Thursday, March 22, 2007

Chapter 14 Some Semblance of Teetotalism

Levi and I jumped in the car and we were off to get his treat.

You see, it just so happens in the Jacobson house, that if a child can practice restraint over his or her particular vice for a period of time, then a small, five-dollar prize awaits the victor at our local Walgreens.

It all begins with the accumulation of a week’s worth of stickers on the calendar representing each day he or she is able to stare down and defeat a particular issue which is damaging to the soul and body. Levi, who is seven, has been asked to leave his tattered, beloved dottie-dog (think Beanie-baby Dalmatian) in his bed, for if his right hand is holding it, his left thumb is firmly planted in his mouth. Thus, if we keep the dog in his bed, we limit thumb-sucking to only those moments of top-bunk slumber.

And so he did it. One whole week of dominance over the dark side. Truth be told, though, it wasn't long before Levi could be spotted wandering around the house, slipping back to his old ways. It's a struggle for him, but as his benevolent parents, we're mostly interested in a gradual scaling back; you know, toward some semblance of thumb-sucking teetotalism.

Anyhow, a celebration was still to be had for the one week of abstinence, so, back to the trip at hand. The Police were just starting in with Spirits in the Material World and you should know that this is just about my most favorite non-Boss song from the 80’s, and Levi seemed to agree that it was pretty cool, so we sang it together.

In fact, I like it so much and it’s never long enough (like most Police songs), so I played it over and over.

And over again, all the way to the Walgreens parking lot.

It’s really a simple little ditty, so here goes (sing it in your head, after the funky synth intro):

There is no political solution
To our troubled evolution
Have no faith in constitution
There is no bloody revolution

We are spirits in the material world
(Are spirits in the material world
Are spirits in the material world
Are spirits in the material world)

Our so called leaders speak
With words they try to jail you
The subjugate the meek
But it's the rhetoric of failure

(Repeat Chorus)

Where does the answer lie?
Living from day to day
If it's something we can't buy
There must be another way

We are spirits in the material world
(Are spirits in the material world)


So, Levi and I, firmly aware of our spirits-in-the-material-world status, went into Walgreens where, after much deliberation, he proceeded to pick out a plastic motorcycle with a guy on it and a package of candy.

When we walked out of the store, Levi had his chin held high and a big smile on his face. I asked him if he wouldn’t mind if we played the song again, like five times on the way home, and he obliged. He sang and played with his new guy and by the time we reached our driveway, Levi knew most of the words, or at least some version of them since Sting never did articulate the lyrics very well.

Interestingly, I read once that this song made the top 10 list of the "Most Misunderstood Lyrics." Not the meaning behind them, the actual words themselves. In fact, you may be learning as well, for the very first time, the real lyrics to this song, which all along you thought were something else.

Spirits in the material world?


Levi made up his own: "Yee haw, don't spit in my cereal, ha."

And I learned "Icy 'coladas treat" is actually "Our so called leaders speak."

Anyway, since the 80's have come and gone, along with the 90's and any semblance of my youth, I found myself reflecting more on the meaning behind these lyrics, and Levi too, with his vanquished vice and treat of celebration.

Maybe, upon closer inspection of the whole thing, it’s not a simple little ditty after all.

Sting was right, in that we are a troubled evolution. Or creation. Or however you want to look at it. We each have chinks in our armor which may be our own little secret, or we may have chosen to go public. Or we've been caught in it, removing any choice at all in the matter.

Like Levi, we each have our vice requiring us to practice some form of restraint.

I’ll admit I get a bit lost on the overall meaning of the song, especially now that I know the lyrics, but perhaps the thrust of it is to condemn our collective reliance on material things, even our material skin; that our time here is fleeting, and whatever causes us to be a faulty humanity is simply too large a burden to carry, so instead it makes sense to pacify ourselves with the notion that we’re all beautiful souls trapped in temporary bodies, in a gravity filled world that is all upside down and backassward.

