Bono said that grace is the central concept of Christianity. He said most other religions are about Karma. But if Karma is the standard people like him are sunk.
I couldn't agree more. By natural law, by Jewish law, by Muslim law, by Christian rule, by Buddhist code, by Hindu Karma, I'm screwed. Pick one; I've blown it too far already.
Muslim and Jewish law set up so many rules, I can't possibly comply. I've wounded too many people. I've complained too many gifts. I've profaned too many holies. Lied, belied, denied, hidden, lusted, coveted, taken advantage of, wounded. I've even committed deep spiritual offenses. I'm not interested in any arguments that start with the words, no, but, or at least. I know myself more than anyone else and even if you excuse all the codes and morals, there are natural laws that I have flouted. I won't list them here, but suffice to say, even an anti-religious atheist would find them wrong. If nothing else, I have condemned myself and no one can undo a sentence one has passed on oneself.
There is nothing left for me but grace. Favor granted in spite of offense. Mercy. Without this, I have no hope of redemption. But in the depths of this bloody hell, I have assurances that this grace is mine. Do I believe it? Barely. Do I doubt it? Yes. And that too is more fuel for the fire of my condemnation. Even as I type it, I can hear Aslan's roar of indignation that I would cast doubt on his word. And I tremble and fall on his grace again. While he may have removed my sins from me, I still see them clearly. I pray that my fleshly eyes will die to be replaced by his pure glass ones that see only as things are.
In the meantime, I cling to that grace. I try to believe it and I try to step one at a time. If there is good in me, if others see good in me, it is not of my doing. This is the extent of my faith.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
Routine
In what can I trust?
In my senses? They can cheat. They can be tampered with. They are not reliable.
In my emotions? They are vacillating, blown by the slightest breeze of circumstance.
In my mind? It can also be tampered with. A hundred influences playing for control at any time. Whispers in the dark. It is not reliable.
In my strength? It can fail in an instant. Invisible assassins assail it from every side. I am not strong.
In my possessions? They are not me. They do not satisfy. They break and are stolen or damaged. They are chaff.
In my friends? They are dispersed. I rarely see them. They are busy. They are troubled enough on their own. Or they are distant, not interested or capable of deep relations.
In my church? What is that? What is trustworthy in a human attempt to be Godly? It is corrupted, shallow, self-serving, and too busy.
In my hobbies? These are pass-times. Business for the hands and mind. Torches in the dark to stave off the hellhounds.
In family? They are bothered, exasperated, incapable of understanding, and confronted with the urgencies of life. They don't have time or energy for failings.
In work? It is usury. Squeeze my skills and usefulness from me, discard the rind.
In study? My understanding is drivel.
In routine? Yes there is safety. There is movement. Like pacing the cell, but it is movement. It is sequence. First this, now do this. In routine I can move. In unchanging life-sucking dullness of routine I can progress from one sun to the next, one moon to the next. It marks time. There is nothing else. Do this, next to this. No change. Consistency. It keeps the body fed, cleaned, rested, the mouths happy. Zombie-like it marches on. It selects the appropriate behaviors, faces for the appropriate moments. The suits for the occasions. It does not ask how I feel. It just moves. Next this, then this. Eventually the pacing will wear away the very flesh from my bones, the edge from my mind, the fire from my will. But it will progress. It is movement.
In my senses? They can cheat. They can be tampered with. They are not reliable.
In my emotions? They are vacillating, blown by the slightest breeze of circumstance.
In my mind? It can also be tampered with. A hundred influences playing for control at any time. Whispers in the dark. It is not reliable.
In my strength? It can fail in an instant. Invisible assassins assail it from every side. I am not strong.
In my possessions? They are not me. They do not satisfy. They break and are stolen or damaged. They are chaff.
In my friends? They are dispersed. I rarely see them. They are busy. They are troubled enough on their own. Or they are distant, not interested or capable of deep relations.
