  Is this what we meant?  Perhaps...  

I read this news story about a man who slit his step daughter's throat with a kitchen knife. She was five.  He wanted to punish her.  Her mother, who is a nurse, unsuccessfully tried to resuscitate her.  The link includes a transcript of the mother's interchange with the emergency operator.  It's not for the squeamish.  The mother's life will never be the same.  This is not what we meant on that day, when we said, "things will never be the same."

I don't think we meant technology, or lines in airports, or people dying.  I think we meant unity.  I think we wanted the world to rally around us, embrace us, and for once, for everyone to act as one.  To grieve as one.  To be comforting each other, to protect each other, and to experience life together.  I think we wanted less of our pain, and more of this "moving together-ness" that is so hard to describe.  And yet we still have those news stories.  We still have the burglaries.  We still have the muggings, the rapings, the murders.  We still have the hit-and-runs and the personal stories of pain that can never be shared by an entire city all at the same time.  Perhaps that was the special thing about that day.  We felt it all at once.  Together.  And we think we will never be the same.

But some things never change.  

Forgetfulness is a welcome anesthetic.  Time erodes many things, including pain and painful memories.  This is a welcome constant.

We are still obsessed with self, efficiency, and pleasure.  We are still laden with excuses.  We still desperately protect self, and the costumes we hide behind are the same ones that have not been weathered by centuries worth of use.  Hate is the same.  Bigotry, lying, judging, backbiting, gossiping, finger-pointing, robbery of the esteem of others...  the same.  

I'm tired of the scenery.  

I'm happy to say, however, that this fourth of July, I can say that I've seen love.  It's out there.  I mean, love in bucketfuls.  Love that just knocks you over, not because it's directed at you, but because it spills over and smacks you in the face.  Love that's not just limited to family members and close friends, but to people who need it, people who deserve it, and most importantly, people who don't deserve it.  Love that is stronger than the evil that pervades the atmosphere all around it.  

Some things never change.  But I want change that is not just political, but radical.  Societal.  Global.  I want change that forgetfulness doesn't wash away, that the slow creep back to self-reliance and self-centeredness won't erase.  I want change that is eye-opening, eye-popping, and permanent.  I want change that will leave us never the same ever again.  

This week, reach out and love someone you don't know.  Yeah?  It doesn't mean just hugging them.  These things take some thinking, 'na mean?  Shoot, love someone you DO know.  Sometimes that's more difficult.  And let us never be the same.  I don't know if this was coherent.  Forgive me. 

 

 (Episode 3)

It's Thursday again, and it's time for Three on Thursday.  It's the third installment of Three, so it's something thpecial.   Reminder: don't be fooled because the Count is holding up one finger.  He's merely making a point while preparing to hold up his other hand, which, as you can see, is about to display all three digits.  

 

Today's three is about Things I Want To Do.  Usually people list the top three, but I'm going to be a rebel and dig into the dregs of the bottom-feeders and see what comes up.  It's pretty murky down there, but here are the Bottom Three Things I Want to Do This Year.

1. Get stung by a bee on my eyeball.  Yes, that's pretty low on the list.  My roommate in college used to worry about papercuts on her eyeballs.  This doesn't bother me as much as getting stung by a bee there.  How that would happen is not really relevant.  I guess this doesn't belong on a list of things I want to do (no matter how low on the list it is.)  I'll do better in the next point. 

2. Gain 10 more pounds.  I actually want to be exercising, but unless you consider chasing a toddler around, I don't have the time to do it.  Bummer.  Going back to work with more stuff slapped around my midsection is definitely low on my priority list. 

3. Meet the Yo Gabba Gabba dudes in person.  Those things scare me.  Every single one of them.  The guy with the stereo (if you have NO idea what I'm talking about, don't research it.  Don't try it.  Don't ask about it.  Just run.) freaks me out.  I do sing one of their songs quite often.  To the toddler I am helping keep watch over.  The title is, "You Don't Bite Your Friends,"  The lyrics are simple: You don't, you don't, you don't bite your friends.

   

If you could NOT do something over the summer, what would it be?  And while we're on that topic, DO something fun!

