I want to thank Isaiah for inspiring me to prayerfully consider some of the subject matter he brought up in response to my last entry, "Don't Judge Me." He graciously and humbly pointed out some distinctions that aren't just minor doctrinal technicalities, in my opinion, but rather foundational distinctions which describe principles operating on the molecular level of Christianity.
Grace and Free Will
Can we avoid sinning? In a nutshell, of course, to some degree. We most certainly have the free will to choose good or evil. After all, who can love what is good without the autonomy to do what is bad? What love has a man who has no choice? Can we avoid sinning with any permanence? It hasn't been done often. And if we could eradicate sin from our lives altogether, would we need a Savior? Or just the strictest of discipline? I think we need both; but only one saves while the other is strictly evidence of salvation. One is prescriptive while the other is descriptive. Paul preached about being disciplined, but he first preached about the despair, hopelessness, and helplessness to be found except within the shelter of God's perfect Grace.
During what would become the finale of Jesus' earthly ministry, He implored His Father to "...forgive them, for they know not what they do."
They know not what they do? Wow. What does that mean? I might consider that they actually had no concept of the sin they were committing. Someone could respond, "If they didn't know what they were doing, perhaps it wasn't sin at all. After all, you can't commit sin if you're ignorant to it." But I would submit first that you certainly can be ticketed for going 75 in a 65 whether you knew the speed limit or not; it is your responsibility to know the limit and to obey it, and there is as much fault in not knowing as in not obeying. Second, I might point out again that Jesus was asking FORGIVENESS on the behalf of others. Would it be necessary to ask -- no, desperately BEG -- forgiveness if no sin had been committed?
Ah, the complexities of life...
On a micro-level, sin is certainly manageable, I think. It is actually quite easy for me to decide, for instance, against stealing -- at least on a situational basis. But life isn't micro. Life is complex, full of inter-mingled relationships and systems of thought. It has been said that there isn't just one reality but a separate reality created and projected by each separate self. In a sort of a relative way, I can appreciate the concept. All people operate on the basis of their OWN personal relationship to the world around them and no one else's. This is unavoidable -- just an ink blot on the vast unchartable expanse of human limitation. I think that is one important reason the Bible pointedly instructs us to work out our OWN salvation rather than the salvation of our neighbor. We are to LOVE our neighbor and work out our OWN salvation.
The point is that I think it is undeniable that on a more complex level -- the level in which life actually operates -- we frequently commit sins that are not even known to ourselves (As I've pointed out, this is possible if we are ignorant of even one word in the Bible.). Furthermore, the Bible says that even our greatest works are as filthy rags to God. Do you know how filthy those rags are? "Filthy rags" translates more precisely into "menstrual rags." Yes. Menstrual rags. If our greatest works are that bad, what about the things we have done in our darkest hours? The truth is that at every point of our lives, we have been powerless. Nothing you will find in the Bible will tell you anything otherwise. We are empowered only to do the will of God. Anything outside of that is disgusting to Him in principle, and yet forgotten by grace and grace alone. In this way, sin is completely inescapable. If I have ever been 99% submitted to God (not likely), 1% of me still was absolutely hideously disgusting to Him except by His perfect Grace.
How important is Grace, and how does it relate?
I believe it is dangerous to lose this perspective even a little bit. Because to the extent that we project power upon ourselves, we also directly devalue the indescribable power and impact of God's abiding grace, which is characterized in part by its all-encompassing necessity. If we can do ANYTHING at all without God's grace, salvation is merely a really really nice accessory. However, if we can do NOTHING, salvation is an absolute necessity.
I honestly am posing much of this rhetorically. I started this blog to humbly enter the discussion -- not to dictate terms or even to moderate discourse.
In the last entry, "Don't Judge Me," I failed to adequately define my terms. But I'm sure, if you have ever found yourself in a contentious discussion, written a long research paper, or been in any situation where an exchange of ideas was taking place, you can relate to the frustration often to be found when the desire to communicate inclusively must, for the sake of avoiding convolution of the intended message, give way to the necessity for exclusivity. I actually agonize over how much time to spend on procedural steps like defining terms in my writing. But I have realized that if I were to incorporate defenses and rebuttals into everything I wrote, I would quite possibly find myself writing into eternity without having done much aside from defending and rebutting. Defense and rebuttal is better served in a different forum or through open discussion, I think.