In my church? What is that? What is trustworthy in a human attempt to be Godly? It is corrupted, shallow, self-serving, and too busy.
In my hobbies? These are pass-times. Business for the hands and mind. Torches in the dark to stave off the hellhounds.
In family? They are bothered, exasperated, incapable of understanding, and confronted with the urgencies of life. They don't have time or energy for failings.
In work? It is usury. Squeeze my skills and usefulness from me, discard the rind.
In study? My understanding is drivel.
In routine? Yes there is safety. There is movement. Like pacing the cell, but it is movement. It is sequence. First this, now do this. In routine I can move. In unchanging life-sucking dullness of routine I can progress from one sun to the next, one moon to the next. It marks time. There is nothing else. Do this, next to this. No change. Consistency. It keeps the body fed, cleaned, rested, the mouths happy. Zombie-like it marches on. It selects the appropriate behaviors, faces for the appropriate moments. The suits for the occasions. It does not ask how I feel. It just moves. Next this, then this. Eventually the pacing will wear away the very flesh from my bones, the edge from my mind, the fire from my will. But it will progress. It is movement.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Grown Up Punk
I am often called a hippy. Funny because there's nothing further from the truth. A lot of times it simply has to do with long hair. But that's stupid. One thing I do identify with about hippies is that for many, it was a real lifestyle choice. It was irrevocable. It became part of who they are and they have lived it out all their lives.
While I shun labels in general, I find that they can sometimes be useful in short-cutting a long conversation. For me, the word punk is one of those very useful terms. And for me, like the hippies, punk became a part of who I am. But what does that mean?
First you have to understand that punk is way more than fashion or music, or even rebellion. Sure these things are called punk, but that's just the orbitting junk. A the heart, punk is an ideology, or set of ideologies really. It's a view of the world that stems from growing up in the consumerist, middle-class, western world. It's a reaction to the untruths and half-truths and controls and injustices foisted on those who grew up in that world. Let me clarify that...not injustices foisted on the members themselves, who tend to have had it pretty good, but the acceptance of injustices done to others.
Punk says we want more than this lame, mind-dulling, corporate greed controlled, pick-a-box-and-crawl-in-like-a-good-little-cog type of world. It refuses to give up it's values and it's sense of right and good.
On a deeper level, it is a disillusioned movement. It sees through the facades and seeks to confront others with that reality. Everything else stems from this. The objectionable lyrics, the wild fashion, the DIY ethic, even the violence associated with some forms of punk is really an attempt to break people out of the illusion that the world is soft and safe.
And of course, all of these things are played out against the varying backdrops and beliefs of punks. Therefore there is not one solid punk identity. We are conservative and liberal, and neither, violent and peaceful, abusive and generous, as varied as the types of people, religions, and politics of the people who are punks. And this diversity, is a reflection of the value on trueness to one's own sense of right and good.
That said, what does it mean to be a grown up punk? It's not fashion, though you can see elements of punk in my clothes, in my choices. I refuse to wear designer labels or prominent labels of any kind. I prefer to make my own, or alter my own clothes to suit my needs. I wear them until they are no more use. My hair is not your typical punk style, but it is also a style that is true to my own sense of rightness. I wear long hair because it is natural and free. It suits my attitude and face. It is a nod to my heritage and an embrace of my true identity.
You can see my punkness in my work choices. It isn't about career. How could it be, this is an illusion. My work has to do good and I refuse to do otherwise or to violate my principles even at my own peril. I currently work for the government where I am faced with political issues, which leads to the next area.
You can see punkness in my politics. I will not join a party or even register to vote. I excercise my God-given and valid democratic right to abstain because the system is corrupt. I will not play nor be used as a pawn in someone's agenda. That blood won't be on my hands. This makes much trouble at work. People often don't get it. My paradigm is different. My policies reflect equity and do not bend to corrupt political will. And I cannot respect those who do. I don't just roll over and accept corruption. I change it, or expose it, or render it ineffective. And failing that, I stand boldly and publically on my conviction. If you disagree, fine, but don't try to coerce or cheat if I know about it.
