I have so much respect for the mute now.
I decided this morning that, under the pretense that I had lost my voice, I decided to attempt to not say a word all day. So, from six fory am to about four pm, I said four words..."Puppies," to Ms. McCurlyl, and "Put this there?" to Mrs. Barett. Both people I spoke to were in on it, of course, and my littl esocial experiment was very successful thanks to their secrecy. I originally got the idea from a guy who actually avoided verbal communication for an entire year, but derinitely couldn't do that in my line of work. Then I realized that I could observe those around me and peg their reactions to someone with a "handicap", so I decided to give it a go.
The first thing I discovered is that being made temporarily mute is very amusing and somewhat comical to both the subject and those being observed. Other people found it unique and funny, and I found it amusing.
I never realized how cool nonverbal communication is. I could mouth or mime most things and most people, and EDdi to an especially shocking extint, could understand me with very little effort. Of course I did have to write my thoughts out for some, but that's to be expected. Still, humanity is awesome for being able to communicate so well in different ways.
I also now have a much higher respect for the deaf/mute community, and a particular gratefulness for my voice, which sounded really odd when I finally spoke to Grandma and David this afternoon. It was a nifty experience, and I greatly appreciate the patience and cooperation of all those involved, rather they knew they were or not ;) Wolfie out ~W.V.~
Feb 27, 2009
Chronicles of the Sixth Period Art Class: Episode I; Consecration
So Ms. McCurly and I are if the same art class with a crew of trouble-making fools. Well, at some point a certain person,whose name shall not be revealed, invited a few of the wilder people in our class over to our table and asked them to join us in Te Penis Game. Said game involves each member of a class taking a turn saying the word "penis", the first person muttering it out in the slightest whisper. The volume of the word increases until the teacher notices...which, with our particular instructor's apparent hearing/attention problems, could mean that The Penis Game may have actually continued until someone on the other side of the room from where it began may actually have to scream, "PEEEENIIIIIIIIIS!" in order to end the game. I was the suggested starter of the game, and was considering actually participating when someone at our table began to use an ethnic accent that was quite obviously not their own Caucasion one to say, "Hey, you wanna get me a Rice Crispy Creat?" (inside joke).
This got the ethnic-accent-impressions going, and pretty soon it began,
"Man, we been readin' this book on da Holocaust and dem concecration camps..."
A ripple of laughter.
"Man, shut up, I gotsta consecrate on my work!"
"All y'all shut up, I'm tryin' to consecrate on this book!"
"You better not consecrate on my book!"
"But seriously, all the shoveling those poor people in the consecration camps had to do...I mean, they were probably having to consecrate on each other..."
"Hey man, can I consecrate on you?"
Finally, among the constant eruptions of laughter at our own immaturity and at the compulsive and unquenchable fit of giggles we'd been thrown into, Ms. McCurly returns to her normal speaking voice and asks, "Gah, why would you ever wanna consecrate on someone..."
I realized the slight irrelevancy of the quip, but I couldn't resist, and immediately responded with, "Well, if you're R Kelly..."
I don't think any of us stopped laughing until after the bell rang to move to seventh period. Eventually everybody was lost in a hopeless fit of giggling over everyone else's giggling. It was pretty hilarious.
This got the ethnic-accent-impressions going, and pretty soon it began,
"Man, we been readin' this book on da Holocaust and dem concecration camps..."
A ripple of laughter.
"Man, shut up, I gotsta consecrate on my work!"
"All y'all shut up, I'm tryin' to consecrate on this book!"
"You better not consecrate on my book!"
"But seriously, all the shoveling those poor people in the consecration camps had to do...I mean, they were probably having to consecrate on each other..."
"Hey man, can I consecrate on you?"
Finally, among the constant eruptions of laughter at our own immaturity and at the compulsive and unquenchable fit of giggles we'd been thrown into, Ms. McCurly returns to her normal speaking voice and asks, "Gah, why would you ever wanna consecrate on someone..."
I realized the slight irrelevancy of the quip, but I couldn't resist, and immediately responded with, "Well, if you're R Kelly..."
I don't think any of us stopped laughing until after the bell rang to move to seventh period. Eventually everybody was lost in a hopeless fit of giggling over everyone else's giggling. It was pretty hilarious.
Feb 26, 2009
"DEAD SQUIRRELS WALK THE EARTH!!!!"
