tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64575884561493132582024-03-12T23:43:26.908-05:00ROGUE CHRISTIANITY - Faith off the GridCompassion is an eraser that removes labels and classifications. Use it thriftlessly...B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.comBlogger250125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-53779839920540070992017-05-09T18:45:00.000-05:002017-05-09T18:45:08.844-05:00Waco Preamble<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
The backdrop against which the events of May 17, 2015,
took place in the parking lot of Twin Peaks restaurant in Waco, TX, is
important to the context of the events which led to 177 arrests that day. The history of Waco, the politics of Waco, and the moral compass of Waco all contributed to the arrests of dozens of
innocent witnesses that day. But primarily it was the decisions of a handful of powerful
individuals to circumnavigate the sacred Constitution of the United States of America
to promote their own prejudice and self-interest that brought about death and injury. Before they knew what they
had done, they’d arrested all those people with the realization that they’d
have to figure out how to justify it all later. They would jail these
“out-of-towners” for weeks, send them home with GPS ankle monitors, create bond
restrictions that would limit their movements to the single county in which
each person lived, and deny them any interaction with one another. These few individuals
huddled behind closed doors and conspired to leverage any and all powers they
had at their immediate disposal to humiliate, demonize, marginalize, and shame
anyone that would consider themselves motorcyclists without regard for personal
character, probable cause, or perpetuity of emotional, spiritual, and physical
injury.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
But there were more than 177 victims that day. All those
that bore witness to the events and their families were traumatized to some
extent. From the restaurant patrons who just happened to be visiting the
restaurant that day for lunch to the servers and cooks working at Twin Peaks to
the very residents of Waco, all lived through a sequence of traumatic events
without warning. In the blink of an eye, the events that led to the death of 9
and injuries of dozens more thrust their way into our lives without
foreshadowing or forewarning. Except for the small group of people who had
knowledge of what “might take place” that day, the rest of us were thrust into
an overwhelmingly traumatic situation akin to a plane crash or catastrophic
natural phenomenon. Except for the small group that not only had been
forewarned but also went so far as to prepare for these events, the rest of us
are still picking up the pieces of our lives that were adversely affected that
day. Except for the small group that knew when, where, and what would take
place weeks in advance, the rest of us were the witless pawns to their game of
“gotcha.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
It is this small group of authoritative individuals, both
of law enforcement and of Motorcycle Club members, knowledgeable and complicit
to the volatile powder keg of violence that happened that day that we must
solicit our simple questions of “<b>why?”</b>
Why was no one warned or turned away? Why was imminent violence allowed to
ignite? Why weren’t employees of Twin Peaks warned? Why weren’t innocent
bystanders warned or protected? Why were innocent law enforcement officers
unnecessarily put in harm’s way that day? Why did Texas DPS agents set up pole
cams and place undercover officers in a restaurant knowing exactly where the
violence would take place and not give EVERYONE a warning of impending
violence? Why was this allowed to happen? It was not a surprise bombing of a
church. It was not a lone gunman walking into a school. It was not a surprise
earthquake or tsunami. This was a series of probable events foreseen by a
select few people in powerful positions that was allowed to play itself out
because watching for what “could” happen outweighed the concerns for people’s
safety and well-being. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Residents of Waco, motorcyclists visiting Waco, employees
of Twin Peaks, and innocent law enforcement officers simply trying to do their
jobs that day were all put in harm’s way in order to facilitate some form of
“cock fight” among potentially warring factions that resulted in an ambush and
subsequent cover-up which continues to this day nearly 2 years later. The shame
does not belong on ALL of these motorcyclists involved that day. Regardless of
being labeled “criminals,” “gang members,” “conspirators,” and malcontents, the
vast majority of these men and women deserve to have their Constitutional
rights restored and be compensated for their significant losses incurred at the
hands of a small group of people who knew what would happen that day, where it
would happen, and when it would happen. The shame rightfully belongs to this
small group of instigators and their willing accomplices who, no doubt,
conspired to illegally arrest without probable cause and label all of these
folks as “gang members” without any prior knowledge of character, intent, or
actionable causes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We bikers teach our children the same lessons that the
people of Waco value. We teach them to be honest, faithful, and conscientious
citizens. We also teach them to stand up for what they believe in. We teach
honor, loyalty, love, and grace. We expect much from our children and we expect
those same virtues from one another in the motorcycle community whether someone
is in an MC, a Riding Club, or rides with their friends without any affiliation
or club sponsorship. In these ways, we that visited Waco that fateful day were
not “outsiders.” We are fellow Texans and fellow United States citizens.
Contrary to the words of Sergeant Swanton that day, we are, in fact, engineers,
writers, adoptive parents, therapists, veterans, medical technicians, bankers,
and pastors. We represent every walk of life and color of skin. We are you and
you are us. Motorcycles and leather do not separate us. Those things only allow
us to look different and express ourselves independent of societal prescriptions.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Hence, as equal representatives of an enormous
cross-section of American society, we as motorcyclists are here to stand up not
only for our rights but for the rights of us all. We will not idly stand by in
horror and cower at the misuse of power, tyranny, and the corruption of
prestige. We will stand firm. We will stand together. We will stand for our
children and yours. We will stand without malice or anger. We will stand on the
belief that <b>“The truth is like a lion;
you don’t have to defend it. Let it loose; it will defend itself,”</b> – Augustine
of Hippo. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>“The tyranny of a
prince in an oligarchy is not so dangerous to the public welfare as the apathy
of a citizen in a democracy.” <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: right;">
- Charles de
Montesquieu <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>“Of all tyrannies
a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most
oppressive.” <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: right;">
- C. S. Lewis<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>“It is more
important that innocence be protected than it is that guilt be punished, for
guilt and crimes are so frequent in this world that they cannot all be
punished. But if innocence itself is brought to the bar and condemned, perhaps
to die, then the citizen will say, 'whether I do good or whether I do evil is
immaterial, for innocence itself is no protection,' and if such an idea as that
were to take hold in the mind of the citizen that would be the end of security
whatsoever.”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: right;">
- John Adams<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="right" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: right;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Sincerely,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Bonar Crump</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
President of Grim Guardian MC</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p></o:p></div>
B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-10921321169470604582016-12-29T12:52:00.000-06:002016-12-29T12:52:48.082-06:00Ricky<div class="MsoNormal">
I was on trash duty wandering the parking lot carrying a 50
gallon black trash bag and picking up litter off the ground. Trash duty is cool
because it gives you the opportunity to wander about casually watching
everyone. Generally speaking, homeless folks get pretty suspicious when someone
is watching them. My guess is that they’re more comfortable with being ignored
than being watched. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was watching because I needed to offer to take trash when folks
were finished with their plate and utensils. It might seem irresponsible to
most of us, but when you’re constantly hauling everything you own in a
backpack, cart, or box the last thing you want to do is carry around trash you
don’t need. Hence, a lot of our homeless folks simply drop their trash to the
ground and keep moving. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s all about movement. When you live on the streets, constant
daytime movement is the key to staying out of trouble. Sit stationery and
people begin to notice you. Then they begin to suspiciously resent your
presence. And, eventually, they complain that you’re a public nuisance. No one
wants to see the homeless. Hence, when being watched homeless folks get
twitchy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was Easter Sunday and I was downtown with my family at
the ANC (Austin New Church) cookout. It was my first year to attend. My wife
was working the food line doling out chips to go with the burgers. My daughter
was standing at the prep table squirting ketchup on people’s hamburger buns as
they came by. For whatever strange reason, this felt like EXACTLY how my family
should be spending Easter together. We’re weird like that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of my closest friends, Brandon Hatmaker (Vice President
of our MC), was lead pastor of ANC. He
was wandering around chatting with people in line that day. Another friend,
Tray Pruet (Treasurer of our MC), was working his way in and out of the crowd
keeping an eye on the large “machine” that is an ANC Cookout. Dozens of our
wives and kids are mixed into the crowd serving, laughing, chatting, and humbly
offering a bit of friendliness to a bunch of folks lined up in the parking lot
across from the Austin Resource Center for the Homeless. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I learned that food we serve at the cookouts isn’t all that
important. Food is not hard to come by for the homeless in Austin. This cookout
is about providing an opportunity for us to embrace our humanity. These are
people deserving of dignity and care just like the rest of us. They are deserving
because they are us and we are them. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the core, we’re all in this together. <b>If we intend to do
more than PRETEND our social structure doesn’t need repair, we have to realize
that US versus THEM doesn’t work. It’s got to be WE.</b> That’s what I’ve learned
the cookouts are about. It’s about understanding how to look at people
diversely different and say, “You are not the enemy. WE are in this together.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I was on trash duty.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’d been cruising the parking lot for over an hour when I
looked up to see a homeless guy standing about 50 yards away. I recognize this
guy. Without hesitation, I began to walk directly at this person stepping
around a few people in the process. As I come to within 10 yards, the guy
notices me coming his way with a purpose. He’s reading my body language and
uncertain of my intent. I see the guy shift his stance and set his pivot foot
as I’m within 5 yards, so I stopped. I looked the guy straight in the eye and
said, “Ricky, it’s me, Bonar.” He blinks twice and looks at me really hard
before saying, “Bonar Lee Crump, what the hell are you doing here?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ricky is my first cousin on my dad’s side of the family. My
earliest memories of Ricky were being pulled behind his dad’s boat on inner
tubes and later honing our waterskiing skills together. My later memories of
Ricky were of visitations in state juvenile facilities. Later still, years
would go by without seeing him at family reunions. He seemed to spend all of
his time in jail. Ricky never fit in. I don’t think anyone ever knew what to do
with him. I don’t think anyone ever knew how to coach him, parent him, mentor
him, or live with him. I refuse to pretend to understand the boy that he was—the
man that he became—or the man that was standing in front of me that day. <b>To offer some form of explanation of his
life would do nothing more than strip the man of his dignity and suggest that he’d
failed somehow. I’ve been treated that way at times in my life, and I try not
to author any such prejudice on others if at all possible. In truth, we’d all failed HIM as much as
anything.<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once he recognized me, I stuck out my hand. When we shook, I
pulled him in for a half shake/hug. I was genuinely excited to see Rick. The
last time I’d laid eyes on him he was in a wheelchair. I seem to recall that
he’d been living under a bridge in Waxahachie when he was attacked by someone
with a tire iron. Ricky earned two broken ankles from that encounter. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I drew back from the hug and said, “you made it out of that
damn wheel chair, and I see you’ve got your pivot foot back.” He smirked and
admitted he was about to square up and strike at me before he realized who I
was. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hung out with Ricky the rest of the afternoon. We talked a
little about family. I tentatively asked where he was staying and if he needed
any family members’ phone numbers. He asked about my family. I took him over
for an introduction to my wife and daughter. Then I asked Brandon to take a
photo of me and Rick. I’ll never forget the look on Brandon’s face when I
introduced him to my cousin, Ricky Belk. We had big smiles and parted ways with
a hug. I made sure he had my business card and cel number before leaving, but I
knew he’d never call. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One year later, at the ANC Cookout I ran into Ricky again.
Ever since then, I look for him whenever we go downtown. I’m always hoping to
see him so that I can relay his whereabouts and general sense of well-being to
other family members scattered across the state. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ricky fits my limited understanding of what “chronically
homeless” means. The dangers that come with living on the streets are more
familiar to him than the “normalcy” most of us embrace. I would guess that he
considers the folks he “camps” with as closer family than those of us that
share his same DNA. Of course, I don’t know any of this for sure because when I
see Ricky all we do is swap info about family and talk about where we’ve been
fishing lately. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ricky is a part of me. I am a part of Ricky. I do not pity
him. He doesn’t covet my life. We are two men from different walks of life that
can sit on the same curb and share a burger together. It really doesn’t have to
be any more complicated than that. Sometimes I can tell he’s high. Sometimes I
can smell the alcohol on his breath. Sometimes I can tell by his body language
that he’s answering one of my questions with uncertainty and telling me what he
thinks I want to hear. Sometimes I hand him whatever cash I have on me not
knowing what he’ll spend it on. When I get to see Ricky we always smile, hug,
talk, and walk over to my girls so that he can say hello and give them a hug. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I couldn’t wait to tell everyone we’d stumbled upon one
another. I hope people feel that way about me sometimes. I hope that other
people feel that way about Ricky from time to time. I hope that we can all stop
occasionally and have a burger with someone that’s different. I hope that we
can appreciate the diversity of our lives and experiences and GET the fact that
sharing the burger might be all that’s necessary. You don’t have to justify who
you are, and I don’t have to justify who I am. I think that’s the kind of thing
that breaks down our US versus THEM dilemma. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But what do I know? I’m just the guy that picks up trash…<o:p></o:p></div>
B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-6576577173107681922016-12-14T09:59:00.000-06:002016-12-14T10:03:32.405-06:00Life Brothers<div class="MsoIntenseQuote" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: center;">
<b><i>“Keep it simple. Love your brothers. That’s what makes a club work.
Just love your brothers.”<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoIntenseQuote" style="text-align: center;">
<i>~ Marshall Mitchell, Bandidos, Nomad Chapter, President</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoIntenseQuote" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Believe me when I tell you that being a member of an MC is not
easy. No matter how well you’ve vetted potential new members you will always
wind up with a mixture of personalities that don’t see eye to eye. Bylaws,
rules, protocol, and hierarchy are important, but eventually you wind up with a
group of grown-ass people around the table arguing about direction, procedure,
and function. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
It’s supposed to be hard. Struggle is what makes it
valuable. Anyone that thinks a group of men joining together to ride
motorcycles and drink beer constitutes an MC doesn’t understand group dynamics.
That kind of overgeneralization reeks of disinformation and a perspective of
someone that’s never had to work with a committee, operate on a team, or spend
time with other human beings for more than a couple hours at a time. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your club is as diverse as your biological family. The idea
is NOT to develop ideological clones. The point of the whole exercise is to
teach one another how to love, honor, and respect this weird family they’ve
been adopted into. (I can hear the cynics scoffing now, “yeah, right. All they
want to do is rape, kill, and strike fear into the hearts of law-abiding
citizens.”) <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although there are some within the MC Community that have
nothing else going for them than their club, the vast majority of us do, in
fact, have far more to lose than we have to gain by wearing a patch. <b>Intellectually honest critical thinking
should reveal that when you have smart, talented, sophisticated, law-abiding
citizens wearing a patch who are more vested in defending this lifestyle than
cowering to the cynical mindset of the misinformed, then there has to be
something of importance to all of this MC business.</b> There has to be
something more than good times and foolishness to justify the love these folks
have for one another. It’s more about suffering through the tough times with
one another that makes the struggle worthwhile.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I lived in Tulsa, OK, a friend of mine talked me into
running a 5K with him. I’d run a couple of 5K’s before, and I knew I could do
it. Besides, I didn’t want to let this particular friend down. The fact that he
was running any distance at all seemed like a miracle to me, and I felt like
I’d be a dick if I declined the invite.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For all the years that I’d known Ed “Snowman” Snow, he’d
weighed somewhere between 340 and 350 lbs. On a 5’10” frame, that ain’t good. I
can remember seeing Ed take the fried skin off a Popeye’s chicken breast, roll
it into a ball, and drag it through thick queso dip before shoving it down his
gullet. Many a time over the years had I, and the rest of my college buddies,
watched Ed eat while muttering the oft
repeated mantra, “<i>Man eats like that…he
gonna die!”</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
As it turned out, six months leading up to the 5K invite I
hadn’t seen Ed. Rumor had it that he’d been trying to get healthier and lose
some weight. When I first laid eyes on him after having heard this rumor
several times I was stunned. I couldn’t believe that the Snowman could actually
look like a “normal” human being instead of a crowd-sized beach ball. Ed had
lost somewhere around 110 lbs. (of the eventual 190 he’d lose) when he asked me
to run that race with him. How could I say no? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Also, Ed is a hard guy to say “no” to. He’s a career
prosecutor and a Federal one at that. Ed knows how to change your mind and make
you believe that it was all your idea in the first place. He’s like a fucking
motivational ninja. If you don’t want to ever run a full marathon as long as
you live…stay away from Ed Snow. I swear on a stack of Bibles that the Snowman
can turn anyone into a lifelong exercising machine whether they want it or not.
Then he’ll drink you under the table at the post-race event and talk you into a
“recuperative run” the next morning followed by a brunch of Guinness and pasta.
The man is insatiable, infuriating, diabolically egocentric, and oftentimes a
complete dick. And I love him very much. But he’s a prick…know that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That “one phone call” I made from the Waco jail after finally
being placed under arrest started something like this:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Me: “Honey, I’m
okay but I only have 5 minutes to talk. Do you have a pen and paper?”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Wife: “Yes. I love
you very much. I’ve got you on speaker. Go.”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Me: “First thing,
call Ed Snow…”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Wife: (Interrupts)
“I’ve been talking to him and he’s on speaker right now on another phone. Jeremiah (blood brother) is right here with me.”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
In April of 2005, my wife gave birth to our daughter. Then
my wife died on the table. Then the doctors were able to revive her. Then my
hero-for-the-rest-of-my-life, Dr. Yen My Tran, performed an emergency
hysterectomy and saved Margaret’s life. Every day, for the next 7 days we
remained in the hospital, Dr. Tran would come to check on us in the morning.
