THE RESOLUTION

   As of this writing, we are nineteen days into the new year. It still has that “new car” smell to it. Usually, this late, people have ceased talking about “New Year’s resolutions” and settled back into the well-worn groove of everyday life.
But I’m no stranger to coming late to the party, heck, it’s one of my defining characteristics. Why break tradition?
This is actually a better time to ponder these weighty matters, not on New Year’s Eve. The Christmas tree is still up, and we’re still in the “party” mode. The special food, champagne, gatherings and celebration mentality doesn’t lend itself to quiet reflections and meditations of the coming year.
But it isn’t too late and I can think clearer a few weeks into it. What will the year hold? What will change? What dream to pursue or goals to set?
One of the significant things I learned in 2014 was a real perspective change. I write this as a Christian. This may not make sense if you’re not a believer.
It occurred to me that sometimes we are so close that we can’t see the obvious. The forest and trees scenario. That was me.
Simply, I think we try too hard sometimes, at least I do. We see a standard, compare ourselves with others, and strive to hit the mark. And we STRIVE. We try to be smart, go the extra mile only to end up feeling spent instead of fulfilled, used up rather than satisfied.
I’m not advocating being a slouch. Obviously, hard work is a key ingredient to any endeavor.
My radical New Year’s resolution is to take words at their face value. It’s crazy I know. For example, look at some of the things that Jesus said. He talked about light and easy yokes, resting, abundant life and peace; letting go of grudges and making peace with your adversary.
He not only talked about it, but lived it. Jesus often got away by Himself to rest, reflect and pray. He napped in boats, and often sent the guys off to get provisions or make arrangements. He would stay behind and enjoy the quiet.
Jesus Christ was never in a hurry. Ever.
Contrast that with Christians. I’m not bashing us, I’m pointing out a blind spot. Many live as though everything is up to them. Nothing will get accomplished if we don’t do it. Overworked, stressed and tired are badges of honor to reassure us we’re doing all we can.
For some reason, the world isn’t attracted to grouchy, short - tempered people, and we fail to influence like we should. The world needs Jesus, and we model Him poorly. Christians ought to contrast the culture with tranquil, cheerful lives.
Back to my resolution. I’ve decided to disembark from this crazy train. I will intentionally believe what I’ve been told I am and what I have. I will believe things so radical some Christians may call me a heretic. I’m okay with the label as long as no one is gathering firewood or looking for rope.
 The finished work of Christ has placed me under Grace, transferred me from death to life and changed me from a doomed slave to a son, an heir with full privileges of family. I will stop striving to accomplish things I can’t, and rest like He said to.
The Bible that I read uses words like exceedingly abundant, freely given and abounding Grace. It describes victory, reigning and rejoicing. It is abundance, wealth and overflowing cups. I want that, and won’t feel guilty for being Blessed and receiving what is mine. I will leave meagerness and lack for the ones who are on their own.
This year, I will move slower and more intentionally. I will have less on my to - do list. I’ll honor the high price paid for my freedom by celebrating it! I will confidently walk out of the prison I’m not confined to.

HIGHER EDUCATION

   Just to be clear, I’ll state up front that I do indeed have a college degree. I don’t wish anything negative to be construed as sour grapes because I never made it to college.

   That said, I got my business degree when I was forty years old. I worked a full time job and was able to squeeze a two-year degree into seven years. I should host seminars on how to pull that feat off. Trust me, it’s not as easy as it sounds. I felt like I was living two separate lives condensed into one body. The point is that I have a unique perspective from both sides of the tracks.

   I suppose part of my frustration with the whole higher education process are the things you must learn to be pronounced “enlightened”. I wouldn’t mind studying unrelated and pointless things, but this is costing me a semester of time. Besides, this is not a cheap endeavor. For this kind of cash I should be remotely interested, but often I was not. But, I’m sure I learned something valuable to put in my sack for the journey.

   But, there was a gap between the idealistic expectation and the “feet on the ground” reality. Originally, I was filled with anticipation of having the world’s smartest people impart so many valuable things to me. I would attend classes in these huge buildings that showcase awesome architecture. With structures that incredible, there had to be brilliance housed inside. I felt a little smarter just walking in the door, with an air that I somehow belonged.

   Once inside, we would be taught how to disseminate information, discriminate among the conflicting ideas in the world, using logic and intelligence and valid rationale to scrap poor ideas and celebrate the good ones. If there was disagreement, the truth-seeking rational minds would meet and intelligently discuss until there was regard for the opposing opinion, if not agreement.

   Although I was middle-aged, my head was so buried in the sand. In reality, we have room for a wide spectrum of thought, just as long as it doesn’t conflict with what we all decide to be the best way. Free thinking is what we all espouse until someone gets serious about an opposing view. Suddenly, one must choose between his/her convictions or the prospect of repeating the class next semester due to a failing grade.

   I have heard it said that the goal of education is to teach the student to think for himself. I fear that is no longer true. The revised goal is to get everyone thinking and believing in lockstep. Higher Indoctrication would be a more accurate term.

   There have been many stories of professors who have jeopardized their careers or tenure for taking a stand contrary to the establishment. If the University is “the marketplace of ideas” where tolerance is exalted above all else, why aren’t we anxious to hear all of the ideas?

