I want to say something very serious...well I'm usually serious, so more serious than usual. This post is for anyone who finds it and needs it. I want you to know that this will always be a safe place for you. I will always be a safe place for you.
I am like you. I know depression. I know the taste of a gun barrel and the feel of a blade on my wrists. I have carved my pain in my arms and chest. I know about the masks. I know about good days and bad. I know decades...literally decades of only nightmares at night. I know the hollowness. I know the terror of lonely places, dark corners. I know the desire to simply cease being.
I know trances and psychic attack. I know the evil that can make you forget your own name. I know what it is to have my senses coopted by things that feed on pain and fear, to lose touch with reality for a time, to approach the gates of hell.
I know rage. I know the overwhelming desire to kill and destroy. I know what it is to look out of burning eyes and calculate the animal rending of someone before me.
I know rejection. I know false acceptance. I know the taunts and insults. I know the subtle but clear lack of understanding from people who want to care. I know how that look of alienation cuts more deeply because it comes from those who obviously don't want to wound. It just tells us how strange we are.
So if you understand this. If you know me or if you stumble across this late one night. Know that I am here and you are there. And you are not alone. Look at my picture. Read my words. Do I not seem like someone who knows?
You don't need to be anything other than what you are around me. And if you need me, I will be there in whatever way I can. This is my promise. Test me and see if I don't mean it. I don't come with programs and easy answers. But I come. I am the living dead, sent for the dead living. I gave up my life and it has been given back for you.
I am Cavvvp. I am real. And I am here.
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Friday, December 20, 2013
Power
Power can never be taken. It can only be given. This is absolutely true. To understand it, though, we have to understand power.
Merriam-Webster defines it as 1. ability to act or produce an effect. 2. possession of control, influence, or authority over others. 3. physical might.
I'm obviously talking about definition 2, but in a less direct way, my statement also applies to 1 and 3.
So regarding power over others, this power can only be given with the consent of those over whom it is exercised. We don't like to think of it that way because too many of us lay down and roll over to let people have power over us. We want to feel excused, that there was nothing we could do. But this is false because no one can physically make you do anything you do not choose to do.
Actually, there's two exceptions. They can make you hurt and they can make you die. But they still can't make you do anything they want you to do. What we call oppression is really just strong coercion. An oppressor finds something we want and attempts to control our receipt of it contingent upon us doing what they want. This doesn't always have to be negative. Many rulers know that positive reinforcement is better than negative in many cases. In this case we don't tend to call it oppression, but the principle is the same. We want the reward, so we comply. Parents use this all the time.
Another side of this coercion complex involves vilifying those who don't comply and making negative examples of them. This plays on the human tendency to conform and really just greases the wheels of the coercive process.
But it doesn't always work. If a person or people lose the fear of the consequences, the power is gone. Unfortunately in our society, one of the largest coercive factors is the idea that death is the ultimate evil. If life is to be preserved at all costs, the power is handed over. It simply becomes a matter of the degree to which it is exercised. But if death is not feared, the ruler is grasping at straws because even pain is not so effective a coercion simply because no ruler can hurt enough people. sure it may work one on one, but usually this occurs only after someone has already given over too much power in the first place.
Here's some examples. Ever wonder why Native Americans were not enslaved by the Europeans? Why would they go to the trouble and expense to catch and ship over Africans when there was an ample supply of primitive people right in their own backyard? The answer is that they tried. The problem was that Native Americans were (and still are) an independent and defiant people who do not hand over their power. Even if one could be taken alive, he or she would not work. Give them a tool and they'd put it through your head. Slack the chain and they'd wrap it around your neck. Pen them up and try to break them, and they'd simply starve to death or take their own life before giving in. Where do you think that fierce independent streak of American culture came from? Indians weren't destroyed. They were absorbed. The distinct cultures were largely lost, but I am a living example of the assimilated, but not conquered people who have left an indelible mark on American culture. Truly, modern American culture IS a hybrid of Native and European and African influences. But I digress.
Secondly, the Christian martyrs, both ancient and modern. They came from the dominant cultures in which they were found, but lost their fear of death and even pain because of their faith. While they didn't often resort to violent resistance, they were never conquered and thousands have refused to submit to countless regimes that violated their beliefs.
Third, Muslim martyrs. The reason Islamic terrorism is so scary is that it can occur anywhere and from anyone. A people who are not afraid to die do not need to submit.
But I also mentioned torture as often the result of having given up power and attempting to take it back too late. The best example I know are the Nazi concentration camp victims. Countless people sat by and watched as they gave up more and more power to the Nazi regime. Then even when they were being hauled away, few resisted. Some did. But not most.
The Christian martyrs are not exactly in this state because they willingly submitted to the torture because of their beliefs in nonviolence. Since it was willing, they weren't technically abdicating their power, but choosing not to exercise their power out of deference to God, whom they believed to be in control even in that time. Some were miraculously rescued, others weren't. But before you go trying to say this proves God doesn't exist or didn't favor them, remember what I said about death not being the ultimate evil.
I want to be clear, that I'm not downplaying the strength of the coercion. I'm not judging anyone for acting or not acting in any way. Until we're there, we can't say how we'd react either. I'm simply pointing out that these were indeed cases where power was given and not taken.
I'm not even saying it is wrong to always allow someone power over you. Certainly there are cases where it is wise, prudent, beneficial, and even good to submit. The difference is the understanding of what we're doing. It is voluntary submission. No human has power over another by innate right. It is ALWAYS by the consent of the governed.
This understanding should color our views of those over us. It should also color our views of those under us. Doubtless someone will quote the Bible passage about submitting to those in authority because God placed them there. Yes. I agree. What does this have to do with my point? I still have the choice to submit or not, for good or ill. I still can't be compelled to do what a ruler says. And if you are citing this passage, I'd like to also point out the many others about leaders whom God also took down...many through the violent and bloody hands of His people. So it cuts both ways, pastor. Are you so certain of which type of leader you are?