It is always my prayer that I present my views humbly and that the conversation will remain open and inspiring. I greatly respect your views and positions, and I enjoy being a part of the great discussion.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
"Don't judge me."
The best thing about this blog having only one follower (my dad) is that I can write almost anything without offending anyone. And anyway, even if my dad were offended, odds would be against him writing me out of his will -- especially since I'm probably not in it anyway (zzzzziiiing!). So, with that being said, I am just going to write.
I know I said I was starting a series of "deal-breakers." But I've changed my mind. See, that's the sort of thing a guy with one follower can do. Who's going to complain? Really. So today, I want to talk about a subject that seems to have been coming up a lot lately.
Judgment.
A woman is walking down a busy street - an expressway - on a busy day during rush hour. The stretch of road she happens to be on is under pretty extensive construction. Along the side of the road, where there was once a fenced-in section of sidewalk for foot-traffic, there is now a deep, wide trench barricaded in, forcing pedestrians onto the dangerous roadway. This is really pretty unfortunate, but there's nothing this woman can do but continue, this being the only route to get where she's going. So she scans the side of the road along the concrete barricades, desperately looking for a way out of traffic while frantically dodging the cars and trucks approaching and then passing from behind as she scurries along. You, the reader, are in one of these cars, and from a good distance still, you really don't notice anything out of the ordinary. The construction has been going on for months (same old same old), and a late-afternoon/early-evening sun-glare is really killing your peripheral vision.
BAM!!! Something just explodes into the grill of your car and sort of bounce-rolls from hood to windshield to roof, clips the tail end of the trunk, and then after a long series of flailing backward somersaults, rests in a half-lean against the large concrete wedge barricades. Of course you slam on your brakes, turn on your hazard lights, begin honking your horn, and throw that sucker in reverse through plumes of tire smoke and the smell of burnt rubber. Cars are careening into the next lane a hundred yards back in part to avoid what now is obviously a mangled woman and in part to avoid your car as it speeds up the expressway in reverse.
After throwing your car in park, you rush to the woman's side. You are standing over her, panting heavily, when...
...You scream at the top of your lungs, "What the hell is wrong with you lady?!! Can't you see there's no sidewalk? What were you thinking..?" Then after a pause, with arms crossed and a look of incredulity slathered all over your hot, red face, "You... disgust... me... I mean... I can't even take you seriously anymore." You get back into your car and, burning even more rubber, drive away, proud that because of your firm guidance, that lady will really have something to think about. You, after all, have a responsibility as an exemplary observer of traffic laws to rebuke those who willfully disobey them.
Ok, that all sounds ridiculous, right? Well, I stinkin' hope it does! It should sound like the absolute model of absurdity. And if it doesn't, you, sir or madam, either have a black heart or a severe emotional ailment. It absolutely is absurd. And even as absurd as it is, you have almost assuredly been one or both of the characters in that story (who are actually in many ways not very different from one antoher -- keep reading) hundreds, thousands, or millions of times.
I recently had someone I very much respected discover something from my past which is not something I am proud of. For reasons I really can only speculate, he chose not to bring this thing to my attention at all. Over the course of the two following months, his opinion of me severely degenerated to the point of disgust. One day, after becoming offended by a comment he had made about my supposed personal vanity, I confronted him. After forcefully attacking my personal integrity, he declared, "I can't really take you seriously because of things I have seen."
The "things he has seen" are things that, although still a challenge, no longer cripple me spiritually. They are, for the most part, in my past. What he "saw" was like the spot left on the driveway by a car that used to have an oil leak. Once the leak is fixed, the oil spot it left isn't a symptom anymore but a reminder not to skip routine maintenance appointments. But what if that thing he saw was still pervasive? In other words, what if the oil on the driveway was still fresh? The Bible makes it very clear that, on our own, sin is something we can not have any success against. It is like the concrete barriers keeping us in the roadway -- keeping us in harm's way. In a sense, we are victims of sin. We are victims of our wicked inheritance -- of the long genetic tradition of rebellion and treachery. As frantically as we search for an opening in the barrier along the dangerous road, there will not be one during this lifetime. The Bible describes our helplessness to sin over and over and over. Of course we are redeemed from its eternal penalty, but we are not immune to its earthly snares. Those roadside collisions are never going to kill us, but because our earliest relatives cut us off from the sidewalk, they're not going to stop happening either -- and they are going to beat us up a little. (Someone once told me "God disciplines, but sin punishes.")
