The End Could Be Here Tomorrow! Are You Saved?

“Are you saved? Are you born again?” These are questions asked by mostly well-meaning people worried about the status of your soul.  I understand the concern, but…

What is it exactly we are being “saved” from? Is it the big sin the bible says Adam and Eve started mankind with? So is God a masochist? I mean think about it, he gave them free will, and not only created the tree of knowledge of good and evil but had it growing in the middle of the garden with them.  He then peaked their human curiosity (curiosity he gave them) by forbidding them from eating from it, and apparently added a talking snake into the mix for shit and giggles.

Wasn’t it also God that said they would surly die from even touching the tree of good and evil?  Which to me seems a bit of a fib considering there are over 7 billion people on earth that would not be here had that been true. Although I suppose semantically it could be said that he meant they would be kicked out of Eden and dead to him, but then why did he not just say that?  It was actually the snake who told the truth, they did not actually die and apparently gained knowledge of good and evil just like he said they would.

Jesus is the savor sent by God and nailed on a cross in unbearable pain for three days to pay for some crap two people apparently started 100’s of generations prior to his birth.  Again, it is a bit masochistic, especially considering he did nothing wrong in the eyes of God.  Regardless, this selfless act by Jesus opened the door for salvation.  By asking him into your heart and adding a little water (or a lot, depending on which of the 1000 or so denominations one follows) you are “born again” with “Christian” attached to your name and a guaranteed ticket into heaven.

I am not saying that is not true, but then what is the point of God’s judgement?  Is this how the conversation for “Christians” go when they get to the pearly gate??

Angel: Name please.

Soul: Joe Blow-Christian.

Angel:  Okay Joe Blow, I see you have lied your way up the corporate ladder and cheated on your wife with your neighbor’s 17-year-old daughter.  You also called the police on a homeless pregnant prostitute to have her removed from the sidewalk in front of your building, though you did give her 20 bucks for her services the week prior. Wow, I could go on and on, thank God you are a Christian. 

Joe Blow-Christian: No shit.

Angel: Well, as you know you still have God’s judgment coming, let me check something…Yep, just like the Christian before you, you’re grounded for your first two weeks in Heaven, no TV or video games during that time.

Joe Blow-Christian:  Are you freaking serious? Awe come on man, can’t you do something I’m gonna miss the Big Brother season finale.

Angel: Well, I see you did spend an hour in church each week, so we can release the restrictions on the TV, but still no video games for two weeks.  (:

Why do people add “Christian” to someone they are recommending I use for some kind of service.  It’s always like… “Oh, use my mechanic Joe Blow, he’s a Christian you know.” Sometimes I want to say, “First, nope I did not know that.  Second, I so do not care and I have no clue what gave you the idea I would, especially considering I worship Satan.”  (;

Just once I would love to do that, the look would be priceless.  However, even though I don’t care if someone is a Christian or not I don’t really worship Satan and I am not that big of an asshole so I will never say it out loud.  It will have to remain an inside joke between The Big Guy upstairs and me.

I am sure what I said could be considered blasphemy in some religious circles concerned about saving souls from the big sin, and I mean no disrespect.  Ultimately I respect everyone’s right to believe in anything they want, I am just saying sometimes people need to open their minds. If you follow anything blindly you might walk off a cliff, follow what Jesus actually did and walk this earth in truth and love and you might be amazed at what is out there. 

Coffee Talk Between God and Jesus

Sitting down with a white chocolate mocha (extra shot) he could hear the whispers and feel the eyes following him….

“Jesus, son, what is it with all the looks?  You would think no one has ever seen me, even though I am everywhere, including in all of them.”

“I don’t know Dad, maybe it’s the coffee you are drinking.  I am pretty sure that is against one or two of the man made rules in 10 or 20 of the religions that have been created in the past 2000 years.”

“I guess it is a good thing I thought it better to meet you for coffee at Starbucks instead of the Golden Eagle Bar for happy hour, although it would be fun to turn all the water into Jägermeister.”

“Ha ha ha, you’re funny Dad. I am not sure why so many think you are always so serious and that you don’t have a sense of humor.  I mean they were all created from you, by you, so it goes to follow that they are you and they can be pretty comical at times.”

“So tell me son, how did mankind take your simple message of love and truth and turn it into this shit show?  The hypocrisy in the religions that have been created in my name could not be more evident, and yet they follow it like drones who are not capable of having an individual thought.  Why would I care if the Sabbath is on Saturday, Sunday, or Wednesday? When or how a member of the human race dunks an other’s head in water is really of no importance, other than maybe the fact the one being dunked ends up with clean hair.  Ha ha, I could go on and on with that, but you know what I mean”

“And I do understand that your brother is running around creating chaos that is causing frustration and pain for mankind but he hasn’t broken the law of free will.  Actually,  he seems to have taken the idea of  “the devil is in the details” and used it to his advantage as no one seems to pay attention to what they are agreeing to anymore, and I can’t fault him for that.  So many are mindlessly searching for validation and recognition on social media, while being bombarded with ads that ultimately make them feel a lack for what they think they need and don’t have. What I don’t understand is that it is just as easy to go outside and spend some mindless time with me.  The stars above their heads, the earth at their feet, the animals by their sides are my ‘details’, and nothing is lacking or hidden for those who walk in love and seek the truth.”