 

"I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from mountains? No, my strength comes from God, who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.  He won’t let you stumble, your Guardian God won’t fall asleep..."  Psalm 121:1-3

Seriously, I would make a bad sentry.  I know a few people who would do an awesome job, but me...  I don't do so well without sleep.  It kind of...overtakes me.  When I get sleepy, my legs start twitching.  My brain starts to shut down to all absolutely and immediately necessary activity.  Even if I were awake, I'd pretty much be useless.  Barney (the big purple dinosaur) could be gnawing on the fort and I might not do anything about it (that could be an exaggeration.  But being that the situation will never arise, who will know?)  

Not to overlook the fact that I think I'm a wuss.  I don't like conflict, I don't like screaming and shouting, and I don't like ratting on people.  All of which makes for a bad sentry.  (I'm pretty sure a good lookout man is the opposite of all of the above.)

I'm also one to likes experience and consistency.  On those personality tests, I answer the questions about how to deal with situations by saying I rely on personal experience over theory.  So if I would find comfort in anything, I would find comfort in the mountains.  I'd probably think, If anyone is coming, they won't come over the mountains, or I'd see them first.  They are my help.  

But the truth is, there's a help better than the mountains.  One that is a more consistent help (did you hear about how Babylon fell?  Pretty epic.  Their help definitely failed them.)  And better yet, He doesn't sleep.  That in and of itself is amazing to me.  Sleep is just an interesting concept altogether.  Don't you think it's odd that scientifically speaking, it's hard to explain sleep in terms of evolution?  Scientists don't even know exactly why we do it.  Dreams are still a mystery.  Theistically speaking, I think it's cool that God embedded in us the idea of rest.  The importance of setting aside time.  

The Sabbath is kind of like that.  A time when we rest, except it is by choice, and it is in God.  It is a rest that symbolizes rest from working for our salvation.  It is a day that reminds us that God is our help, and not we ourselves.  I'm pretty sure I talked about this exhaustively in some previous post, but I won't look for it.  What better time to think about the Sabbath and God's never-exhausting work for our salvation than in the middle of the week?  

Speaking of sleep, though, I must do it.  Good night, and please, don't ask me to keep watch.  

 

For those of you who aren't keeping up with my largely one-sided 'conversations' on this blogosphere, Part I was about me wanting to be like Simeon because basically, that awesome fellow held the Son of God in his hands when He was a tiny little baby, and knew it.   Even when the rest of the world around him didn't.  (For those who continue to aid in my 'conversations' thank you.  Really.  I love you.)

But there's another reason I want to be Simeon.  And it's a totally impossible and moreover, very selfish reason.  

I want to be happy.  

Not that I'm not happy.  I mean, sure, I'm currently visiting my parents' home in NY right now, and my dad has been burning mosquito bites off his skin with some foul-smelling incense rocks, but it's not worth contemplating the looseness of the strings that attach me to life.  Even considering that he seems to constantly want to intimidate me, not so much to do so, but to see how I handle it.  I have this theory about traditional Korean parents.  They're crazy.  

Ahem.  Back to Simeon.  Not that I'm not happy, but I'm not happy in the way Simeon could've been happy.  And as I digest this, I'm coming to understand that perhaps Simeon didn't have it so great after all.  (The whole story is in Luke 2, if you want to catch up on it.)  But imagine this scene.  You're doing the best you can in life, living by what you believe to the best of your ability, and you get this crazy dream in which you're told you won't die until you've seen the Messiah.  As Christians, we're kind of spoiled because we're living in what we call the 'post cross' era.  The Jews, they were still looking for that Guy we celebrate the birth of every Christmas (even though that's not the right date.)  These pre-cross era people had no idea about things like...  I don't know...  hm...  well, gee, I guess they pretty much had similar struggles sans Jesus.  They struggled with celebration worship vs. conservative worship, tithing, sleeping around and how to handle that stuff in church, racial segregation (even in churches), and stoning.  (OK, we don't really do much of the latter, although proverbially speaking, it's still in full force.)

