Saturday, June 27, 2015

Judgement, Grace, The Supremes & Same-Sex Marriage

I didn't have time today to write everything I wanted in reaction to the legalization of same-sex marriage, so I decided to do a mere Facebook post on the subject. But that itself turned itself into a basic blog post--foiled by my own good intentions! Here it is:

Darn it! I was going to write up an erudite treatise on yesterday's Supreme Court decision that was going to bring the house down. You would have wept from its eloquence, wisdom and undeniability.
But there's too much, I can't do it. Too much sun, too many things to do to prepare for the baby on the way, too many fireworks to buy, too many chores.

But I cannot let it pass without saying anything--so here is your Reader's Digest version: I was happy about the decision. I couldn't help myself. Let's set aside my personal religious instruction for a moment (of which my honest answer is--I just don't know what to think about sexual orientation and its proper relationship to the will of God right now; it's not that I don't have thoughts on it—I just don't know which ones are correct—if any—and I'm ok with that for the foreseeable future)—I was happy that so many were happy, I was happy because it felt like justice, happy that this stupid, horrible battle in the culture war maybe took one great leap forward in being put to rest.

A word to my Christian brothers and sisters who don't know what to think, or are unhappy, about yesterday's decision: The Constitution and the Bible are not one and the same. It is possible to support the right to same-sex marriage even if you don't agree with it personally. We have been lied to by our leaders into making sexual orientation into the winner-take-all battle/core issue that it has become. We've lost good friends/family and cultural influence because of our disproportionate war on sexual orientation—and the sooner we restore it to the complicated, little wrinkle in Scripture that it is, the better. The thing about this war is that it is make believe—if you crawl out of the trenches you'll find there were never liberal, godless cannons pointed at you in the first place—just a bunch of broken people (like you and me), trying to make their way in the world, trying to do right by the fading, weak flashlight beam we all have to light our path.

If you think that's long, brother, you have no idea the novel you were in for if this was a rainy October morning and my kids were somehow occupied.

Monday, June 8, 2015

Warning: Free Food

If I made you food, and you ate it and said, “well this isn’t very good, and it’s definitely not healthy.” And I said, “Yeah? Well it’s free—and you can have it, free of charge, whenever you want.” You’d take it from me, all the time. You’d think: “well it isn’t very good, but it isn’t inedible, and it’s easier than making my own food.”

That’s Facebook.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Still Just Thinking

Why do I write this blog? Well it's not to go viral, that's for sure. I'd be lying, of course, if I said I didn't want that to happen--anyone who dares print their words on the world wide web should dare not pretend they don't want to be noticed . . . But if I was deliberately trying to get attention I most certainly wouldn't write the introspective, sometimes depressing, no central focus "blog" that I run, here. I'm deliberately obtuse, deliberately inaccessible, idiosyncratic, sporadic, and, you know, etc etc. I am constantly plagued by the question, "who am I, and what do I want to say?" Always asking, "what do I want to say?" always writing things that basically hover around and around in circles that don't go anywhere around this question.

So I had a thought: Who I am is the person that asks these questions. My job, it appears, at least for right now, is to just lurk on the edges of topics and ideas and just...think. Posture, position, ideate. I'm no great thinker or anything, I'm not classically trained in the art--but I happen to be quite fond of my perspective, thank you very much. I think of it as grounded and flagrantly seeking. I'm a traditional Christian who is growing to hate Christianity, as it is popularly manifested in this country, more and more by the day--no, the hour (not that that's ok or anything, but it does happen to be a fact). I'm a self-hating political conservative who doesn't really think their views are correct, it's just that I can't find any opinion on a subject that I happen to hate less. It's all garbage, in any case, as the local Kroger outlet has much more influence over my day to day operations than any politician, patriarch or patristic blowhard ever did...

When something happens, culturally, I am much more interested in watching and evaluating how others respond, rather than to offer a response, myself. It just is what it is. I've been running this blog for, I don't know, close to 10 years, and there have been so many (too many) years where I have fretted about what I would write about because no one would want to read what I actually wanted to write. Which of course was vague, introspective meanderings about the relative and utter contingency of our frightfully short existence in the face of yawning eternity that, for the most part, doesn't having the part where we are actually breathing written into the script for very long. This horrifies me--and not just because it makes me regret my real estate investments. But I was scared to write things that would "drive the reader away," which is of course a joke and a paradox, given that there is no reader. Sorry, internet denizens, but if I only have a few hundred people show up, and I'm sure I don't even have that much, then no, I don't have an audience. Even a few thousand is not really an audience.

So hear I stand (well of course it's writing, but please picture me standing), furiously dancing my jig for an audience of one, utterly petrified that I will drive off all of the non-existent audience.

That is par for the course for myself and my perspective: I don't know what I'm supposed to write about. All I end up writing about is vaguely worrying about coming up with stuff to write about; constantly evaluating and reevaluating ideas and thoughts and wondering if I have the right perspective, if there is a right perspective, if God and his son Jesus are con-men, if they exist, yes they do, but do know--etc etc.

I am finding there is great freedom in simply telling the truth. I am a writer who will probably never be known, might not figure out what my Great Subject is, won't make enough money from the craft to treat the family to an evening at Denny's--but none of that contradicts the first four words of this sentence. I got bit by the writing bug when I was very young, and I find pleasure in it. I find pleasure in it, that is, when I am not writhing on the floor, rending my garments, screaming internally and externally at myself that I am not, in fact, a writer, that I am not anything, that I am a blank space with no original thought in my head. I think the truth is that when I am really hating myself for the writer that I am--maybe it's happening because I am hating myself for not being the writer that I am not.