Or so says Caroline, my bestest fwiend from kindergarden up. She is also the first to report to me the existence of zombie squirrels. Apparently, the story goes like this...
Care and a friend of hers were playing around in among the network of planks and foundation pieces that made up a house that was just going up. The crews weren't there for some reason, so the girls had free reign of the unfinished property. While adventuring among the building materials they came across a dead squirrel, which they buried in an empty box they found under some extra sand. They wrote something in the sand, "R.I.P. SQUIRREL" and whatnot, but were a bit freaked out because the squirrel wasn't buried quite deep enough and one of his little back feet was sticking out of the sand between the letters. They decided not to mess with it, so they went about their playing and eventually left.
A few days later the girls came back and came across the rodent's sandbox tomb again...only this time, no tiny foot sticking up. The lettering was undisturbed, and the girls figured maybe the very dead squirrel had somehow gone further inside the box, since he obviously hadn't come out of it. They emptied the box...nothing inside remotely small, dead, and furry. So they ran screaming, "DEAD SQUIRRELS WALK THE EARTH!!!!" for amusement. A funny story, but I still wanna know where the damn squirrel went...
Anyway, that dinner was amazing. Shells & cheese, homemade mashed potatoes, fried chicken, fried okra, ketchup, and Coke. There aren't many more enjoyable ways to spiral oneself comfortably closer to pericardium doom.
God, I pray that women lives forever or teaches me to cook...preferably both.
Well, that's all for now. On to my beast of a research paper. *curtsy* ~W.V.~
Care and a friend of hers were playing around in among the network of planks and foundation pieces that made up a house that was just going up. The crews weren't there for some reason, so the girls had free reign of the unfinished property. While adventuring among the building materials they came across a dead squirrel, which they buried in an empty box they found under some extra sand. They wrote something in the sand, "R.I.P. SQUIRREL" and whatnot, but were a bit freaked out because the squirrel wasn't buried quite deep enough and one of his little back feet was sticking out of the sand between the letters. They decided not to mess with it, so they went about their playing and eventually left.
A few days later the girls came back and came across the rodent's sandbox tomb again...only this time, no tiny foot sticking up. The lettering was undisturbed, and the girls figured maybe the very dead squirrel had somehow gone further inside the box, since he obviously hadn't come out of it. They emptied the box...nothing inside remotely small, dead, and furry. So they ran screaming, "DEAD SQUIRRELS WALK THE EARTH!!!!" for amusement. A funny story, but I still wanna know where the damn squirrel went...
Anyway, that dinner was amazing. Shells & cheese, homemade mashed potatoes, fried chicken, fried okra, ketchup, and Coke. There aren't many more enjoyable ways to spiral oneself comfortably closer to pericardium doom.
God, I pray that women lives forever or teaches me to cook...preferably both.
Well, that's all for now. On to my beast of a research paper. *curtsy* ~W.V.~
Abusive language...
And by that, I literally mean that we are abusing the English language...and deliciously so. A half-hour fit of uncontrollable giggles seized my table in art class today by the first accidental and then intentional misuse of the word "consecrate." We joked about everything from "consecration camps" to consecrating on our work to R Kelly. But I'll save my art class for Ms. McCurly to blog about. Her comic genius (and wonderfully contagious laughter) never ceases to amaze me. She's terribly interesting for a self-proclaimed boring person.
So while waiting for yet another of my grandmother's wonderful home-cooked meals, I shall blog about random crappola. I heard a phrase in my English class the other day that I took great offense to...and though I was, at that moment, terribly tempted to turn a few preps into pretzels, I held my tongue. I didn't hear the context of the phrase, but I doubt I will soon forget it's wording: "Stupid faggot, dicks are for chicks."
What on earth gives these people the right to say that?! My own surrogate brother, whom I love like on one else, is a homosexual. If they had known that, would they have blurted such an ignorant, prejudiced thing out right next to me in the middle of a fugging English class? I highly doubt it. Why? Cowardice. Their so-called beliefs are only important enough to them to voice them when their audience is in full agreement. What are we raising our children to become, here? I could have as easily said, "Hey cheerleader, go learn how to read!" or "Wow, those roids really become you," but to what end? Folks, tact is something people are sorely lacking these days...and the awe striking factor about it is that these people actually believe they have a right to impose the harassment of their prejudices on other people. They actually believe it. It's insane, but they just cannot comprehend that there are situations in which they are not and cannot be right. It's laughable...and if that particular slander hadn't hit so close to home with me, I would have laughed out loud. I want to say, "Let it go, they'll have a fire lit under their ass when they have to handle the world without their parents," but then I realize, sadly, that some of these kids will ride mommy and daddy's coattails into the grave without ever realizing how ignorant they are. But oh well...what else is there to say about it?