The first three visits I would follow her out into the hall after her
examination and she’d cry because she knew how close we’d come to losing
Margaret. It was that close. It was “<i>seeing
a Dr. cry three days after she’s saved a life”</i> close.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
During the time when Margaret’s life was hanging in the
balance, I got kicked out of the delivery room. I didn’t argue because I knew
that I didn’t belong in there at that moment. I knew she was dying and I was
only going to be in the way. But kissing her on the forehead knowing that it
might be the last time we spoke to one another broke me. By god, I did it while
telling her everything was fine and that I was going to the nursery to make
sure Sidney was all cleaned up and ready to come hang out with her Mommy, but
my heart was fully broken.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
I’ve got a friend who is a Pediatric Cardiologist. We first
met at Oklahoma Baptist University when we were finishing up our undergraduate
work. Matt Kimberling has been best of friends with Ed Snow for decades. And
like Ed, Matthew is insatiable, infuriating, diabolically egocentric, and
oftentimes a complete dick. And I love him very much. But he’s a prick…know
that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I was banished from the delivery room that day, I thought
of only one person to call, Matt. I knew I wouldn’t be able to reach him by
phone in the middle of the day on a Monday, so I called his wife, Mary (a very
talented NICU nurse). The phone call started something like this:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Me: “Mary, I need
Matt.”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Mary: “Okay. Can
you tell me what’s going on?”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Me: “Margaret is
dying. I need Matt.”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Mary: “He’s in
clinic today, but I’ll make sure they pull him out. He’s coming. Hold tight.
He’s coming!”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<o:p> </o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Matt arrived in the waiting room still wearing his white
coat and carrying credentials that would get us any information we needed. Matt
did not leave my side until late that evening after Margaret was safely
recuperating under the watchful eye of a post-op nurse for the night. He was
able to go in and speak to her while I waited in the hall. He made me leave the
hospital with him to get some food and a couple beers. He showed up the next
morning with double shot espressos from the doctor’s lounge. Matt saw us
through the whole thing without hesitation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In college, I met David Breedlove. He would eventually be
the best man at my wedding. Breedlove got me into more trouble, questionable
situations, and ill-conceived shenanigans than SHOULD be possible for one man
in a single lifetime. He went about it as if it were his job.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is a guy that had never had a drink of alcohol until
his wedding night. <i>I shit you not.</i>
But this was also a guy that would drive his Jeep up the steps of the OBU
Chapel and smoke the tires on the way up just for shits and giggles. Some would
say he was brazenly recalcitrant. I say he was just fearless. Put the two of us
together and you had a recipe for wanton hooliganism. And we skipped a lot of
classes to go fishing and hunting and anything else we could think of to divert
us from classroom attendance. However, Dave pulled off his undergraduate in 4
years. I crammed 4 years of schooling into 6 years. I think Dave won on that
account. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dave was friends with Matt Kimberling and Ed Snow before me.
And like Ed and Matt, Dave is insatiable, infuriating, diabolically egocentric,
and oftentimes a complete dick. And I love him very much. But he’s a prick…know
that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Dave Breedlove, Terry Walters, Tim Kimberling, Matthew
Kimberling, and Ed Snow were my “club” before I had a “club.” All we needed
were motorcycles and cuts and we’d have had our own MC. We’ve all done work on one another’s houses,
babysat one another’s kids, decorated Easter eggs with all of our families
together, cooked together, drank together, lived together, and loved together. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
The fact that I’ve always had friends that were loveable
egotistical pricks (said with the utmost respect) gives you an indication of
who I am and what is important to me. I want to belong. I want to contribute. I
want to spend hot days in Tim’s backyard mixing concrete for fence posts. I
want to help Terry haul and scatter mulch to prep his backyard for our group’s
weekly weekend grillouts. I want to spend night after night helping Dave tear
apart his kitchen and put it all back together before his wife and kids come
back from time away with family. I want to run my first half-marathon with Ed
because he’s somehow tricked me, once again, into believing that I can run a
further distance than we did last time (<i>damn
you, Snow</i>). I want to re-engineer Matt’s upstairs HVAC in a 130 degree
attic so that it’ll work like it was meant to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wanted to serve these guys because I love them and their
families and they love me and mine. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>“Keep it simple.
Love your brothers. That’s what makes a club work. Just love your brothers.”<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been practicing at this “love your brothers” thing for
a very long time and I’m not sure that I’m very good at it yet. It’s hard. It
is a constant humbling, pride-swallowing, work-your-ass-off-for-free,
pain-in-the-ass hike up a steep slope. It’s especially hard when you’re on a
team with so many egotistical pricks. But I love every bit of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The husband, father, family member, and friend that I am is
owed to this CLUB of men and their families I grew up with and to the CLUB of
men and their families I am currently growing old with. I don’t deserve a
single one of them. They are all smarter, more motivated, and more talented
than I’ll ever be. Every one of them is an asshat and I love them very dearly.
My loyalty knows no bounds when it comes to these men and women. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When they bleed, my family and I bleed. We are better
together even though every one of us fuss and argue, have differing worldviews,
and generally can’t agree on anything other than we are invested in one
another’s longevity, success, health, and well-being. Other than that, we’re
all a bunch of stubborn, brash, potty-mouthed brutes – <i>and that’s just the wives.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i>“Keep it simple.
Love your brothers. That’s what makes a club work. Just love your brothers.”<o:p></o:p></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is by far the best advice I’ve heard in a long time.
Wisdom is like that. It cuts through the bullshit and brings us back to center.
Hearing that advice from a 34-year veteran Bandido while sitting across from
one another on steel bunks wearing matching orange outfits makes it that much
better. And it makes for one hell of a story. That’s kind of the point to this
kind of life, too – it’s about living a great story.<o:p></o:p></div>
B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-79409820262806481512016-11-28T17:57:00.000-06:002016-11-28T17:57:38.607-06:00Prejudice<div class="MsoNormal">
I would like to confess a burning prejudice of mine. It is
the type of thing that I developed on my own. It is not a hand-me-down opinion.
It is not a well-researched belief. It is not something I’ve spent a great deal
of time understanding as I’ve formulated this uncompromising conviction. I make
no apologies for this prejudice and I do not intend to discuss the matter
further in an attempt to breach the divide between those that would have me
understand their contrasting stance on the matter. My heels are dug in, and I
accept the fact that even if I’m wrong about this opinion in the “big picture” sense,
I stand firmly on my conviction of the matter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hi, my name is Bonar Crump and I despise the Rebel flag.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Other than the swastika no icon gives me more pause or
prompts a greater revulsion than the Rebel flag. I haven’t always felt this way
about the flag. I was a huge Dukes of Hazzard fan in the early eighties. I’m
pretty sure I had the lunch box and everything. Back then if I saw a rebel flag
I would only think “Daisy Duke.” It didn’t even make me think of the car. It
took me to a whole different place of visualizing Catherine Bach in a pair of
abbreviated jean shorts and a tied off shirt revealing her sexy midriff. What
can I say? I was a 14 year old boy in 1982. But I digress…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I grew up on the "wrong side of the tracks." In
the different towns that we lived growing up, I was usually the only white kid
within a 3 block radius. Honestly, at certain points of my life I was ashamed
of being white. Not in a sense that I was ashamed of the atrocities propagated
on slaves by my forbearers. I simply mean that I wanted to fit in. I wanted to
be like my best friends who were all Hispanic. They had both their parents. I
did not. They ate dinner around the table every evening. I did not. They spoke
a cool second language. I did not. To be blunt about the matter, I was raised so
“white trash” by a habitually drug addicted mother that most of those Hispanic
families in our neighborhoods felt sorry for me. They fed me when no food was
available at home. My friends’ moms gave me hand-me-down clothes to wear. They
cut my hair for me if I was hanging around their houses on a Saturday when all
the kids were getting their monthly barbering done. I was the de facto charity
case no matter where I lived.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So much of my youth was spent learning what daily family life
looked like from brown skinned surrogate families that when we moved into a
fully white neighborhood in SW Oklahoma for the first time I spent every day
riding my bike 2.5 miles round trip to the other side of town to hang out with
kids I was more comfortable with. And when I say “other side of town” I
literally mean that all white folk lived on the East side of the tracks and all
people of color lived on the West side of the tracks. I am not making this up.
This was a small rural town in Oklahoma that boasted “the first legal hanging
after statehood” and proudly displays the "hangin'est rope in
Oklahoma" in their tiny local museum. That rope was reported to have been
used in 30 legal hangings until the electric chair came into use in 1915. The
inference is that there were other hangings not quite so “legal” that took
place there. Whether with that particular rope or not is a matter of debate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got a good lesson in being shunned by
families of my brown-skinned school friends because in a small rural farming town
like this one everyone wanted to know what the skinny white boy was doing on “their”
side of town. Some folks wouldn’t allow me into their yard for fear that if I
got hurt on their property they’d get in a heap of trouble. When you’re in 7<sup>th</sup>
grade none of this makes any sense. When you’re 12 and a grownup picks you out
of a group of 10 and hollers at you to get out of their yard, you run like
hell. And when you’ve run like hell a few dozen times you start to get the
picture that you, the white boy, are not welcome on “their” side of the tracks.
It’s an unsophisticated resolution to a sophisticated social problem. Mixing of
races in many Southern towns in the late 70s/early 80s was intolerable because
social norms and cultural biases take generations to dissolve. But, again, I
was twelve and I just thought that I never seemed to belong.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then came a time when I began to notice that my Hispanic
friends and their families REALLY did not like my black friends and their
families. My experience growing up was that browns and blacks were far more
openly prejudice towards one another than any of the whites that I knew. I
think I was always aware of the social tension, but it never made any sense to
me. I was always considered a smart kid, but it wasn’t until I was in my
twenties that I developed the kind of social savvy necessary to articulate the
racial incongruities and injustices I’d experienced during my youth in towns
all over Texas and Oklahoma. I had grown up socially, racially, and
socioeconomically ambivalent. I just wanted other kids to play with. I didn’t
give two shits about what color they were. I just wanted to be part of a group.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I said all that to say this: I’m about as racially divergent
in my values and beliefs as a man can get growing up in the state of Texas.
That being said, I will not tolerate any racially prejudicial sayings, jokes, innuendoes,
or provocations. I may not verbally confront the individual spewing such
intolerable poison from their pie-hole, but I certainly will not smile politely
or offer any physical sign of something less than disgust. I loathe racial
epithets regardless of context or subjective intention. To put it plainly, I’d
rather lose a friendship or shun a family member than tolerate that person’s devaluing
of another.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To me, the Rebel Flag represents racial discrimination. It
is an icon that I’ve come to recognize as a middle finger to the liberation of
slaves and desegregation of public schools. It imbues to me a sense of hatred,
malice, and racial superiority that I find entirely repulsive. <b>However, I do, in fact, recognize that it’s
not my place to project my disgust for this symbol onto others. I understand
that there are many other people that I respect highly who will argue a meaning
of this flag much more benign than what I’ve chosen to believe. </b>Their
belief that this flag has nothing at all to do with racial discrimination is
insulting and disingenuous to me. However, I do recognize that I am not the final
say on the matter. I don’t get to write the final definition of what it means
to the world to wear a shirt, fly a banner, or proudly display a tattoo of this
flag. It is repugnant to ME. All that means is that I won’t display the thing. <b>It does NOT mean that I have to indict
every person I come into contact with that is a Rebel flag apologist.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you want to paint a Rebel flag on the door of your car,
have at it. It would never occur to me that you SHOULDN’T have the right to
paint whatever the fuck you want on YOUR car. And I’d be offended if I heard
someone debasing your freedom to choose such a decoration. You have a right to
that flag. None of us have a right to DEVALUE YOU. As a matter of fact, I’ll guarantee to give
you every benefit of the doubt and keep any opinions I have on the matter to
myself. It’s a respect thing. I respect your beliefs whether I agree with them
or not. In return, I ask that you respect my beliefs as well. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you want to hang a Rebel flag in your restaurant I will
respect you’re right to do so, but I probably won’t be spending my money in
your establishment. It’s your right to fly those colors. Likewise, it’s my
right to withhold my business because of what those colors represent to me. However,
I’m not going to protest outside your establishment. I’m not going to petition
for the removal of your flag. I’m just going to keep my opinions on the matter
to myself and spend my money elsewhere. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I realize that empirically speaking a Rebel flag is nothing
more than a piece of cloth with three colors on it in a specific set of
patterns and shapes. That’s really all it is…nothing more and nothing less. Its
representative meaning, however, is extremely subjective. It’s not like a red
light at an intersection. We have to all agree that when the light turns red it
means for us to STOP. Without that kind of universal understanding a lot of
people get hurt. The flag thing is different because it’s entirely subjective
by its very nature. We don’t all have to have one very specific universal
understanding of what that rectangular piece of cloth represents. <o:p></o:p></div>
B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-86852047359622776762016-11-15T10:09:00.000-06:002016-11-15T10:35:39.313-06:00Prejudice<h4>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>“Prejudice is a great time saver. You can form opinions without having to get the facts." </i></div>
<i><div style="text-align: center;">
<i>~ E. B. White </i></div>
</i></h4>
<h3>
<i><b></b></i></h3>
<h3>
<b><br /></b></h3>
<h3>
<b>Analysis</b> </h3>
<i>May28, 2015 (Writings from Inside Jack Harwell Detention Center, Cell # J-136):</i><br />
<br />
It is compliance and conformity that they want. Diversity breeds annoyance and fear in the minds of<br />
the assimilated. It’s much easier to judge the group as a whole based on the singular actions of<br />
individual members than to allow for the anomalous deviant behavior of a few without impugning the entire set.<br />
<br />
There was a time in our world’s history that Jews were gathered up into railcars for transport to<br />
death camps. The Jewish beliefs and heritage were deemed to be abhorrent to those in power at the<br />
time. At best, Jews were removed from their families and homes to live in prisons akin to a feedlot. At worst, their fate ended inside giant ovens designed for systematic genocide.<br />
<br />
<i>Dare we consider the comparison of Jewish murder during the Holocaust, Japanese internment </i><br />
<i>camps in the U.S., and the mass slaughter of freemen at the Alamo by Mexican soldiers to the plight of the American biker? </i><br />
<br />
It has to be more about respecting one another’s contrasting beliefs and lifestyles than forcing<br />
compliance and conformity. It has to be about extending grace and dignity if trust is to form the<br />
cornerstones of better relationships led by diplomacy and integrity. We cannot dictate or demand a<br />
complete solidarity of belief and action in a constitutional society which loves to speak loftily of the<br />
freedom to choose and the right to the pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness. We must, instead, “secure the blessings of liberty” through the non-militaristic promotion of peaceful diversity. It is hard work.<br />
<br />
Let the Muslim bow toward Mecca. Let the Jew worship at synagogue. Let the Christian celebrate<br />
resurrection. And let the American biker pray to the wind and sun without fear of imprisonment or<br />
seizure because of a lifestyle and worldview that colors outside the lines of normality.<br />
<br />
Where there is criminal behavior we must insist on individual accountability. However, to indict an<br />
entire lifestyle, belief system, or community based on the actions of a few is tantamount to a Stalinist<br />
State.B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-45405902807730377762016-11-03T18:08:00.000-05:002016-11-03T18:08:30.247-05:00Empathy and Anxiety<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My anxiety levels are through the roof. I’m experiencing
empathy overload. Life isn’t always as straight-forward as we’d like it to be
for those of us carrying heavy burdens for people dealing with adversity,
hardship, or injustice. Empathic tolerance is a thing. It’s a thing that allows
open-hearted folks to endure the chaos they rub up against. Empathic tolerance
requires healthy levels of empathic resistance in order to avoid overload and
subsequent empathic collapse. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Tears help. There’s something about tears that are
restorative. Crying is a “giving over” to the overload and allowing excess
hurt, anger, grief, and despair to spill out. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I was recently interviewed about discipleship relevant to
membership in a Motorcycle Club community. I told a story about a guy falling
in a hole. The guy falls into a deep hole and can’t climb out. A doctor comes
by and our guy asks for help. The doctor writes a prescription on a piece of
paper and throws it into the hole as he moves on. A priest comes by later and
writes a prayer on a piece of paper which he throws down into the hole and
moves on. Still later, a friend wanders by. Our guy hollers up to him. “Joe, I’m
down in this hole. Can you get me out?” Joe jumps down into the hole with him.
Our guy states with amazement, “are you stupid? Now we’re both stuck down here!”
Joe confidently answers, “I’ve been down here before and I know the way out.”
As soon as I uttered these last words, I developed a knot in my throat the size
of a bowling ball, dropped my eyes to my boots, and began to fight back tears. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I wasn’t embarrassed by this show of emotion. As a matter
of fact, I was a little disappointed that the editors of the interview cut it
out. Although, I fully understand why they did. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Getting choked up wasn’t all about sorrow. Some of it was
about gratefulness. Some of it was about feeling helpless. Some of it was about
sensing my own undeservingness. Much of it was about my lack of empathetic
resistance. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
Every time I engage another charitable effort I’m exposed
to new levels of need. At what point does one succumb to the urge to “Van Gogh”
by chopping off one’s own ear? If not the ear, then what? Maybe abusing alcohol
is the severed ear. Maybe it’s marital strife. What if the ear loss manifests
itself as combative behavior to those who dismiss our empathic priorities. I’m
sure that we all “Van Gogh” to the beat of a million different drummers. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I have the sense that unchecked levels of empathic
overload resulting in a backup of emotional stress often trigger the pressure
release valves of destructive behavior. Most of us will seek emotional,
physical, or intellectual sedation rather than engage an excessive emotional
buildup of stress. We’ll do anything within our power to hold off the full
experience of an undesirable emotional event.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I believe that the vast majority of “bad people” are
those caught up in cycles of life resembling a deep hole with steep walls. They
are deep in the hole and may have stopped asking folks up top for help. They’ve
been in the hole so long that they’re either unaware of anything other than the
hole or they’ve lost hope in every getting out.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
We have to jump down into the hole. Oftentimes, we have
to put ourselves in jeopardy in order to be benefactors. Our empathy should
compel us to engage, embrace, and partner with folks living down deep. Compassion
is our voice of empathy declaring that “bad” people are mostly misunderstood.
