Challenges in Christianity

I've proven God exists, to myself that is. A series of questions and logical conclusions have led me to this belief. It is now so engraved in my mind that, questioning the existence of God is no longer a philosophical exercise; it has become fact.

There are a few other theologies which I have accepted as fact, neither of which I care to divulge at the moment. These principles all have stemmed from the Christian theology, using the Bible as the authority. But there exist concepts which I admit to having a limited understanding of; mostly all related to the human existence.

Romantic Love. What is it? Where is its place for the Christian? (For: Examples throughout the Bible. Against: 1 Cor 7, Matt 19:1-9)

Living a Holy (Obedient) Life: Why has God commanded us not to do the very things that He knows we would do? The frustration of failing, over and over again. "Go and sin no more" John 8:1-11. Impossible. So why even make the command? Now I write this reminding myself the Saviour died because of this very predicament. But was the command made solely to judge the guilty only to show the power of redemption? What then of the Forgiven, why/how should he be expected to live without sin? (For: Rom 6-8, and others. Against: The human experience).

I am undisciplined, and my laziness prevents me from writing further.

Lessons from a Pup

My professor spoke of humans having a hierarchy of chakras. How musicians (and artists) tend to reach for the easiest chakra; the lowest. Taking him at his word, the lowest level begins with the impulsive chakra. Sex, anger etc. It's why art forms tend to easily debase themselves over these topics. The highest form is love.

A friends dog died recently. A living creature has ceased it's breathing, it's body no longer gives off warmth and only noticed to those close by, the daily routines; fetching food, going for a walk and even the gentle pet after coming home from a long day have all been removed.

Now my friend is rather shaken up by the whole ordeal. Handling it in such ways as men often do. A day or two alone mourning over a six pack, perhaps a smoke while recalling a number of the cherished memories. He loved his dog.

I scrolled through a few photographs of the now deceased hound. A pet I have even handled on more than one occasion. I mulled over a few photos. Even felt my heart soften at such pictures as the dog snuggled asleep into a child arms. Or the silly photo when the playful pup rustled through the trash; which brought to mind an un-captured memory where he popped up with a canister of ice cream covering his snout. Cherished moments for my friend I am sure, and I even felt the love myself. Amazing what a photo can bring to mind.

Suddenly, without any reason or justification, while gazing through the photos I thought of something vulgar. Recalling a line from a movie I had seen sometime ago - completely unrelated - "I am Jacks ...". It was such a devilish thing to think. And in the spirit of what I'd call, clever whit, I thought to write the caption. Clever but shocking; is what would be said.

I did not write the post. I held my tongue this time.

Mind: Debased, it reaches to the lowest depths.

Voice: The higher chakra; will now become my aim.

*I don't believe in chakra; I'd call 'it' something else. Perhaps the Christian calls it sin and virtue.

Rubbish

Feelings come and go but the consequence of actions caused by fleeting emotions can leave a lasting (if not permanent) imprint.

I was not meant to be lazy, but I am. And what I am, I do not like. But it's not me I should not like, for I was not meant to be lazy.

I think. Therefore I write.

Feelings for an old flame come and go. Not to act on them is my sure hope.

My problem may no longer be with God. But rather with myself; for not wanting to do what God commands has put me in this state. And though unhappy as I may be, it's not with God I could be angry. But only with myself. I think thats why I started smoking.

This world is crazy; and I'm unhealthy.

Stained

Hate. It boils with passion and rage,
without reason. A Cold Heart you'll see
with no shame, to stabbing engage.
Soon this black man will bleed.
His blood will be red, just like his killer.
And Cold Hearted people, just don't remember
what it's like to smile and giggle,
swim in the summer, open gifts in December.
Hate. No need to continue this trend.
Let this stain not be covered, open to see
perhaps then, the wounding can mend.