“I am not sure how many of them can handle the truth Dad.  Maybe we should just thin out the veil a little bit at time as most are are so sound asleep dropping it all at once would cause a mass freak out, that is unless we actually did turn all the water into Jägermeister . Ha ha, see Dad, the apple does not fall far from the tree”

“Nope Jesus, it sure doesn’t, see you tonight at the Eagle, first round’s on me. :)”

 

Consequences Will Follow The Chaos You Created

When the storm finally dies down, you look back at the chaos left and wonder if you will ever be able to make sense of it.  In the midst of the insanity your questions and concerns were constantly ignored.  You were not worth the breath required to respond.  The lack of human compassion and an unwillingness to see past the ignorance that blinds them, has left you searching for the strength needed to pick up the pieces crushed in their obliviousness.

You have tried to stop their idiocy for a year, shocked that their philistine way of thinking is unbreakable.  You have acquired the knowledge and skills needed to force the answers you seek from them.  The complaint you must file forces them to make a choice.  Answer for their actions legally, or keep their heads in the sand with the false sense of security that you are vacuous, with the brain function of a slug.  Consequences will always follow the choice.

 

Demons Drinking In His Head

He was slumped over, the brass buckle coming to rest on the silver hair that covered his head.  The cracked wooden bar hung above a pile of shirts, stained with his blood from the failed attempt to cut deep enough.  The leather strap tied in a knot had broken in two from the strain, his dead weight pulling on it for days.  A black tee-shirt and grey gym shorts were all that covered him, as his body started to decompose, in the tiny closet of his small run down studio apartment.

He had been sober for over a year, a fact no one knew about until it was too late to tell him, “congratulations”.  The struggle with alcohol had been seen as a character defect in his ironically addicted filled family, with most of them cutting contact with him years ago.  He knew he was an alcoholic, and during that year of sobriety knew that one drink would be the start of the end.

His last year had been filled with  hope and a happy optimism for the chance to once again have the accomplishments he craved.  His ability to make something from nothing had been acquired from the success and many failures he had experienced in his 63 years.  Four years of struggling with homelessness and  a year of not drinking had changed his definition of what he considered success and what it meant to have it all.

No longer was a Porsche wanted, just anything that would get him to his destination. The dream of buying a condo with cash no longer mattered, just the peace of mind knowing his weekly rent was paid. Having enough quarters to wash the few clothes he owned had replaced the desire to pick from a sea of garments covered in plastic from the local dry cleaner.  The ability to pick up dinner from a hole in the wall Mexican food place once a week, would have been the icing on his chocolate cake.

Sadly, a summer that had started with such promise had turned into a fall with too many disappointments.  The many hurts, and too much suffering, had crushed his fight to “keep punching the bag “‘, as he liked to say.  The pain unbearable, he walked across the street, knowing the purchase he was about to make would be the beginning of his end.

Days following his first drink, had been filled with unsuccessful attempts to reach out to the family that had turn their backs.  E-mails written, never to be sent.  Phone calls made, never to be answered.  Misunderstandings clouded with stubbornness and greed would continue to linger, the guilt never to be lifted.  He would remain alone with the demons screaming in his head.

His heart had been kind and generous, always giving what he was able…money, time, advice, friendship, encouragement, laughter…He was loved greatly, and forever remembered by the ones he left behind.

The Old Man’s Destination

The old man stood under the street sign, His calloused dirty hand hitting the cold round metal knob over and over.  His blue eyes glaring up from under the faded blue and orange Denver Bronco hat, waiting impatiently for green to replace the red light that was keeping him from his destination across the busy intersection.
 
An off white smock hung low on his waist, the back dragging along the oil drenched pavement.  Words written in black marker down the middle…”WOLF”, “COYOTE”, “BEAR”….The meaning only known to him.  A pair of tall shiny black rain boots pulled up over his stained sagging jeans, looking out-of-place in the dry Mohave Desert.  A bright red cross covered the front of his dark shirt, a smaller one drawn on each sleeve barely noticeable in the fading rays of the sun.
 