The disadvantaged aren’t “bad.” The unhealthy aren’t “bad.” The misguided aren’t
“bad.” The uneducated aren’t “bad.” There is no THEM. There is only US. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
There is US in the hole. There is US not in the hole.
That’s it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My spontaneous loss of emotional control during the
interview was both a remembrance and a foreshadowing. I was remembering all
those that have jumped in the hole and led me out. I was thinking about all of
those that I needed to help out of their holes. I was experiencing an
overwhelming sense of humility. And within that same nanosecond, I recognized
the faces of loved ones that I could only offer notes of encouragement thrown
down into their hole. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
And then it was gone. The moment that forced me to stare
straight down lifted. It was like it had a four breath max and then passed
through me. I looked up to see the cameraman fighting back tears. Likewise, the
interviewer was struggling to maintain composure. It wasn’t just me. It wasn’t
even about me or my empathy overload. Something had released in all of us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
After unhooking my mic and taking down the tripod, we all
awkwardly laughed and shook it off. I didn’t know what holes they were dealing
with. They didn’t know the depth of my past or present holes. What we knew
collectively was that honest vulnerability (whether intentional or spontaneous)
triggers something undeniably transformative. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
I recognize that creating connections safe enough to
share vulnerability gets us part of the way out of our holes. I’m thinking that
there’s hope in the safety followed by a trust in the vulnerability which set
the stage for transformative moments. This has to be the way out. This has to
be how we cry out to someone up top for help. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
OR—we can barricade ourselves behind a wall of indifference.
We can convince ourselves that isolation and aversion will keep us safe. We can
think of vulnerability as weakness and empathy as subjugation. We can drive a
flag deep into the soil and claim whatever hole we’re in as sovereign domain. The
problem with this approach is that it’s not transformative. It offers no
movement past or through the struggles we experience. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
If I declare my location as fixed then it’s imperative
that I’m RIGHT. And if I’m RIGHT then alternative locations are WRONG. Now I’ve
got an US, a THEM, an immutable creed, and I no longer have to wrestle with
challenges to my beliefs. A fixed position requires defense. Defense begs for
walls. Walls prevent access. Walls provide a false sense of security. Walls
abhor cooperation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
No. I will endure the insufferable anxiety and discomfort
of empathy. I’ll embrace the uncertainty of emotional movement and
transformation. I’ll embrace motion and discussion and compassion and cooperation.
For the sake of nothing more than understanding, I’ll risk being wrong more
than I’ll strive to be right. Enlightenment demands a posture of acceptance
instead of resistance. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
My anxiety levels are through the roof. But this, too,
shall pass. On the other side is learning, understanding, and a grateful path
of escape for us all. Because whatever we Iearn during this season we’ll pass
on to others we come across. As best as we’re able, we’ll help. We’ll offer to
partner and grasp at transformative life void of walls or defensive postures. If
it takes some tears, so be it. It will certainly involve struggle and breathing
through the moments that overwhelm. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
AND—it’ll be far better than the alternative.<o:p></o:p></div>
B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-57203385031112954902016-11-01T09:52:00.001-05:002016-11-01T09:52:56.611-05:00Some of What We Do<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
October 2-10, 2016</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Book Tour (2,500 miles)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Fundraising Ride</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
$78K+ Raised for <a href="http://www.bootcampaign.org/" target="_blank">Boot Campaign</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/O1T15zOJ-tM/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/O1T15zOJ-tM?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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<br />B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-7392501736999195522016-09-19T11:09:00.000-05:002016-11-01T10:02:50.576-05:00Sign the Petition<h3 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #212721; font-family: open-sans, Base, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-weight: lighter; letter-spacing: 1px; line-height: 20px; margin: 0px 0px 10px; text-rendering: optimizeLegibility; text-transform: uppercase;">
HOW THIS WILL HELP</h3>
<h2 class="action-target" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #212721; font-weight: 300; line-height: 30px; margin: 0px 0px 10px; padding-bottom: 20px;">
<div class="user_content" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #51534a; word-wrap: break-word;">
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
<div style="font-size: 14px;">
This Profiling witness/victim statement will prove to the State Legislature that profiling is a pervasive problem in Texas that requires legislative relief.</div>
<div style="font-size: 14px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">** <a href="https://www.causes.com/campaigns/103020-end-motorcycle-profiling-in-texas" target="_blank">PETITION</a> **</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</h2>
<h2 class="action-target" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #212721; font-family: open-sans, Base, sans-serif; font-size: 26px; font-weight: 300; line-height: 30px; margin: 0px 0px 10px; padding-bottom: 20px; text-rendering: optimizeLegibility;">
Texas Legislature</h2>
<div class="petition" style="border-left: 3px solid rgb(240, 239, 237); box-sizing: border-box; margin-top: 20px; padding-left: 20px;">
<div class="letter" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #51534a; font-family: "Courier New", monospace; font-size: 14px;">
<div class="user_content" style="box-sizing: border-box; word-wrap: break-word;">
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
I have been the victim of, and/or have witnessed, the law enforcement practice of motorcycle profiling and discrimination in the state of Texas within the last five years.</div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
Defined by statute, the unlawful practice of profiling occurs when law enforcement targets an individual displaying characteristics of a class that the officer believes more likely than others to commit a crime or be violent.</div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
In terms of motorcycling, motorcycle profiling occurs when law enforcement targets an individual riding a motorcycle or wearing motorcycle related paraphernalia because that officer believes that motorcyclists are more likely than others to be guilty of a crime or be violent.</div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
I believe that the practice of motorcycle profiling is an unlawful violation of the 1st Amendments guarantees of free expression and assembly, the 14th Amendment's equal protection guarantees, and the Texas Constitution.</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="signature" style="box-sizing: border-box;">
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #51534a; font-family: "Courier New", monospace; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
Signed,</div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #51534a; font-family: "Courier New", monospace; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
Bonar Crump</div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #51534a; font-family: "Courier New", monospace; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
<a href="https://www.causes.com/actions/1785962-sign-the-petition-to-texas-senator-kirk-watson">https://www.causes.com/actions/1785962-sign-the-petition-to-texas-senator-kirk-watson</a></div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="color: #51534a; font-family: "courier new" , monospace;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<h2 style="background-color: #f7f5f1; box-sizing: border-box; color: #212721; font-family: open-sans, Base, sans-serif; font-size: 26px; font-weight: 300; line-height: 30px; margin: 0px 0px 10px; text-rendering: optimizeLegibility;">
For Immediate Release 09/16/2016</h2>
<div class="user_content" style="background-color: #f7f5f1; box-sizing: border-box; color: #51534a; font-family: open-sans, Base, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; word-wrap: break-word;">
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
We have a willing sponsor for anti-motorcycle profiling legislation named <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kirk_Watson" rel="nofollow" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #43828f; outline: none; text-decoration: none;">Sen. Kirk Watson</a>. Our primary effort right now is to collect the data necessary to forward legislation to the TX Senate during the first 60 days of the 2017 legislative session. The site and petition linked in this email is a reproduction of the same petition put forth in MD resulting in successful passage of legislation signed by their Governor on May 19, 2016. But first things first...this is TX and we need to understand the timelines we're dealing with. </div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
<a href="http://www.tlc.state.tx.us/docs/legref/gtli.pdf#page=7" rel="nofollow" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #43828f; outline: none; text-decoration: none;">http://www.tlc.state.tx.us/docs/legref/gtli.pdf#pa...</a></div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
<em style="box-sizing: border-box;"><b>“To introduce a bill in the senate, a senator first must file the required number of copies of the bill with the secretary of the senate, who sequentially numbers each bill in the order in which it is received. The senate rules of procedure also permit unrestricted introduction of bills during the first 60 calendar days of each regular session. After the 60-day deadline, the introduction of any bill in the senate, other than a local bill, emergency appropriations, or emergency matters specifically submitted by the governor, requires the consent of at least four-fifths of the membership of the senate.” </b></em></div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
There's your sense of urgency. We need this bill introduced to the Senate before the end of February 2017. That means the data and supportive documentation necessary to pull this off has to be completed by end of October. Legislative session begins January 10,2017. <strong style="box-sizing: border-box;">If we miss this window of opportunity, we have to wait until opening of legislative session in 2019.</strong></div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
Respectfully, </div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 20px; padding: 0px;">
Bonar Crump<br />
President - Grim Guardian MC<br />
[McLennan Co. Inmate #171015 - Cell #J-136 > Incarcerated: 05/18/2015 - 06/01/2015]</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-66929626899230963382015-09-30T09:42:00.001-05:002015-09-30T09:51:51.591-05:00GQ Magazine: The Untold Story of the Texas Biker Gang Shoot-Out<a href="http://www.gq.com/story/untold-story-texas-biker-gang-shoot-out">http://www.gq.com/story/untold-story-texas-biker-gang-shoot-out</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-idqOYnaitu4/Vgv1b5dfCqI/AAAAAAAAAoo/8XIUuZWUOIg/s1600/960x540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-idqOYnaitu4/Vgv1b5dfCqI/AAAAAAAAAoo/8XIUuZWUOIg/s200/960x540.jpg" title="Bonar Crump" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bonar Crump</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--IS_j6AzZjE/Vgv2VMvbERI/AAAAAAAAAo0/QRAGxZ80Frg/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--IS_j6AzZjE/Vgv2VMvbERI/AAAAAAAAAo0/QRAGxZ80Frg/s200/download.jpg" title="Juan Carlos Garcia" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carlos Garcia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oQdZdo3LFak/Vgv2VK0Z_1I/AAAAAAAAAow/McJoz2tUJpQ/s1600/download%2B%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oQdZdo3LFak/Vgv2VK0Z_1I/AAAAAAAAAow/McJoz2tUJpQ/s200/download%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="165" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jim Harris</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HtpSjN0E3fw/Vgv2VAd46XI/AAAAAAAAAo4/J9AZXymSBn0/s1600/download%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HtpSjN0E3fw/Vgv2VAd46XI/AAAAAAAAAo4/J9AZXymSBn0/s200/download%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drew King<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-10840696184483237912013-01-16T16:55:00.000-06:002013-01-16T16:55:01.117-06:00Singularity<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As we analyze the projections of
exponential growth pertaining to technology, we arrive at an idea some have
referred to as the Singularity. The Singularity is actually a concept coming
out of physics which can describe the point at the center of a black hole where
all time, matter, and energy converge into one singular point and the very
fabric of physics is torn into pieces. The concept of a wormhole is that at
this point of singularity the physical state of the universe begins to fold in
on itself creating a vacuum sucking everything from one point and expelling it
out another. This would be like the connecting point of a circle. It is the
starting point and ending point at the same time. It would be a loop of never
ending time, matter, and energy. Ergo, the Singularity would be the point where
we witness the beginning, end, and everything in between. Philosophically, the
Singularity is the culmination of all that was and all that will be into one
central location, time, and space. Singularity, in the philosophical sense, is
the final realization of all known Truth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our religion is a philosophy. It
is a set of beliefs guiding our worldview, influencing our behaviors, and
regulating our understanding of the after-life. Those that consider themselves
“very religious” pay close attention to the philosophical tenets of their
shared organized religious beliefs. Others who consider themselves “unreligious”
tend to pay closer attention to their existential intellectual observations
when building a life philosophy. One group might be considered more stable and
rooted in the philosophies which have been proven out over the test of time.
The other group might be considered more nimble and sensitive to the evolving
culture and world in which they presently live. The overall positive or
negative evaluation of either group is wholly dependent upon the perspective
one has at the moment of analysis. The ultimate conflict between the two groups
is that the “very religious” see reality through the lens of their established
philosophy while the “unreligious” develop their philosophy based on the lens
of their own life experience. One believes that the entire grocery store of
existence fits into their philosophical grocery cart. The other carefully
chooses items off of the grocery shelves of existence in order to fill their
philosophical grocery cart as best they can.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Singularity, as discussed by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ray_Kurzweil">Ray Kurzweil</a>, is a point
where informational and technological growth have increased exponentially along
a long enough timeline that human ability to contain it, or even continue to
fathom its full implications, fails entirely necessitating an evolutionary
watershed moment where biological humans begin to mesh with technology and become
cyborgs. The idea is that assimilation with such a rapidly advancing technology
would be preferable to being left behind and eventually eliminated by a race of
cybernetic intelligence that might look upon a purely biological human as we do
an ant or a mosquito. Kurzweil’s Singularity is the coming together of humanity
and technology in a way that blurs the lines between the two entirely resulting
in a new form of existence which supersedes its predecessors. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Most religions (philosophies)
share similar ideas of a spiritual Singularity. Whether discussing an
after-life or contemplating an end-times scenario, various ideas of being
reunited with one’s God, Creator, or Energy Source seem to look like a
spiritual wormhole where one has looped back at the very end to the source of
the very beginning. Singularity with one’s God, whether that God be energy or a
being or a cosmic consciousness, seems to be an overwhelmingly accepted
philosophy professed by every major religion, science, and belief system
throughout all of human existence. For the most part we can all agree that we
return to the original base form from which we have come indiscriminate of what
our primary life experience has been. “Ashes to ashes…dust to dust.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As one’s philosophical views
become more forward-looking and organic, it becomes easier to navigate meaning
in the contemporary world that we live in. With the exponential growth of world
population, energy consumption, need for natural resources, and technology it
seems highly unlikely that the philosophical worldviews established over the
last 5,000 years could account for ALL that is happening now and about to
happen in the next 50 years. For instance, technologically, the world of 2000
BC was much more similar to the world of 1500 AD than 1900 AD is to today. That
means that the previous 4000 years of human existence are incredibly similar
when using the last 150 years as a template of comparison. And it is certain
that what is technologically possible 50 years from now is nowhere close to
proving realistically viable today. This is the result of exponential growth in
knowledge which spurns exponential growth in technology which spurns
exponential growth in pursuit of Truth (or philosophy of existence). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In this sense, philosophical
Singularity is the compressing together of these elements (knowledge,
technology, and truth) into one singular place at one singular time when the
very fabric of existence is torn and the beginning intersects with the end
creating a loop, or wormhole, where all reality, perspective, and philosophy
come together fully unified and fully revealed. For most, this spiritual
Singularity is called “afterlife” or “judgment day”. It is where all
misconceptions are left behind and truth is revealed without distraction of
alternative theories. It is where truth becomes self-evident and reality is no
longer dependent upon perspective. In a sense, this spiritual Singularity is
the focal point of our most predominant religious philosophies from the ancient
Egyptians to the American Indians to the contemporary Christians. Achieving spiritual
Singularity with one’s deity drives the daily behaviors, politics, economics,
and overall worldview of the majority of past and contemporary human society.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-90572828937113382632012-12-18T09:09:00.000-06:002012-12-18T09:09:54.980-06:00Newtown<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
All of you out there who've made the Newtown, CT massacre
about YOU should be ashamed of yourselves. From political agendas to
unscrupulously subjective rantings about how God has abandoned our secular
school system, please shut the fuck up. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now is a time for mourning. Now is a time for sorrow. Now is
a time for contemplation and resolve. Now is a time for grasping one another’s
hands and quietly acknowledging that there will be families with presents under
their trees this year which were meant to go to children that are no longer
with us. It is incomprehensible. And, yet, it is survivable. Somehow, the worst
victims of tragedy get better. Somehow, we always seem to heal. Somehow, we eventually
accept these tragedies as a part of our new and future reality.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not trying to teach anyone anything by writing these
words. I’m just trying to stir it around and mix it in with the rest of my daily
food so that maybe it can be palatable enough for me to gulp down. I’m too
pissed off not to try to get this down the hatch so I can move forward. I’m
pissed at every one of us—every one of our leaders—every one of our schools—every
one of our families—and I resent the implication that ANY OF US knows a fucking
thing about why this happened.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I resent the implication that ANY OF US understand anything
at all about the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_massacres_in_the_United_States">list
of massacres</a> in each of the US States since the early 1800’s. 40 of our 50
States have experienced multiple instances of reckless, unconscionable waste of
human life that NONE OF US can wrap our brains or hearts around. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you really want to explain something to me then try
making me understand why all of the malicious, malevolent, cowardly acts of
mass homicide within my lifetime have been perpetrated by white men ages 20-35.