But really, this wandering post isn't about what Sting might have meant, so I digress.

What I’m really trying to say is that there are long held truths that we’ve always assumed are truths, much like our botched rendition of Police lyrics. Might be a bad church history thing or a legalistic upbringing. We keep singing along to what we think the words are, when actually, those aren’t the lyrics at all.

You and I, we’re pretty screwed up. We'll struggle for a lifetime to defeat a particular issue which is damaging to our soul and body. I'm not trying to excuse sin, but somehow instead we need to come to grips with the fact that some of what we’ve believed to be true all of these years, well, it simply isn’t.

In fact, once we hear the lyrics the right way, it's pretty hard to hear them any other way.

Despite our collective shortcomings, in God's eyes we're beautiful, ransomed and redeemed. Any attempt to believe otherwise undermines the very reason Jesus was sacrificed on the cross. Sin and death have been defeated, but when we wallow in our guilt and shame, we essentially tell him the whole Resurrection thing didn't stick.

We each have our own vice, so in this, none of us should feel alone. And we rarely pick a new one. We tend to repeat our pattern, and unfortunately that means that this vice, whatever it is, will be with us and hound us for the rest of our lives. We have to be honest with ourselves--it will. We can't assume that we're ever far enough away from it that Satan won't keep it high on his list of taunt and torture tactics.

By the way, if you think you're above it or beyond your particular little issue, then he has you right where he wants you. Pretty soon we'll find you wandering around the house, slipping back to your old ways, your vice hanging out of your pocket.

And yes, the truth is, whatever that vice is, the sin arising out of it separates us from God. But Jesus beat that sin on the cross, which is why grace always wins.

This is a daily struggle, no doubt. We need to get back up when we fall and we need to find the right help to get us through it and community to support us. And we have to put stickers on our calendars and learn how to acknowledge our successes and not beat ourselves up with stupid lies about our worthlessness or some unwillingness on Jesus' part to forgive us (again).

And don't forget about that misheard lyric that grace just won't cut it this time.

It will.

Pretty soon, if we keep at it, we can hold our chin high and look forward to a gradual scaling back to some semblance of teetotalism.


And don't forget about a treat to help you celebrate.

4 He was sheer weakness and humiliation when he was killed on the Cross, but oh, he's alive now - in the mighty power of God! We weren't much to look at, either, when we were humiliated among you, but when we deal with you this next time, we'll be alive in Christ, strengthened by God. 5 Test yourselves to make sure you are solid in the faith. Don't drift along taking everything for granted. Give yourselves regular checkups. You need firsthand evidence, not mere hearsay, that Jesus Christ is in you. Test it out. If you fail the test, do something about it.

2 Cor. 13: 4-6

Monday, March 05, 2007

Chapter 13 Only Fools Believe Such Nonsense

17 A man out of the crowd answered, "Teacher, I brought my mute son, made speechless by a demon, to you."

The shell of my captured is lifeless. To my master’s satisfaction, I’ve used secrecy and subtlety and with a little bit of resolve, I've consumed him. I always snicker on the inside, because everyone should know my methods by now.
But they don't.

In fact, you don't.

Now, you probably have some limited understanding of the time continuum, but limited is where I want you to stay, for my ways are then sealed in some ancient story, with frothing of the mouth and seizures and the mania of demonic possession. If it’s ancient to you, then perceived boundaries are drawn.


Allow me to let you in on a little secret, though: I know no boundaries. I know no time, for I don’t play by your rules.

Certainly you appreciate that I’m vile. I'm the lowest form of just about anything you can conceive of, and even then I'm much worse. Take a death row inmate—no, take every guilty, demented death row inmate—and the shame of their crimes and the cries of their victims are entertainment for me. I rejoice in their pain. In fact, I take full responsibility for each and every heinous act, for at their worst, I'm at my best.

