Tagged: faith

Oh Give Thanks Unto the LORD. Six Figures is Enough.

If you happen to run into me while we’re out and about, the conversation—after weather—will likely turn to cost of living. It may be me, it may be you, who brings it up. But if we’re out and about, then we’re probably spending money and so the topic is at hand regardless.

A common refrain you’ll hear me utter, “My whole life six figures has meant, ‘You made it,’ and, ‘That’s a good job.’ But the truth is in 2024, while six figure jobs are still hard to find, it isn’t enough.”

(Forgive me, Father. It is enough is the biblical sense. But you know what I mean. The amount isn’t enough to live like six figures has allowed others to live.)

****

I remember one of the first times I heard six figures was from a knucklehead kid, probably in middle school. He said, “Well your dad makes six figures doesn’t he?”

It seemed like so much money. Six figures.

Most of my time in the Air Force I made six figures but I never knew it. I always guessed I was around $70k for some reason. I think it just seemed so out of reach for a measly military member, and I never really cared about money so I never totaled it up.

****

But something funny happened to me the other day as I had time to consider my life. I support myself and my wife and her son and our two toddlers. (That’s five.) Then, I support my ex wife, her husband, our daughter, and their daughter. (That’s four more, for a total of nine.)

Six figures in 2024 can support nine people, four adults and five kids. Maybe six figures is enough. Maybe I need to shut my pie-hole and stop complaining.

****

For he is good. Yes, he is good.

Some Days Are Dark

H- hasn’t spoken to me since boldly declaring to me on a random phone call (why don’t kids know how to use the phone?) that she wasn’t coming to Christmas and didn’t understand why I wasn’t “getting it”.

I don’t stop believing in Jesus on dark days. Yet I cannot deny that there is an appeal to giving up on god and all–that is part of the darkness.

But I will unashamedly confess that on dark days, days when I take inventory of my life only to realize more fully that there has been a general lack of support (social, financial, or emotional) from anyone ever remotely falling under the umbrella of “family”, I do conclude god is unknowable.

I Am SOAD Toxicity, A Review of Toxicity (Full Album), by System of a Down.

Wired (not “wide”) were the eyes of a horse on a jet pilot, one that smiled when he flew over a bay

My voice can sound most like Serj’s out of all Rock front men, if I do say so myself. Even at the age of 42. What can I say?

In seminary I used to put music on while writing and editing my papers, but I have recently fell away from the habit. Yesterday, however, I was feeling good (been lifting weights again for the first time in 5 years) and while the post-workout euphoria was in effect, I decided to put on music as I resumed some editing. I hadn’t heard Toxicity in a while, but I remembered loving that album and so searched it up.

One thing that I will never forget about the album is how seamless the entire thing is. One song flows right into the next. Whatever the actual production process felt like to the band, the Muse was clearly running the show. With my adult brain, I am very aware that these things are completely controllable, but in my child brain, I am to this day awestruck by how even the changing track on a CD, on every CD and every player, can happen at the right moment and in the correct and desired tempo. If you haven’t listened in a while, take the required 11 minutes to feel the special delight from the effect of the transitions from “Needles” to “Deer Dance” to “Jet Pilot” to “X”. Is it really four songs, guys? Be honest.

Whatever it is, it is perfectly sublime rock.

I remember being so enraptured by this album when I first heard it that I tried to have my dad listen to part of the album on our cool Bose speakers (like how I said “our”?) as a college kid, still living at home between semesters. But as is normal with spontaneous listening parties, he was not immediately impressed.

Over two decades later, the impression I gladly couldn’t shake at the completion of the album was how formative that album was for my current perspectives. One example should suffice.

In “Prison Song”, one lyric states, “All research and successful drug policy show that treatment should be increased/And law enforcement decreased while abolishing mandatory minimum sentences.”

Now, I can imagine that some folks might want to take this as a prescription. IE, some folks might say that, “the band is using its platform to call attention to the need for prison reform” blah, blah, blah.