You know what? Forget I even mentioned it because someone out there will
actually try to answer the question. They’ll try to apply a logical answer to a
systemic morphing psychological virus of predation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u>News flash</u>: seeking a purpose for everything and
insisting on defining, labeling, and cataloging unimaginable chaos, depravity,
and cowardice leads to a net gain of squat—nada—zilch. We have to wrestle with
the reality that another white male between the ages of 20-35 will do this kind
of thing again. We have to prepare ourselves for the inevitability that
somewhere within our midst is more than one white man contemplating a way to “up
the wager” and hurt us even more. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am allowing myself the next 24 hours to continue
visualizing these children screaming out and huddling in fetal positions as a
white male stands over them and puts the barrel of a semi-automatic weapon
right up to their terror-stricken faces and pulls the trigger. I think it’s
important to burn that image in my mind. I think it’s important, somehow, in
the sharing of grief and mourning and lamentations. But enough is enough. After
the next 24 hours I’ve got to move forward. I’ve got to find the next level of
grief. I’ve got to make up my mind that I will not be weakened or rendered
motionless by my sorrow. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m going to add this experience to the collection of other
tragic experiences I’ve witnessed and lived through, and I’m gonna keep sifting
through the pile looking for ways to use these negative experiences for
something positive. I’m gonna think about ways I can be more involved in the
lives of abused children. I’m gonna think about the ways I can watch for
troubled white men and bring them closer to me instead of pushing them farther
away. I’m gonna take more responsibility for the fatherless and the widowed and
the poor and the sick and the imprisoned. I’m gonna use these experiences to
fortify my resolve that THIS CAN ALL WORK SOMEHOW. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tragedy is supposed to evoke a heroic struggle instead of a
wave of talking heads and brooding Facebookers relishing the opportunity to
scream out their opinions yet again. The heroic struggle isn’t against
legislation or hate groups. The heroic struggle is NOT any sort of monolithic
idea or policy or attitude. The heroic struggle is a mosaic of hearts and hands
and efforts and backgrounds and ideas all coming together to form a unified
front of protection from the imminent threat of tragedy next time. There’s
always a next time. And if next time isn’t met with cooperation instead of
sanctimonious ideological segregation, then more children and teachers die. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And if that happens, we’ve all failed once again. <o:p></o:p></div>
B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-54956184058219586462012-08-06T16:14:00.001-05:002012-08-06T16:15:24.033-05:00HOME<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
When someone turns their back on
you, it hurts. When you can tell that someone is talking about you to someone
else in the room with the whispered warning of, “don’t look now, but guess who
just showed up,” it pushes down on you like a ridiculously heavy backpack. When
your very best efforts to please someone result in a dismissive lack of
affirmation, it creates distance, anger, and resentment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
When a person is ugly or dirty or
smelly or boisterous or crass or impatient or flamboyant we all treat them differently.
We turn our back to them without realizing we’ve hurt them. We warn others in
our group to be aware of “that person over there” without intent of malice. We
dismissively nod thanks to them with a fake smile and hurried eyes if they
engage us while unknowingly reaffirming a multitude of rejection stereotypes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
The “Homeless”—I don’t even know
what that means anymore. I get that we’re talking about people that don’t have
a home. We’re talking about individuals and families that lack the resources
necessary to procure sustainable shelter. What I mean when I say that I don’t
know what “homeless” means is that I need a definitive explanation of the word
HOME. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
I’m too philosophically driven to
only accept HOME as the place where a person, family, or household lives.
That’s the easy definition, but what about HOME as a safe place? A place where
a person can find refuge and safety or live in security? What about a HOME
office or HOME field advantage? What about a criticism that hits HOME or
driving the nail HOME? What if I’m HOME free or happy to be HOME for the
holidays?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
Certainly, there are connotations
of where someone dwells within each of these depictions, but it has to be about
more than where someone physically resides. It has to do with one’s origins—less
about geography and more about a sense of belonging. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<b>HOME is more about where the heart lives and what the heart connects to
than it is about where we keep our stuff. <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
If that’s true then I think more
of us are “homeless” than we realize. I’ve known wealthy CEO’s and pillars of
the community that were as homeless as any vagrant living under a bridge. I
know families living in 6,000 sq. ft. houses just as homeless as the dirtiest
bag lady on the street. Politicians, Clergy, Writers, Doctors, Educators,
Sculptors, Executives, and Judges—all as homeless as anyone could ever be
because their hearts don’t have a HOME.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
When a heart doesn’t have a HOME
(a place of safety and nurturing) it develops a sense of entitlement,
self-importance, paranoia, and ultimately the mechanism of rejecting others
before being rejected. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
A heart needs a place to rest
comfortably from time to time. A heart needs food and shelter. A heart needs to
be fed compassion and trust and loyalty and love and respect in order to remain
healthy. A healthy heart needs time to heal and time to rest and time to
experience peace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
But that’s not all a heart needs! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
A heart also needs exercise
through acts of service to others. It needs work and responsibility and needs
to be stretched. A healthy heart needs to perform. It needs cycles of rest and
work, peace and stress, acceptance both received and given. A healthy heart HAS
TO be used or else it decays. And once it has decayed for long enough it
becomes a hardened lump of atrophied muscle capable of one thing
only—self-preservation.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
You’ve seen the street homeless
with their dirty clothes, constant walking, bags upon bags of “stuff”, and
distant stares shuffling down the street. They are in self-preservation mode.
Their defenses acutely devised to keep you and everyone else away. Their trust
has died. Their fears have overtaken them. They’ve had backs turned on them for
so long that they wonder if they themselves actually exist. Their flamboyant
behavior is a warning sign to stay away. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
From a broken, lonely, depraved
place where a healthy heart struggles to exist we all defend against the
sadness, loneliness, and hopelessness we’ve suffered in our lives. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
We are all homeless. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
We are all dysfunctional. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
We are all broken. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
We are all HOMELESS.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
Beware false promises of a HOME
for your heart. Physical beauty, possessions, power, influence, control, and stature
may be how we errantly label one’s identity, but none of these things provide a
HOME for the heart. And once you find that true home for your heart, DO NOT abandon
it for promises of something bigger and better. The most honorable, healing,
peaceful, loving places a heart can call home are also, more often than not,
the simplest places, things, and people in our lives.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
Find a home for your heart and
then go about the business of finding homes for other people’s hearts. Because
if you are interested in fighting poverty, abuse, hunger, and hatred you need
to understand that these are malignant tumors on society brought about by a
culture of homeless hearts searching for significance through the exploitation
of others. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
The worst part about a heart
without a home is NOT that it dies. The worst part is that it WANTS TO DIE but
cannot. The worst part is that when it cannot die it feeds on others. The
homeless heart, left unchecked, can destroy and consume and devastate anything
in its path. It’s like a tornado—a resulting force of nature without any
positive reason for existence. And often, just like that tornado, the chronically
homeless heart is arbitrary about who or what it affects.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
Here’s the magnificent part—when you
are about the business of feeding compassion and trust and loyalty and love and
respect to the hearts of others, your own heart is satisfied. It’s circular. It’s
rhythmic. It’s organic. It’s what we call communal living and there is no
individual achievement that can take its place.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
A healthy home for a heart is NOT
an efficiency apartment. It is a high school gymnasium filled with cots. Don’t
buy into the idea of self-sufficiency. If you do, you might find a place for
your stuff, but you will not find a place for your heart. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<b>Think big and give big. <o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-64876701016516267832012-08-02T10:33:00.000-05:002012-08-02T10:33:48.313-05:00Christian cultural warfare<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Let me be clear about something for a moment. No more
nuance. No more metaphor. No more poetic adaptations of spiritual revelations.
Just straight up honesty…right…wrong…or otherwise. Pure individual opinion and
preference. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Today’s brand of western Christianity
sucks ass!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">If
you’ve been brainwashed with the message of fanaticism that HATES Obama or
HATES gays or HATES immigrants (legal or illegal) or HATES anything then you
need to stay the fuck away from me. I’m trying my best to be a godly man. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I
want to be loving. I want to be joyful. I want to be peaceful. I want to be patient.
I want to be kind. I want to experience all the <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Galatians+5%3A22-23&version=NIV">“fruit”</a>
(or byproducts) of a life lived according to the Holy Spirit of our God, but
you assholes keep pissing me off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I
want to be non-violent, but every time I hear a “Christian” spouting hate,
disrespect, and malicious slander I want to kick them to sleep. I want to be
gentle, but every time I hear a “Christian” reciting their pastor’s particular
flavor of scriptural interpretation which clearly runs cross-grain to the life
of a peaceful loving Christ I want to bash their teeth in with a Maglite. I
want to be respectful, but every time I hear a “Christian” speak with authority
about politics, spirituality, and sexuality that they have NO personal
experience with I have to fight back the urge to fold their knee backward with
a well-placed heel kick. I want to be humble, but it’s hard not to think
everyone around me is a complete dumbass when it seems clear that all the noise
of the culture war around us is obviously drowning out human suffering in every
corner of our world. I don’t want to let these things get to me. I don’t want to
be angry. I don’t want to rant. I want peace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">But
today’s most visual and vocal brand of a provocative Christianity is THE
biggest stumbling block for me. I’m guessing it’s quite the stumbling block for
others as well. Either that or I’m the only one out here psychotic enough to be
affected by these lunatics. Yes, I can call them lunatics because I was once
one of them. I taught the same garbage. I worshipped the same idols of
religion, politics, doctrine, and selfish interpretation of scripture. I was
fully dialed in to the frequency of status quo mainstream Christianity. But
then God saved me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I’m
certain that the greatest salvation I’ve ever experienced in my life has been a
salvation from what I thought Christianity was. I know now that Jesus died on
that cross for me that day not to save me from my sins, but to save me from my
religion. He sacrificed flesh, bone, blood, dignity, and life so that someday
Bonar Crump would be saved from the hell of 21<sup>st</sup> century western Christianity.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Obviously,
everything in me isn’t fixed if I truly have these tendencies of violence
toward jackass 21<sup>st</sup> century Christians, but I’m really really trying
and praying and seeking and working on it. This is why I keep ALL forms of organized
Christian religion at arm’s length. This is why I try to debrief my daughter
each time we attend church. This is why I confer and seek council from my wife
anytime the noise of Christian cultural warfare begins to drown out my sense of
peacefulness and joy. This is why I write this stuff as I attempt to release it
from my brain via verbal processing. I have to verbally vomit into my laptop
from time to time just to keep the noise level in my head to a dull roar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Is
it any wonder that I cling so tightly to the biker subculture that I embrace?
See, there is peace in being a part of a subculture that the jackass “Christians”
don’t want any part of. Don’t get me wrong…there are plenty of Christ followers
among the ranks of us bikers, but the really nasty “Christians” stay very far
away from us. As a matter of fact, they lock the doors to their cars when we
pull up next to them at intersections. That suits me just fine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">The
curious thing to me is that there is a lot of the same kind of hate speech
within the biker community, but it doesn’t bother me nearly as much. You’ll
find a fair amount of bigotry, misogyny, and political fanaticism at any of our
large biker meetings, but these are mostly folks exercising their freedom of
belief, speech, and lifestyle guaranteed by our Constitution. What appears to
me to be intolerance and anger is based on their own authority. It’s their
opinion and right to have and express whatever they like. I get it. But it’s
different for me when I hear someone reflecting the same exact intolerances
while wearing a shirt that says, “Jesus said so.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">You
know what! If you’re wearing that shirt today I have one very important thing
to say to you: go fuck yourself. That and stay the fuck away from me. I respect
your right to your freedoms of speech, action, and lifestyle, but NOT if you’re
going to cover it all with a self-serving coat of Christian paint, thereby,
presenting the message to the world that you are merely following the directives
of your God. You are not! You are following the guidance of your idols. You
just don’t know it yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I’ve
been told that I am actually a very nice person. I don’t know if that’s true or
not, but I do know that it’s a lot easier for me to be nice when I’m not
surrounded by mainstream Christians. Wondering why church attendance all over
the western world continues to drop off at an amazing rate? It’s because no one
wants to hang out with assholes. It’s really not all that complicated. Figure
it out!<o:p></o:p></span></div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-9522628919875989362012-06-19T11:54:00.000-05:002012-06-19T11:55:39.890-05:00Herd versus Tribe<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
A close friend of mine recently
told me that mainstream Christianity had made her an asshole. The more we
discussed the subject, it seemed to draw toward what happens to an individual
when they become part of the “herd”. We discussed our individual rejections of
the “herd”. We wrestled with the defiance of “herd mentality”. We resolved to
maintain our independent critical thinking and never again follow the “herd.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
The victorious defiance that we
shared was real. But…the more thought I put into the matter over the next
couple days, the more I began to question if we were trying to function as
fully autonomous disciples. <b>It seems
counter-intuitive to completely reject the herd as a means of redeeming the
herd.</b> <i>(That sentence makes a lot of
sense to me and, yet, when I read it the meaning gets tangled up in the
syntax.)</i> What I mean is that those of us on the front edge of a Christian
reform movement which is driving the post-modern, missional, socially
responsive changes that we are witnessing today in the Church have to sell more
than just the message of “damn the herd”. Because everyone that buys that
t-shirt automatically defines themselves as one group rejecting another group’s
dynamics based on the precept that being a part of a group will always make you
an asshole. Do you see the insanity of it? <b><i>I want to be a part of a herd that rejects
herds.</i></b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<b><i><br /></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
Over the last couple of days as I’ve
processed our discussion, I remembered writing quite a bit about rejecting the
herd and seeking a new tribe in <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Throwing-Hammers-Separation-Church-Self/dp/1452872910/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1282671551&sr=1-1">my
book</a>. So that got me thinking about the differences between a tribe and a
herd. I don’t think I need to drone on and on about the differences, but I will
say that the most obvious distinction is that animals form a herd and people
form tribes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
Maybe the real discussion is about
being a Christian animal versus being a Christian human. I would argue that the
Christian animal is concerned with little more than survival (receiving
sustenance), procreation (increasing numbers), and preserving the integrity of
the herd (worship of religion). By contrast the Christian human embodies the burning
desire to question and reason—to seek knowledge and truth—to sacrifice safety
and security for the sake of humanitarian efforts—to save and rescue other
tribal members from the savages of neglect, abuse, and hunger.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
Personally, I reject the
institutional church because I don’t want to be fed from a trough—I want to
feed from the land. I don’t want to be led by professional shepherds—I want to
be interactive in the direction and goals of the tribe. I don’t want to be
fenced in by traditionalism and culturally irrelevant ethos—I want to explore uncharted
regions of faith and risk injury from time to time. I don’t want to be labeled
a Christian beast—I want to be known as a critical thinker even if I’m wrong
sometimes. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
I want to reject the herd for the
sake of being a part of a tribe. Maybe you don’t see the distinction, but there
is one. The difference is huge! The tribe is an organism that works together
and relies upon one another to meet the collective needs of the tribe. I like to
think of primitive indigenous tribes and how they live with one another and for
one another. I like to think about my tribe as one that is nomadic, dynamic,
and culturally savvy. I like to look around me and see the tribal tattoos and
piercings. I like to look around me and see a tribe that celebrates diversity
and compassion. I like seeing a genuine acceptance of racial, sexual, and
economic diversity in my tribe. And when I say it’s “my tribe,” I don’t mean
that it belongs to me. I mean that I get to belong to IT as a contributing,
learning, respectful member happy to be a part of something bigger than myself
and more powerful than any of the single members of the tribe are independent
of one another.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
Are you a part of a herd or are you
a part of a tribe? The answer will have a profound effect on your heart and
soul. Jesus had a tribe of disciples that He led. He was also often found
trying to get away from the herd of curious folks looking for healing, food, or
hope without the understanding that Jesus was offering them entry into the <b>tribe</b>. He was NOT offering them
admission to a <b>herd</b>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
If you’re suspicious that you
might be mingling with the herd instead of participating in a tribe then
chances are you don’t know yet how to engage scripture, religion, and fellow
herd members with independent critical thought. It’s difficult to transition.
It’s hard to reject something that has always been a part of your life. It’s
physically, emotionally, and psychologically exhausting to engage the members
of your herd with the message of a tribe. All you can do is leave the gate open
when you escape. Some will find their way out. Some will do everything in their
power to shut that gate back up. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
The herd and herd mentality are
powerful agents of persuasion. Do not underestimate their appeal. Most members
of my tribe have experiences anything from 2 to 5 years of soul-searching
transition, conflict, and self-doubt before ever finding our group. One member
that I know of was subjected to such ridicule, shame, and spiritual abuse that
he contemplated suicide. That’s right—educated and trained at Southwest
Theological Seminary; this guy started asking too many questions about herd
mentality and was shamefully cast to the curb without an inkling of concern for
him or his family, how they would survive financially, or how it would affect
every single aspect of their future. Another is a family member of mine cast
aside by a church herd where the pastor of the institution wept at his shameful
dismissal but in the end threw up his hands because major financial benefactors
in the herd required his head on a platter because this family member had
questioned the necessity of a new organ and sanctuary remodeling when 1/10<sup>th</sup>
of that money could have funded an established program to house and feed
several dozen homeless families.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
We’ve all heard the stories and
seen their effects, but we tell ourselves, “wow, THOSE guys are really messed
up.” All the while the same things are happening in your herd without you even
knowing it. Wake up! Analyze, pray, research, ask questions, seek, find, knock,
open, pray again, and be sure to listen this time. Because the thing about
being a member of the herd is that you don’t realize it’s a herd. Just like an
asshole justifies being an asshole because they always have an excuse for their
behavior. You have to separate from these things in order to really allow the
blood to begin circulating to the independently critical thinking parts of your
brain. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">
The gospel will not make you an
asshole. Jesus will not make you an asshole. Even the being a member of the
herd doesn’t make you an asshole. It is the hardening of one’s heart that
creates the asshole, and that, my friend, happens when the complacency,
laziness, and self-centered nature of the “herd” sets in. It’s simply that WE
aren’t designed to be a <b>herd</b>. We are
designed to be a <b>tribe</b>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m looking forward to the next
conversation with my close friend. I want to explore these thoughts and see if
there is somewhere to settle on how to make the transition from herd to tribe more
efficient and less damaging. It’s great once you get here, but the trip is
murder. Maybe she’ll be able to help me release the anger and resentment I feel
toward the herd. Maybe that’s my barrier of forgiveness that I need to breach
in order to be a better member of my tribe. Maybe I’ve transitioned to the
tribe but still maintain my asshole status. Maybe we’re all living in a
constant state of uniqueness transition. Maybe God likes us that way. Maybe the
potter likes molding clay more than He does putting it in the kiln. Maybe the
journey is everything and there is no destination. Maybe I should wrap this up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-58243231901426392472012-04-10T10:58:00.000-05:002012-06-19T11:55:07.855-05:00The Boys of Summer<br />
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Every year at this time I try to convince myself that this
will be the year I cultivate a love for baseball.<o:p></o:p></div>
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It is beyond me why I’ve never caught the baseball virus. I’m
built like a baseball player. Most people assume that I played baseball in
college. It’s a game that seems to encourage statistical analysis. Baseball
mixes power, finesse, bravado, and steely-eyed competition into a beautiful confederation
of colors set on a field of grass and dirt that emit a sense of puckish youthfulness.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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I want to love it. I should love it. By all accounts I
should be a complete fanatic about the game, but it cannot hold my interest for
long. I can find no fault with baseball that would preclude a passion for the
game. I think that it is a game I was probably meant to love but for some
reason cannot. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I think that for one to truly be a fan of something does NOT
mean that they must be a fanatic. I mean…I think I could argue that I’m a fan
of baseball, but to do so in the proximity of a few of my closest friends that
are fanatics would earn me the label of HYPOCRITE. <o:p></o:p></div>
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These guys that I speak of consume the game. They adjust
their schedules around the game. They spend a considerable amount of time and
money attending games. They watch the games, analyze the games, and then read
someone else’s analysis of the same games the very next day as they are
watching the current games. These guys invest the kind of time, money, and
heart into the game of baseball that makes me feel hypocritical when I describe
myself as a fan. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I don’t deserve to wear the same cool stuff they do when
they invite me to the games. I don’t know who the legendary announcers are that
have nurtured their love of the sport. I don’t understand the nicknames and histories
of individual players (see <a href="http://www.baseball-reference.com/players/b/berkmla01.shtml">Fat Elvis</a>).