I have almost finished Looking for Alaska. It managed to drag up some memories of a friend of mine, and I cried a lot after school today, then managed to lock myself out of my van and get stuck at school until four forty-seven. Ain't that some luck? But anywhoo, I'm all comfy at home in my brother's room and I've got the book open while I'm typing...it's quite wonderfully written.
I suppose I should explain my situation. I toggle between my grandparents' house, in which I was raised, and my parents' (meaning my mother and stepfather) house. I developed a lot of knowledge of religion from attending churches with my mom and stepdad, along with my full brother, Nathan. I also adopted spiritualist views from the respect of nature and imperfect beauty that my grandmother taught me. As I've matured, I've theorized various things that involve different religions, and have my own thing...I found that one of my "surrogate brothers", Angel, also shares many of my views, which is insanely coincidental. So here's a quick summary of people you'll probably hear mentioned in my posts...
DAVID-the absolute love of my life (my Jacob, for you Twilight fans...Edward sucks :p )
GRANDMA, MAMA JO, GRANNY- mi abuela (my grandmother)
POP- my grandfather
NATHAN, NATER, NATE- my little, currently 13 year-old, blood brother
MS. MCCURLY- good buddy from my English and Art I classes, also hilarious and severely awesome.
SOTA- my closest "surrogate brother", meaning I consider him family in all senses.
ANGEL- a friend of mine that I look up to and who's been a sort of spiritual mentor to me, and, though his stoicism prevents me from knowing rather he returns the love, I consider him another brother.
TODD- my mother's brother, therefore my uncle, who is fifteen years older than me but acts about Angel's age, so he's always felt like another brother. He lives here too, with my grandparents, so we see each other a lot.
So okay. Just to open this up for comment, here is a rundown of my spiritual beliefs. There's some theory and some science in this, so those easily lost may wanna skim it.
I support, in modesty, the Buddhist belief that the energy that is the life of a person gets recycled and used over, based on the Law of Conservation of Energy. Since some die inexplicably, the only thing separating the living and the dead must be some sort of kinetic energy. This, I believe, may be separated from the soul (which I believe to be, for the most part, immortal) when a person kicks it, and that the energy may carry personality traits, memories, aptitudes, etc. with it into another living being (my homage to the theory of reincarnation). However, I do not believe any one human lives more than one life. I'm also very free-thinking, obviously, though I do put stock in most major Biblical standards. I also acknowledge and accept that we are animals, and though religion may enlighten the mind, the soul needs room to grow and discover on its own.
So I suppose you could call me a nondenominational Christian.
I have an odd knack for seeing really weird things in public places that no one seems to notice. Like honest-to-God cowboys walking out of a Mexican restaurant. Or sixty-something year-old Amish women congregating in glee in Victoria's Secret. Or a woman eating a burrito in the passenger seat of a standard Honda that drove itself...seriously. That Honda was possessed. And Chanting Black Man, a strange man who I first met many years ago chanting with a staff in hand on a street corner, and have since thusly referred to as such with affection. I'm also pretty sure squirrels can afford to be so retarded because they have an uncanny ability to return from the dead. But I'll save that for after dinner. *wink* L8r.
So while waiting for yet another of my grandmother's wonderful home-cooked meals, I shall blog about random crappola. I heard a phrase in my English class the other day that I took great offense to...and though I was, at that moment, terribly tempted to turn a few preps into pretzels, I held my tongue. I didn't hear the context of the phrase, but I doubt I will soon forget it's wording: "Stupid faggot, dicks are for chicks."