No! I say again, H to the E-L-L’s No!

What they are saying is, “Burn it all!!”

The fact that the lyrics seem to make an argument is not to be interpreted as the band’s own intent to make that argument, no! The correct interpretation is to add the music and voice and realize they are calling out the entire system’s evident incongruence. Put another, less effective way, they could have sung, “You know it’s broken. You, yes you, know it’s broken! And you still are impotent. Even your supposed self-correcting design doesn’t work. It’s time to go!”

In a word, they “rock.”

And by giving us definitive boundaries to the meaning of Rock music, they help us fans understand that life doesn’t have to be a dog, which we train to stop eating our shoes by replacing them with a chew toy—no. Life can just simply be messed up. And the proper response sometimes is to call it out for what it is—period. Those in charge of the prisons, most immediately, and the rest of us in the society eventually, are forced by SOAD’s work (among others) to be uncomfortable at the least. And at the most, we find our calling and do something with our indignation. (Admittedly, this hasn’t yet happened for me, but after yesterday, I feel like it could any day now.)

In a glass-is-half-empty way, SOAD manifests the adage, “misery loves company,” but only if you also think any agent who forces you to consider that you are not almighty god does.

For the rest of us, SOAD’s contribution Toxicity extends life. Well done.

The White Devil

Now the serpent was more crafty than any beast of the field which Yahweh God had made…And the serpent said to the woman, “You surely will not die! For God knows that in the day you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”

“Come on!” he smiled mischievously, “Come on, just tell me. It’s not like we don’t know the nickname. I just want to know it in your language.”

“Oh, no,” the brown mohammedan said, head-shaking, embarrassed and uncomfortable. “It is not right.”

“Seriously, just tell me. How much have we shared with each other so far? I only want to know it to make people laugh. It’s not like I mean any harm to anyone. It would make me betam yetek’eburu if I could whip out that phrase when appropriate. Ehbakahin? Please?”

The mooslims are different in this respect. They are Old Testament in their belief in the power of utterances. The man wouldn’t budge.

“Oh well. Here comes another,” he said to himself. “Hey!” Pointing back down the hall towards the man he just left, the same smile still on his face, he said, “Abdi there won’t tell me how to say White Devil. How about you? I need it for purely social reasons. Please?”

Stonewalled again, and this time by a Christian no less.

That was six years ago.

Today, he knows the real meaning of White Devil. He had always assumed it had to do with brown people being more “spiritual” on the whole and white people being less “spiritual” on the whole. There also was the ever present, at least in recent centuries, technological advantages inherent to the (renowned as white) West that surely must have bedazzled outsiders into believing them to be derived from the dark arts.

Wrong on both points.

His own culture lauds literacy and learning. The greatest shame is an unexpected and unavoidable public display of illiteracy. If one can’t read, they hide that fact from everyone—and if it happens that they come to a moment when they decide to learn, upon taking that step, the choirs of the West rejoice more joyfully than the heavenly hosts when a new believer is baptized. Who, then, wouldn’t want to learn how to read?

But that is the White Devil describing itself, the White Devil marveling at its reflection in precious stones. As described by illiterate cultures, the ones who are lauded today for having “oral histories”, the White Devil is the absolutely ignorant and unfounded fear of what these cultures do not yet understand.

The truly ignorant are not the West’s unwanted newborns put outside to die by exposure like our own illiterate, no. He now sees that the truly ignorant are Adam and Eve, shortly after getting the boot from the garden. They know something is different. They know there is another power. They know they don’t have the power. And like Adam and Eve, they conclude those that do possess the power must be the enemy, the adversary, ha-satan. Or, plainly, the White Devil. And the only idea that populates the uninhabited landscape of their brain is to tell their children the story of the crafty serpent.

