Snow. Ah the beautiful white fluff that covers everything and turns driving into the hobby for the desperate. We got the first big snow of the year today. Well, it’s probably the biggest snow storm we’ve had in a while. I love snow. Yeah, it’s cold. Yeah, it’s wet. Yeah, it makes the roads really slick so I can’t go see my girlfriend–but I still love it. I think tomorrow I’m gonna build me a snowman.
The only thing I don’t understand about the snow, is people’s panic. My church canceled all services tomorrow because of the weather. Who cancels church? You don’t cancel church. You can’t cancel church. You know people are going to show up at 10:30 tomorrow morning, wanting to worship God. But the doors will be locked, and we’ll all be snug in our nice warm homes. Cancel church? I thought church was like Meijer’s and 711–they never close.
Oh well. Just for kicks, I have to mention this: Tonight I watched one of the coolest movies ever. It hasn’t received much acclaim, and I think it probably got slammed at the Oscars. But that’s okay, all the good movies do. The Man Who Knew Too Little with Bill Murray. It has to be one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen. If you haven’t seen it, go rent it now. You can’t write a better comic premise. Adam Sandler and the late Chris Farley can have their misplaced anger, profanity, and sex jokes–but they’ll never have anything as funny as the comic possibilities presented in “The Man Who Knew Too Little.” It’s even too cool to try and explain. Go watch it.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a snowman to build.
1999. Wow. I had go back and fix the date. It certainly won’t be the last time. I guess I don’t have too much to say about the whole New Year’s thing. I don’t get into the resolutions, and the whole thing doesn’t seem like that big of a deal to me. It’s like getting excited about the odometer in your car turning over 100,000 miles. It’s kind of funny that we humans have to pause and celebrate, just because the numbers in our way of organizing things turn over. It’s not like today is any different from yesterday. The only thing different is that I’ll keep writing the wrong date. It seems the only thing this turning over of the calendar is good for is making money. Maybe I’m just a New Year’s Scrooge, but look at next year. Talk about a moneymaker. Hotels have been booked for years. M&M’s are sponsoring the new millennium. I’d wish I was the genius who came up with the idea of selling the Mars Candy Company those rights (anyone want to buy the Brooklyn Bridge?). Next year is just a really big turn over of the calendar. Sometimes I wonder if God looks down at us and laughs. Silly people, nothing’s changing.
I guess the only thing the New Year does do is make us stop and think for a moment. I suppose that’s good. I do advocate thinking. It is the one time of the year when people stop for a moment and reflect on what they’ve done and what they’re doing. Where they’re going. Hmm… where we’re going. That’s a frightening question sometimes. But for me anyway, it does bring some sense of hope. Because I know that the only hope in the future I have is that God is in control, and so I don’t have to worry. That’s always a good thing to know.
So Happy New Year, I guess. Although I don’t see what makes it any different. Unless you remember to write the correct year, which would make it a happy year.
It’s come to my attention that a lot of guys out there don’t have a clue how to treat women. This is becoming more and more apparent, and not just because a few jerks out there can’t get dates. The main problem is society and they way we portray sex, relationships, and women. Sex is cheap. Relationships equal sex. Women are objects. This twisted mentality is destroying people.
Continue reading Guys Don’t Have a Clue
I have just witnessed one of the most frightening things in my life. My heart is racing, my skin is clammy, my muscles are tense with fear.
So there I was, enjoying my Christmas vacation. It was just another Sunday, nothing special. I spent the evening relaxing with my girlfriend. I got home ready to drift off to a nice quiet sleep. As usual, I had a snack, and flipped through some channels on the TV before going to bed. I suppose that was mistake number one.
Continue reading Jesus and Event Horizon
Happy Christmas! Instead of rambling about the consumer-driven mess Christmas has become, I’m just going to point you to a good story to read.
Christmas Eve huh? Well, that’s what the calendar says, but I don’t believe it. Christmas sure has changed for me since being a little kid. I’m looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow. It also doesn’t really feel like Christmas because my girl friend’s not here. She’s in Indiana, with family. Yeah, kinda sucks. But she’ll be back on Saturday (aka, don’t look for a Daily Thought on Saturday, I’ll be with you know who). :)
Christmas. This is when the Savior of the world was born, right? And we celebrate by decorating a pine tree and giving each other presents? Yeah, makes sense to me.