What on earth gives these people the right to say that?! My own surrogate brother, whom I love like on one else, is a homosexual. If they had known that, would they have blurted such an ignorant, prejudiced thing out right next to me in the middle of a fugging English class? I highly doubt it. Why? Cowardice. Their so-called beliefs are only important enough to them to voice them when their audience is in full agreement. What are we raising our children to become, here? I could have as easily said, "Hey cheerleader, go learn how to read!" or "Wow, those roids really become you," but to what end? Folks, tact is something people are sorely lacking these days...and the awe striking factor about it is that these people actually believe they have a right to impose the harassment of their prejudices on other people. They actually believe it. It's insane, but they just cannot comprehend that there are situations in which they are not and cannot be right. It's laughable...and if that particular slander hadn't hit so close to home with me, I would have laughed out loud. I want to say, "Let it go, they'll have a fire lit under their ass when they have to handle the world without their parents," but then I realize, sadly, that some of these kids will ride mommy and daddy's coattails into the grave without ever realizing how ignorant they are. But oh well...what else is there to say about it?
I have almost finished Looking for Alaska. It managed to drag up some memories of a friend of mine, and I cried a lot after school today, then managed to lock myself out of my van and get stuck at school until four forty-seven. Ain't that some luck? But anywhoo, I'm all comfy at home in my brother's room and I've got the book open while I'm typing...it's quite wonderfully written.
I suppose I should explain my situation. I toggle between my grandparents' house, in which I was raised, and my parents' (meaning my mother and stepfather) house. I developed a lot of knowledge of religion from attending churches with my mom and stepdad, along with my full brother, Nathan. I also adopted spiritualist views from the respect of nature and imperfect beauty that my grandmother taught me. As I've matured, I've theorized various things that involve different religions, and have my own thing...I found that one of my "surrogate brothers", Angel, also shares many of my views, which is insanely coincidental. So here's a quick summary of people you'll probably hear mentioned in my posts...
DAVID-the absolute love of my life (my Jacob, for you Twilight fans...Edward sucks :p )
GRANDMA, MAMA JO, GRANNY- mi abuela (my grandmother)
POP- my grandfather
NATHAN, NATER, NATE- my little, currently 13 year-old, blood brother
MS. MCCURLY- good buddy from my English and Art I classes, also hilarious and severely awesome.
SOTA- my closest "surrogate brother", meaning I consider him family in all senses.
ANGEL- a friend of mine that I look up to and who's been a sort of spiritual mentor to me, and, though his stoicism prevents me from knowing rather he returns the love, I consider him another brother.
TODD- my mother's brother, therefore my uncle, who is fifteen years older than me but acts about Angel's age, so he's always felt like another brother. He lives here too, with my grandparents, so we see each other a lot.
So okay. Just to open this up for comment, here is a rundown of my spiritual beliefs. There's some theory and some science in this, so those easily lost may wanna skim it.
I support, in modesty, the Buddhist belief that the energy that is the life of a person gets recycled and used over, based on the Law of Conservation of Energy. Since some die inexplicably, the only thing separating the living and the dead must be some sort of kinetic energy. This, I believe, may be separated from the soul (which I believe to be, for the most part, immortal) when a person kicks it, and that the energy may carry personality traits, memories, aptitudes, etc. with it into another living being (my homage to the theory of reincarnation). However, I do not believe any one human lives more than one life. I'm also very free-thinking, obviously, though I do put stock in most major Biblical standards. I also acknowledge and accept that we are animals, and though religion may enlighten the mind, the soul needs room to grow and discover on its own.
So I suppose you could call me a nondenominational Christian.
I have an odd knack for seeing really weird things in public places that no one seems to notice. Like honest-to-God cowboys walking out of a Mexican restaurant. Or sixty-something year-old Amish women congregating in glee in Victoria's Secret. Or a woman eating a burrito in the passenger seat of a standard Honda that drove itself...seriously. That Honda was possessed. And Chanting Black Man, a strange man who I first met many years ago chanting with a staff in hand on a street corner, and have since thusly referred to as such with affection. I'm also pretty sure squirrels can afford to be so retarded because they have an uncanny ability to return from the dead. But I'll save that for after dinner. *wink* L8r.
Feb 25, 2009
Who Wants to Live Forever-lyrics
There's no time for us
There's no place for us
What is this thing that builds our dreams
And slips away from us?
Who wants to live forever?
There's no chance for us
It's all decided for us.
This world has only one sweet moment
Set aside for us.
Who wants to live forever?
Who dares to love forever?
And love must die...
But touch my tears with your lips...
Touch my world with your fingertips...