On Baptist Preachers Continuing the Invitation

Not because I can’t or wouldn’t or won’t share the gospel—including asking the question, “Have you decided to follow Jesus?” with my kids, but I really want my family to join me in attending a small-ish Baptist church which still sees the preacher invite the congregation to salvation before concluding the service. “Why?” you ask. “Why, Pete? Why go backwards? Everyone knows that denominations are dying/dead, and never to return. They are a failed experiment. It’s non-denominational, one-church-multiple-campuses-small-groups-for-those-interested-and-no-invitation-messages from here on out.”

I’ll tell you why. And this is close to the heart, so please go easy on me. I want my family to join me at the Baptist church because the invitation is my answer to the infamous “how do you know you’re saved?” zinger of a question.

Many, many Sundays of my childhood and youth, and nearly every time I heard the invitation ever since, Sunday after Sunday after Sunday (if I was in a Baptist church), I knew it was directed specifically to me. I knew I was the sinner. I knew I needed salvation. I knew Jesus was the way, the truth, and the life. Moreover, I knew I couldn’t hide behind anyone, nor did I want to hide. I wanted salvation. Who wouldn’t?

For most of my life, I have not treated this response as anything noteworthy or indicative of eternal spiritual matters. I had accepted Jesus Christ as my lord and savior at a young age and was baptized later on and the rest of these times I chalked up the feeling to “powerful preaching.”

As I have gotten older, as fewer people come forward, I have to say that it seems like most people don’t take the invitation as a literal invitation.

But as a father, I take my young daughter (A- this time, H- in times past) and the two of us sit there, and I imagine what H- and my step-son, both 14 and not present—would think during the invitation. Would they think, “My parents are good (believers), so I am too.” Or, “He’s not talking to me. This is just the end of the service.” Or maybe, “My phone, my phone, my phone, my phone…”?

I honestly cannot imagine them saying, “Uh, I am a sinner. I need Jesus. Dad, what do I do?” in any capacity. Mostly, that just seems in line with the more rare emotions, like achieving a lifelong goal, that I can’t imagine what it might look like. But we all talk such nonsense, so much of the time, that it feels fair for a kid to say, “Oh. You were serious about that? I thought that was just part of the ritual.”

Anyhow, we’ll see what the family decides to do. As for me, I am redeemed by the blood of the lamb, no turning back. So I’ll see you at the Baptist church.

What Exactly Do You Want Me To Do?

“Join me in lifting up these heroes and their families in prayer.”

That’s what Nikki Haley tweeted.

I’m not stupid and I’m not tone deaf. I know that this is the appropriate statement for public consumption after tragedy strikes.

But I am serious and earnestly want to know. It is tragic that Americans are being killed overseas because they’re Americans and I would like to do anything I can to support those who agree that it is a tragedy. So again, what, Mrs. Haley (et al), exactly do you want me to do? Turn agreeable? Blithely nod?

You want me to close my eyes? You want me to close my eyes and bow my head? You want me to talk with my eyes closed and head bowed?

You want me to close my eyes, bow my head, and think thoughts?

You want me to keep my eyes open and look towards outer-space and think thoughts?

You want me to talk to some named, but never seen, invisible being that folks write about, but never see?

You want me to, while thinking about the three dead and dozens injured, speak words in the hearing of others (or no one) that request something of some deceased-but-still-powerful ancestor?

How could I possibly join you if I do not know what you mean?

****

Wouldn’t it be nice if people actually said something that meant something?

Something like, “If, like me, you believe that there is only one god powerful enough to comfort mourners, meter justice, and grant forgiveness, one living god that was, is, and is to come, the King of kings and Lord of lords, that his name is Jesus Christ, then join me tonight, at 8pm EST in reciting the prayer he taught us to prayer.”

Yeah, that’d be something worth posting.