So where does this leave us? Is there a way to act in society? Yes, I think a mutual respect among all people, a servant leadership that understands it is just that, paired with a diverse and necessary body of others who are no less necessary and no less favored. While this is an ideal that may be hard to reach (at least in the US), I suggest we at least reclaim the mannered equipoise of many cultures past and present: Know you have less power than you think you do, and there's always a chance I could be more coercive than you, or at least willing to put you to the ultimate test of defending your power (i.e. I might kill you.) So let's just be polite and we'll get along fine.
As for a better way, I think we have that as well. God, being the prime source and beyond our influence altogether, has established that goodness and love flow from Him to us. Goodness and love draw the recipient toward the giver. Thus we comply not from coercion, but as a gift back. It works in the human realm, we've all seen it. Betrayal is universally denounced. Good deserves good. Love deserves love. It sidesteps the whole power dynamic altogether. This is how Jesus operated. This is how many Christians operate. It just had to start somewhere, and God took care of that for us. Or rather, He established the universe that way, so we really have no other choice. To defy it simply negates our own being. A self-perpetuating system, no punishment necessary.
So I'll leave you with this. If you are having to manipulate and strive to get people to do what you think they should, you're doing something wrong. If you have to beg for money or tell people God won't bless them. If you have to make lighthearted threats to get them to sign up for your program. You are slipping into the power dynamic, which means you don't have the power in the first place. Forcing that will be your undoing.
The only winning move is not to play.
Merriam-Webster defines it as 1. ability to act or produce an effect. 2. possession of control, influence, or authority over others. 3. physical might.
I'm obviously talking about definition 2, but in a less direct way, my statement also applies to 1 and 3.
So regarding power over others, this power can only be given with the consent of those over whom it is exercised. We don't like to think of it that way because too many of us lay down and roll over to let people have power over us. We want to feel excused, that there was nothing we could do. But this is false because no one can physically make you do anything you do not choose to do.
Actually, there's two exceptions. They can make you hurt and they can make you die. But they still can't make you do anything they want you to do. What we call oppression is really just strong coercion. An oppressor finds something we want and attempts to control our receipt of it contingent upon us doing what they want. This doesn't always have to be negative. Many rulers know that positive reinforcement is better than negative in many cases. In this case we don't tend to call it oppression, but the principle is the same. We want the reward, so we comply. Parents use this all the time.
Another side of this coercion complex involves vilifying those who don't comply and making negative examples of them. This plays on the human tendency to conform and really just greases the wheels of the coercive process.
But it doesn't always work. If a person or people lose the fear of the consequences, the power is gone. Unfortunately in our society, one of the largest coercive factors is the idea that death is the ultimate evil. If life is to be preserved at all costs, the power is handed over. It simply becomes a matter of the degree to which it is exercised. But if death is not feared, the ruler is grasping at straws because even pain is not so effective a coercion simply because no ruler can hurt enough people. sure it may work one on one, but usually this occurs only after someone has already given over too much power in the first place.
Here's some examples. Ever wonder why Native Americans were not enslaved by the Europeans? Why would they go to the trouble and expense to catch and ship over Africans when there was an ample supply of primitive people right in their own backyard? The answer is that they tried. The problem was that Native Americans were (and still are) an independent and defiant people who do not hand over their power. Even if one could be taken alive, he or she would not work. Give them a tool and they'd put it through your head. Slack the chain and they'd wrap it around your neck. Pen them up and try to break them, and they'd simply starve to death or take their own life before giving in. Where do you think that fierce independent streak of American culture came from? Indians weren't destroyed. They were absorbed. The distinct cultures were largely lost, but I am a living example of the assimilated, but not conquered people who have left an indelible mark on American culture. Truly, modern American culture IS a hybrid of Native and European and African influences. But I digress.
Secondly, the Christian martyrs, both ancient and modern. They came from the dominant cultures in which they were found, but lost their fear of death and even pain because of their faith. While they didn't often resort to violent resistance, they were never conquered and thousands have refused to submit to countless regimes that violated their beliefs.
Third, Muslim martyrs. The reason Islamic terrorism is so scary is that it can occur anywhere and from anyone. A people who are not afraid to die do not need to submit.
But I also mentioned torture as often the result of having given up power and attempting to take it back too late. The best example I know are the Nazi concentration camp victims. Countless people sat by and watched as they gave up more and more power to the Nazi regime. Then even when they were being hauled away, few resisted. Some did. But not most.
The Christian martyrs are not exactly in this state because they willingly submitted to the torture because of their beliefs in nonviolence. Since it was willing, they weren't technically abdicating their power, but choosing not to exercise their power out of deference to God, whom they believed to be in control even in that time. Some were miraculously rescued, others weren't. But before you go trying to say this proves God doesn't exist or didn't favor them, remember what I said about death not being the ultimate evil.
I want to be clear, that I'm not downplaying the strength of the coercion. I'm not judging anyone for acting or not acting in any way. Until we're there, we can't say how we'd react either. I'm simply pointing out that these were indeed cases where power was given and not taken.
I'm not even saying it is wrong to always allow someone power over you. Certainly there are cases where it is wise, prudent, beneficial, and even good to submit. The difference is the understanding of what we're doing. It is voluntary submission. No human has power over another by innate right. It is ALWAYS by the consent of the governed.
This understanding should color our views of those over us. It should also color our views of those under us. Doubtless someone will quote the Bible passage about submitting to those in authority because God placed them there. Yes. I agree. What does this have to do with my point? I still have the choice to submit or not, for good or ill. I still can't be compelled to do what a ruler says. And if you are citing this passage, I'd like to also point out the many others about leaders whom God also took down...many through the violent and bloody hands of His people. So it cuts both ways, pastor. Are you so certain of which type of leader you are?
So where does this leave us? Is there a way to act in society? Yes, I think a mutual respect among all people, a servant leadership that understands it is just that, paired with a diverse and necessary body of others who are no less necessary and no less favored. While this is an ideal that may be hard to reach (at least in the US), I suggest we at least reclaim the mannered equipoise of many cultures past and present: Know you have less power than you think you do, and there's always a chance I could be more coercive than you, or at least willing to put you to the ultimate test of defending your power (i.e. I might kill you.) So let's just be polite and we'll get along fine.