I get it, but I just don’t get it. I get it when I’m watching a game with these
guys, but when I’m watching a game by myself I don’t get it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Passion is a funny thing. It summons enthusiasm that cannot
be faked. It invokes emotion that cannot be faked. It induces desire sometimes
distinct from reason or intellect. It arouses love, joy, hatred, anger,
jealousy, et. al. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Sometimes I envy my good friends that are passionate about
baseball. This is an exciting time of year for them. From the moment that
pitchers and catchers report to camp until the last game of the World Series
these guys gleefully grin and toast and argue and cheer for a game, a team, and
for individual players that throw, hit, and catch a ball. It’s quite a zen-like
thing to watch as a non-fanatic wannabe baseball fan.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Having passion is good, I think. Your passions help to
mold you and define a piece of who you are. I love that passion can change us
at our core. I love that passion is somehow reliant on hope. Whatever we are
passionate about will get the majority of our time and mental RAM. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I want more passions in my life. My passion for Jesus, my
wife, my daughter, my Harley, and my running should be enough. But I’d like
more. I’d like to be as passionate about people, in general, as I am about
people’s ideas. I’d like to be passionate about child abuse and human
trafficking and hunger and need. I’d like to be passionate about grace, mercy,
and peace. I’d like to be passionate about injustice. I want to be passionate
about the things that Jesus (one of my passions) is passionate about. I feel
hypocritical being a fan of these things when I’m in the presence of those that
are passionate about them. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Maybe I’m a fraud. Maybe we’re all frauds. Maybe we all want
to take sides on the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trayvon_Martin">Trayvon
Martin</a> issue without understanding that Godly passion is laced with hope
not hatred. Maybe we all want to be passionate about our political agendas
without considering that righteous passion loves—it does not destroy or
discredit. Maybe we all want to formulate exhaustive opinions about anything
and everything as a means of convincing ourselves that we are not living lives void
of passion. Maybe we all suck. I suspect that we most certainly do.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I hope we don’t all suck. I don’t want to believe that we
are all frauds, phonies, and hypocrites. I want to believe that we all have
passions that might be misguided instead of believing that we are absent of
passion. I’d much rather think of us all possessing misplaced passion rather
than being passionless. Passionless means dead. I don’t want to be dead. I don’t
want to have misguided passions—but I know that I do. Still, I’d rather know
there is passion in my life than to be dead inside—absent of hope—eyes at my
feet instead of on the horizon.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Here’s to passion and all the messiness that it brings with
it! I do love people, but I hope to become passionate about their lives and
their suffering. I want to be infected with the passion that I see in Jesus. I’m
not interested in the passions of His followers. I want the real stuff. I want
to know that what I’m passionate about matters. I don’t want to be a fraud. And
as these righteous passions grow inside of me I’m hoping that there isn’t a limit
on the number of things one can be passionate about. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I still want to be passionate about baseball. That part is
real, too. It’s just that I want to be equally as passionate about people’s
heart as I am about the Cardinals. It’s much less messy to be a Cards fanatic
than it is to be a fanatic of suffering, environmentalism, economic disparity,
and the elimination of hate. However, I still think baseball might be my
gateway drug. I sense that the green grass and rosin and smell of beer might
represent the pleasant hopefulness necessary to dive into the messier passions
of human existence.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I want to know what a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rally_Squirrel">RALLY SQUIRREL</a> is. I want
to put 20,000 miles a year on my ’07 Dyna Lowrider. I want to run 4 full
marathons a year. I want to be fully engaged in the everyday miracle that is my
wife and daughter. I want to “seek first the kingdom of God.” And through kingdom
seeking I hope to add the passions of Jesus to my growing list of passions. <o:p></o:p></div>
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All of that and I’d like the Texas Rangers to win the World
Series. But don’t tell all my buds that are Cardinal fanatics. The reason they
all say that the Rangers didn’t win the 2011 World Series is because Ranger
fans aren’t the same caliper as Cardinal fanatics. The say Ranger fans only show
interest in the post-season. They say a team without passion can never
ultimately achieve their goals against adversity. Maybe they’re right. Maybe a
group of fanatics CAN raise the level of play of the team they’re passionate
about. I’d certainly like to think so. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-67565385716467372532012-03-07T08:57:00.000-06:002012-03-07T08:57:31.150-06:00KONY 2012<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Y4MnpzG5Sqc" width="640"></iframe>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-87797560269435082492012-03-05T13:03:00.001-06:002012-03-27T09:41:02.015-05:00Spiritual Awakening in the Desert<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">It was a long hard run into the arid region of far West Texas. We ran a consistent pace along the Rio Grande for hundreds of miles. Three rows of barbed wire separated us on both sides from scrubby mesquite and cacti as we thundered West on two cylinder steeds with rubber hooves.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--o05BgaKc6I/T1UG9Xk3vNI/AAAAAAAAAew/k_fNdN6uNAM/s1600/west+road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--o05BgaKc6I/T1UG9Xk3vNI/AAAAAAAAAew/k_fNdN6uNAM/s320/west+road.jpg" width="320" /></a>“West” always makes me think of adventure and survival and Josey Wales. In my mind, “West” is where there is newness and hope of something better. It’s where the daring (and sometimes crazy) go to escape preformed existence. “New” lives out West. “Old” is wherever you’ve been long enough to exhaust all of your resources and have explored all of the contemporary modes of advancement.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">As long as you’re travelling West you know what lies to the East. You know which towns to the East show promise of fuel and which are ghostly reminders of lives long since departed. You know where the “road dragons” are to the East <i>(road dragons—long curled chunks of tire tread that mark spots in the road where someone has blown a tire).</i> “Been there Done that” is to the East. You’ve already conquered the East. You’ve already absorbed the scenic pleasures it has to offer and have survived the hazards it has thrown at you. Even the sun loses interest in the East and is constantly trying to escape it to no avail.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’ve been writing, researching, and cajoling people to embrace the spiritual West for half a decade now. At first, I thought I was the only one spending my evenings with a glass of whiskey meticulously reviewing roughly-drawn prospector’s maps of the spiritual West. I kind of thought I was the only one foolish enough to point my horse in that direction. I remember at one point thinking I might have to turn around because all I was finding the further West I went was miles and miles of barbed wire and seemingly uninhabitable land. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
<br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fJWN6IhqHMU/T1UKGJKHRWI/AAAAAAAAAe4/PInjjERRtjw/s1600/guys+up+high.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fJWN6IhqHMU/T1UKGJKHRWI/AAAAAAAAAe4/PInjjERRtjw/s320/guys+up+high.jpg" width="320" /></a>But something has happened.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Something has changed.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Others have felt the call of the spiritual West and have been heading that direction. You run into them the further you go into the unknown West. The spiritual pioneers are out West seeking, exploring, finding, and sharing. You see them up ahead and you quicken your pace to catch up. You are invited to ride in formation with them because there is protection, power, and energy in numbers. You share each other’s resources. You learn from each other’s stories. You build confidence in knowing that your desire to discover the spiritual West hasn’t been about escaping the East—it’s been a call TO something instead of AWAY from the past.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KTcD1J6c9_o/T1UKtBVvi5I/AAAAAAAAAfI/7SIWxWqb6ug/s1600/bonar+high.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KTcD1J6c9_o/T1UKtBVvi5I/AAAAAAAAAfI/7SIWxWqb6ug/s200/bonar+high.jpg" width="200" /></a>When we discover what lies West we discover a new level of potential. We discover a new perspective and we realize that although the old perspective works fine to the East, the new perspective of the West requires a different set of eyes to see and ears to hear. Not everyone is ready for it. Not everyone is capable of making the journey. Not everyone is bold enough to reject the cautionary tales of Easterners and quietly travel West. And to be honest, not EVERYONE is being called to travel West. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">But if you hear the call of the spiritual West (<b>and you know it if you do</b>), you need to heed that call. You need to pack as little as you can into your saddlebags, backpacks, carts, or buggies and start following the Son. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">We need you out here. We’ve begun to establish some communities out here. We’ve discovered water and food sources and we’re beginning to figure out how to use these new eyes and ears. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The stars are much brighter and not an inch of the sky isn’t owned by one. Those stars were always over your head, but you couldn’t see them. You needed a new perspective.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Resources are harder to find out here, but you appreciate them so much more than ever before. Succulent tiny quail hiding under the very same mesquite that you use to cook them with—powerful winds that bring the promise of rain—mountains to look up at and valleys to view from above. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Changes in perspective require movement.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">New ideas, dreams, challenges, and hope require effort and time and loss and sincerity.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b>We don’t go to tame the spiritual West! We go to learn how to be a part of it!</b> <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">That’s why we pack so little. It’s because with every bit of spiritual baggage we bring along, we risk missing out on the full scope of a REAL perspective change. If we bring our old eyes and ears with us then we cannot survive out here. It’s a place that requires adaptability, freedom, and most of all it is a place that requires faith.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9GCPPgb17AA/T1UK8dulJhI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/Tlfyu2_mFUU/s1600/tray+tire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9GCPPgb17AA/T1UK8dulJhI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/Tlfyu2_mFUU/s200/tray+tire.jpg" width="148" /></a>My recent 1,000 mile roundtrip out West recharged my faith in new sunsets, ghost towns, prickly pear, and that a new tire may be hard to find, but somebody’s out there with just what you need. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s okay. If you DO know what I’m talking about then you GET IT. Sometimes spiritual changes at our core occur because we’re standing somewhere we’ve never been before. We can be dramatically changed by our surroundings. We almost always are.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">As I relived three days’ worth of riding to my wife it sparked a thought—we depart home with the excitement of visually experiencing a new environment, but we arrive back home telling all our stories about the people we met along the way. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’m not exactly sure what that thought means just yet, but it’s definitely fermenting in my brain.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lPJq2Ukx-BA/T1ULFb3WfXI/AAAAAAAAAfY/lIBbObmo5Do/s1600/melody.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lPJq2Ukx-BA/T1ULFb3WfXI/AAAAAAAAAfY/lIBbObmo5Do/s320/melody.jpg" width="320" /></a>I couldn’t wait to clean all the dead bugs off my Harley. I couldn’t wait to check all my fluid levels, air pressures, and snug up all the loose bolts. I couldn’t wait to ready everything for the next opportunity to ride West. I couldn’t wait because once you begin to satisfy the yearning in your soul to travel West you become addicted. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Yes, it’s about riding the Hog. Yes, it’s about finding those long stretches of rode where you can run 115 mph before you crest the next hill. Yes, it’s about challenging your ability to adapt and problem-solve. But most significantly, it’s about the subtle change in vision and the noticing of embedded sounds you’d never noticed before. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">It’s called living.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">It’s called joy.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">It’s called peace.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">It’s called faith.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U3BR_CPXU3s/T1ULSzvHM_I/AAAAAAAAAfg/RzLI4WPiqtY/s1600/guys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-U3BR_CPXU3s/T1ULSzvHM_I/AAAAAAAAAfg/RzLI4WPiqtY/s320/guys.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ttSJeTUss5s/T1ULmSXxHAI/AAAAAAAAAfw/QuBtstdkGj0/s1600/odometer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ttSJeTUss5s/T1ULmSXxHAI/AAAAAAAAAfw/QuBtstdkGj0/s320/odometer.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-30249172826167387412012-02-13T13:24:00.003-06:002012-03-27T09:48:03.860-05:00Christian PTSD and a bunch of other stuff<div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Warning: Stream of Consciousness Ahead—Slow down when approaching the curves.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span>There has to be a respectful way to argue that Christianity may be the greatest threat to the teachings of Jesus Christ. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span>There has to be a way to open up the discussion with spiritually honest folks about the burden of Christianity on the intent of Christ’s message to ALL of humanity. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span>There has to be a meaningful way to investigate the problems generated by Christianity without attacking individual Christians. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span>There has to be a way to criticize the belief system without tearing down the believers. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span>There has to be a way to look at Jesus, the red letters, and the Cross from a first person perspective instead of through the filters of Christianity. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span>There has to be a way to escape the zoo of Christianity and view Christ in the wild—no barriers—no separation—no vendors—no warnings—just people standing right in front of the Lion of The Tribe of Judah (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Revelation+5:5&version=NIV">Rev 5:5</a>). <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">There has to be a way……...but I don’t know what it is.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’m never so “on point” and cautious as I am when I attend a Christian church service. Most would think that it’s because I’m damaged goods or that I’ve been wounded by church folk in the past and just haven’t healed yet. Well, that might be part of it, but I’m nobody’s punk. I don’t whine about injustices and angrily stomp around fuming over defeat. I have a pretty short memory when it comes to confrontation and even rejection. What I don’t forget easily is disrespect or contempt—both personally and when observed from a third-party perspective.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I don’t carry a chip on my shoulder, but you won’t ever sneak up on me easily more than once. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Let me explain what it’s like participating in a church service (<i>traditional or contemporary—mainstream or off-the-grid—clean-cut preacher or guy with an 8” goatee</i>) when you have all your senses in hyper-active mode at the ready for any type of a flanking maneuver. <b>It’s exhausting!</b> <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">It’s like playing soccer on a field where there MIGHT be a couple landmines. You’re not sure if they’re there, but they MIGHT be so you’ll need to diligently scan the ground as you “play” the game. All the while the other players on the field joyfully play the game without worries or hesitation. In contrast to them, you play the game like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeYf-rhMQIQ">Rain Man trying to get on an airplane</a>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I like to think of it as Christian <a href="http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmedhealth/PMH0001923/">PTSD</a> (post-traumatic stress disorder). Does that mean I consider myself a victim? Of course not! I was a volunteer. No one made me participate in the system dynamic which is Christianity. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Or did they?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">No. What am I saying? No one forced Christianity on me; it was a choice I made on my own at the age of 9. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">But………..… I don’t know. I mean what other alternatives did I have? At 9, the choice was quite clear—either accept the basis of Christianity as expressed through my particular church congregation or reject the message of Jesus Christ and what his life/death means to me for all eternity. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">And THEN radically remodel those Christian ideologies at age 11 due to the different philosophies at our new church community. Then there was the refashioning of those beliefs at age 15 after my parents had given up religion all together and I had to start evaluating doctrine and theology on my own (which meant I would attend the church where most of my friends went). <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">That was a Christianity based on the sound ideology of: <b>God wants our youth to have a full-functioning gymnasium and lounge areas with pool tables and old couches</b>. That wasn’t a bad Christianity. It provided many of us a place to meet members of the opposite sex that appeared to be like-minded Christians and thereby “safe” for exploring the nuances of dating during our mid-teens. We really took advantage of that one! <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b><i>Next month’s overnight lock-in—Hell, yeah, I’m gonna be there!<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">There were lots of other churches with just as many different flavors of Christianity. All of them had good points and bad points IMO. But there was always one thread of consistency that ran through all of them—Jesus. So it came to pass that when I finally got tired of readjusting my own sense of who Jesus WAS based on the plethora of versions I came into contact with (Jesus version 3.7 – Jesus version 20.8) I began to think about what all of the different flavors of Christianity must look like from Jesus’s perspective (<i>confession: I usually type “Christ’s” instead of “Jesus’s” because I’m never quite comfortable with that spelling—too many ssssssses</i>).<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I still don’t have any idea what it all must look like from the Jesus perspective. I realized the dangers of that thought process early on. It required me to assume that I knew anything at all about how a creator evaluated his/her creation. However, I think that it was that time in my life that led me to pursue writing. I wanted to know what it was like creating something you were proud to present to others whether they appreciated it or not and then see what it would feel like witnessing what others would do with your creation. Sometimes they tear it apart. Sometimes they OVERLY embrace it. Sometimes they respectfully ponder it and give you a little chuck on the shoulder (<i>those are probably the best</i>).<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">But sometimes they ignore it. Sometimes they disrespect you and carefully shoo you out of the room so that the “real” grown-ups can talk. Sometimes they label you and your creation too artless or ordinary to be the work of anyone worthy of their time. Sometimes the flaws in what you create are evaluated contemptuously overshadowing any beauty, honesty, or truth you may stumble upon in the process of being creative. Sometimes you’re considered a piece of shit no matter what you have created because it’s not what the “real” grown-ups want to hear or are looking to decorate the walls with.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><i>Dude…did I just hear an “amen” in the distance?<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">There is a point to this weird post. Let me see if I can find it.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Oh, yes! What it feels like to attend any form of church service with Christian PTSD. <b>It’s exhausting! </b>I know I said that before, but I don’t know what more to say without coming off like some kind of raving lunatic hell-bent on throwing all Christian church-goers under the bus whether they have a “real” relationship with Jesus Christ or are just going through the motions in order to get an invite to the lock-in. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I don’t know where it starts or ends. Oh, wait! What about that Alpha and Omega thing? Isn’t Jesus the beginning and the end? Give me a second to Google that…<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I knew it: <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/quicksearch/?quicksearch=alpha+and+omega&qs_version=NIV">Revelations</a>! <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">You see, all those different forms, flavors, and versions of Christianity kept teaching me that Jesus was the “first and the last, the beginning and the end.” They kept telling me that, “Jesus is all you need, son.” They kept telling me that the spirit of Jesus lives inside me somehow as a guide or conscience or something like that. They all pretty much unilaterally agreed that I was safe as long as I was walking alongside Jesus following him to our next venue or <a href="http://www.bonarcrump.com/2011/09/open-to-elements.html">just sitting atop a hillside watching a rain cloud come our way</a>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">And then they turned the tables on me. They told me that I needed their approval. They told me that I was taking some of this Alpha-Omega talk a little too literally. They said that THEY were commissioned to be my shepherds and that I should get back to the flock. And do you want to know what I finally found in the midst of all of this conflict, chaos, and confusion that gave my soul a peace it had never felt before? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b>Jesus</b>—Lion of the Tribe of Judah standing four foot in front of me on the savannah grasslands without a tree in sight—nowhere to run—nowhere to hide. I stared that Lion square-ball in the eye as long as I could anticipating some answers. I stared him square-ball in the eye—a bold man daring the Big Cat to attack. I grasped a knife in each hand and prepared to TAKE whatever answers I could get.