So Simeon gets this crazy dream, and in this dream, I'm assuming he's also told about what the Messiah's role would be, and how it would be fulfilled.  His cryptic message to Mary about how "a sword will pierce [her] heart also" reflects this.  But Simeon was able to go to the grave in peace, knowing that in his era, he did what he was supposed to do.  He had a head knowledge of the sufferings of Christ, but he didn't have to live to see what his nation would do to that Baby who gave him such hope and joy.  He lived to see the beginning of the dream, but died before he could see the utter humiliation this child would have to endure. 

I wonder.  If I had a choice, would I prefer to have a head knowledge of the sufferings of Christ, or be in the wake of it?  Do you know what I'm trying to say?  I just envy Simeon in a way.  He had the acquaintance with Jesus and the joy in knowing Him and what He stood for, but didn't have to have the heartbreak.  I hate the heartbreak.  It pains me very time I read the account of the events that led to Jesus' death.  By this time, Simeon had long since passed away.  What would he have felt?  What did Jesus' mother feel?  

Or maybe it's just that I wonder what Jesus was like as a baby...  (Note: this picture was not meant to depict the Christ.)  

(Episode 2)

It's Thursday again, and it's time for Three on Thursday.  It's the second installment, just because I like the concept. 

Reminder: don't be fooled because the Count is holding up one finger.  He's merely making a point while preparing to hold up his other hand, which, as you can see, is about to display (all) three digits.  

Today's Three is about the top three companies that I'm boycotting.  It's a strange three, but I only put this up because recently, I've cut ties with one.  Or I'm struggling with it, anyway.

For a number of years now, I've had a philosophy in regards to how I spend my money.  In many regards, I think of it in terms of voting.  Every time I pay for anything, it's as though I'm giving them the thumbs up.  It's not quite practical to do this all the time, but I try my best. 

Mind you, I'm doing this not because I think I'm making a huge difference; Walmart, for example, one of the biggest tyrants out there, will certainly not miss the $20 bucks or so that they're not getting from me.  It's just a statement.  I will not endorse them. 

1. Walmart: I can't even begin to say why I despise this place.  Sam Walton owns the world's largest public corporation by revenue this year (according to Forbes.)  Even so, their tactics of taking over small businesses, bullying towns, scamming the third world countries for cheap labor, and making American tax payers pay for their own employee's health care (they have to go on medicare! The richest company in the world won't give affordable health care!)  And all the while, they pretend to be American, charitable (their charity is laughable), and happy.  I hate Walmart. 

2. BP/Exxon/Mobile: This is difficult.  I used to love BP.  I can't believe the fiasco behind this.  And the CEO went to a yacht show?  What?!  I don't really have to go deeply into the reasons, do I?  I cheat with Exxon/Mobile though.  Maybe it's because the memory isn't fresh enough?   

3. Verizon Wireless: This is the one I'm struggling with.  Recently, they've introduced these "required data plans" that make you sign on for a data plan when you purchase specific phones.  Verizon is one of the most expensive plans out there to begin with.  Early termination fees, this fee, that fee...  they're racking it up.  Largely, they've been worth it; I've been with them for a while.  But the data plans might be the final straw.  I don't use data.  I don't want to buy it.  I don't want to be forced to do it.  My brother told me about PagePlus and I might change over to them.  They use the Verizon network, so it has the Verizon coverage, which I like.  I'm a little hesitant, though.  Anyone hear anything about this?  

Do you "vote" with your money?  Boycotting any companies?  I tried boycotting Phillip Morris, and then I realized that dude was crazy.  The company owns just about everything.  Ignorance, in that case, has been bliss, unfortunate or not. 

What companies would you/do you boycott?

 

It's difficult to find someone who loves you unconditionally, even if you're at your best.  Best friends don't come along every day.  Personality, compatibility, and timing sometimes seem to be mixed in some perfect formula for the needed relationship to arise.  And even then, we are not always at our best.  The ones who can stick around when that happens are the keepers.  The ones who won't make fun of you too long if they hear you fart (or make fun of you forever, but love you anyway.)  The ones who know you're a crank when you're hungry and will not only understand, but take measures to prevent you from starving.  

It's most difficult, however, to find someone who will love you even when you do them wrong.  Purposefully.  