At a kid’s Christmas program a few weeks ago, the teacher was sharing some drawings about Christmas that the kids had done. I think the coolest one I saw was a picture of the baby Jesus next to a picture of the older Jesus, hanging on the cross. The kid made a pretty major connection–one most of us forget. But what really amazed me was the Jesus on the cross. He had a big huge smile. It may not be exactly accurate, but it really makes you think.
“Christmas” he thought, “doesn’t come from the store.”
“Maybe Christmas… perhaps… means a little bit more.” (How the Grinch Stole Christmas! by Dr. Seuss)
Sometimes I have to stop and ask myself who I think I am. Just who do I think I am? Everyday I paste my thoughts here for all to see–as if I have it all together. The truth is I don’t. I don’t have everything taken care of, I don’t have it all in place, I don’t know what’s going on. Half the time my searing sarcasm and cynicism is directed right back at myself–and if I don’t intend it that way, it probably should be.
I just feel like I’m making myself to be some great guru, dispensing his wisdom through the Internet. A wise sage, who never does wrong and has all the right answers. Quite honestly, I don’t know the answers, and this is my poor attempt at grasping for those answers.
“But then I stop and look and think about how big I really am / Oh let my pride fall down / I’m a little man.” -The Supertones, “Little Man”
“A little child can not do a bad coloring; nor can a child of God do bad prayer. ‘A father is delighted when his little one, leaving off her toys and friends, runs to him and climbs into his arms. As he holds his little one close to him, he cares little whether the child is looking around, her attention flitting from one thing to another, or just settling down to sleep. Essentially the child is choosing to be with her father, confident of the love, the care, the security that is hers in those arms. Our prayer is much like that. We settle down in our Father’s arms, in his loving hands. Our mind, our thoughts, our imagination may flit about here and there, we might even fall asleep; but essentially we are choosing for this time to remain intimately with our Father, giving ourselves to him, receiving his love and care, letting him enjoy us as he will. It is very simple prayer. It is very child like prayer. It is prayer that opens us out to all the delights of the kingdom.'” From The Ragamuffin Gospel by Brennan Manning (page 155)
How often do we really think of God as Father, as Daddy. So often we think of the colossal cosmic creator, the mighty God of judgement and vengeance, the God of wrath. But he is also the God that loves us as his dear children. Like a loving father, he wants us to curl up in his lap. The masterpiece we spent hours coloring may look like slop to another, but our Father frames it. It’s refreshing to think that when I pray–when I stumble for the words to say, when my mind wanders and I find myself thinking of tomorrow’s test, or even when I nod off to sleep–it’s refreshing to think that God is still pleased. My prayers never amount to more than child like mumbles, but that doesn’t matter to God.
God adores the simplicity of a child. Too bad we’ve gone off and ruined it.
“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.” Luke 18:16-17 NIV
I must apologize for skipping the last couple of days. We’ve been messing with our computers, adding a hard drive to my parents’ computer and totally reinstalling Windows 95 on my computer. So I’ve been up really late wrestling with the software from hell. As of now my parents’ computer works fine, and mine won’t even start. Thank you Bill Gates.
But hey, what’s there to complain about, it snowed today!
Ever feel really out of place? Just feel like you don’t fit in at all? Hanging out with some high schoolers has given me that feeling recently. I went to a concert the other night, one of these local, underground punk things. It only cost $3 to get in. I was wearing the same thing I wore to church that morning–which isn’t as bad as it sounds–my Mother did frown at me when we walked out the door. My faded jeans, year and a half old sneakers, and a nice sweater that made it church-acceptable. Of course that’s not exactly standard dress at a punk show.
I stood there near the back of the crowd, just looking around. Baggy jeans, wallet chains, piercings everywhere imaginable, a few tattoos, either punk rock or ancient thrift shop T-shirts, purple hair, skater shoes, and the like. Nothing I haven’t seen before, but of the entire crowd, I was the lone minority. Makes you think a little bit. I couldn’t help but wonder how many conservative church leading Christians would frown and scoff at this room full of “Christian punks.”
We tell the world that Jesus is for everyone, slave or free, Jew or Gentile, etc. But do we really accept everyone into the house of God? Or do we demand that certain people tuck in their shirts and comb their hair?