And we can have forever
And we can love forever...
Forever without today
Who wants to live forever?
Forever without today...
Who has forever, anyway?
~Queen~
There's no place for us
What is this thing that builds our dreams
And slips away from us?
Who wants to live forever?
There's no chance for us
It's all decided for us.
This world has only one sweet moment
Set aside for us.
Who wants to live forever?
Who dares to love forever?
And love must die...
But touch my tears with your lips...
Touch my world with your fingertips...
And we can have forever
And we can love forever...
Forever without today
Who wants to live forever?
Forever without today...
Who has forever, anyway?
~Queen~
God, life is hilarious.
Seriously, it is.
Thanks to Ms. McCurly for making my life more bearable, and for introducing me to the eloquently hilarious works of John Green. :D
So I'm at my grandparent's house with David (the stunningly attractive male on my background holding the scary-looking thing wrapped in a blanket that is me) waiting to be fed, which anyone that shows their face here generally is. It's quite comfortable for me to write here, and I'm just dropping a blog to let my peeps know what I'm up to. I've had gale-force expulsion of fluids out of both ends of my body all day, so I was not at school today, and came here after work to do research paper typing/ historical terms defining. Figure I'll do that after I attempt to retain my dinner.
Looking for Alaska is an amazing novel. It really is. It's so real and easy to relate to for me that I can hardly put it down, and when I do, I think about it. I dreamed I was at Culver Creek last night. Gah, I love John Green.
I've been ranting to a few about this lately (If ranting were an Olymic sport, I'd be the Micheal Phelps of tyraids), but I'll publicly announce it; "Who Wants to Live Forever" by Queen shall be played at my funeral. It must. Go listen.
It's odd, I've never thought about songs to play at my wedding, which, God willing, is a lot closer than my funeral, but I suppose that's because I don't intend to have an actual ceremony. A courthouse wedding suits me and my pocketbook just fine (sorry, I was raised by my grandparents and often say "pocketbook" in lieu of "wallet"). Death is a very deep, but not necessarily morbid issue for me.
I mean, I am extremely comfortable with who I am. There are people that I've let into my heart and people that call me friend, and I have a tight little "family" that loves me. I've learned so much about love in such a small amount of time, and I know I'll never learn it all, but I'm satisfied with who I am. My own death doesn't scare me in the least. However, I am terribly, mindblowingly, irrevocably petrified of loss. Losing loved ones hurts like hell. Worse than any abuse I've yet to see. So far I've handled it well, but I haven't lost any of my precious ones yet. Thinking about that scares me. But I find the entire concept of death, well...peaceful. Not only relieving, but beautiful...the process of transcending the physical realm. What I am to become in the fullness of time is, I feel, why I was born with such a big heart among so many people that had none. Insight is a gift, though terminally opinionated, and I intend to make all the good of mine that I can while I'm alive...I breathe to lift people up. I've given everything for it, and I live that without regret. To see someone die with my state of mind, die knowing that they are beautiful against any standard because they know who they are...that is not sad. That is gorgeous. I watched a good friend go that way...so unexpectedly, but I sat in the pew at his funeral and cried because I missed him so much, and watched them close his casket down over his face...and then there was this rush of sweet, beautiful, relieving light. I felt him leave that sanctuary and I realized that he loved his life so much, but that he also knew who he was. Heaven welcomed a true son the night Baby Boy went home. ]
I haven't cried since. I guess that's why "Who Wants to Live Forever" is a perfect song...because those that really know me would listen to the breathtaking voice of a long-dead rock star and realize that I loved every second of my life...that I lived every single second. Cause life isn't practice...this is all you get. It's hard and a bitch, it's gorgeous, it's a miracle, and it's truly humorous when you look at it. God, life is hilarious. My best wishes to anyone else that sees that...keep up the good fight.
my quotes: "Rather you look at the glass as half empty or half full, you've still gotta figure out what to do with what's inside it."
"Everything's eventual."
Thanks to Ms. McCurly for making my life more bearable, and for introducing me to the eloquently hilarious works of John Green. :D
So I'm at my grandparent's house with David (the stunningly attractive male on my background holding the scary-looking thing wrapped in a blanket that is me) waiting to be fed, which anyone that shows their face here generally is. It's quite comfortable for me to write here, and I'm just dropping a blog to let my peeps know what I'm up to. I've had gale-force expulsion of fluids out of both ends of my body all day, so I was not at school today, and came here after work to do research paper typing/ historical terms defining. Figure I'll do that after I attempt to retain my dinner.