My enemy, my neighbor
some strangers, all friend,
"Remember God in Heav'n
who made us all bleed red."
David Jensen 2010

Quick Quotes

If people were bold enough to state their real intentions:

"Wanted: Warm body. Arms and legs preferred."

Signed - More than just lonely.

"Lucky I'm in love with my best friend" Mranz.

The power of music strikes the soul. Motivates. Moves. Feels. There is something about the ability of poetic beats (music) to excite and rejuvenate the body. The mind.

Attraction seems much the same. Attraction. Motivates. Moves. Feels. Unexplainable. Uncontrollable. ... Destructive.

Best friends? And lovers? A rare combination.

The Rain

On a rainy day the malls are packed. They storm the dry sheltered safe haven seeking more than just a respite from the cold and wet, they crave their consumer spend hungry addictions. It's an amazing sight to see. On a day when Nature has declared, "Stay home", like zombies, bodies in motion dedicated to their goal; throwing on some shoes, a pair of sweats and sweat shirts. They venture to their 'duty'. What could be a great day to read, to phone a loved one far away becomes a day like any other; spend, spend, a starbucks and a return, spend, spend again.

We sit and sip a beer. Exchange the same old stories we've all heard; Lou's wife with cancer; in and out for years. Bob's wife cheated on him years ago; they reconciled, now he's miserable. And Ted, a sort of mystery though his story will soon be unveiled. And so we sit, listening to the rain. I don't suppose we're any different, we just go to Tavern and drink our day away. Protected from the rain.

A Silly Rhyme

Major Editing Required. But I couldn't let the thought fade, never to be thought again.

I found a note today.

"Allow yourself to love.

Let yourself be loved.

You have one heart, it's meant for others too."

I thought it rather silly; to read this stupid note.

Until I tried to live it, and admit I am addicted.

I like this one a lot. Of all I've ever writ,

I hope you like it too, cause it's my favorite.

If you read this in the night, I hope it brings you peace.

If you read this when you wake, I hope it brings you joy.

If you read this in the day,

I just would like to say;

despite your hurts and pain,

may you be loved always.

(A silly little little rhyme, with tons of truth inside)

The First Day

Garbage. The idea was there. I blew it. Major editing required.

Giddy. Excited. Restless. It's so hard to fall asleep. I close my eyes and dream but still awake. I lie here, thinking not dreaming, it's now impossible to sleep.

Who will I see tomorrow? What will we talk about? Will there be a new girl? These and so many other questions race through my mind.

Wanting to look handsome, my blue jean overalls, a white TShirt and those new Addidas are already laid out. Don't normally do that, but tomorrow is a special day! So excited, I spent forever thinking about which new outfit I would wear. Every year mom buys us a few new clothes for school.

She could tell we were restless, I think she heard Mike and I talking. She comes in to check on us, "Go to sleep!" in a firm tone, then more tenderly, and almost in a whisper, "You've got a long day ahead of you tomorrow". This repeated until 4AM.

That's about the last I looked at the clock, maybe 4:30. I woke up full of energy that day. Went through the whole day without fatigue at all. I remember two girls very well - amazing the things the mind recalls, even after 15 years have passed - I did have a thing for tall girls with braces. Weird huh? Still do! I recall the brunette from work with braces. Some things never change. And today is much that way. Excited. Giddy. It's not the first day of school any more. It's the first day of work after a long vacation.

How utterly boring.

(When I was older I would find out not all kids had the same privilege of receiving new clothes for school. Just one of many realizations that reminds me that I've grown up.)

"Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come" Ecc 12:1

Continue reading Ecclesiastes 12.

Fast Cats; life it seems so well.

A job, a chick, a dream.

They live, they love,

they're cool, they'll never sweat their brow.

One part envy, three parts pity.

"They'll never be so witty."

-A Writers Witt. (a work in progress).

David Jensen

Life.