His greasy black hair hung long and straight under the Bronco hat.  The over sized white headphones covered his ears, blocking out the world, the song only known to him.  As the light changed to green, his crystal blue eyes sparkled, the glaring look gone.  A smile appeared, a blaze of white teeth flashing across his leathery tan face.  Waving at the stopping cars, the music dancing his rubber rain boots all the way as he crossed to the other side…

When Your Cyber-Bullies Are Family

As our entire world becomes immersed in social media, the increase in stories of teenagers who take their life over cyber bullying is alarming.  As a teenager it was difficult enough to deal with my three to four very close friends and the 100 or so acquaintances I would say hi to in the hallways.  With Facebook, I see kids with 900 friends checking to see who “commented” or “liked” the twenty-minute old post about their choice of breakfast cereal, and it could make or break their day.

It is so much easier to bully someone when you are looking at a screen with only your own words.  There is no face to face interaction, no back and forth dialog.  You do not see or hear the cue from the other person that tells your brain, “Hey, your being an ass, knock it off”.  School ground fights used to end with an adult stepping in telling everyone to break it up, the crowd dispersing and those involved dealing with the consequences almost immediately.  Now they have assemblies and pass out pamphlets about the damage cyber bullying can cause.  These are usually after some poor kid is tormented online, puts a gun in his mouth, and pulls the trigger.

My family not only allowed but encourage one person to make up whatever he wanted about me, my husband, and our 12-year-old son, and use the internet to spread it around.  So many things were copied, forwarded, and made up and sent or told to everyone they could find, I have no idea who thinks what and why.  The fact they flipped my life upside down with no thought, is telling on how easy it was to do from a computer.  Not sure it would have been that simple, if they had to look at my son’s face while it was happening.

After almost a year, I know longer care what they say.  Their efforts telling me I need to move on, I ignore.  That being said, it is horrible to go through.  I cannot imagine dealing with something even close to that as a teenager.  But, I can understand how they get to the breaking point.  Hopefully, society will figure out a way to keep human interaction from completely being lost in cyberspace before we forget what it is like.

I have sent my own e-mails, posted on Facebook, and created Spun, to deal with my mess as it was happening. And although I enjoy seeing them, I need more than a “like” or a “comment” to process what has happened.  I require the old, face to face, school ground fight. Except a judge, not a teacher will be the one to break it up, allowing for everyone to deal with their own actions.  Just like back in the old days.

 

Hit Delete,Butterfly’s Will Come…

Last Christmas my father told me about a wonderful invention called the delete button, and from my understanding it is on most keyboards.  Apparently if you get an e-mail that you believe will cause you distress, you can actually delete it before you open it and POOF, it never existed.  Time goes backwards, and the creator of this distressing e-mail is struck down by lightning, losing any recollection of why he even sat down at his computer.  Amazing!

I learned about this as my father’s brother was using me to try to develop his skills as a fictional writer.  I am all for creative writing, but writing fiction requires the ability to remember certain aspects of the story as you write.  If you do not have consistency, there is confusion and your creation will have no believability.  Especially if you are taking fact and twisting it into fiction.  If you cannot keep your story straight, you may want to rethink your plan.  Because when twisted fiction affects someone’s life outside your bubble of followers, it may not end like you want.

That being said, most of my family lives in a bubble. Too many of them like to hang out there, which results in brain damage from the lack of oxygen.  Common sense becomes non existent, and they lose the ability to understand that fact and fiction are not the same.  While fiction usually has some facts, the wanna be writer’s of my bubble family took fiction and passed it off as fact. This created such a frenzy, their demented crap leaked out of their bubble into the real world, my world.

When I asked my father to stop his brother from harassing me with his fictional e-mails, he put his beer down for a moment, and told me about the magical delete button. I could just touch that button, and butterfly’s would fill my room while his brother was hit by lightning.  All the e-mails that were sent to everyone saying I was a drug addict that steals from family, would go POOF, and rainbows would fill the sky.

I was astonished to find my delete button does not work like my father said, maybe because I do not live in a bubble.  I have since learned his retirement was getting boring, so he created some of his own fictional bullshit about me for my bubble family to enjoy.  They drank their Kool-Aid, and followed along like good little non-thinkers. Unfortunately for them, I do not like their Kool-Aide, it tastes funny. I do not follow anyone very well, and I could never live in a bubble full of bullshit.  However, I am just as stubborn and like him I do not back down easily when I think I am right.

People screw up, make their mistakes, and the universe has natural consequences that follow.  I have written e-mails that gave me a year long vacation from owning a gun.  A natural consequence I learned from.  I send the occasional e-mail into the world of my bubble family, letting them know I am not pleased about some of the things they have done lately.  It gets forwarded around the bubble and they talk about how horrible it is that I can type the word Fuc8, and that I need to move on and stop bringing it up.  They should know at this point, their acceptance is not really my concern, I know what kind of person I am.  Mistakes happened, natural consequences will follow, and life will go on.  As far as the irritating e-mails I send, they can hit their magic delete button, and watch the butterfly’s fill their bubble as my words fade away and go POOF!