Looking for Alaska is an amazing novel. It really is. It's so real and easy to relate to for me that I can hardly put it down, and when I do, I think about it. I dreamed I was at Culver Creek last night. Gah, I love John Green.
I've been ranting to a few about this lately (If ranting were an Olymic sport, I'd be the Micheal Phelps of tyraids), but I'll publicly announce it; "Who Wants to Live Forever" by Queen shall be played at my funeral. It must. Go listen.
It's odd, I've never thought about songs to play at my wedding, which, God willing, is a lot closer than my funeral, but I suppose that's because I don't intend to have an actual ceremony. A courthouse wedding suits me and my pocketbook just fine (sorry, I was raised by my grandparents and often say "pocketbook" in lieu of "wallet"). Death is a very deep, but not necessarily morbid issue for me.
I mean, I am extremely comfortable with who I am. There are people that I've let into my heart and people that call me friend, and I have a tight little "family" that loves me. I've learned so much about love in such a small amount of time, and I know I'll never learn it all, but I'm satisfied with who I am. My own death doesn't scare me in the least. However, I am terribly, mindblowingly, irrevocably petrified of loss. Losing loved ones hurts like hell. Worse than any abuse I've yet to see. So far I've handled it well, but I haven't lost any of my precious ones yet. Thinking about that scares me. But I find the entire concept of death, well...peaceful. Not only relieving, but beautiful...the process of transcending the physical realm. What I am to become in the fullness of time is, I feel, why I was born with such a big heart among so many people that had none. Insight is a gift, though terminally opinionated, and I intend to make all the good of mine that I can while I'm alive...I breathe to lift people up. I've given everything for it, and I live that without regret. To see someone die with my state of mind, die knowing that they are beautiful against any standard because they know who they are...that is not sad. That is gorgeous. I watched a good friend go that way...so unexpectedly, but I sat in the pew at his funeral and cried because I missed him so much, and watched them close his casket down over his face...and then there was this rush of sweet, beautiful, relieving light. I felt him leave that sanctuary and I realized that he loved his life so much, but that he also knew who he was. Heaven welcomed a true son the night Baby Boy went home. ]
I haven't cried since. I guess that's why "Who Wants to Live Forever" is a perfect song...because those that really know me would listen to the breathtaking voice of a long-dead rock star and realize that I loved every second of my life...that I lived every single second. Cause life isn't practice...this is all you get. It's hard and a bitch, it's gorgeous, it's a miracle, and it's truly humorous when you look at it. God, life is hilarious. My best wishes to anyone else that sees that...keep up the good fight.
my quotes: "Rather you look at the glass as half empty or half full, you've still gotta figure out what to do with what's inside it."
"Everything's eventual."
Feb 23, 2009
It's Gotta Be Up to Us
Generally, I believe in refraining from comment on religion. Personally, I'm a nondenominational Christian with widespread views. However, a particularly well-loved Jesus Freak friend of mine confided something in me recently that I'd like to open up for discussion.
Recently the church that I attend has had some policy changes that are somewhat annoying to those that take everything literally or, more appropriately, attempt to incorporate their religious beliefs into every facet of their lives. Some see that as having great integrity, and others as impossible but a noble attempt. I'm a noble attempt kind of person. The changes that the church made, for the record, have not been publicly enforced upon its members at any point. However, serious concerns have arisin in my friend's mind. The first; gimmicks. Is everyone focusing more on marketing than mannerisms here? Another; is the leadership of the church taking the issues of denomination and church membership too far? I believe that question is harder to answer.
Recently, several incidents have occured between church leadership and the members of the church, especially in the student ministry. I will assert no opinions about the specific instances, only make them known for examination.
The first happened between my friend and the youth minister. My friend, who is (and I mean this with all love and in moderation) a little over-aggressive about religion at times, noticed the gimmick-frenzies and many hypocritical activities and, in a move that I think was a bit too much, posted a bullitin on myspace calling said church a "cult". The youth pastor is a myspace friend to most of the students at the church, and eventually saw the post and confronted my friend, which I acknowledge he had a right to do. After a spat, my friend and the minister worked the problem out like adults and my friend assumed that the air was clear. However, the youth pastor later brought my friend's family and other members of the church into the argument to assail him. That is what truly made the action of the administration questionable.