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">But in the end there were no answers. In the end, I dropped my knives, knelt reverently on my left knee, and began to weep. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I wept for all the people I had failed instead of all the folks that had failed me.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I wept for all the times I made others feel like shit because they didn’t know the right scripture or where a certain book was located in the Bible.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I wept for all the people I had forsaken because they were reluctant to buy into my version of Christianity.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I wept because I had planted some of those landmines on the soccer field hoping to expose those that didn’t believe the way that I did.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b>I wept for about 2 years.<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">And when the weeping was over I looked up to see the Jesus lion still standing there staring at me. He locked eyes with me for a moment as if to say, “you good now?” and then he turned around to leave. He walked a few steps away before turning to look at me over his shoulder. Then he said, “you coming?” (<i>I know Lions can’t talk, but I swear on a stack of Bibles that this Lion said, “you coming?”</i>)<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’ve been following Jesus ever since in a way that defies convention and tradition and ritual. It’s all so clear now. I didn’t need answers. I needed experiences. I needed time with Jesus. I needed to watch how Jesus loves.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Now I get to witness this same scenario playing itself out over and over between Jesus and other folks as I stand back about 50 feet and just watch the stare down until each individual, in their own time, bows to one knee and weeps however long that they need to. Then we all follow together as we move to the next venue or sit atop a hill watching rainclouds gather. It’s all very surreal and yet it seems so normal after a while.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b><i>This is all based on a totally real dream that I had once, BTW!<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’m still traveling along watching and learning as the Big Cat <i>(that’s what I call Jesus sometimes)</i> gathers folks from all cultures, creeds, colors, and walks of life. I still don’t know where we’re all going or exactly what’s on the horizon, but these people I hang with are radically different than any of the folks I grew up going to church with. I’m not trying to say that they are better or worse—just different. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’d much rather attend a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Outlaw_motorcycle_club">1%er</a> function than a church service any day – any week – any month – any year. I feel safer at an outlaw mc gathering or bar than at any Christian function. What I mean is that there’s definitive protocol in the biker world. There are expectations and consequences that don’t shift or change depending upon the situation. You can always feel secure around a bunch of 1%ers as long as you know the rules—and the rules are always the same. <b>Show respect and you get respect—act an asshole and you are sure to be treated like an asshole.<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Church isn’t like that. Christians aren’t like that. The varying forms, expectations, and beliefs of different versions of Christianity can switch up on you so quick you have no idea what you’re supposed to do or who you might offend in the process. You might even be the BIGGEST asshole in the group and be honored because of it. It just doesn’t make any sense and it is NOT the least bit consistent. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Jesus makes sense. Jesus is consistent. He loves. He leads. He rescues. He bleeds. He roars. He finds YOU. He doesn’t care what you look like or what you THINK you know about anything. He wants you to watch HIM work. Pay close attention. He leads.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">He leads because not only is he love, truth, honor, and majestic Lion but also because he is RESPECT.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">He is respect to others. He is respect to our planet. He is respect to all of HIS creation. He places value in his creation whether we do or not and expects us to respect it (all of it) as well. This protocol does not waver. This protocol is a constant. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The lion demands you to respect yourself. If you cannot respect yourself due to the ongoing pressure of whatever group you belong to then you need a new group. You’re welcome to join me hanging with bikers, but you’re gonna need to know the rule of respect first. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’ve found more personal discipleship at the hands of <a href="http://www.fullthrottlemcsac.com/about1.html">patch holders</a> in the mc world than I ever did in 25 years of bible studies, retreats, or church services. What’s that supposed to mean to someone like me? I’m still trying to find out. I will tell you that learning the very specific means of conveying respect whether in the mc world, military, or any other organization which highly regulates and values honor, respect, and loyalty can elevate you spiritually to a place that looks down on Christianity. <b>Yeah, I said it!</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Give me the respectful cadence of a biker rally any day over a Christian function. At least with the bikers I know what’s expected of me. With Christians, you never know what they’re gonna spring on you. Hence, you have to always be on your guard with your speech, actions, and even body language. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">That kind of hyper-active sense of uncertainty doesn’t bode well for the Christian PTSD victim and neither does participating in a game of “watch your ass” played on a minefield of expectations.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">You get my drift……… <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aakEFwcQgi0/Tzlf2XvnSmI/AAAAAAAAAeA/2eAITa531yA/s1600/unclesam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aakEFwcQgi0/Tzlf2XvnSmI/AAAAAAAAAeA/2eAITa531yA/s320/unclesam.jpg" width="235" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9pt;"><br />
</div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-4639290560015295822012-02-08T11:19:00.000-06:002012-02-08T11:19:22.241-06:00When words fail the Heart can still hear<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I don’t trust Christians.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Wait; it gets more offensive.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Christian functions make my skin crawl.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’d rather listen to 24 hours of shrieking hurricane force winds than listen to Christian music.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I can’t stand Christian “worship”.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">If I had my way society would cease all forms of sanctioned Christian activity, henceforth.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"> <hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I trust Jesus with all my heart, soul, and spirit.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Wait; don’t roll your eyes yet.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Good music, good drink, and meaningful discussion are healing to me.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The silent private moments of sensing Jesus somehow revealing things to me heals my spirit.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Good days and bad days—my life is my form of worship.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">My idea of heaven is being around a group of real people with real problems talking about what works and what doesn’t.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"> <hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">If you’re turned off by where I’m coming from with any of this then I guess we have to agree to disagree. Simply put, I reject the notion that corporate worship, sanctioned lists of dos/don’ts, and Biblical teaching provide direct pathways to the soul-heart-spirit. In a world of abject poverty, moral depravity, and social injustice I think we need to focus on direct pathways to the soul-heart-spirit. This is why I don’t trust Christians.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">For one thing, Christians have traditionally been identified by their knowledge of Scripture, participation at Christian gatherings, and adherence to Christian <a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/mores">mores</a>. This results in a reasonable conclusion that an exceptional (more righteous) Christian will usually be one that has an exceptional knowledge of Scripture, an exceptional record of participation at Christian gatherings, and an exceptional adherence to Christian mores.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Herein lies the rub—no matter how beneficial those activities or compliances may be, they will never directly impact the soul-heart-spirit. These things can never ever replace the simple private reassurance deep in your heart (<i><span style="font-size: 11.0pt;">way down deep where the real stuff lies about like a cave full of treasure</span></i>) that Jesus really likes you just as you are right here—right now.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The expectations of other Christians don’t mean shit. <i>Listen TO your heart</i>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The rules and regulations don’t mean shit. <i>Listen WITH your heart</i>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The behaviors of the people you associate with don’t mean shit. <i>Listen to THEIR hearts</i>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Christianity (i.e. the belief system) will always be about molding and shaping people into what Christians think they should look like. What about what Jesus wants us to look like? What’s supposed to happen when we listen to our hearts and what we hear contradicts what Christians want us to believe? What happens when Christians convince you to stop trusting what your heart is hearing? What are we supposed to think of a Jesus that conveys messages to our heart that challenge us to ignore traditional Christian values? Who’s the real Jesus? And after a lot of these kinds of frustrating questions: who really gives a shit, anymore?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"> <hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><a href="http://bible.cc/ephesians/6-12.htm">Ephesians 6:12</a>—for our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.<span style="background: #F9FDFF; color: #001320; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"> <hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The rulers are those that set the rules. The authorities are those that enforce the rules. The powers of this dark world are those that treat humanity with disdain and contempt. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">With a fully open mind and a fully open heart I cannot ignore the shocking similarities between the rulers, authorities, and powers that we struggle against and the prevalent mainstream belief system we call Christianity. I just cannot ignore the potency of Christianity to poison and hate and corrupt. I want to ignore it. I’ve been trained to make excuses for the disparity between what Jesus teaches our heart-soul-spirit and what Christianity teaches our minds. I’ve spent days at a time fasting and praying that all of this Christian learning would miraculously jive with what I sense is Jesus speaking to my heat-soul-spirit.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’ve discovered that you cannot serve two masters without unwittingly discovering that you’ve grown to love one of them and hate the other (<a href="http://bible.cc/matthew/6-24.htm">Mathew 6:24</a>). It’s basic human nature. One cannot focus their supreme affection or devotion on Jesus AND the “riches” of this world. Be careful not to take the lazy approach to the word “riches”. Riches don’t always mean money. Toxic riches of the world are more often power, prestige, acceptance, notoriety, accolades, deference, etc. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Part of the problem with Christianity is that it is easily converted to a system which promotes power, prestige, acceptance, notoriety, accolades, deference, etc. That’s why I don’t trust Christians, enjoy Christian music, or attend Christian activities. It’s because you never know which one you’re dealing with—either it’s a Christianity contemptuous of humanity or it’s a Christianity filled with the flamboyantly prestigious. Rarely is it a Christianity that connects directly to the heart-soul-spirit. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I don’t trust Christians because the righteous ones look just like the toxic ones. I don’t trust Christians because they lie to themselves so much that it makes it easier for them to lie to everyone else. I don’t trust Christians because they don’t know they’ve been deceived. I don’t trust Christians because they never love me; they only love their version of me that they picture in their heads. I don’t trust Christians because you cannot trust someone that doesn’t believe in themselves more than in the system. I don’t trust Christians because I know how good the Kool-Aid tastes: it is very addictive.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I trust Jesus because he died for me and everyone else I’ve ever known or will ever know. We (the scumbags, scallywags, rebels, and misfits) are worthy based on the simple fact that we’ll listen to someone that we can trust. We’ll listen to someone that gives a shit and isn’t trying to sell something in the process. We’ll listen when we don’t have to sacrifice our dignity. We’ll listen because if you’re willing to die for me then my honor moves me to die for you if the time ever comes.We'll listen if we believe that you like us.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I am not willing to die for Christianity. Christianity did not die for me on a cross.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I am willing to die for Christ—even if my death is a result of fighting against the toxic effects of Christianity.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Listen to your heart. What’s in there? What’s happening inside there when the pastor speaks? What’s happening in there when people treat each other with contempt because of differing social/political/religious views? What’s going on in there when you witness a community of Christians affected by all of the same moral depravity as the rest of the world that they reject? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Listen to your heart. Then you can start learning how to listen to other people’s hearts. Then you learn that being willing to die for Christ means being willing to die for those around you whose hearts need someone to trust. If you’re gonna spend your time learning something: do yourself a favor and learn these things. Then you get to see what making a difference really means. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Don’t wait—do it now!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bDSeR_eNfhM/TzKqPjq8PFI/AAAAAAAAAd4/rdiPqafCxrA/s1600/jesus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bDSeR_eNfhM/TzKqPjq8PFI/AAAAAAAAAd4/rdiPqafCxrA/s1600/jesus.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9pt;">This is a very small part of what the religious rulers, authorities, and power brokers of his day did to Jesus.</div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-81276318001522279502012-02-01T21:48:00.004-06:002012-02-02T09:34:56.176-06:00From Zoo to the Wild - Spiritual Madagascar<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The reason I write stuff like <a href="http://www.bonarcrump.com/2012/01/lady-and-tramp-meets-spirituality.html">this</a> is more often than not to work out some of the noise in my head. The noise that says: <i>why can’t you just play nice—why don’t you go with the flow—aren’t you worried about risking your family’s spiritual growth because of your baggage—when are you gonna accept that you’re a lunatic?</i><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b>Self-analysis is my means of weeding out static from the Morse code sometimes embedded within that static which is what I understand to be God’s voice. <o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">It kind of pisses me off sometimes. How do I (and many others like me) profess this omniscient omnipresent Creator of the universe and, yet, God evidently chooses not to communicate with us via our ears. Seriously, that makes me mad at times.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">If you want me to get to steppin’ on something, God, then talk to me for crying out loud. Don’t make me have to guess about it or seek someone else’s counsel about it. Just tell me with spoken words! How is that so hard?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Maybe my 6 year old daughter is right. One time she told me that God’s words are too loud to be heard by your ears—you have to hear them with your heart. Maybe…I don’t know. Maybe God doesn’t know how to whisper and a simple “how you doin’” would blow out the windows in the truck while I was driving and cause a massive wreck on the highway. Whatever…<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">So the whole point of <a href="http://www.bonarcrump.com/2012/01/lady-and-tramp-meets-spirituality.html">Lady and the Tramp meets Shawshank</a> was to lay the foundation for what I think might be a universal model that explains why much of what we do, see, hear, and struggle with via religion seems so useless, irrelevant, and downright abusive.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>Tame—an animal which accepts the control of humans.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>Feral—animals that live in the wild <b>after</b> having been domestically reared.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>Wild—the natural, free state of an undomesticated animal.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b>TAME<o:p></o:p></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">If you were born into a Christian home and have been nurtured by Godly parents, you are spiritually tame. That’s a good thing. That’s a fantastic thing. I, too, am raising my daughter in a home where we pray together and discuss God on a nearly daily basis. There’s nothing to be ashamed of if you are spiritually tame.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Spiritually tame folks get along well because they are more dependable. They are more likely to be peacemakers. They have hope for things like joy, peace, and love. They are a part of things. They guard our traditions and remind us of our heritage. These folks teach the Gospel well because they’ve been around it since they were weaned from the teat. These are good people that we should never ignore, dismiss, or reject.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b>WILD<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">From a purely Christian perspective, if you were born into a non-Christian, agnostic, or atheistic home then you are spiritually wild. Same wholesome values sometimes, but without the Christian deity involved. Spiritually wild folks challenge us. They keep us on our toes. They keep us honest with ourselves. Christians might think of spiritually wild folks as criminals or perverts, but that’s not the case. That’s getting into behaviorally wild people and that isn’t what we’re looking at. Besides, there are plenty of Christian criminals and perverts sitting in our pews and preaching from our pulpits so be very careful if your knee-jerk is to label folks by their actions or appearance.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Spiritually wild folks such as atheists are intellectually lean because they are able to engage the world without the confusing effects of mysticism. Not that they don’t acknowledge the mysterious nuances of the human spirit as expressed through love, art, music, literature and such. No, these people are appreciative of the mysteries in life and the world, but they don’t tend to attribute those mysteries to an unseen deity who comprises the ability to create and destroy at his/her discretion. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Just imagine how much simpler it would be as a Christian to explain your worldview without having to refer to an ancient text written only by men thousands of years ago. That’s what I mean by being intellectually lean—you save all that bandwidth by eliminating the need of carrying around all your mystic beliefs.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;">~ ~ ~ ~ ~<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Spiritually wild folks that do not believe in Jesus Christ as the Son of God and savior to mankind but do embrace some form of religious mysticism are some good folks, too. They might not share the core beliefs of the Christian, but they will usually line up very well with the Christian when discussing matters of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Galatians+5%3A22-23&version=NIV">fruit of the Spirit</a>).<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b>FERAL<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">If you were spiritually tame at one point and are now wild then you are spiritually feral. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The spiritually wild person fears the spiritually feral one because if the feral crossbreeds beliefs with the wild it might disrupt the fragile ecosystem and adversely affect the harmony of the wilds’ balance with their natural habitat. This is why a feral person must hide their residual churchy-church vocabulary and worldviews when amongst the wild ones or else they will be perceived as weak-minded and rejected. In nature, the reason that a pack of wolves may turn on a sick or injured member of the pack and kill it is because of the natural instinct that one weak member makes the entire pack weaker as a group. This perception is quite valid. Christian views hard-wired into the brain of a once spiritually tame individual WILL dilute the integrity of a group’s non-Christian viewpoint.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Likewise, the spiritually tame person fears the feral one because feral beliefs crossbred with tame beliefs disrupt the fragile Christian ecosystem and adversely affect the harmony of the natural habitat (church). This is why feral people must hide their worldly vocabulary and competing worldviews when amongst the tame groups or else they risk rejection. Same scenario applies—the worldly views and mannerisms of the feral person must be killed as soon as possible lest they weaken the entire group via a dilution of the integrity of the Christian belief system.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">All of this makes it hardly worthwhile to jump the fence of organized religion and disappear into the surrounding forest. The very real risk one faces is a rejection of the wild and of the tame folks. Perpetual spiritual purgatory is never really a favorable selling point. The feral Christian risks <b>everything</b> if they wish to experience <i>anything</i> outside the fence. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The domesticated person (spiritually tame) has many advantages. They are fed well and often. They are safe behind the fence of religious expectations. They rest peacefully without worrying about what stealthy hunter might silently kill them in the darkness of the night. They can trust in the safety of their numbers. They are comfortable, happy, and content folks who are excited by wild ones that wish to convert via accepting the confines of the fence in exchange for regular meals and security.