As for a better way, I think we have that as well. God, being the prime source and beyond our influence altogether, has established that goodness and love flow from Him to us. Goodness and love draw the recipient toward the giver. Thus we comply not from coercion, but as a gift back. It works in the human realm, we've all seen it. Betrayal is universally denounced. Good deserves good. Love deserves love. It sidesteps the whole power dynamic altogether. This is how Jesus operated. This is how many Christians operate. It just had to start somewhere, and God took care of that for us. Or rather, He established the universe that way, so we really have no other choice. To defy it simply negates our own being. A self-perpetuating system, no punishment necessary.
So I'll leave you with this. If you are having to manipulate and strive to get people to do what you think they should, you're doing something wrong. If you have to beg for money or tell people God won't bless them. If you have to make lighthearted threats to get them to sign up for your program. You are slipping into the power dynamic, which means you don't have the power in the first place. Forcing that will be your undoing.
The only winning move is not to play.
Monday, August 15, 2011
anxious
I finally finished the bathroom and have taken some time to breathe. What a weight off that was.
But then, today something happened that reminds me that we are never more than one quick turn from ruin. I was eating lunch an chatting with a coworker when I swallowed and the food lodged in my throat. I know the feeling well. A few years ago I ended up in the emergency room because a pill lodged so thoroughly that nothing would remove it. Finally it was surgically removed and my esophagus was dilated. I discovered that I have a stomach condition that burns my esophagus with stomach acid and scars it. Combined with a naturally narrow throat, this creates restrictions where food can easily lodge. I'm supposed to take medicine to stop the acid, but found the medicine and the anxiety associated with having to take medicine all the time were causing more discomfort than the acid problem, so my doctor advised that I stop taking it so frequently...which turned into rarely.
But today in one split moment, I was right back in that distress. I tried to drink, but the water wouldn't pass or move the food, so I ran to the bathroom and began retching and swallowing until it finally dislodged. It's a horrible feeling. I would almost rather block my wind and pass out quickly. So I am reminded now of those days following the surgery where everything I ate was a source of anxiety. Where I felt incomplete, broken. Where my previous delusionment of strength and self-sufficiency was shattered. I feel it must be a bit of what chronically ill people feel.
It even led to a bit of hypochondria where I was so afraid of what other major health issue I might be ignoring that every ailment had me hyper-examining myself and even going to the doctor to ensure I was ok.
But now it's back to the diet to reduce acid, back to the medicine. I'm trying hard to keep peace about it. To "be anxious for nothing..." But it's not easy for me. I am naturally bent that way.
The strange thing is that I am not in the least afraid of dying. In fact it makes many people uncomfortable to hear how much I am truly not afraid of it. For me it would be a blessing, an end to this life of anxiety and depression and fear and evil. I know that I will fall into rest in my Father's arms. I can't wait to step out of this flesh and gaze at the real world. How appropriate then that to break whatever pride or perversion is in me, I am given this cross of decidedly undeadly burden. I must face this anxious fear, this dread of medical pain and systematic torture. I could face a knife or bullet with ease, but to face probing, medical, prodding and pricking is terrifying to me.
This is yet another instance where I must decrease and let Christ increase in me. I am in myself less than a cripple because my cross is internal with little external sign. My struggles have no substance, no matter, therefore they are "insubstantial" and "don't matter". You see how even language degrades me? No one teases a visibly handicapped person, but when it is not visible, all manner of jokes are permissible. To be inwardly stricken is to be flawed by choice to most people. Why can't I just be normal. I hate the word. It has no real meaning. It is truly insubstantial. It is an abstract statistical term.
Therefore I want to wear my invisible crosses outwardly. I am willing to take scorn and disrespect, though it scares me and I crave approval. I know that my identity is not this flesh which tries to dominate in weaker moments. I know that I cannot change what I cannot change. I know that I am too weak even to change much of what I can change. Therefore I plead Christ. I am bound to him because he is the only source of hope I have found to be credible. If it is up to me, then I am already doomed. No "you're ok, I'm ok" claptrap will resolve this. No PMA. No universalism. Call me Christian and let my strength and identity be Christ.
But then, today something happened that reminds me that we are never more than one quick turn from ruin. I was eating lunch an chatting with a coworker when I swallowed and the food lodged in my throat. I know the feeling well. A few years ago I ended up in the emergency room because a pill lodged so thoroughly that nothing would remove it. Finally it was surgically removed and my esophagus was dilated. I discovered that I have a stomach condition that burns my esophagus with stomach acid and scars it. Combined with a naturally narrow throat, this creates restrictions where food can easily lodge. I'm supposed to take medicine to stop the acid, but found the medicine and the anxiety associated with having to take medicine all the time were causing more discomfort than the acid problem, so my doctor advised that I stop taking it so frequently...which turned into rarely.
But today in one split moment, I was right back in that distress. I tried to drink, but the water wouldn't pass or move the food, so I ran to the bathroom and began retching and swallowing until it finally dislodged. It's a horrible feeling. I would almost rather block my wind and pass out quickly. So I am reminded now of those days following the surgery where everything I ate was a source of anxiety. Where I felt incomplete, broken. Where my previous delusionment of strength and self-sufficiency was shattered. I feel it must be a bit of what chronically ill people feel.
It even led to a bit of hypochondria where I was so afraid of what other major health issue I might be ignoring that every ailment had me hyper-examining myself and even going to the doctor to ensure I was ok.
But now it's back to the diet to reduce acid, back to the medicine. I'm trying hard to keep peace about it. To "be anxious for nothing..." But it's not easy for me. I am naturally bent that way.
The strange thing is that I am not in the least afraid of dying. In fact it makes many people uncomfortable to hear how much I am truly not afraid of it. For me it would be a blessing, an end to this life of anxiety and depression and fear and evil. I know that I will fall into rest in my Father's arms. I can't wait to step out of this flesh and gaze at the real world. How appropriate then that to break whatever pride or perversion is in me, I am given this cross of decidedly undeadly burden. I must face this anxious fear, this dread of medical pain and systematic torture. I could face a knife or bullet with ease, but to face probing, medical, prodding and pricking is terrifying to me.