A more recent incident involves a student minister and the hierarchy above him. Said minister has been visiting other churches for some time due to the annoying changes mentioned at the beginning of this blog. He contuinued to treat fellow church members with love and respect, and took it upon himself to withdraw his membership from the church in an orderly and polite manner. His meeting with the head pastor over the issue was not entirely lovey-dovey, but the minister did successfully resign his membership without too much trouble. There were no problems until he attempted to attend a Christ-centered recovery group which he had helped lead and, though hosted by his former church, is and always has been open to the public (note: minister is an upstanding member of the community and does not abuse alcohol or drugs, but simply used his kindness and knowledge to help those that wanted to kick habits). When minister arrived at the meeting for the group, its leader approached him and told him that he was no longer welcome in the recovery group, and that these orders were from the lead pastor of the church. The minister later found another branch of the same recovery program, attended a meeting and, lo and behold, discovered more displaced, former members of his old church that had been kicked out of the program because they no longer chose to worship there.
Reserve of my opinion ends here.
This is so wrong. A pothead seeking sympathy can walk into a church off the street and get a pat on the back from a Christian support group, but an earnest Christian man with a desire to help people cannot attend a meeting of the same group because he, like the pothead, does not attend that church. The church opens its arms and says, "All are welcome, no strings attatched" but excommunicates a man that was once a valued member? No one is ever required to join the church to attend such meetings, but God forbid you withdraw your membership. It simply isn't right.
Jesus Christ offered salvation to the Jews and the Gentiles. He spoke words of love and healing to fishermen, tax collectors, prostitutes, religious elders, and anyone else willing to listen. His mercy is undeniable and His grace sufficient. So where is that of the people that call themselves His body? Is a man with a mind of his own any more unworthy of God's infinite love and acceptence than the other sinners doomed to die...is a free-thinking man worth less than anyone else? Free-thinking men founded the country that gives us the right to worship the God that these people so horribly represent. I am no angel; I do not claim to be perfect or even acceptable by any specific Biblical standard...but I will not stand silent among a group of people that I feel blatantly misrepresents the God that I love. Religion is relitive. Ultimately all responsibility for actions made based on religious views or beliefs lies on the shoulders of the person making those actions. If a person knows that, let them be. Their beliefs are their own and they are not required to apply any more or less of any structure or set of standards than they want to. A relationship with God does not require anyone but God and man, though iron sharpens iron. If there is to be a church may it do its best to guide those that seek a home inside its walls, not to mandate what is wrong or right for them and their unique situation. If God is displeased with the actions of a believer, He will chasten them. That is not the job of any preacher, priest, or reverend. No denomination has everything figured out the way God means for it to be, so instead of fighting without grounds, how about just focus on enriching our lives? God wouldn't have us arguing, and no living man can know where every trail ends. So shouldn't each human being be able to apply to his own life what beliefs are close to his heart?
Christians today are so busy fighting one another that they don't realize what jackasses they look like to the unsaved world and to each other. God made us beautiful and intellegent and gave us a choice...HE made us that way. Who are we to tell another what he may or may not believe? Christians so harass one another that many are turned away form organized religion altogether. Should a man be excommunicated by another man for doing what he feels will guide him to appropriately folllowing the God in which they both claim to believe?
My quotes on this entry: "Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever." ~Gandhi~
"I love your Jesus, for he is a very good man. I do not love your people. They are nothing like your Jesus." ~Gandhi
"Live and let live."
"Who are you to tell me that I'm less than what I should be?" ~Barlowgirl~
"For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God." ~The Book of Romans~
Recently the church that I attend has had some policy changes that are somewhat annoying to those that take everything literally or, more appropriately, attempt to incorporate their religious beliefs into every facet of their lives. Some see that as having great integrity, and others as impossible but a noble attempt. I'm a noble attempt kind of person. The changes that the church made, for the record, have not been publicly enforced upon its members at any point. However, serious concerns have arisin in my friend's mind. The first; gimmicks. Is everyone focusing more on marketing than mannerisms here? Another; is the leadership of the church taking the issues of denomination and church membership too far? I believe that question is harder to answer.