I knew a boy who once was happy and charming. I knew a young man who had ambition, hopes and dreams. Then the world changed. Or perhaps it's always been this way and recently been enlightened, the perception is the same.
I know an old man. His eyes stare forward, steadied, gazing into nothing. A hardened expression on his face. He answers honestly when asked "It's all the same. Don't believe in hope. I know YOU need it. Hold on to it son. Hold on to it." With firm strong working hands he rocks forward, grabs a cold one from the cooler. Rocking back and with those same strong fingers; "click-CLICK" the can now opened - a crisp refreshing release, like "snap crackle pop" - he takes his first sip.
This is when he smiles. A tender moment to behold.

I would visit him many times. Gestures much the same, gazing into nothing, rocking forward, rocking back and he would look me in the eye when we talked, expressionless. His words were confident and full of the wisdom you'd expect from an experienced veteran, an elder. "Love; something you just have to experience yourself. No one can tell you about it." Another one, on religion, "There is a God. He does good to all because He is love. Now, some people go to Heaven and some people go to Hell. Accept it. That's just the way it is. But be kind to all." He was always brief and to the point with a simple sentence structure.
He had other little phrases too, most of which I've forgotten now. But his smile is imprinted forever into my cherished memory. I only saw it twice. The eyes glistened, strong and steady, with that slight swell of a happy tear - only for the slightest moment. It was a smile that broke through a whithered face, his teeth were whiter and his whole body seemed brighter. It was this brief moment, happy.
That's how I remember him, those two smiles. He looked his best then. Happy.

I miss the old man. Bastard, moved away, haven't seen him since. He probably smiles a hell of a lot more now.

A Well Lit Room

The Beginning...

That's where most people start. But I find myself already in The Middle. And though I'm closer to The End it's not in sight.

A series of incomplete thoughts continue sprinting through my mind. Short phrases at a time. Like the old Batman show, "Bam!" "Whap!" on the screen for seconds at a time, then disappear. (Where did those words go? I ask myself the same.) This is my style. But for Your sake, Reader, I will keep You in mind, and try my very best to keep some concentration. The result I hope will be a complete thought.

The Middle...

Clothes spread across both floor and bed. A slight pattern of placement. New, unwashed; it's just been Christmas. Awaiting to be ironed. Unwashed, dirty. And finally the pile still in the basket, clean awaiting to be folded. Oh! I almost forget, the unpacked bags. AC went well, I wonder what I'll do with my winnings.

The room is quiet, lit only by a clouded sun. The curtains have been open for a year now, the light helps me wake in the morning. It's a cold light. Light nonetheless and it illuminates the bag on the floor, the dirty cap - I love that hat! It's a sign of sweat, hard work, I wear it every time I go to camp - and this bright peacock I received on Easter. It's all that remains from a broken romance. The light, though it illuminates the room it brings no warmth. A cold, dull, melancholly light invades my room.

And this this silly peacock thing, lifeless yet brings more mood than this grayed sun. I received it with an Easter basket, the basket I was supposed to save. Ironically, I was berated for tossing the basket, but the peacock remains; the romance does not. Awhile back, curious, I thought it was worth something. With a quick inspection, I expected to see "Hand Crafted", I read "Made in the Philippines". Disappointed, I remember picking it up and gearing myself to throw it out. Yet here it remains, today, I found its purpose. It's eye appealing. A light baby blue, obviously female with pink cheeks and a very small basket of her own. She wears a crown of baby blue flowers (fake of course). Her face is delicate, like a southern belle who will soon be courted by others less noble then herself - she's of a dying breed.

And so she stays, fixed upon my dresser. Staring into the mirror. Head cocked slightly, a permenant fixture, for now... Oh and she doesn't smile, expressionless she looks happy.

I'm now far removed from the memories of this special Easter gift. This peacock adds some life - a break from my melancholy mind and my mundane room. Expressionless yet happy.

The End...

Perception is reality. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. I think You'd like the peacock too.

It's new years day, and nothing feels new. Except this blog. And blogs are a load of crap.