American Divorce: The Way I See It

I believe in writing. I have been at this blog for a decade now. In the beginning, I liked encouragement. These days, I couldn’t care less when someone encourages me about my writing. It always has this air of “I wouldn’t have thought you were a good writer…” and that kinda bothers me. Why not? What about me sounds like bad writing? My job? My hobbies? The things I like to talk about? My clothes? Seriously, there is no signal that suggests that I wouldn’t be able to hold my own with a pen/keyboard.

Now-13.5 H- has shared that she reads these posts, and that the result of my “woman hater” (which would be “female hater” if I want to encourage the child to learn reading comprehension–I do–it’s “female hater” and I define “female” in contradistinction to “woman” in the post, H-) post from the other day is that she doesn’t want to see me or talk to me (at least for now). In any case, and this is the point of this opening, with encouragement, with discouragement, I maintain that writing is good. The rest of this post, then, the part that pertains to the title, is Exhibit A.

The last two posts have been on the topic of men and women and our relationships. In the background, many more thoughts and conversations have been taking place because of these posts and the events which inspired them. So again, I want to write, to catalog. I want to think on them.

The most important result of writing about my friend’s looming divorce (in which his wife of twenty years is going to steal his military retirement and hold hostage his two children in Europe, all with the blessing of Missouri and general American Culture), is my own wife and I have come to a shocking realization and subsequent clarity of our perspectives. We laid in bed the other night and bickered about whether I was claiming my friend was ‘perfect’ when I asserted that ‘he did nothing to make her steal from him’. In other words, we realized that even the two of us, husband and wife, see the eternal institutions of marriage and divorce TOTALLY different. (Makes ya wonder what any of us are even doing.)

(You with me thus far?)

I believe this woman–er, this female–, E-, is a terrible creature–less than human–worse than Hitler. I wrote as much a few days back. She is terrible, not for crimes committed, but for crimes she is going to commit until one of them dies. And I further maintain that my friend did not and does not have any influence on E-‘s decision to commit these twin crimes (to keep it simple, we’ll just call stealing his money and stealing his children the only two crimes–but there are more).

My wife hears me say this and responds, “Oh yeah! I’m sure he is perfect. All your friends are perfect!”

(The point of this post is to report to you, dear reader, not the entirety of the conversation, but the fruit.)

With this, I finally saw the stumbling block to my wife and I’s communication.

So I began again, in a new vein, “Do you remember that video of the blacks brawling at Disneyland several years ago?”

“Yes.”

“Remember how the dude just punches his girlfriend in the face? He just turns and punches her. It was horrific. I had never seen anything like that ever. That’s why I showed it to you. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember!”

“Okay. Did that woman have anything to do with him punching her? Was there anything she did that caused him to punch her? Were any of his needs not met by her and so he punched her? Is there anything she did that alleviates his punch of its evil?”

“That’s totally-“

“-‘No’. The correct answer is, ‘No. She had nothing to do with him punching her. A man punching a woman is wrong. It is always wrong. It is squarely wrong. It is never her fault. It is never something she caused. It is just wrong.’ And I am saying that, for precisely the same reasons, these women who divorce a man and then proceed to steal from him are likewise wrong. They are likewise committing evil. My friend has no more responsibility for E-‘s evil actions (continual actions keep in mind) than that woman did for her boyfriend’s punch (probably plural). And stop with ‘the Law’. The ‘Law’ has no bearing on my opinion, and, in fact, is the reason I am so adamant about this belief of mine. All these wives hide behind the ‘Law’ and comfort themselves with the thought that they are somehow not accountable for the evil they are committing since it is the ‘Law’. The ‘Law’, in this case, is immoral and needs to adapt to the times. Whatever the reasoning that went into ‘woman gets half the retirement’ was, it is now different. The ‘Law’ needs to change. You can’t take a husband and expect him to somehow ‘prevent’ divorce, when all the while, all that is required for a divorce is the wife saying, ‘I want a divorce.’ The way a wife would prove her innocence, would prove she had endured something terrible, is to not take the money. Just divorce him and move on with your life. ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ What E- and all the wives are doing is morally wrong–evil.”