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">However, it is imperative that wild ones willing to convert must follow the rules that maintain order within the compound. These are expectations that have proven for many years to sustain the order and safety of the tame lifestyle. To live within the yard, it is very important to respect the sanctity and righteousness of the fence. The fence is there to protect. The fence is there to defend. The fence is there to offer peace of mind. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;">~ ~ ~ ~ ~<o:p></o:p></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The spiritually wild lifestyle has many advantages as well. They eat food sources that thrive naturally and without cultivation. They stay alert even when at rest which sharpens their analysis of reality. They, too, trust in the safety of their numbers as they readily form packs. They are comfortable, happy, and content people but in a different and equally as valid way as the tame folks.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">They aren’t as excited about converts that have been raised behind the religious fence. The thought is that formerly tame people cannot ever fully put aside their preconceptions and worldviews. Simply put, wild folks remain skeptical of newly escaped tame folks because the tame ones are always trying to trick wild people into coming into the yard. It’s like the tame people want everyone to be like them—to the wild mindset that is completely egocentric and maniacal.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;">~ ~ ~ ~ ~<o:p></o:p></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">In all of this analysis we see two different groups separated by fences, rules, opportunities, worldviews, beliefs, traditions, etc. What the tame have to embrace as the core of their mission is <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+28%3A19&version=NIV">Matt. 28:19</a>. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 45.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>But does this mean that the tame are being called to entice all of those that are wild and feral into voluntarily setting aside their lifestyles and beliefs in exchange for life inside the fence?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 45.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>Is life inside the fence the goal of discipleship?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 45.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>Has the fence been built by God or by man?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 45.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>What is it that is so harmful and scary about living in the wild?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 45.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>Does God have authority over the wild areas as well as within the fence?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 45.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>What kind of psychological and physical stresses are placed upon a wild beast that is brought into captivity?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 45.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>Is this enough bullet points?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’m still working on the answers to these questions. To tell you the truth, I don’t even believe that there is a fence at all <a href="http://pewresearch.org/pubs/1745/religious-knowledge-in-america-survey-atheists-agnostics-score-highest">[1]. </a> I think both tame and wild have blindly accepted the reality of the fence for so long that they haven’t stopped to verify its existence in a very long time.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Because of this suspicion, I’ve developed a working hypothesis that the spiritually feral person seems to be the only one that can truthfully evaluate what is real and what is not. One that is capable and willing to function within either group brings a useful perspective to the table. They are able to discern the positive value of domesticated lifestyle as well as its negative implications on the soul. Likewise, they are able to evaluate the harmony inherent within the wild lifestyle as it conforms and adheres to the environment as well as understand the kinds of stresses and difficulty these things impart on the soul. The feral person is in a position to embrace the values of both and potentially bridge the gap between tame and wild. The feral person jumps whatever barriers exist at will.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">If this is true then I boldly assert that the contemporary Christian generations of post baby-boomers who seem to be abandoning the ideas of domesticated lifestyle and jumping the fence are not moving <b>away from </b>spirituality or the church. Instead, they are moving <b>toward </b>the great commission of <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Matthew+28%3A19&version=NIV">Matt. 28:19</a> but in a new and uniquely different way than anyone has ever devised before <a href="http://www.pewforum.org/Age/Religion-Among-the-Millennials.aspx">[2].</a> We’re not talking about a once-in-a-lifetime scenario—we’re staring at a <b>once-in-a-civilization event.</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">They are becoming spiritually feral (<i>sometimes at great societal risk to themselves and their relationships with older generations</i>). But is this a bad thing? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">As a lone feral animal roaming about the deep forest with no pack to protect you and uncertain about food sources or the location of water—yes, you can be in great danger potentially preyed upon by all varieties of creatures more likely to consume you than share their resources. However, as packs of feral animals begin to form providing legitimacy and knowledge of resources we begin to envision a scenario ripe with possibilities. We begin to see the abandonment of fences, divisive ideologies, and behavioral signposts. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">What eventually emerges from the proliferation of a spiritually feral population is a new kind of revival—a renewed sense of loving one’s brother as we love ourselves (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Mark+12%3A30-31&version=NIV">Mark 12:30-31</a>)—a removal of the barriers we’ve long been devoted to as the source of our protection and safety. The reality is clear that these religious fences have failed to keep evil away or believers in check. The reality is clear that barriers and beliefs and rules of behavior do not create disciples or save lives or teach love, loyalty, or respect.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Robert Frost’s <u><a href="http://writing.upenn.edu/~afilreis/88/frost-mending.html">Mending Wall</a></u> is oftentimes remembered most for the saying that, "Good fences make good neighbors." But what Frost is actually writing about is that traditional values are all that keep us mending these gaps in the wall. He hints that the barrier between he and his neighbor doesn’t make sense—that the futile upkeep of their divide serves no real purpose that he can discern. I like Frost’s questioning of tradition versus reality. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I think Frost would rather have a glass of bourbon with his neighbor while laughing at all the effort they’ve wasted over the years maintaining something that was completely irrelevant. I think Frost would rather blur the boundaries between he and his neighbor and so would I.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I think Frost would agree with Jesus’ teachings of inclusiveness and embracing the leper as an antidote to fences and their upkeep. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">Something there is that doesn't love a wall,</span></i></b><span class="apple-converted-space"><b><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></i></b></span><b><i><br style="text-align: -webkit-auto;" /> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,</span></span></i></b><span class="apple-converted-space"><b><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></i></b></span><b><i><br style="text-align: -webkit-auto;" /> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">And spills the upper boulders in the sun,</span></span></i></b><span class="apple-converted-space"><b><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-size: 13.5pt;"> </span></i></b></span><b><i><br style="text-align: -webkit-auto;" /> <span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;"><span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial;">I think God is that something. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 16pt;">In order to raise people’s expectations you have to challenge their preconceptions.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><br />
</span></i></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EsKIwQPGj0c/TyoDjQRCXfI/AAAAAAAAAdw/4o6TzLQVKMI/s1600/Madagascar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EsKIwQPGj0c/TyoDjQRCXfI/AAAAAAAAAdw/4o6TzLQVKMI/s320/Madagascar.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b><i><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><br />
</span></i></b></div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-19395030035452820162012-01-30T11:17:00.005-06:002012-01-30T17:56:58.907-06:00Lady and the Tramp meets Shawshank<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">When I was in fifth grade I had two dogs. One was a house dog, Foxy. The other was a dog that slept in my room at night but roamed the streets during the day, Butch. I don’t remember much about Foxy except that she had the most annoying habit of rolling over on her back to elicit a belly-rub anytime you made the slightest move downward to pet her. But Butch was altogether a different kind of dog.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I remember my stepdad trying everything he could think of to keep Butch from jumping the six-foot privacy fence. Ultimately, we conceded victory to Butch when it became evident that he would risk grave bodily injury to maintain access to the outside world. Eventually, we discovered that his daily escapes were due to a medium sized wheelbarrow with a bent tubular handle that hung from the fence. Butch may have only been 10—12” tall at the shoulders, but he could leap up to the back of that wheelbarrow for a boosted final jump which would send him over the fence without any sweat.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Foxy thought she had it made. Free food, clean water, climate-controlled environment, no responsibilities, no one teaching her tricks—just a dog living like a princess whose only interaction with the harsh realities of the outside world were requisite potty breaks each day. This dog’s idea of heaven would have been to be carried around all day by a woman in a shoulder bag living off of liver flavored treats and Perrier. As I said before, she was my dog in that I fed and watered her, but she wasn’t my kind of dog.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Butch had a sort of swagger about him. He was a “man about town”, a rogue, a rapscallion, and an all-around street hustler. Butch was gonna do what Butch was gonna do. He was his own man, so to speak. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Butch was a stray that I’d come across at my stepdad’s business. I was allowed to bring him home with the admonition that, “he’s your responsibility.” I was very excited because Foxy just wasn’t turning out to be much of a fifth grade boy’s idea of a companion. I wanted a dog that would be my buddy. I wanted an “Old Yeller” kind of boy/dog relationship. I really wanted a dog that was hell-bent on pleasing me—Butch was NOT that dog.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">If I forgot to feed him, Butch would take a dump under my bed—Seriously. When I tried to control him via a leash or commands or grabbing him aggressively Butch would calmly and confidently lie down and refuse to acknowledge my presence or commands. In his mind, I needed the training—not him. And mostly he was right.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">It took about a year for me to give up on the notion of training or altering Butch’s behavior in any meaningful way. Once I allowed him the room to establish the boundaries of our relationship things between Butch and I changed dramatically for the better. Butch had a lot to offer me as a 10 year old in need of a best friend, but first we had to establish a set of ground rules for the relationship based on respect instead of control. After that, we had the kind of storybook boy/dog connection that made “Old Yeller” pale in comparison.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Butch would walk me to school every day and then peel off to roam the neighborhood until recess when he’d reappear at a different door on the other side of the school to play with me and my friends no matter what we were doing. You would never have known who Butch belonged to because it was as if he belonged to all of us. When we went back inside he’d disappear again only to turn up at the first door in time for school to be out so that he could escort me home again. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Then we’d head over to Jimmy’s to play basketball or over to Richie’s for a neighborhood game of football in their lush yard or maybe down the alley behind Mr. Simmon’s yard to steal enormous purple plums that hung from the tree in his back yard over the fence. As long as we were being active or headed someplace on foot or on our bikes, Butch was there in the mix <i><span style="font-size: 11pt;">(</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">I’m getting a strong Norman Rockwell image of a plate my grandmother used to have hanging on her wall right now</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;">)</span></i>. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L1L7VMCTSuo/TybMiwzn8JI/AAAAAAAAAdY/wrUUo80IRDA/s1600/rockwellnoswimming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L1L7VMCTSuo/TybMiwzn8JI/AAAAAAAAAdY/wrUUo80IRDA/s200/rockwellnoswimming.jpg" width="182" /></a>However, if we weren’t in motion or actively engaging in some type of activity, Butch became quickly bored with us and would wander off. For instance, he’d tag along when we rode our bikes out to the lake, but he’d disappear if we started hunting under rocks in the stream for crawdads or fishing at the dock. Butch was a dude on the go!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Butch was an amazing animal that had no owner. He loved everybody equally <i>(except the town dog catcher who became so defeated by Butch that he never ever got out of his truck when he spotted Butch running loose).</i> Butch belonged to the neighborhood. Everyone played with him. Everyone left scraps out for him. Everyone playfully called to him as he crossed their yard. What I later realized was that Butch didn’t simply roam about aimlessly—he patrolled. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Actually, Butch was guarding me and my friends whenever we were out and about. If we were stationery and he knew we would be there for a while he’d continue on his patrol of the area within earshot of us so that whenever I whistled he’d come hustling back to escort us to our next location. And while we were in school or indoors, Butch was patrolling the neighborhood. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">It was years and years later before I began to put the pieces together. There were no other stray dogs or cats in our neighborhood. The time that Mr. Simmons came out the back gate and decided to chase all of us away for eating his plums Butch stood his ground guarding over our escape and threatened to bite that old man (that was the only time I ever saw him bear his teeth at a person). One time I got in a fight at school during recess and instead of biting the other kid—<i>which is what I was hoping he’d do</i>—Butch stood about three feet away from us incessantly barking as loud as he could until we stopped from utter distraction.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b>He was always within whistling distance because he was standing guard and I never realized it at all.<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><br />
<hr align="center" size="2" width="100%" /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Butch was a foreshadowing of my spiritual life.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">He was teaching me something that would help me understand elements of my faith later in life.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Foxy was as tame as you can get. One day outside the yard and she’d have been road kill eaten by buzzards and pooped out on tree branches somewhere. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Butch wasn’t exactly domesticated. He insisted on a relationship which focused on mutual respect. And in return for your respect he gave you love and loyalty. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I grew up in a variety of denominational and non-denom churches that all taught me how to be a Foxy. Stay safe, eat your treats, roll over on your back submissively, and don’t ever take a dump under the bed. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I was a child. Of course I thought these folks knew what they were talking about. The church was my yard. The church was my home. The people in the church were my family. The teaching was all the nutrients I needed. Even the fence surrounding the yard was there as a loving safeguard to keep me from wandering into the street.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">In the early parts of my adulthood I began to feel the Butch in me grow. I wanted to check out the neighborhood. I wanted to meet new people. I wanted to investigate some of those interesting smells that wafted through the air from time to time. I just wanted to see for myself why these folks went to such great lengths to train me not to leave this yard. I told myself that <i>it must really be a dangerous and dirty place out there.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Guess what happened when I started jumping the fence and asking questions and peeking out of the closed blinds—I saw some pretty amazing stuff that my church family had never told me about. I guess they were trying to protect me and all, but this yard had become way too small for me. Yes, there were streets to cross and traffic to avoid. Conversely, there were children playing football and parades and people happy to leave table scraps out for you out of pure niceness. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">None of this meant that I didn’t love my family anymore, but things became difficult at home. I was proving to be uncontrollable. I was becoming known as a rebel. I was being talked about and scorned for my “reckless” behavior. I was being ignored when I came home because I didn’t seem as much of a part of the family anymore when compared to the Foxies in our home.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Compliance becomes compulsory at the point that expectations of the home are valued more than the simple elegance of freedom. Once I realized that freedom would not and could not be tolerated, I bolted. <i>Fuck you guys! I’d rather live as a feral dog than have to watch you rub Foxy’s belly one more time while staring at me with that look of disappointment. And, yes, that’s a new word I learned over on 4<sup>th</sup> street. FUCK all y’all!<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Check this out.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">A ten year old black kid 8 blocks away saw me down the street one day and set out a bowl of water at the base of the front steps for me to drink. Another time a gay couple offered me some bread crust at the park. I even found that the local tavern set out a small portion of table scraps for me every day when they threw out the nightly leftovers.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Here’s what I learned—if you’re going to be spiritually healthy you’ve got to be true to who you are. If your idea of heaven is living in the confines of someone’s handbag then get after it. If not, then don’t let others determine how much backyard time you get each day. And if you’re like me, don’t EVER forget that Love Loyalty & Respect ALL go together. They do not exist separate from one another. What that means is that we’re all different types of dogs, but we all need the same things to be spiritually healthy and to grow into the fullness of who God wants us to become—Love Loyalty & Respect (LL&R). Without these, you will be spiritually retarded throughout your entire life.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">There are a lot of edifying fascinating inspiring dynamic things going on outside of the fence. There are folks your families have never met that can offer insights and wisdom. There are other folks that don’t even have fences around their yards. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">None of this means that we have to reject our families or their yard. But you need to be aware that the family may reject you. If your freedom to explore and live out a richly dynamic existence is valuable enough to you that you are willing to risk rejection by your family then you need to have the courage to be true to yourself. Being true to yourself in this kind of a situation is what a “calling” is all about.<i> </i><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">It takes prayer. It takes an ear for God’s voice. It takes an awareness and understanding of your surroundings. And most importantly, it takes an understanding that an expectation to <b>receive</b> LL&R is just as important as the <span style="text-indent: 9pt;">willingness to </span><b style="text-indent: 9pt;">give</b><span style="text-indent: 9pt;"> LL&R.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Don’t be a fully domesticated pet to ANYONE in exchange for food and shelter without the demands of mutual LL&R. If you do then you have no value. If you do then you have no purpose. If you do then you will perpetuate the kind of home that keeps dogs on chains, gates locked, and animals living in kennels just because that’s the only life you’ve ever experienced yourself. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span style="font-size: 16pt;">“Guess it comes down to a simple choice really. Get busy living or get busy dying.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right; text-indent: 9.0pt;">-The Shawshank Redemption<o:p></o:p></div><div align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right; text-indent: 9.0pt;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-orgoNCWDgqA/TybVCSsD3NI/AAAAAAAAAdo/lwVTYzgSdOk/s1600/butch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-orgoNCWDgqA/TybVCSsD3NI/AAAAAAAAAdo/lwVTYzgSdOk/s200/butch.jpg" width="171" /></a></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L1L7VMCTSuo/TybMiwzn8JI/AAAAAAAAAdY/wrUUo80IRDA/s1600/rockwellnoswimming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bFUj_C2j1HU/TybUGtaPWOI/AAAAAAAAAdg/hQQFKs4WZIA/s1600/butch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><br />