So, the question really becomes: Can we be both helpless to sin and villains for succumbing to it? When it forces us into traffic where we are constantly and continuously mowed down and sent flailing into the asphalt only to rest in a sort of half-lean against the very sin we've committed, are we to be approached with disgust and incredulity? To be mocked and ridiculed? To be shamed and dismissed?
Let's rewind. We're back at the scene of the accident again. You have rushed over to this poor woman's side. She is a bleeding, mangled wreck, and she is in dire need of medical attention. You're standing over her, panting heavily, hair disheveled, sweating.
"SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!"
You're on all fours now, checking for a pulse, wiping blood away from her nose and mouth so that she can breath, caring for her, loving her. It has NEVER OCCURRED to you to treat her with anything but kindness, love, and concern.
Why? Why is unconditional kindness such as this so instinctive from one person to another - even a complete stranger - who has fallen victim to some grave physical trauma? And why is the absurdity of the first example -- of disgust, ridicule, judgment, and self-righteousness -- so often the undeniable instinct from one Christian to another who has fallen victim to some grave spiritual trauma - some great sin? I think the answer is in the question. Both the woman lying twisted and bloody, half-leaning against the very obstacle she was so powerless against and the self-righteous jerk standing in the street issuing ridicule and judgment are at that moment suffering from the very same condition.
I know I said I was starting a series of "deal-breakers." But I've changed my mind. See, that's the sort of thing a guy with one follower can do. Who's going to complain? Really. So today, I want to talk about a subject that seems to have been coming up a lot lately.
Judgment.
A woman is walking down a busy street - an expressway - on a busy day during rush hour. The stretch of road she happens to be on is under pretty extensive construction. Along the side of the road, where there was once a fenced-in section of sidewalk for foot-traffic, there is now a deep, wide trench barricaded in, forcing pedestrians onto the dangerous roadway. This is really pretty unfortunate, but there's nothing this woman can do but continue, this being the only route to get where she's going. So she scans the side of the road along the concrete barricades, desperately looking for a way out of traffic while frantically dodging the cars and trucks approaching and then passing from behind as she scurries along. You, the reader, are in one of these cars, and from a good distance still, you really don't notice anything out of the ordinary. The construction has been going on for months (same old same old), and a late-afternoon/early-evening sun-glare is really killing your peripheral vision.
BAM!!! Something just explodes into the grill of your car and sort of bounce-rolls from hood to windshield to roof, clips the tail end of the trunk, and then after a long series of flailing backward somersaults, rests in a half-lean against the large concrete wedge barricades. Of course you slam on your brakes, turn on your hazard lights, begin honking your horn, and throw that sucker in reverse through plumes of tire smoke and the smell of burnt rubber. Cars are careening into the next lane a hundred yards back in part to avoid what now is obviously a mangled woman and in part to avoid your car as it speeds up the expressway in reverse.
After throwing your car in park, you rush to the woman's side. You are standing over her, panting heavily, when...
...You scream at the top of your lungs, "What the hell is wrong with you lady?!! Can't you see there's no sidewalk? What were you thinking..?" Then after a pause, with arms crossed and a look of incredulity slathered all over your hot, red face, "You... disgust... me... I mean... I can't even take you seriously anymore." You get back into your car and, burning even more rubber, drive away, proud that because of your firm guidance, that lady will really have something to think about. You, after all, have a responsibility as an exemplary observer of traffic laws to rebuke those who willfully disobey them.
Ok, that all sounds ridiculous, right? Well, I stinkin' hope it does! It should sound like the absolute model of absurdity. And if it doesn't, you, sir or madam, either have a black heart or a severe emotional ailment. It absolutely is absurd. And even as absurd as it is, you have almost assuredly been one or both of the characters in that story (who are actually in many ways not very different from one antoher -- keep reading) hundreds, thousands, or millions of times.
I recently had someone I very much respected discover something from my past which is not something I am proud of. For reasons I really can only speculate, he chose not to bring this thing to my attention at all. Over the course of the two following months, his opinion of me severely degenerated to the point of disgust. One day, after becoming offended by a comment he had made about my supposed personal vanity, I confronted him. After forcefully attacking my personal integrity, he declared, "I can't really take you seriously because of things I have seen."