This is yet another instance where I must decrease and let Christ increase in me. I am in myself less than a cripple because my cross is internal with little external sign. My struggles have no substance, no matter, therefore they are "insubstantial" and "don't matter". You see how even language degrades me? No one teases a visibly handicapped person, but when it is not visible, all manner of jokes are permissible. To be inwardly stricken is to be flawed by choice to most people. Why can't I just be normal. I hate the word. It has no real meaning. It is truly insubstantial. It is an abstract statistical term.
Therefore I want to wear my invisible crosses outwardly. I am willing to take scorn and disrespect, though it scares me and I crave approval. I know that my identity is not this flesh which tries to dominate in weaker moments. I know that I cannot change what I cannot change. I know that I am too weak even to change much of what I can change. Therefore I plead Christ. I am bound to him because he is the only source of hope I have found to be credible. If it is up to me, then I am already doomed. No "you're ok, I'm ok" claptrap will resolve this. No PMA. No universalism. Call me Christian and let my strength and identity be Christ.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Pain, Death, Rebirth
I don't have much of an idea what pain is. I mean real physical pain. I like to think I do, but I don't think many of us in the US even know what it is. I'm sure there are some. I know at least one person who does. But most of us are soft and whiny. I know I am. I am bothered by relatively minimal complaints. I am coming to believe that true strength, true heartiness, is not the absence of pain, but the ability to focus through it, to press on in spite of it.
This splices in nicely with other things I've been thinking. I am always put off by the focus on help in modern Christianity. Certainly rest for the weary and help are prominent features in the Bible. But this does not come at the exclusion of pain or suffering. When we focus too much on the help and the good, it sounds hollow.
I've recently heard a series of testimonials...the standard 'how has life changed for you now that you follow Christ' thing. Most are stupid, vapid comments like, "things are just good, and, you know, like stuff is better..." Most of these people weren't living in horrible circumstances, so their life hasn't changed much. That is not to say they haven't undergone a metanoia of their own, but what are we advertising here? This isn't some motivational seminar. We accept Christ because 1. we come to believe his claims are true and/or 2. we have no other alternative left before us. I don't believe there are any other reasons, but I invite anyone to point out other valid ones.
So, working from this perspective, the help is a nice feature, but not at all a requirement. Accepting a fact as a fact isn't an option. Whether you believe you will fall from a cliff or not, you will nonetheless fall. And whether a blind person believes the sky to be blue does not change the fact that those who see call the sky blue. It is true. This is the Gospel: Not so much, what can Jesus do for you, but that the God, the origin of all things has entered our time line to restore our rebellious ruined and doomed race back to what it was intended to be, along with the world we drug down with us. The only question, the only point of faith, is if we're right. And this is only a question because God has yet to submit to our will. He operates as He sees fit, and what else would we expect from a God who is actually God. I would certainly doubt a God who felt a need to convince me of anything.
And if we come by the second path, regardless of what we may believe to be true, we can come to such a broken helpless place, a place so aware of our own depravity and ruin that we will call out in sheer desperate hope. These, our God has promised never to ignore, so though they may not logically assent to everything, they will cling out of sheer desperate hope and find that hope not to be forsaken.
I personally have come by this path and in time found the first as well. So whether anyone else likes it, believes it, or accepts it. I am convinced. More than convinced. I have actually died. In some extratemporal spiritual way, I know the point of my own death and I know the meaning of being hidden in Christ, buried and resurrected with Him. It changes perspective on everything.
It wasn't until the point of my own death in a very real and final way that I truly understood that God existed and how. It was in that moment of final release of myself that I found I was not in a void, but held tightly by loving arms. That space was far from empty, but crammed full of Him. Truly not crammed full, but our universe is within Him, contained. He is inescapable.
I know that doesn't make much sense on the surface, but it is true. And because of it, I can't approach belief, evangelism, or whatever other Christian trappings, in the way many do. For some reason unknown to me, when I died, I was placed exactly back in the very moment of my previous timeline. I know the moment well. I felt my world blow away and reform. My physical heart still beats, my body still functions, but the real me, the soul, the part that makes me alive, had died and been reborn. I didn't want to come back. I wanted to be dead. But that is no longer for me to decide. Not I but Christ in me, lives and acts. Of course the ghosts, the shadows of my old nature still haunt the system. Some bugs are deep in the code of my being. But I don't want to fix them, I want to kill them with the rest of my old self.
So please don't come to me with hollow ideas of daisies and roses Jesus. I don't want to be fixed. I want to be dead! And if anything good remains it isn't me, its Christ. Accepting Him was irrevocable because I died to do it. And I am coming to understand that pain, that conflict, that suffering, are all parts of the dead man. I was sent back here to accomplish His purposes and I can truly say with Paul that neither physical death nor life matter any more to me because to live is Christ and to die is gain.
This splices in nicely with other things I've been thinking. I am always put off by the focus on help in modern Christianity. Certainly rest for the weary and help are prominent features in the Bible. But this does not come at the exclusion of pain or suffering. When we focus too much on the help and the good, it sounds hollow.
I've recently heard a series of testimonials...the standard 'how has life changed for you now that you follow Christ' thing. Most are stupid, vapid comments like, "things are just good, and, you know, like stuff is better..." Most of these people weren't living in horrible circumstances, so their life hasn't changed much. That is not to say they haven't undergone a metanoia of their own, but what are we advertising here? This isn't some motivational seminar. We accept Christ because 1. we come to believe his claims are true and/or 2. we have no other alternative left before us. I don't believe there are any other reasons, but I invite anyone to point out other valid ones.
So, working from this perspective, the help is a nice feature, but not at all a requirement. Accepting a fact as a fact isn't an option. Whether you believe you will fall from a cliff or not, you will nonetheless fall. And whether a blind person believes the sky to be blue does not change the fact that those who see call the sky blue. It is true. This is the Gospel: Not so much, what can Jesus do for you, but that the God, the origin of all things has entered our time line to restore our rebellious ruined and doomed race back to what it was intended to be, along with the world we drug down with us. The only question, the only point of faith, is if we're right. And this is only a question because God has yet to submit to our will. He operates as He sees fit, and what else would we expect from a God who is actually God. I would certainly doubt a God who felt a need to convince me of anything.