****

What do you think, dear reader? Think my wife bought my rant? Have I made a dent in your thinking with this analogy, ex-wife collecting retirement as same ‘obvious’ evil as man punching woman? Or do you need it in codified writing? Is it possible for my friend to have been an unqualified good husband and father and this still be the result of his behavior?

Or is the fairer sex just too pure to sow and reap evil? Too feeble to ever work for a living? Too unstable to ever reach old age without the financial backing of a man?

When It Comes to Israel, Please Try to Focus

Terrorists—not some internationally recognized State military—executed a terror attack on Israel.

How does the en vogue question, “Whose land is it?” relate to the war?

Debates are being had across the world regarding some idea of “a two-State solution”—has Hamas made such a demand? Have they suggested that they will cease hostilities if only…? Moreover, is anyone in Hamas actually in possession of enough integrity to believe, even if they have?

Some heavy hitters in academia suggest that the claims of Israel’s tie to the Land—especially as it regards the Messiah—within the books of the Bible are irrelevant, having clearly lost out to publicly recorded statements and votes by nearly all leaders, on nearly any level in favor of a two-state solution. Is any Israeli earnestly citing scripture in an attempt to denounce Hamas or secure their country?

Then we come to my personal favorite of the many distractions from the issue, being the cries against violence upon innocents. “But the IDF is killing innocent people!”, they wail.

When it comes to Israel, please try to focus.

There is a difference between an academic discussion, or put concretely, a classroom discussion, and war. By my thinking, the only people who don’t seem to understand this might be thought of analogous to the two apparently ugly and old flight attendants at United who are pissed because they haven’t ever been selected to work as supermodels on Dodger’s charter flights.

Talk that is focused on the war sounds like a yes/no answer to this question: should Israel have your support (indirect as it might be) in their war?

I say, “Yes.”

You may disagree. That doesn’t revoke your US Citizenship. Just please don’t skip to the nuanced reasons for your position before stating it. That’s lazy and cowardly. The question of war is not answered by debate. Focus. Answer the question. And stop pretending that “reasons” are the answer. Please, if you fancy talking about the topic, focus and answer.

The Reunion Will Be Beautiful

Back in college, over twenty years ago now, in a Political Science class, we read a book called The Origins of Major War. As usual in college courses, we had to write a paper afterward. My paper had a killer thesis.

You see, one of the defining traits of “major war” is that the countries which are labeled “hegemonic” (essentially a synonym of “major”) are involved. That, of course, is circular, but not weakening. America was/is hegemonic. So my thesis, still startlingly profound, was, “The United States will be in the next Major War.”

Can you feel it? Wow. Just amazing. So true, and so provocative.

What role will we play? Defender of all that is good? Do we begin it? Do we end it? Read on, we must, the reader surely concludes.

Well, I am back to more reading on this Sunday and have similarly struck another mega-epic-super-provocative-wow-factor-bursting-standard-breaking thesis. Ready?

The reunion will be beautiful.

Life right now is not beautiful. We do not like life.

There are too many indicators to list. It will suffice to say you don’t like me. And I don’t particularly like you. This is funny because you don’t know me and I don’t know you. But it’s true nonetheless. Life is a mess. Life is not beautiful. Anyone who says otherwise is just plain lying.

But, but! The reunion? Maybe not soon enough, but any reunion will be beautiful.

How do I know? And how can you, likewise, be certain?

Because union is a defining quality of beauty. No different than major wars are fought by major countries, the re-union will be be-autiful—otherwise, it ain’t either. No beauty, no union. No (re)union, no beauty. Feel me?

Hold on a little longer, folks. No need to languish in uncertainty over the question of the future, ie, “Am I really going to have to withdraw from our BS society to be happy?” Just do what you have to do for now.

The reunion will be beautiful.

PS – Thanks, Percy Bysshe Shelley.