The "things he has seen" are things that, although still a challenge, no longer cripple me spiritually. They are, for the most part, in my past. What he "saw" was like the spot left on the driveway by a car that used to have an oil leak. Once the leak is fixed, the oil spot it left isn't a symptom anymore but a reminder not to skip routine maintenance appointments. But what if that thing he saw was still pervasive? In other words, what if the oil on the driveway was still fresh? The Bible makes it very clear that, on our own, sin is something we can not have any success against. It is like the concrete barriers keeping us in the roadway -- keeping us in harm's way. In a sense, we are victims of sin. We are victims of our wicked inheritance -- of the long genetic tradition of rebellion and treachery. As frantically as we search for an opening in the barrier along the dangerous road, there will not be one during this lifetime. The Bible describes our helplessness to sin over and over and over. Of course we are redeemed from its eternal penalty, but we are not immune to its earthly snares. Those roadside collisions are never going to kill us, but because our earliest relatives cut us off from the sidewalk, they're not going to stop happening either -- and they are going to beat us up a little. (Someone once told me "God disciplines, but sin punishes.")
So, the question really becomes: Can we be both helpless to sin and villains for succumbing to it? When it forces us into traffic where we are constantly and continuously mowed down and sent flailing into the asphalt only to rest in a sort of half-lean against the very sin we've committed, are we to be approached with disgust and incredulity? To be mocked and ridiculed? To be shamed and dismissed?
Let's rewind. We're back at the scene of the accident again. You have rushed over to this poor woman's side. She is a bleeding, mangled wreck, and she is in dire need of medical attention. You're standing over her, panting heavily, hair disheveled, sweating.
"SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!"
You're on all fours now, checking for a pulse, wiping blood away from her nose and mouth so that she can breath, caring for her, loving her. It has NEVER OCCURRED to you to treat her with anything but kindness, love, and concern.
Why? Why is unconditional kindness such as this so instinctive from one person to another - even a complete stranger - who has fallen victim to some grave physical trauma? And why is the absurdity of the first example -- of disgust, ridicule, judgment, and self-righteousness -- so often the undeniable instinct from one Christian to another who has fallen victim to some grave spiritual trauma - some great sin? I think the answer is in the question. Both the woman lying twisted and bloody, half-leaning against the very obstacle she was so powerless against and the self-righteous jerk standing in the street issuing ridicule and judgment are at that moment suffering from the very same condition.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Deal-breakers.
So, I was thinking about what the point of all this was going to be. Since we established in my momentous inaugural post that my intentions in starting this blog were sort of oddly passive-aggressive, I think we can safely assume that no actual planning ever really took place. But what's done is done, right? Once you've broken your pool cue over the large tattooed guy's head, the decision to fight has most likely become irreversible whether you planned it out to the end or not. (I realize that, in order for this illustration to work, you, my dear cherished reader, would have to be the tattooed guy. If you are not, I may have lost you. If you are, I may have just gained a lifelong reader. At this early stage in the game, I am crossing my fingers for the second possibility.)
But I kid. The truth is, I think if we are being reasonable, we can agree that, as early in the game as possible, those who should be lost be lost and those who should be gained be gained. It would be illogical and sort of unfair for us to drag each other on, forcing each other to endure pretense upon pretense, pretext upon pretext, only to find out some time down the road that, all along, it just wasn't a match -- that the ideas and values we casually avoided proved completely incompatible when the "new" wore off and the honeymoon period ended. (Funny how every life situation somehow winds up resembling my love life.) You're time will have been wasted on me, and that is a burden I'm not sure I could endure. It's not you; it's me.
So I have decided to get a couple of important issues out of the way. If you are still reading this blog after what I am about to write, I think you and I have a puncher's chance of achieving world-domination together. If not, it will not hurt my feelings. I will have the dignity to erase your phone number and the fortitude not to cry when I see you hold hands with another blogger.