There's a story about a scorpion who wants to cross a small pond but can't get across by himself.  He sees a frog and asks him if he would be so kind as to let him ride on his back across the water.  The frog knows better, and says, "No way.  You're going to sting me."  The scorpion pleads and says, "What good will it do me if I sting you?  We'd both go under, and that's not really practical, is it?"  The frog, seeing the logic behind this, agrees to do this favor.  Midway across the stream, the frog feels a sting on his back and the effects of the poison rapidly working through his system.  He cries out, "Why did you do that for? Now we're both dead."  The scorpion, clinging to his host's back, sobs back, "I'm sorry!  I couldn't help it.  It's my nature."  

Now, this story has been used to elucidate an array of relationships (as seen above), but I want to focus on just one part.  

Sometimes we do people wrong.  Because of our inherent defects in personality or the stresses of the situation.  We've yelled, screamed, cursed, ignored, gossiped, taunted, degraded, mocked...  and this fragile thing called friendship threatens to go under.  And there is no one who hasn't been on either end.  The intentions might have started off all well and good.  But the monster inside, when it takes over, can be ugly.  

And yet there are those who stick around.  

Why do they do that?

The ones who stick around after you do things that make you hang your head in shame.  When "I'm sorry," seems like it will never do.  When, "it's just my sorry nature," isn't good enough.  When you've done it so many times, you want to say, "you don't have to love me anymore.  I understand.  I wouldn't either."  

People who take you when you're good are plentiful when compared to those who will take you when you've stabbed them in the back...  not because you hate them but because you love them but can't help it.  Because even when you crave friendship, you push it away.  

My voyage (I call it a voyage because it was an odyssey that lasted more than 4 years) back to Christianity was capped off by the realization that the Friend I'd been stabbing in the back not only still loved me...  He had been patiently doing things for me even when I was at my worst.  He was in a sense pulling out all the stops to make me happy even while I mocked Him.  Knowing that Jesus loved me in this way, that He craved my friendship, that He took all my ugliness and loved me anyway, broke me in such a way that I found my life utterly changed.  

And even now, He loves me.  No matter what.  This makes me want to never hurt Him.  But I still do.  The stinger is raised, and it pierces over and over.  

His love drives me closer to Him.  

In Romans 5 you will find these verses: "⁶You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. ⁷Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. ⁸But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

I want to be a better friend.  In all aspects (and directions.)  It's so natural to slink away and be angry when you've been stung.  It's self-preservation, I guess.  But is it really good?  Maybe.  Maybe.  The optimist in me wants to say that it's always worth it.  The realist says it's bound to happen.  The pessimist says nothing's worth it.  (I have to deal with all these voices!)  Ultimately, I want to do better. 

I want to do better because I've experienced this friendship with a God who loves me no matter what.  Who, in my lowest agony, when I ask, "Do you still love me?" replies with an unhesitating 'yes.'  Who loves others with this same fervor, which I lack.  And He does.  Still love me.  And you.  No matter what.  Whenever. 

I'm not sure what all the lessons are...  I haven't quite digested this fully.  There seems to be so many.  I'm tired and I want to sleep.  I felt I needed to pound this out before I did.  Feel free to share your thoughts and lessons on friendship.  

Good night!

 

An undergirding theme of the past few days of my life seems to be one of letting go.  I read a poem that talked about it, read a movie review that hinted at it, and saw a photog about saying goodbye...  

And so I have some goodbyes of my own today.  After about 6 years (wow!) of blogging under the cow icon, I've decided to give it the pink slip.  I've asked it to retire, and it has graciously (as gracious as inanimate icons can be) accepted the request.  I'm quite protective of my privacy (it's a strange dichotomy to want to blog and be semi-anonymous at the same time) so the new icon still reflects that.  Except it's human now.  A very me-resembling human.  

Sure, it might not be a super-clear picture, but you know, it'll have to do.  

So goodbye, cow.  you have served me well.

I am still incognito.  Well...  whatever. 

A hello and a tribute to my father today, on the day named after him *hehe.