And if we come by the second path, regardless of what we may believe to be true, we can come to such a broken helpless place, a place so aware of our own depravity and ruin that we will call out in sheer desperate hope. These, our God has promised never to ignore, so though they may not logically assent to everything, they will cling out of sheer desperate hope and find that hope not to be forsaken.
I personally have come by this path and in time found the first as well. So whether anyone else likes it, believes it, or accepts it. I am convinced. More than convinced. I have actually died. In some extratemporal spiritual way, I know the point of my own death and I know the meaning of being hidden in Christ, buried and resurrected with Him. It changes perspective on everything.
It wasn't until the point of my own death in a very real and final way that I truly understood that God existed and how. It was in that moment of final release of myself that I found I was not in a void, but held tightly by loving arms. That space was far from empty, but crammed full of Him. Truly not crammed full, but our universe is within Him, contained. He is inescapable.
I know that doesn't make much sense on the surface, but it is true. And because of it, I can't approach belief, evangelism, or whatever other Christian trappings, in the way many do. For some reason unknown to me, when I died, I was placed exactly back in the very moment of my previous timeline. I know the moment well. I felt my world blow away and reform. My physical heart still beats, my body still functions, but the real me, the soul, the part that makes me alive, had died and been reborn. I didn't want to come back. I wanted to be dead. But that is no longer for me to decide. Not I but Christ in me, lives and acts. Of course the ghosts, the shadows of my old nature still haunt the system. Some bugs are deep in the code of my being. But I don't want to fix them, I want to kill them with the rest of my old self.
So please don't come to me with hollow ideas of daisies and roses Jesus. I don't want to be fixed. I want to be dead! And if anything good remains it isn't me, its Christ. Accepting Him was irrevocable because I died to do it. And I am coming to understand that pain, that conflict, that suffering, are all parts of the dead man. I was sent back here to accomplish His purposes and I can truly say with Paul that neither physical death nor life matter any more to me because to live is Christ and to die is gain.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
An interesting question
Every profession or trade has its benefits and its hazards. We have to weigh that against our own aptitudes and desires, and find what fits us. So imagine if there was a job which paid reasonably well...not rich, but a good living, but carried with it a hazard to one's health. It involved work with a certain compound that would shorten one's life such that most people in this line of work died 20 or so years before the average life expectancy. That compound had no other side effects than to make one very content and happy until their body simply shuts down.
So the question is, would you take the job? You could look forward to a reasonable lifestyle without huge excesses or wants, and you'd be one of the happiest people regardless of circumstance, simply because of constant exposure to this compound. But you'd be shortening your life significantly. Is it worth the contentment to give up the long life, or is the longer life worth the decades of frustration and worry of day to day life?
This is not so far fetched. People mine coal, even though they know it will corrode their lungs. People do all kinds of drugs from caffeine to heroin with varying side effects on their health for the pleasures it provides. And it seems to be a common fact, that those with less responsibility seem to be generally happier than most everyone else. Hatters were known for being mad, painters too, because of the chemicals they used. Chimney sweeps were known for being happy-go-lucky, even though they breathed toxic ash all their lives and died very young. But all of these have negatives that outweigh the benefits for most people. The diseases they cause are painful, the drugs ruin ability to function, etc. But if there was a compound that simply made people happy, the work was sufficiently funded, and the only side effect was that you'd suddenly drop dead early...it's a hard question.
I think I might take that job. What about you?
So the question is, would you take the job? You could look forward to a reasonable lifestyle without huge excesses or wants, and you'd be one of the happiest people regardless of circumstance, simply because of constant exposure to this compound. But you'd be shortening your life significantly. Is it worth the contentment to give up the long life, or is the longer life worth the decades of frustration and worry of day to day life?
This is not so far fetched. People mine coal, even though they know it will corrode their lungs. People do all kinds of drugs from caffeine to heroin with varying side effects on their health for the pleasures it provides. And it seems to be a common fact, that those with less responsibility seem to be generally happier than most everyone else. Hatters were known for being mad, painters too, because of the chemicals they used. Chimney sweeps were known for being happy-go-lucky, even though they breathed toxic ash all their lives and died very young. But all of these have negatives that outweigh the benefits for most people. The diseases they cause are painful, the drugs ruin ability to function, etc. But if there was a compound that simply made people happy, the work was sufficiently funded, and the only side effect was that you'd suddenly drop dead early...it's a hard question.
I think I might take that job. What about you?
Friday, February 5, 2010
Loser
Ok, so I have been a bit gripy in the past few posts. It's been a rough month so far. I'm starting to feel like I'm over it though. Certain things really rub me the wrong way because for me, my faith is a very real and active thing. There is a lot of religion that I find silly, or just plain wrong. What I find foolish or misunderstood, I don't adhere to at all. If people want to follow something that only affects themselves, I am content to let them work it out on their own. That stuff doesn't bother me.
But when it comes to things that I do believe, I truly believe them. There is no middle ground on those, just like I have no doubt that I am typing on this keyboard and sitting in this chair. And just as I have no doubt that Japan does in fact exist because I have been there. Just as certain as these things are, so are the things I believe about Christianity.
When someone starts trying to teach others things that I do not believe to be true. Things that go utterly against the character and nature of what I hold dear, I have a hard time. It isn't about intolerance, as I have said above. I respect people's rights to believe and to think for themselves. But just like no man would suffer someone to insult or defame his wife or children, so I feel about my God.
Why is this so serious for me when so many can breeze in and out of churches and it never really burns them down into their core? I don't know. I can speculate, but I'd prefer to speak from what I know.
I am a loser. Plain and simple. The lost sock. The guy who just doesn't get it. The one that stands on the outskirts. The one who doesn't like what everyone else likes, or talk like everyone else talks. I have seen the futility and the wrongs in this world and I have seen my inability to change myself or anyone else. My inability to do anything about the wrongs. My inability to make sense of it all. To someone like me... and I am not alone, there are many of us... there are few choices. Nihilism and hedonism are two of the biggest choices. My dark and ascetic nature leans more toward nihilism, the lack of belief in anything, than toward hedonism, simply because I can't lie to myself like that. To seek pleasure is to live blind to my speeding end and the pain around me.