- Christianity -- Perhaps no subject is more controversial or has endured such vigorous historical disharmony over so many years as Christianity. It is such a controversial subject that its inner-fragmentation has become almost embarrassingly evident around the world. Debated quite possibly less in the general public than amongst its own professing members, Christianity has become at least loosely representative of a reported 38,000-plus denominations (a word that simply "a calling by name" in its original Latin). Staggering. Consider the following. Like millions of people around the globe, I like meatloaf. In this case, we millions of meatloaf-lovers have met a simple question ("Do you like meatloaf?") with an appropriately simple and decisive answer ("Why, yes I do." perhaps followed up with "Why? You cookin' some?"). Sure, some folks may prefer ketchup to barbecue sauce or onions to bell peppers, conspicuously absent from this debate are the other 37,996 denominations of meatloaf. This brings me to my point. I am less compelled by the issues which have divided Christianity than by those ideals which have proven it to be cohesive and enduring. I believe Christianity is a faith based upon and rooted in the heart of a man, the first Man, of course, having been Jesus Christ. It is my solemn belief that men in pursuit of details have made an idol of complexity, opting for a "religion" they can quantify and regulate rather than for a relationship to be cultivated in Christ's last great directive to those who would choose to follow Him: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” Jesus made it painfully clear that John Lennon was actually right -- all you do need is love. Jesus said that if we love Him, we will obey His commandments. He said that whatever we do to the least among us, we also do it to Him. The New Testament is chock full of references to the central abiding role of the big "L"-word in following Christ. If God is Love (1John 4:16), and Jesus is the Truth (John 14:6); then Truth must be found only in Love and Love only in Truth. This is my Christianity.
...Still with me? I'm impressed. But seriously, this is just tip-of-the-iceberg stuff. I realize that I picked this subject at the peril of losing a large chunk of my potential audience. But as I said before, it is important that we find our chemistry early and identify our incompatibilities as soon as possible.
On the other hand, you would be jumping the gun if you were to bail with the notion that this blog is going to be all about religion or Christianity. It certainly is not, although it was definitely not an accidental first topic (Take that for what it's worth.)
Well, I think that's all for this session. Next time we'll tackle another of what I used to call "potential deal-breaker issues" back when I was dating.
Here we go.
Hello everybody. My name is jc (Yes, I intentionally use lower-case letters; it's just my way.), and I will be your server this evening. And when you're ready to check out, I'll be your cashier as well. Our special tonight is "American Independent Thought," a dish that has been marinated for 30 years in a delicate blend of the following: pride in the strength, honor, and dignity of the traditional American family; nostalgia for the rapidly fading American way; deep distrust of the shamelessly self-interested institution of the new American government; utter distaste for, disgust in, and disbelief of the new American media; and abiding love for both the awesome and unchanging Lord, my GOD, and my figuratively red, yellow, black, white, and brown neighbor.
I honestly don't have the stomach for long introductions, so I'm going to skip that oft-obligatory pleasantry. I figure if you, the reader, decide you'd like to get to know me, the writer, on some deeper personal level -- if you decide you'd like to find out how many cats I have (zero, thankfully), or how many times I've been married (zero, thankfully), or what street I grew up on in what part of the country, or what "mom" used to cook for routine early suppers after long Sunday church services (a scene that could not possibly remind me less of my mother or any Sunday under her tyrannical reign) -- such an interest will more likely spring from some deeper sense of being either connected to or repulsed by my musings than by any amount of pleasant introductory sprinklings of personal imagery. Just sayin'.
So, let's get to it, shall we? I feel kind of foolish to say that I have become inspired to keep a blog in response to learning that my friendly neighborhood religious zealot (sort of like that nutty uncle every family has, except instead of reaping general condemnation, the zealot is more of the sowing sort) has kept one for some time. The reason I suppose my entry into the "blogosphere" has me blushing a bit is that somewhere deep down, it occurs to me that I may be operating in anticipation of some future feeling of victory to be had in this outwardly directed inner-proclamation: "Two can play at that game; if you want to blog, then blog we shall!"
And while some reasonable folks might argue that a healthy appetite for a bit of intellectual competition is certainly no cause for embarrassment -- an argument with which I am, under most circumstances, likely to agree -- it might be expected that the same reasonable folks would scratch their heads at the proposition of a competition in which one guy has no idea a competition is even going on. If you recall those perverse -- and mercifully short-lived -- reality television shows that pitted wild animals against human beings in battles to the finish, you might get my point. In truth, those competitions would have at least been hilarious if they weren't such a sad indictment of the hopeless folly of mankind; you might recall thinking to yourself, "That bear has no idea that the little Asian guy is trying to eat more hot dogs than him. He's just hungry," followed by, "Bravo, FOX programming. Now onward to the 'All-Bags-of-Flaming-Poo-All-the-Time' channel."
I suppose what I should really do is humbly thank my friend for inspiring me to take the podium. You, the reader, may officially consider this the voicing of said gratitude.