I've known my father ever since I was little.  That might sound obvious, but I know that there are some who've never known their dad.  I'm grateful for a dad who's been there.  Even when I didn't want him to be.  And that was a lot of times.  I'm grateful for a dad who embarrassed me in public many (many, many) times.  I remember him farting (with his leg lifted up) on a busy Brooklyn street corner.  Yes, that is Brooklyn, NY.  I'm grateful for his emphasis on education (all our summers were spent in preparation for the next school year.)

No, he wasn't and isn't perfect.  But he's all I got.  

And another 'hello' to my Heavenly Father, whom I also love.  Thanks, dad.  

I'm glad to step forward and experience more things that'll turn into memories.  Thanks, all, for being there as I share them. 

 

 

It's Thursday (what I love most about vacation is that I don't really have to know what day it is, really) and what better time to think about the number Three than on the day that shares a digraph with it?  That's right, I said digraph.  Digraphs are not phonemes or morphemes.  I know, blah, blah, blah.  Anyway, back to Three on Thursday.  (Sounds lithpy, huh?)  It's the first (and maybe near-last) installment. 

Don't be fooled because the Count is holding up one finger.  He's merely making a point while preparing to hold up his other hand, which, as you can see, is about to display all three digits.  

Today, I am thinking about the top three things you think makes for a good villain.  Serious or just for fun.  I've mixed mine: the first two are just for fun.  The second is so serious, it'll make your socks shrink. (Sh is also a digraph.)

1. Must wear dark.  You can't be taken seriously if you're decked out in something pastel or day-glo. I purposely didn't modify this with the word "clothes" because sometimes those spandex things can't be considered clothing.  This trend is so cool that even good guys do it.  Unlike bright blue and yellow, dark is pretty versatile cross-parties.  I guess you can say it's bi-partisan. 
2. Must have a poker face.  This is one of those unchanging faces, the face that stays the same across most situations.  This is why the Joker can pull things off.  He's creepy because his emotions are largely what we would call inappropriate: consistent "joy" when most people would feel fear, remorse, or pain.  Villains who look scared or insecure don't pull it off as well (his clothes are arguable colorful, but I'd say they were still dark hued.)  I, for one, would make a really bad villain ("Oops! Are you ok?" isn't a good villain line.)   Continue reading →

If you could be anyone in the Bible, or have their experience, who would you choose? 

For me, the choices are almost as vast as there are godly men and women.  But for now, one really stands out.  Mainly because of his human-ness.  This man wasn't a hero in the typical sense of the word.  He did not defeat armies or stand before kings.  But he did stand before the King of Kings...  kind of.

If I could be anyone in the Bible, I would be Simeon.  Of him it was said, "there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon; and the same man was just and devout, waiting for the Consolation of Israel: and the Holy Ghost was upon him. And it was revealed unto him by the Holy Ghost, that he should not see death, before he had seen the Lord's Christ."  (Luke 2:25f)  

Simeon and his dynamic duo on set, Anna the prophetess, witnessed and took note of one of the most amazing things to happen in the history of mankind: the birth of the long-awaited, long-expected Jesus.  Since the time of His birth, Jesus had been overlooked by the masses.  His birth came and went without much pomp.  His dedication now was about to pass without any change in the ritual day-to-day workings of the local priests.  

But Simeon...  he took note.  He saw beyond the poor couple who couldn't even afford a lamb, bringing the sacrifice prescribed to the poorest: a pair of turtledoves. 

I can picture him, wide strides crossing the temple as the priest scribbles the name of the infant in a scroll like he'd done scores of times before without a second thought.  Enraptured, he takes the child from the arms of the mother, and lifting him skyward, says with a tremble in his voice, ""Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word: for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation, which Thou hast prepared before the face of all people; a light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of Thy people Israel."  He did not stand before the King of Kings...  he held Him in his hands. 

Anna likewise rejoiced, in the presence of the astonished priests who thought nothing of this poor family.

This child from a poor family was to be the consolation of Israel...  the One they'd been waiting for, the One the whole world had been waiting 5,000 years for.  And yet no one took note. 

I wonder how often the greatest blessings from God are passed by because we're in the midst of habit.  How often in praise we forget that God "inhabits" our praises (Psalm 22:3)?  It's come to the point where we sing "Heart of Worship" ("I'll give you more than a song...") as though it were just a song. 