It is a depressed and bleak existence. But what else is there with no good, no God, no hope. I unfortunately, could not blindly ignore the obvious and hide in my trinkets and drugs and sex and fun. I have sucked on a gun barrel more than once. I know what a knife blade feels like on my wrists. The only thing that kept me from doing it was the simple phrase, "what if the Catholics are right?" What if I did it and there was suddenly a God there condemning me to hell for eternity because of my suicide? I was already in hell, I couldn't take it for eternity, even if there was a glimmer of hope. Give me oblivion or heaven. So I lived in a way that disregarded my health. I would not eat. I would not wear a seat belt, even when I had a jeep with no doors. I hung out in seedy places, just waiting for my number to come up. I cut myself to make the inside pain ease by feeling it on the outside. I carved designs in my skin. I worked at a nursery and pruned roses bare-handed and carried cactus by the stalks, letting the needles pierce deep in my shoulder and hands. I smashed my head into mirrors just hoping they would shatter and cut me. I was walking dead. Then came the psychosomatic illnesses. The feelings of wretching and dying in the stomach. The spasms. The worst pain ever and it wouldn't stop. I probed into the occult, looking to see if there was something beyond this misery and pain. There I met more misery and pain. I began to be tormented psychologically. Demons tailed me and mocked me openly. I even came within inches of killing someone for cutting in line once. My hands shook so bad I could barely hold a fork, so I ate even less. Reality began to unravel. My death was coming, I could tell.
And then one day in desperation, I broke, with a soul scream so deep that it rippled shock waves through the room, crying out for help. I was at the end of myself. And suddenly Jesus was there. He was real. He was holy. His presence like a nuclear bomb. And with a whisper from him the demons were gone, the world blew away, and I was in perfect peace. I thought I was finally in the oblivion I sought, but slowly the world reformed and over years I learned to breathe and walk and eat again in a new world, in a new way. The Bible suddenly made so much more sense. It was informed by my experience. I can hear the depth and desperation in the words...by grace you are saved...I bear on my body the marks of Jesus...mercy, not sacrifice.
The old me is truly gone. I have participated in the regeneration of man by merging with Christ. My soul is his. I gave up myself into oblivion and found that there is no void...only Him. And he gave my soul back to me, repaired. The me he created was reinstalled, my spirit, my soul. My body and mind are still in process. They are still imperfect and still sometimes wracked by the terrors I have known.
But deep in me, when I turn silent and contemplate reality, there is my savior, his holy wind surrounding me. The one that owns me. The one that reformed me from the ashes of my own destruction. There is no sex, no meditation, no flow closer or more complete than this presence. Without him, I am lost. I know the horror of my self and of the world.
So you see, for me, Jesus isn't about making my life happy. It isn't about success, or complying with religious prescriptions. If that were the case, I would have no hope. It's too late for me in that. But as much as someone may believe those things, I know they aren't true. I hang entirely on him. I couldn't possibly deny him. And I would gladly go to my death over it. So I can't bear to hear anyone who claims to represent Jesus say or do things that would turn souls like me away from who He really is.
It's hard to say these things. Hard to commit them to writing. I seriously thought I was psychotic for a long time. But they have been confirmed. They are true. Perhaps this month has been about teaching me just how true and burning off some latent fears about expressing this part of me.
But when it comes to things that I do believe, I truly believe them. There is no middle ground on those, just like I have no doubt that I am typing on this keyboard and sitting in this chair. And just as I have no doubt that Japan does in fact exist because I have been there. Just as certain as these things are, so are the things I believe about Christianity.
When someone starts trying to teach others things that I do not believe to be true. Things that go utterly against the character and nature of what I hold dear, I have a hard time. It isn't about intolerance, as I have said above. I respect people's rights to believe and to think for themselves. But just like no man would suffer someone to insult or defame his wife or children, so I feel about my God.
Why is this so serious for me when so many can breeze in and out of churches and it never really burns them down into their core? I don't know. I can speculate, but I'd prefer to speak from what I know.
I am a loser. Plain and simple. The lost sock. The guy who just doesn't get it. The one that stands on the outskirts. The one who doesn't like what everyone else likes, or talk like everyone else talks. I have seen the futility and the wrongs in this world and I have seen my inability to change myself or anyone else. My inability to do anything about the wrongs. My inability to make sense of it all. To someone like me... and I am not alone, there are many of us... there are few choices. Nihilism and hedonism are two of the biggest choices. My dark and ascetic nature leans more toward nihilism, the lack of belief in anything, than toward hedonism, simply because I can't lie to myself like that. To seek pleasure is to live blind to my speeding end and the pain around me.
It is a depressed and bleak existence. But what else is there with no good, no God, no hope. I unfortunately, could not blindly ignore the obvious and hide in my trinkets and drugs and sex and fun. I have sucked on a gun barrel more than once. I know what a knife blade feels like on my wrists. The only thing that kept me from doing it was the simple phrase, "what if the Catholics are right?" What if I did it and there was suddenly a God there condemning me to hell for eternity because of my suicide? I was already in hell, I couldn't take it for eternity, even if there was a glimmer of hope. Give me oblivion or heaven. So I lived in a way that disregarded my health. I would not eat. I would not wear a seat belt, even when I had a jeep with no doors. I hung out in seedy places, just waiting for my number to come up. I cut myself to make the inside pain ease by feeling it on the outside. I carved designs in my skin. I worked at a nursery and pruned roses bare-handed and carried cactus by the stalks, letting the needles pierce deep in my shoulder and hands. I smashed my head into mirrors just hoping they would shatter and cut me. I was walking dead. Then came the psychosomatic illnesses. The feelings of wretching and dying in the stomach. The spasms. The worst pain ever and it wouldn't stop. I probed into the occult, looking to see if there was something beyond this misery and pain. There I met more misery and pain. I began to be tormented psychologically. Demons tailed me and mocked me openly. I even came within inches of killing someone for cutting in line once. My hands shook so bad I could barely hold a fork, so I ate even less. Reality began to unravel. My death was coming, I could tell.