You can see punkness in my home. I ride my bike where I can so as not to be enslaved to traffic and oil and roads. I make most of my furniture. I keep my yard in a way that is ethical for others and identifies with the ecological reality and the social reality of the world.
So, yes, I am a grown up punk. It is a valid way of life. It is a part of me that will never go away. Like my faith (truly they are intimately tied) it is not something you can stop being. If you used to be Christian, or Punk, then you never really were.
If more people understood this, they'd understand me much better. I'd appear less difficult than principled. Less stubborn or obnoxious than painfully honest.
While I shun labels in general, I find that they can sometimes be useful in short-cutting a long conversation. For me, the word punk is one of those very useful terms. And for me, like the hippies, punk became a part of who I am. But what does that mean?
First you have to understand that punk is way more than fashion or music, or even rebellion. Sure these things are called punk, but that's just the orbitting junk. A the heart, punk is an ideology, or set of ideologies really. It's a view of the world that stems from growing up in the consumerist, middle-class, western world. It's a reaction to the untruths and half-truths and controls and injustices foisted on those who grew up in that world. Let me clarify that...not injustices foisted on the members themselves, who tend to have had it pretty good, but the acceptance of injustices done to others.
Punk says we want more than this lame, mind-dulling, corporate greed controlled, pick-a-box-and-crawl-in-like-a-good-little-cog type of world. It refuses to give up it's values and it's sense of right and good.
On a deeper level, it is a disillusioned movement. It sees through the facades and seeks to confront others with that reality. Everything else stems from this. The objectionable lyrics, the wild fashion, the DIY ethic, even the violence associated with some forms of punk is really an attempt to break people out of the illusion that the world is soft and safe.
And of course, all of these things are played out against the varying backdrops and beliefs of punks. Therefore there is not one solid punk identity. We are conservative and liberal, and neither, violent and peaceful, abusive and generous, as varied as the types of people, religions, and politics of the people who are punks. And this diversity, is a reflection of the value on trueness to one's own sense of right and good.
That said, what does it mean to be a grown up punk? It's not fashion, though you can see elements of punk in my clothes, in my choices. I refuse to wear designer labels or prominent labels of any kind. I prefer to make my own, or alter my own clothes to suit my needs. I wear them until they are no more use. My hair is not your typical punk style, but it is also a style that is true to my own sense of rightness. I wear long hair because it is natural and free. It suits my attitude and face. It is a nod to my heritage and an embrace of my true identity.
You can see my punkness in my work choices. It isn't about career. How could it be, this is an illusion. My work has to do good and I refuse to do otherwise or to violate my principles even at my own peril. I currently work for the government where I am faced with political issues, which leads to the next area.
You can see punkness in my politics. I will not join a party or even register to vote. I excercise my God-given and valid democratic right to abstain because the system is corrupt. I will not play nor be used as a pawn in someone's agenda. That blood won't be on my hands. This makes much trouble at work. People often don't get it. My paradigm is different. My policies reflect equity and do not bend to corrupt political will. And I cannot respect those who do. I don't just roll over and accept corruption. I change it, or expose it, or render it ineffective. And failing that, I stand boldly and publically on my conviction. If you disagree, fine, but don't try to coerce or cheat if I know about it.
You can see punkness in my home. I ride my bike where I can so as not to be enslaved to traffic and oil and roads. I make most of my furniture. I keep my yard in a way that is ethical for others and identifies with the ecological reality and the social reality of the world.
So, yes, I am a grown up punk. It is a valid way of life. It is a part of me that will never go away. Like my faith (truly they are intimately tied) it is not something you can stop being. If you used to be Christian, or Punk, then you never really were.
If more people understood this, they'd understand me much better. I'd appear less difficult than principled. Less stubborn or obnoxious than painfully honest.
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