I wonder how often we forfeit the blessings of God because we don't recognize divinity clothed in humanity.  Jesus Himself said that feeding the poor, helping the widows, and aiding the fatherless were like as to helping Himself.  ("I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:40)  We pass them by because they're poor, because they hold no promise of reward, because they do not benefit our time...  if they were royalty, or famous, we might've at least stopped to nod and say hi.  

I look over people all the time.  Pass judgment.  Play favorites.  I don't want to, and often I try not to, but I do.  

I want to be like Simeon because I want to have my eyes open for the glory of God even when no one else is looking, even when no one else notices.  More on Simeon next time.  But for now...   

...whose experience do you want? 

End-of-school-year reflections are coming. I'm still turning things over in my mind. 

God's grace is a funny thing. And really, it doesn't make sense. And yet it makes perfect sense. It truly fascinates me how His love reaches down to the deepest of depths to pull out His own.  And it's ever the more fascinating as it happens to me. 

Not too long ago, a movie came out with the title, "What Women Want." Basically, the premise (I'm not even going to warn you of the spoiler, since the movie's plot already reveals it) is that women want men who can read their minds. I beg to differ. The truth is, women want the same things that men want. The same thing humanity has wanted since they have been cut off from the fountain of life itself: happiness.  

What prompted the Founding Fathers of this country to draft into the very papers that define it that all men have the right to pursue happiness?  Why was this emotional element deemed important enough to finish a list that includes life and liberty?  It seems like such a silly thing.  Who needs happiness when you've got wealth and power and fame and everything else?  

Because without happiness, none of that means anything.

Happiness, along with love, seems to be out of the realm of possibility for the father of lies.  Like the look-alike of lust, fleeting pleasures can never replace the feeling of true happiness and contentment. The passing joy of seeing a parabola is nothing compared to knowing that I am right with God.

Sorry excuse to throw in a parabola picture. It's so interesting how things like math and science just work.  Even in silly things like water spouts and bubble gum bubbles.  God is truly, to understate it, a genius.  And it's all so effortless.  And it all works together harmoniously.    

In the Greek, the word that is used for "blessed" (as in the beatitudes, blessed are the meek, if you need a reminder) is the same word for "happy."  For all practical purposes, one can substitute "blessed" for "happy" and get what the Greeks understood as a blessing from providence: happiness.  Isn't that crazy?  Maybe not.  Maybe it's just me that thinks that a God who gives happiness as a gift is so much more awesome than a God who gives raisins or protection from thunder bolts.  Perhaps He's that much greater because He does all of that other stuff too.  

And yet we fall.  Badly.

In front of the entire watching Universe. 

Sometimes I wonder what goes on in our brains when we do something we know we shouldn't.  It's like the safety valve pops off the pre-frontal cortex and all hell breaks loose up there.  Speech control, anger management, you name it, seems to be nonexistent as if they had run screaming out of a smoky house. Some days it's easier to ask them to come back (or never leave) than others. 

Back to happiness. 

Don't you want to be happy? Don't we all? Why then, do we trade it for something that doesn't satisfy but for a moment? Verbal stabs, backbiting, sensual pleasures, violence...  where does it all get us?  

Igmar Berman has an allegory in which a professor is accused by a judge of being "guilty of guilt."  If there were a law, we could be measured by it, forgiven, or at least pay the penalty. But in a world without God, we only have guilt. Those of us who don't are called sociopaths. Guilt and the fabric of morality is woven into our characters. And without God, where do we find relief? How does one get free from being guilty of guilt?  

But if God be for us, who can be against us? 

It's way past my bedtime, and I kind of forgot what I wanted to cap this off with. But I do know that if happiness is a blessing from God, much of it comes from turning from the lies of the one who has been a liar "from the beginning."  And that guy has had an awful amount of practice at tricking us into believing otherwise. And our poor bodies and brains are in no shape to stand up against him ourselves. 

But in the end, no matter how much we fall, God's strong arm of grace lifts us up.  

This is happiness.  To be forever in God's hands. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you think Jesus said that we must become "like a little child" because little children are the best at being happy?  

Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Blessed is the man unto whom the LORD imputeth not iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no guile. Psalm 32:1f