And then one day in desperation, I broke, with a soul scream so deep that it rippled shock waves through the room, crying out for help. I was at the end of myself. And suddenly Jesus was there. He was real. He was holy. His presence like a nuclear bomb. And with a whisper from him the demons were gone, the world blew away, and I was in perfect peace. I thought I was finally in the oblivion I sought, but slowly the world reformed and over years I learned to breathe and walk and eat again in a new world, in a new way. The Bible suddenly made so much more sense. It was informed by my experience. I can hear the depth and desperation in the words...by grace you are saved...I bear on my body the marks of Jesus...mercy, not sacrifice.
The old me is truly gone. I have participated in the regeneration of man by merging with Christ. My soul is his. I gave up myself into oblivion and found that there is no void...only Him. And he gave my soul back to me, repaired. The me he created was reinstalled, my spirit, my soul. My body and mind are still in process. They are still imperfect and still sometimes wracked by the terrors I have known.
But deep in me, when I turn silent and contemplate reality, there is my savior, his holy wind surrounding me. The one that owns me. The one that reformed me from the ashes of my own destruction. There is no sex, no meditation, no flow closer or more complete than this presence. Without him, I am lost. I know the horror of my self and of the world.
So you see, for me, Jesus isn't about making my life happy. It isn't about success, or complying with religious prescriptions. If that were the case, I would have no hope. It's too late for me in that. But as much as someone may believe those things, I know they aren't true. I hang entirely on him. I couldn't possibly deny him. And I would gladly go to my death over it. So I can't bear to hear anyone who claims to represent Jesus say or do things that would turn souls like me away from who He really is.
It's hard to say these things. Hard to commit them to writing. I seriously thought I was psychotic for a long time. But they have been confirmed. They are true. Perhaps this month has been about teaching me just how true and burning off some latent fears about expressing this part of me.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Funerals
I hate funerals. Actually it isn't funerals I hate, it's all the stuff that goes on at them. The concept of saying goodbye, laying to rest, praying for the soul...all of that I not only understand, but think is valuable. But then there's the false niceties, the put-on somberness, the forced sense of decorum. But lest I sound callous, let me explain.
Everyone grieves differently: some people sob openly, some get quiet, some get angry, some get silly, some even dodge the issue altogether. The problem is that when people are uncomfortable and emotions are high, as they are at funerals, they tend to take things too seriously or too personally. Considering that I don't tend to view things like most people, I don't tend to act like most people. I'm not saying I'm better...just different. As a good friend recently pointed out, I've been weird all my life, and always will be. I now recognize it as a gift from God. But it comes with the price of being often misunderstood. Nevertheless, at a funeral, eventually someone will think that I'm not acting properly, be that not grieving as they feel I should or committing some offense against the observer directly, and of course they will feel this must be dealt with. Or if I happen to be among one of those 'not out in the open' families, they will go about whispering or glaring or some other passive-aggressivity.
So no matter how hard I try, funerals rarely go well for me. If I grieve as fits me, people get offended. If I try to avoid that, I spend the whole time awkward and uncomfortable...which also draws attention. I just want to be left to process things in my own way!
I think the root of the issue is in my understanding of things. See, I actually believe that a soul lives on after death. So, as Bunyan said it, for people of faith, death is simply crossing the river they've lived beside for many years. It means the end of suffering, the end of temproal concerns. For many, this is a relief. I also believe that souls are outside of our space-time dynamic, so I don't have to be present for them to know my concerns or benefit from my prayers. They are far more aware of what I'm doing and thinking than any of us in this world.
So, it's hard for me to feel the same things that many people do at funerals. I recognize that those close to the deceased may be in pain, and I would never intentionally do or say anything to belittle that, but I can't pretend that things aren't as I believe they are.
So when I die, pray that God will welcome me. That I will pass through the fire without much loss, and that what is perishible will be quickly consumed. Rejoice for me that I am no longer the selfish, angry, anxious jerk that I fought so hard not to be in this world. And let each person process those facts as they see fit. Don't dare be offended if they sing, celebrate, cry, or wail.
Everyone grieves differently: some people sob openly, some get quiet, some get angry, some get silly, some even dodge the issue altogether. The problem is that when people are uncomfortable and emotions are high, as they are at funerals, they tend to take things too seriously or too personally. Considering that I don't tend to view things like most people, I don't tend to act like most people. I'm not saying I'm better...just different. As a good friend recently pointed out, I've been weird all my life, and always will be. I now recognize it as a gift from God. But it comes with the price of being often misunderstood. Nevertheless, at a funeral, eventually someone will think that I'm not acting properly, be that not grieving as they feel I should or committing some offense against the observer directly, and of course they will feel this must be dealt with. Or if I happen to be among one of those 'not out in the open' families, they will go about whispering or glaring or some other passive-aggressivity.
So no matter how hard I try, funerals rarely go well for me. If I grieve as fits me, people get offended. If I try to avoid that, I spend the whole time awkward and uncomfortable...which also draws attention. I just want to be left to process things in my own way!
I think the root of the issue is in my understanding of things. See, I actually believe that a soul lives on after death. So, as Bunyan said it, for people of faith, death is simply crossing the river they've lived beside for many years. It means the end of suffering, the end of temproal concerns. For many, this is a relief. I also believe that souls are outside of our space-time dynamic, so I don't have to be present for them to know my concerns or benefit from my prayers. They are far more aware of what I'm doing and thinking than any of us in this world.
So, it's hard for me to feel the same things that many people do at funerals. I recognize that those close to the deceased may be in pain, and I would never intentionally do or say anything to belittle that, but I can't pretend that things aren't as I believe they are.
So when I die, pray that God will welcome me. That I will pass through the fire without much loss, and that what is perishible will be quickly consumed. Rejoice for me that I am no longer the selfish, angry, anxious jerk that I fought so hard not to be in this world. And let each person process those facts as they see fit. Don't dare be offended if they sing, celebrate, cry, or wail.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Death
The last couple of posts have led this way and I have been reluctant to tackle it. All the more reason to do so, I suppose. It's not that I am uncomfortable with death; exactly the opposite. But it seems to me the greater portion of people I meet are very uncomfortable with it and that is the issue. How can you talk about something that freaks everyone out?