Recently, several incidents have occured between church leadership and the members of the church, especially in the student ministry. I will assert no opinions about the specific instances, only make them known for examination.
The first happened between my friend and the youth minister. My friend, who is (and I mean this with all love and in moderation) a little over-aggressive about religion at times, noticed the gimmick-frenzies and many hypocritical activities and, in a move that I think was a bit too much, posted a bullitin on myspace calling said church a "cult". The youth pastor is a myspace friend to most of the students at the church, and eventually saw the post and confronted my friend, which I acknowledge he had a right to do. After a spat, my friend and the minister worked the problem out like adults and my friend assumed that the air was clear. However, the youth pastor later brought my friend's family and other members of the church into the argument to assail him. That is what truly made the action of the administration questionable.
A more recent incident involves a student minister and the hierarchy above him. Said minister has been visiting other churches for some time due to the annoying changes mentioned at the beginning of this blog. He contuinued to treat fellow church members with love and respect, and took it upon himself to withdraw his membership from the church in an orderly and polite manner. His meeting with the head pastor over the issue was not entirely lovey-dovey, but the minister did successfully resign his membership without too much trouble. There were no problems until he attempted to attend a Christ-centered recovery group which he had helped lead and, though hosted by his former church, is and always has been open to the public (note: minister is an upstanding member of the community and does not abuse alcohol or drugs, but simply used his kindness and knowledge to help those that wanted to kick habits). When minister arrived at the meeting for the group, its leader approached him and told him that he was no longer welcome in the recovery group, and that these orders were from the lead pastor of the church. The minister later found another branch of the same recovery program, attended a meeting and, lo and behold, discovered more displaced, former members of his old church that had been kicked out of the program because they no longer chose to worship there.
Reserve of my opinion ends here.
This is so wrong. A pothead seeking sympathy can walk into a church off the street and get a pat on the back from a Christian support group, but an earnest Christian man with a desire to help people cannot attend a meeting of the same group because he, like the pothead, does not attend that church. The church opens its arms and says, "All are welcome, no strings attatched" but excommunicates a man that was once a valued member? No one is ever required to join the church to attend such meetings, but God forbid you withdraw your membership. It simply isn't right.
Jesus Christ offered salvation to the Jews and the Gentiles. He spoke words of love and healing to fishermen, tax collectors, prostitutes, religious elders, and anyone else willing to listen. His mercy is undeniable and His grace sufficient. So where is that of the people that call themselves His body? Is a man with a mind of his own any more unworthy of God's infinite love and acceptence than the other sinners doomed to die...is a free-thinking man worth less than anyone else? Free-thinking men founded the country that gives us the right to worship the God that these people so horribly represent. I am no angel; I do not claim to be perfect or even acceptable by any specific Biblical standard...but I will not stand silent among a group of people that I feel blatantly misrepresents the God that I love. Religion is relitive. Ultimately all responsibility for actions made based on religious views or beliefs lies on the shoulders of the person making those actions. If a person knows that, let them be. Their beliefs are their own and they are not required to apply any more or less of any structure or set of standards than they want to. A relationship with God does not require anyone but God and man, though iron sharpens iron. If there is to be a church may it do its best to guide those that seek a home inside its walls, not to mandate what is wrong or right for them and their unique situation. If God is displeased with the actions of a believer, He will chasten them. That is not the job of any preacher, priest, or reverend. No denomination has everything figured out the way God means for it to be, so instead of fighting without grounds, how about just focus on enriching our lives? God wouldn't have us arguing, and no living man can know where every trail ends. So shouldn't each human being be able to apply to his own life what beliefs are close to his heart?
Christians today are so busy fighting one another that they don't realize what jackasses they look like to the unsaved world and to each other. God made us beautiful and intellegent and gave us a choice...HE made us that way. Who are we to tell another what he may or may not believe? Christians so harass one another that many are turned away form organized religion altogether. Should a man be excommunicated by another man for doing what he feels will guide him to appropriately folllowing the God in which they both claim to believe?
My quotes on this entry: "Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever." ~Gandhi~
"I love your Jesus, for he is a very good man. I do not love your people. They are nothing like your Jesus." ~Gandhi
"Live and let live."
"Who are you to tell me that I'm less than what I should be?" ~Barlowgirl~
"For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God." ~The Book of Romans~
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