I do report in regularly, for my master is obsessed with control and he won’t be denied access to my whereabouts and my efforts on his behalf. If I could rise up against him, I would; there is no loyalty in these ranks, only fear and some twisted duty arising out of it.

I summon him for our daily briefing. There’s no small talk, so I begin without delay. I take sick pleasure in the father's desperation:


18 "Whenever it seizes him, it throws him to the ground. He foams at the mouth, grinds his teeth, and goes stiff as a board. I told your disciples, hoping they could deliver him, but they couldn't."

“Even his closet followers have failed in their attempts to be rid of me,” I inform my liege, with smug satisfaction.

“That’s because they’re idiots. Press on, and do not disappoint me.”

“I won’t. Have I ever?”

There’s no response because he knows. In the wake of his silence, I know he acknowledges my greatness.

I return to the task at hand, and it’s the same. It’s always the same. Then, now, whatever you think time is—I’m an occupier and a parasite. I will devour every last bit of goodness in you, well beyond your ridiculous hope for redemption. Even as you read this, I am bound and determined to de-rail your faith. I will cause you to doubt the resurrection, to see the folly of religion, church and biblical fairy tales.

Only fools believe such nonsense.

My genius is in all that you don’t acknowledge as my work, as I rise on the wake of each dawn to begin my pursuit of you, well before you can even embrace the promise of a new morning.

I am stress, and I weigh heavy on you. I attack you. I am the one who tells you over and over that you’re not capable of handling this life. Any of it.

I am distrust for your mate, your child, your boss and your closest confidant. They will betray you and I’m behind it all.

I am your addiction and I am constantly making a way for you to enter into temptation. I will make sure you fall, time and time again. There are limitations to grace and you have found them.

I am guilt, and I am shame.

I am pain, for you are worthless and everything eating at you right now is me, reminding you that you’ll never amount to anything. You are a failure. You are a statistic.

I am depression and disease. I will tear at your health and sense of well-being.

I am death, and I’m coming for you.

19 Jesus said, "What a generation! No sense of God! How many times do I have to go over these things? How much longer do I have to put up with this? Bring the boy here."

Go ahead. Read this story all you want. Preserve it away as history and I have won. Even now you will doubt its accuracy, for how could this really have happened? It’s not relevant.

20 They brought him. When the demon saw Jesus, it threw the boy into a seizure, causing him to writhe on the ground and foam at the mouth. 21 He asked the boy's father, "How long has this been going on?" 22 Many times it pitches him into fire or the river to do away with him. If you can do anything, do it. Have a heart and help us!"

Yes, I will pitch you into the fire of your gluttony. I will drown you in the river of apathy. Don’t beg for mercy for there is none to be given. Even now you say “if” because you can’t conceive of the rescue.

I am skepticism.

23 Jesus said, "If? There are no 'ifs' among believers. Anything can happen."

If only you did believe. But you don’t, for I’m still here, and I’m destroying you.

24 No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the father cried, "Then I believe. Help me with my doubts!" 25 Seeing that the crowd was forming fast, Jesus gave the vile spirit its marching orders: "Dumb and deaf spirit, I command you - Out of him, and stay out!"

And just like that, I am blinded. I obey him, and I cower, for how could I not? He is the Bright and Morning Star, and I am shadow. He is the Prince of Peace, and I am war. He is the Lamb, and I am slaughter.

He is love. And I am hate.

26 Screaming, and with much thrashing about, it left. The boy was pale as a corpse, so people started saying, "He's dead." 27 But Jesus, taking his hand, raised him. The boy stood up.

I am defeated.

28 After arriving back home, his disciples cornered Jesus and asked, "Why couldn't we throw the demon out?" 29 He answered, "There is no way to get rid of this kind of demon except by prayer." (Mark 9: 17-29, The Message)

I am silenced.

Friday, March 02, 2007

Porpoise Diving Life

The March issue is up, with contributions from some of your blog-o-friends!

Check it out here.

peace,

~ Jeff