So, like every writer who is worth his weight in ink, I have written, revised, and re-written just about every line up to this point in this entry. I think most writers who engage in this perfectionist's nightmare aren't actually as perfectionist as would be the easy default assumption. In fact, I would propose that this level of torment must be rooted in a problem much more accessible in its logical origin. For me, it has more to do with the constant three-part inner-struggle between satisfying my own expressive urges (artfully and accurately depicting my own voice), pleasing men (drawing in a reader), and avoiding the broad road (morally speaking) in my expression, while somehow keeping all three pursuits both harmonious and equally served. I'm actually taking a poetry class -- very manly, I realize -- which has reminded me of the great importance of not wasting words -- selecting every word according to what logical, moral, or artful significance can be extracted from it. That is what I intend to endeavor for the remainder of my time with you, my cherished reader.
We will talk some politics, some religion (the two things you are never supposed to talk about), some food, some music, some culture, some sports, and some of all sorts of other stuff. I will teach you some stuff, and you will teach me some stuff. Together, we are going to forge ahead in what will prove to be a grand adventure.
So, until my next post, good night to you. Be sure to tip your waitress... I guess that would be me actually.
I honestly don't have the stomach for long introductions, so I'm going to skip that oft-obligatory pleasantry. I figure if you, the reader, decide you'd like to get to know me, the writer, on some deeper personal level -- if you decide you'd like to find out how many cats I have (zero, thankfully), or how many times I've been married (zero, thankfully), or what street I grew up on in what part of the country, or what "mom" used to cook for routine early suppers after long Sunday church services (a scene that could not possibly remind me less of my mother or any Sunday under her tyrannical reign) -- such an interest will more likely spring from some deeper sense of being either connected to or repulsed by my musings than by any amount of pleasant introductory sprinklings of personal imagery. Just sayin'.
So, let's get to it, shall we? I feel kind of foolish to say that I have become inspired to keep a blog in response to learning that my friendly neighborhood religious zealot (sort of like that nutty uncle every family has, except instead of reaping general condemnation, the zealot is more of the sowing sort) has kept one for some time. The reason I suppose my entry into the "blogosphere" has me blushing a bit is that somewhere deep down, it occurs to me that I may be operating in anticipation of some future feeling of victory to be had in this outwardly directed inner-proclamation: "Two can play at that game; if you want to blog, then blog we shall!"
And while some reasonable folks might argue that a healthy appetite for a bit of intellectual competition is certainly no cause for embarrassment -- an argument with which I am, under most circumstances, likely to agree -- it might be expected that the same reasonable folks would scratch their heads at the proposition of a competition in which one guy has no idea a competition is even going on. If you recall those perverse -- and mercifully short-lived -- reality television shows that pitted wild animals against human beings in battles to the finish, you might get my point. In truth, those competitions would have at least been hilarious if they weren't such a sad indictment of the hopeless folly of mankind; you might recall thinking to yourself, "That bear has no idea that the little Asian guy is trying to eat more hot dogs than him. He's just hungry," followed by, "Bravo, FOX programming. Now onward to the 'All-Bags-of-Flaming-Poo-All-the-Time' channel."
I suppose what I should really do is humbly thank my friend for inspiring me to take the podium. You, the reader, may officially consider this the voicing of said gratitude.
So, like every writer who is worth his weight in ink, I have written, revised, and re-written just about every line up to this point in this entry. I think most writers who engage in this perfectionist's nightmare aren't actually as perfectionist as would be the easy default assumption. In fact, I would propose that this level of torment must be rooted in a problem much more accessible in its logical origin. For me, it has more to do with the constant three-part inner-struggle between satisfying my own expressive urges (artfully and accurately depicting my own voice), pleasing men (drawing in a reader), and avoiding the broad road (morally speaking) in my expression, while somehow keeping all three pursuits both harmonious and equally served. I'm actually taking a poetry class -- very manly, I realize -- which has reminded me of the great importance of not wasting words -- selecting every word according to what logical, moral, or artful significance can be extracted from it. That is what I intend to endeavor for the remainder of my time with you, my cherished reader.
We will talk some politics, some religion (the two things you are never supposed to talk about), some food, some music, some culture, some sports, and some of all sorts of other stuff. I will teach you some stuff, and you will teach me some stuff. Together, we are going to forge ahead in what will prove to be a grand adventure.
So, until my next post, good night to you. Be sure to tip your waitress... I guess that would be me actually.
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