I'm not talking about one of those melodramatic goth type discussions...I'm talking about real and valid consideration. This is something everyone should consider. Afterall, we will all die! That is as certain as anything can be in this world. I suppose we could argue the finer semantic points on that too, but as I always say, feel free to comment to that effect and we can do it.
I suppose the uncomfortability with death comes at the root from fear. This is of course built upon by the culturally expected reactions to death and exacerbated by certain groups' over-stressing of physical life.
Regardless of what you believe about death, some things are indisputable. We will all die (leave this world). Everyone before us has. We are never safe from it, no matter how we manage risk. Others will be left alive after any death. Given at least these things, we ought to all make a much better effort to come to terms with it. Yet most of us spend the bulk of our lives ignoring it until it thrusts itself into our lives like an unwelcome and ugly spector. But it is no spector. Death has been our constant companion since the day of our conception. And you can't get much more real than the finality of death. Nothing spectral about that at all.
Certainly, your worldview will highly influence your view of death. Since I am a Christian and this is a blog from my perspective, I will address it in that way. But even if your faith is different, I bet you'll find these same currents of thought in your own tradition.
I also think that part of our Christian fear of death stems from an overimportance given to physical life. If you haven't already, look over my previous posts on suffering. Or just look at the world news! People are dying all the time. The good and the bad. The deserving and the undeserving, the young and old. It is clear that God obviously does not hold the same inviolable view of physical life that we do! How could He? He IS life. He gives us our span on the Earth, and He knows what is beyond that. Can we honestly, in our temporally disabled minds, possibly presume to think that death is the end of life? The line is not so solid! Rather, as my teacher Jack says, those who choose Heaven will likely find that this life is merely one of the lower lands of that High Country. But those who reject Heaven will find Earth to be just a region of Hell.
Death should not be feared. We can't escape it anyway. And Christians especially should celebrate this crossing of the Jordan, this coming home. We believe that we are moving into the unmitigated presence of the source and author of all goodness and life and can do so boldly by the blood of Christ! Truly, we have been there far before our physical death, though our senses were too dull to perceive it. Think on this and tell me if you can't at least acknowledge that one who really ...I mean really believes this like we know we can't breathe water, can fear death! Quite the opposite; the danger would be wanting it too greatly!
I'm not talking about one of those melodramatic goth type discussions...I'm talking about real and valid consideration. This is something everyone should consider. Afterall, we will all die! That is as certain as anything can be in this world. I suppose we could argue the finer semantic points on that too, but as I always say, feel free to comment to that effect and we can do it.
I suppose the uncomfortability with death comes at the root from fear. This is of course built upon by the culturally expected reactions to death and exacerbated by certain groups' over-stressing of physical life.
Regardless of what you believe about death, some things are indisputable. We will all die (leave this world). Everyone before us has. We are never safe from it, no matter how we manage risk. Others will be left alive after any death. Given at least these things, we ought to all make a much better effort to come to terms with it. Yet most of us spend the bulk of our lives ignoring it until it thrusts itself into our lives like an unwelcome and ugly spector. But it is no spector. Death has been our constant companion since the day of our conception. And you can't get much more real than the finality of death. Nothing spectral about that at all.
Certainly, your worldview will highly influence your view of death. Since I am a Christian and this is a blog from my perspective, I will address it in that way. But even if your faith is different, I bet you'll find these same currents of thought in your own tradition.
I have been accused of being callous and repressed, but I rarely cry at funerals. In fact I very much hate them simply because I can't react to them the way most people do. No Christian ought to be surprised by death, nor even concerned by it. I'm not saying we shouldn't grieve. That is a necessary and natural human reaction to loss of someone close. But we ought not to grieve as if there were no hope. We have given ourselves over to God's will. We have relinquished control of our own souls because we believe them to be the rightful property of God in the first place. We trust that He is good. If we truly believe that, how can we not hold that in our view of death? Even in the death of one we know rejected God, do we then think our God, who is Love, lacks any love for that person? No! That is why to my thinking a funeral ought not to be a time to make up half-truths about someone, but a time to celebrate who they are and to pray for their soul and for God's mercy. For all our theologies in various traditions, we don't know jack about how God handles a soul after death! And are we to think that the soul no longer knows anything of this world? Why wouldn't they? In fact we may not be as far apart as we think! Think Obiwan, Luke!
I recently heard a friend who lost her mother very recently saying that she missed her mother terribly and that she was certain her mother couldn't see her because if she did she would see her sadness and that would make her mother cry, which couldn't be in heaven. But how innaccurate! First of all, that was Clapton, not the Bible. The Bible says that God will wipe away our tears. There are tears of joy as well as tears of sadness. To this person, I wanted to say that her mother knows so much more about her life now that she is in the presence of God. She knows much more fully the joy behind life...the divinity in it. So if she sees her daughters tears, it doesn't mean she would also be sad! (Plus, if you really get into it, her mother has stepped out of time, so for all we know she and her mother will effectively arrive in the afterlife at the same moment!)
I also think that part of our Christian fear of death stems from an overimportance given to physical life. If you haven't already, look over my previous posts on suffering. Or just look at the world news! People are dying all the time. The good and the bad. The deserving and the undeserving, the young and old. It is clear that God obviously does not hold the same inviolable view of physical life that we do! How could He? He IS life. He gives us our span on the Earth, and He knows what is beyond that. Can we honestly, in our temporally disabled minds, possibly presume to think that death is the end of life? The line is not so solid! Rather, as my teacher Jack says, those who choose Heaven will likely find that this life is merely one of the lower lands of that High Country. But those who reject Heaven will find Earth to be just a region of Hell.
Death should not be feared. We can't escape it anyway. And Christians especially should celebrate this crossing of the Jordan, this coming home. We believe that we are moving into the unmitigated presence of the source and author of all goodness and life and can do so boldly by the blood of Christ! Truly, we have been there far before our physical death, though our senses were too dull to perceive it. Think on this and tell me if you can't at least acknowledge that one who really ...I mean really believes this like we know we can't breathe water, can fear death! Quite the opposite; the danger would be wanting it too greatly!
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