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</div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-67973421906189485492012-01-27T11:12:00.000-06:002012-01-27T11:12:54.310-06:00Ugly Brides make for Ugly Children<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Let me start off by saying that I am NOT a theologian nor do I want to be one. I am not one to argue biblical translations or inerrancy. I do NOT view Christian scripture as a contract whereby all parties must accept it as holy writ to be enacted as law or to rule over us. I firmly believe in a living God that is perfectly capable of communicating with humanity in diverse and creative ways IN ADDITION to the written and heavily translated words of the Holy Bible. <i>Getting antsy yet?<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I DO believe that the scripture I’ve studied and made a part of my life for the last 35 years <i>(the Protestant Bible, usually NIV although I discovered The Message version several years ago and prefer it most of the time) </i>has been a foundational piece to my development and existence. Having said that—I feel compelled to confess that I do NOT worship the Bible and am quite sure that without its existence I would be the same believer in God that I am today. To me, the Bible is not the cornerstone of my faith—Jesus is.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I mash up metaphors like a child squishing together different colors of play-doh. Sometime I mash them all up so brutally that the individual colors disappear and the result is a brown ball of logic which resembles a philosophical turd. I know this about myself. I will never be cured and have no hopes of growing out of this “phase”. It is part of what makes me impatient with predictable movies, transparent poetry, and redactive biblical teaching. If I’m an expert on anything, it is this—I know a mixed metaphor when I see one.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">"If we can hit that bullseye then the rest of the dominoes will fall like a house of cards... Checkmate."</span></b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"> – </span>Futurama character Zapp Brannigan<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">God as Father = metaphor<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Jesus as Son = metaphor<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Church as Bride = metaphor<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Christians as Children = metaphor<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Each metaphor standing alone serves as a useful tool to express or explain a complex relationship. All of them mixed up into a single thread of logic become a philosophical, spiritual, and relational turd. With that said, I shift my attention to the Church as Bride of Christ metaphor because it seems to be the only one in this particular grouping that proves to be more counterproductive than the rest due, in part, to the fact that it is biblically inferred but never directly defined in scripture.<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bride_of_Christ">[1]</a><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><i>The reason I’ve decided to reject the Bride of Christ metaphor is because of the way that it is used not because of the validity of the claim. The validity of the claim I will leave to the theologians.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">As long as there is criticism of mainstream Christian religion there will be a cry of, “how dare you defame the Bride of Christ!” As long as there is criticism of institutional Christianity there will be shouts of, “we must protect the Bride of Christ at all costs!” And as long as there are challenges to the rules, expectations, loyalty, and grace of traditional modes of Christianity there will be placards that read, “Save the Bride—keep her pure!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">It’s a very useful slogan/belief when calling our brothers to arms in defense of values and beliefs that have traditionally served us well. It’s also very useful as a fence to keep sheep from straying into other pastures. Because as soon as we convince each other that the holy Bride of Christ is the most important thing in all of God’s creation and we put on our t-shirt that designates us as a member of the holy Bride of Christ then by way of deduction we define ourselves as God’s favored/chosen group. Once you’re a part of God’s chosen group then you don’t want to go rogue and challenge too much of the status quo. Otherwise, you might wind up on the “outside” looking in wondering all the while when the Child of God metaphor is going to kick in.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b><i>Wait! I though you said I was a Child of God which means God is my Father. Then you told me that accepting God’s Son (Jesus) as my Lord and Savior made me part of the Bride of Christ. Now you’re gonna tell me that we’re all supposed to marry the Son of our Father which should encourage us to remain pure (unmolested by culture)? Pure? It all sounds pretty incestuous to me—where’s the door?<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">If you’ve been around Christian teaching for more than a couple years you’re not bothered by the brown color which develops from mashing all of this up. As a matter of fact, you’re quite turned off by my flippant way of making a point above. But if you’re not use to drinking the doctrinal kool-aid like the rest of us, you tend to think that Christians are some of the most screwed up, demented, cognitively delusional people in the world. And I think that in many ways we are. But the delusion isn’t our God—it’s our perception of God and the funky little box that we package him in called religion.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><i>If the very means by which we teach people about God creates a barrier between them and understanding or believing in God then don’t you think Screwtape props his feet up on his desk, places his hands behind his head, and takes a joyful little sigh of gratitude?<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I think it’s time to rethink some of our beliefs. I think that laziness has led us to accept whatever the religious machine is producing. I think that thinking for ourselves and being intellectually honest by way of applying our individual life experiences and logic are ways of opening up a line of communication with God allowing us to experience the totality of a benevolent loving creator outside the confines of an institutionally sanctioned package.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I think it’s time to believe in God with our hearts and by doings so diminish the noise in our heads that leads us to create our own packages for our little Gods to live in. It’s called embracing our spirituality and trusting God’s presence (or Holy Spirit) in our hearts. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Risky—yes. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Scary—a bit. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Rewarding—beyond belief!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-37GfCFF4DTw/TyLZIT3extI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/ZXQ5m4K5_aA/s1600/uglybride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-37GfCFF4DTw/TyLZIT3extI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/ZXQ5m4K5_aA/s320/uglybride.jpg" width="223" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9pt;"><br />
</div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-73101399834181182382012-01-25T11:58:00.001-06:002012-01-25T12:07:54.522-06:00PAC - Parent Adult Child<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">There’s something very important I’m beginning to understand about myself that defines my relationship with God and Christianity. It affects the way I relate to the world around me and the way that I visualize myself in that world. I would <b>not</b> say that it encompasses all of who I am or all of who I strive to be, but this new revelation about how I’m wired is beginning to answer a lot of questions that I’ve had for most of my life. My hope has always been that by understanding more of the <i>WHY</i> I am the way that I am I can understand the <i>WHO</i> I am as a husband, father, son, brother, and friend. Likewise, the thought is always that understanding the <i>WHO</i> I am will lead to a greater understanding of the <i>WHAT</i> I have to offer to those around me and the <i>WHEN</i> it all needs to take place.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Psychologically, I’ve been an “adult” since the age of about 11. Now, I’m not going to go into all the reasons behind why I think I missed out on much of my potential adolescence or childhood because I don’t think those reasons are the point of what I’m trying to get at. Besides, in some sectors of the world the expectations of 13 – 15 year old boys is to begin taking on the responsibilities of men and I’m not about to approach whether or not these types of cultural expectations of the universal male population are either good or bad—healthy or destructive. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">At about 9 years old, my nurturing as a child figure in our household ceased and was replaced with the reality that I would soon begin to have to start taking care of myself more and more. Many of us, both men and women, have travelled this road. Again, the reasons why are varied, but the outcome is similar—we had to grow up way faster than many of those around us whether we wanted to or not. It just is what it is. It’s called survival. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Here’s the point—when you spend the first 9 years of your life being a child, the next 2 years of your life transitioning to adult, and everything thereafter as a functioning adult you DO NOT relate well to the Child ego state.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transactional_analysis">Child ("archaeopsyche"):</a></span></b><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span></span><i>a state in which people behave, feel and think similarly to how they did in childhood. For example, a person who receives a poor evaluation at work may respond by looking at the floor, and crying or pouting, as they used to when scolded as a child. Conversely, a person who receives a good evaluation may respond with a broad smile and a joyful gesture of thanks. The Child is the source of emotions, creation, recreation, spontaneity and intimacy.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Likewise, when you haven’t been parented (raised and nurtured) since you skipped into double digits you fail to possess a solidpoint of reference for the Parent ego state.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transactional_analysis">Parent ("exteropsyche"):<span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></a></span></b><i>a state in which people behave, feel, and think in response to an unconscious mimicking of how their parents (or other parental figures) acted, or how they interpreted their parent's actions. For example, a person may shout at someone out of frustration because they learned from an influential figure in childhood the lesson that this seemed to be a way of relating that worked.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">When you spend 9 – 11 years as a child and the next 30 + as an adult you tend to understand only one of the three ego states well—the Adult one.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><b><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transactional_analysis">Adult ("neopsyche"):<span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></a></span></b><i>a state of the ego which is most like a computer processing information and making predictions absent of major emotions that could affect its operation. Learning to strengthen the Adult is a goal of Transactional Analysis. While a person is in the Adult ego state, he/she is directed towards an objective appraisal of reality.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Yeah, I know, it’s all a bunch of psycho-babble used to explain the ways we humans interact with one another. But something occurred to me recently—this type of analysis explains a great deal about how I relate to God and why I do not jive with contemporary forms of mainstream Christianity as expressed through organized religion. Simply put, a light bulb went on over my head and I continue to discover deeper explanations about what makes me function the way that I do.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Plain and simple, I relate to God as Adult to Adult. I view Jesus as a physical representation of God (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+14&version=NIV">Jn 14:7</a>). Therefore, I relate to the concept, presence, and embodiment of my enigmatic creator as one adult to another adult just as his disciples related to Jesus. This explains a great deal about why the congregational brick and mortar design of “church” causes me to sit there in my pew or chair and stare without comprehension at someone teaching from a Parent ego to a group of people consensually receiving said teaching using their Child ego state. Likewise, the religious role of God as Father (presuming a Parent ego) to us as His children (presuming a Child ego) does nothing for my personal expression of Adult to Adult relationship with my enigmatic creator. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Look, I understand how the Parent ego works as I am a loving father. I understand how the Child ego works as I’ve spent many times flat on my face crying out to God for an escape or rescue. <b><i>But I don’t live there.</i></b> I have chosen <b>not</b> to consistently function outside of my very comfortable and well-established Adult ego for a multitude of reasons—one of which is that I don’t understand how I’m supposed to be Adult everywhere else in my life and, yet, participate as Child when I’m encountering God in a church-type setting. <b><i>It doesn’t make any sense to me.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’m an Adult that does not apologize for enjoying alcohol. I’m an Adult that does not apologize for using foul language when it is appropriate (and, yes, it IS appropriate from time to time). I’m an Adult who thoroughly loves the company of what most would consider “unbelievers” by the standards of religious Christianity over the company of church-fed Christians any day of the week and twice on Sundays. I’m an Adult that talks to God the same way that I talk to my Stepdad—like the true friend, confidant, mentor, and loyal brother that he is. <i>No, my stepdad is not my biological brother—sheesh!<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">How do you think this type of relationship works when you walk into a congregational setting in a mainstream church of today? Let me tell you, unless you’re ready to flex a great deal and pretend to be someone else it not only creates a great deal of frustration for your pastors and others in the crowd but it ultimately leads to confusion, animosity, and a final rejection by the very people who profess to have your best interests at heart. It just doesn’t work. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">So here is how this hypothesis works—I believe that many of us are rejecting the Parental role of religion in our lives because we don’t want to have to separate our spiritual self from our physical self anymore. I believe that the only way to effectively function within the religiously defined role of mainstream Christianity is to accept the role of Child and uphold the institutional “church” as the acting Parent in lieu of an absentee God—Creator—Father.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Next up, I get into the dynamics of God (Father) – Jesus (Son) – Church (Bride) – Us (God’s children) as it relates to rules, expectations, loyalty, and grace. Wow, I hope I’m up for that one. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><i>How am I doing so far? Believe me, it gets deeper still. You might have to choose between the Red pill and the Blue pill if you travel this road with me much further. A proper pint or a glass of wine might be in order to wash that pill down.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><i><br />
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</i></div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-15782911417524729982012-01-20T10:34:00.002-06:002012-01-20T10:39:11.309-06:00Gas pump christianity<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’d like to have a clear and concise explanation ready for friends and family that wonder why I don’t attend church any longer. I’d like to explain that it’s not all about being wounded by church-folk. I’d like to explain that it’s not about my rebellious streak. I’d like to explain that it’s not some kind of narcissistic bent toward self-fulfillment and a rejection of sacrifice. I’d like to explain that it’s not about rejecting the tenets of Christianity. I’d like to explain that it’s not about rejecting Jesus.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><i>I’d like to explain that it <b>IS</b> about a rejection of idolatry.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The more I’ve prayed—studied—discussed the more I’ve come to understand that God is power, truth, and love. Power, Truth, and Love—where these things are present God is involved. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Maybe I’m always in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the vast majority of what I’ve experienced in 20 years of serving in a variety of Christian church congregations has been suspiciously absent of power, truth, or love. And when I’ve voiced this concern I’ve inevitably been written off and ignored by fellow Christians and labeled as one of “weak faith.” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Okay, so if my faith is weak, what faith are we talking about? My faith in the sovereignty of God is strong. My faith in the sacrifice and teaching of Jesus Christ is strong. My faith in the value of community is strong. My faith in the expression of love via service, kindness, respect, and loyalty is strong. However, I have no faith in the belief system we’ve constructed—zero—zilch—null—nada.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The set of beliefs and practices we’ve all come to know as Christianity are just that – a set of beliefs. Our belief systems are NOT God. They attempt to explain and promote God, but they are NOT God. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The Christianity that I reject is the one that worships the belief system. The Christianity that I embrace is the one that promotes a real relationship with an enigmatic creator as expressed through the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This real relationship is NOT expressed through church attendance, tithing, and/or Bible study. That is not to say that these things are bad or void of value, but they are NOT how I experience relationship with my enigmatic creator. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Idolatry—to honor or revere anything <i>in place</i> of God. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">By my definition to honor or revere Christianity, scripture, values, beliefs, etc. constitutes idolatry the same as those nutty Jews that created a golden calf to worship while Moses was up top receiving the commandments from God. Is it really that far-fetched to consider the possibility that the absence of power and imminent decline of mainstream Christianity in America could be due to our worship of Christianity (religion) <i>in place</i> of a real relationship with God?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Congregational expressions of faith in a brick and mortar church building can be a gas pump where we fuel up. But what we’re after is the fuel—the power—the truth—the love. The problem is that the most ardent defenders of religious Christianity are those that honor and revere the pump instead of the fuel it delivers. I’ve found a pond of fuel in a field and I’ve sold everything I own in order to buy that field (Matt 13:44). <o:p></o:p><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’d like to have a clear and concise explanation ready for friends and family that wonder why I don’t attend church any longer. I’d like to be able to explain that I’ve sifted through my beliefs and pinpointed the things that show signs of power, truth, and love. I’d like to be able to explain that these are the only beliefs that I honor or revere, but I refuse to honor or revere them <i>in place</i> of an enigmatic creator. I’d like to be understood and accepted even though my perspective is challenging, dynamic, and fluid. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’d like to be able to articulate what it means to me to <i>follow</i> Christ as opposed to selling Christianity. But I’ve become keenly aware that my inability to communicate these experiences via a nice neat package shows signs of the very enigmatic creator that I profess to <i>follow</i>. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">I’ve discovered that gas pump Christians never travel far from their gas station even when the pump has run dry. I pity them. I truly do.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LacjFIJYTYk/TxmXOxwMiRI/AAAAAAAAAcs/GLX9lYG2Mqk/s1600/gas+pump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LacjFIJYTYk/TxmXOxwMiRI/AAAAAAAAAcs/GLX9lYG2Mqk/s320/gas+pump.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9pt;"><br />
</div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6457588456149313258.post-65924588520176899532012-01-19T10:29:00.001-06:002012-01-20T08:43:43.127-06:00Wind of Change<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">The atmosphere surrounding contemporary modes of Western Christianity is like a fogbank of uncertainty and criticism. We are antsy about the decline of mainstream Christianity. Tradition tells us that certain <i>fundamentals </i>are necessary to uphold the integrity of our beliefs. <i>Fundamentalists </i>champion the beliefs that they rely on as the “rock” upon which their house is built. In contrast, challengers of the <i>fundamentals</i> come off as relativists bearing homemade signs that read “OCCUPY THE CHURCH”. The lines have been drawn. Weapons have been chosen. The conflict is real. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Does any of it really matter? I don’t know—maybe not. But the sense that I get from meeting with laity and clergy ages 45 and under is that traditional means of Christianity are proving less and less relevant to their personal lives and to the world around us, in general. Is it fair to simply dismiss this perception as the lazy misguided apathy of an “occupy” generation anxious to engage life from a relativistic perspective? Can we afford to write off these folks who have become more and more accepting of homosexual lifestyles and impressed by secular movements of social change?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Righteous indignation—acting in accord with <b><i>divine</i></b> or moral law. What happens when each group professes contradictory <b><i>divine</i></b> or moral law? Does the advantage always go to the traditional sect of belief based on seniority? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">Revolution—a <i>fundamental</i> change in power or organizational structures that takes place in a relatively short period of time. Is traditional Christianity in the throes of a revolution? I would suggest that the shift in <i>power </i>has already taken place. I think that deep in the heart of each Christian, whether we want to acknowledge it or not, is the sense that mainstream, mainline, main street Christianity is floundering about like a kite searching for wind. The power is gone. The power has shifted somewhere else. And if we’re completely honest with ourselves we have to acknowledge that our source of power is not bound by traditions, fundamentals, beliefs, or any of the comfortable ideas we’ve decorated our spiritual spaces with.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;">It’s all about conflict—conflict management—conflict negotiation—and ultimately conflict resolution—in turn followed by the next conflict. The challenge to my readers is to embrace the conflicts we’re faced with instead of isolating ourselves from them. Let us boldly embrace the ideas we are challenged by without fear of being infected by that which defies traditional fundamental values. Truth always wins out in the end. Because where there is truth there is power—and where there is power there will be wind to not only sustain the kite but enough wind to make the kite capable of yanking us into the heavens.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 9.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1xXvGpcdJX8/TxhEbav3Q7I/AAAAAAAAAck/spetedO0GlQ/s1600/elephant-hang-gliding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="251" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1xXvGpcdJX8/TxhEbav3Q7I/AAAAAAAAAck/spetedO0GlQ/s320/elephant-hang-gliding.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 9pt;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></div>B Crumphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02553820515131328823noreply@blogger.com0