   If anyone disagrees with this, try this experiment. Go into your institution and announce that you believe Global Warming is a hoax, and that you believe the evidence offered by scientists whose reports are ignored. Or this: offer the opinion that traditional marriage is the best thing for children and Society, that you believe we should not abandon 5000 years of an institution that makes for an orderly civilization just because a small percentage want it.

   It won’t take very long to figure out that tolerance is a buzzword that no one really practices.

   I mentioned earlier that I was in my forties when I earned my degree. Although I was frustrated with my late arrival at the time, I am thankful for it now. Had I been 19 years old, I may have swallowed every notion hook, line and sinker as well. I may have quickly adopted bogus philosophies as my own like the others did.  

   College was a great experience, a real challenge, and very overrated.

  

   

OF BULLIES AND CHILD LABOR LAWS

   Many people hold cherished memories from their schooldays when they were kids. The fun stuff they did with their best friends and how great it was to be a carefree kid enjoying school shaped who they are today. Their faces light up as they recount hilarious experiences, favorite teachers, pep rallies and dances.

   I envy these people; that was not my experience. I didn’t hate school, but it was no picnic either.

   I was a good student and got decent grades. In retrospect, I could have been an honor student had I applied myself.

   But that wasn’t my goal in school. My chief aim was to maintain a low profile, not work too hard but still accomplish my tasks and go home.

   Unfortunately, life is seldom that simple in the world of Kid-dom. I loved those times “under the radar”, but they never lasted long. 

   No. There always seemed to be someone who was somehow bothered by the fact that I was just enjoying my day and they felt the need to intervene.

   Another trait that I’ve always had was that I was a loner. When you’re a kid, the term is “weird.” I had friends of course, but sitting by myself was just as fun for me as being with friends. Others wanted to be popular, but it was never my goal. It went against the grain of the “low profile” thing.

   For some unknown reason, when certain people observed someone quietly working, and not bothering anyone, it seemed to set off a red flag to them. Here was an oddity they needed to investigate and harass.

   I was a bully magnet. I can imagine the audible beeps going out from the bully’s radar, and speeding up when it zeroed in on me, reading a book in the corner.

   The bully would grin and elbow his buddy and point to me. And it was on.

   One case in particular is vivid in my mind; because it was the last occurrence.

   Neil C. moved to our school from Texas. He was an athlete and loved football. The first thing I noticed was his southern drawl. I heard it before on television but he was the first real person I met who really had one.

   I’m not one who can remember four decades ago in excruciating detail. So I can’t say how it all happened exactly.

   But Neil started giving me trouble and found he got attention for doing it.

   It was my first experience with injustice. I was born and raised here, and along comes the new guy who talks funny, hassling me. I felt betrayed by my classmates who knew me longer than they knew him.

   They were on board though, because he was a cool football player and I was the nerdy bookworm loner.

   This comes to mind since there is much talk in the news about anti-bullying laws and tragic stories of kids committing suicide after being harassed.

   I have to object when the only solution to a problem seems to be a political one. Pass a law. Outlaw the behavior and it will go away. Yeah, right.

   Social engineers can’t seem to grasp that human nature exists, and their well-intentioned legislation may punish it, but it won’t stop it.

   Sorry. Gravity, the sun rising in the east and the nature of an eleven year old boy are not affected by the law you pass.

   I raise this issue because back in the mid seventies, anti bullying legislation never occurred to anyone. Nor should it have.

   Back to the story. Neil continued with the harassment and the playground challenges, I continued with attempts at dodging him. He was making my life rougher than it should have been at my age. I remember sneaking out of school, hoping he wouldn’t see me leave. 

   And then something happened. I reached a breaking point and was pushed across a line that I didn’t know had been drawn.

   I had enough and tired of being pushed around, of the taunting and the laughter.

   I stood up and surprised even myself. Inside, I switched from prey to  predator. I was gunning for Neil; actually looking for him for the confrontation. I wanted it badly.

   I was brave but not stupid. I would probably get beat. It didn’t matter. There would be some pain involved, and maybe some blood (Hopefully, not an ambulance). I was ready for it, maybe could get a few shots in at least.  

   I was on the prowl to settle the score and it felt great! Let him sneak out of school. I was looking for him.

   As stated earlier, human nature is what it is. And the nature of bullies is cowardice. He was after me because I posed the least threat. He spouted off, knowing I’d retreat. And I did; for awhile.

   But when I turned around to face him, he went off to a less threatening target. He didn’t really want a confrontation, he needed attention.

   The whole point of this is; that well meaning politicians want to neutralize the bully. I would say “NO! Don’t!”

   If I ran across Neil today, I would shake his hand. He did a great service for me, although not crazy about it at the time.

   I needed to exit my shell and stand up. He helped me to do it. The following school years were much easier. I knew how to handle the reality of a challenger, meet him head on, as early as possible. He goes away, and I feel confident.

   Bullies serve a purpose. It is like the egg that a chick struggles against as it’s being hatched. It builds strength and stamina. If someone breaks the eggshell for the chick, then you have a weakened chick, unable to face adversities later. 
   We should avoid removing resistance so we can feel like a hero.  

    I’m not discounting the suicides reported. It is heartbreaking. But we need less social media and more confidence-building parents and home environments.

   Bullying is prevalent because the nature of social media is easily confrontational.

   It is not unlike the child labor laws that have been enacted. It was necessary when parents kept their kids home to work the fields.

   We are not the agrarian society that we were at one time. Now these same laws prevent a sixteen year old from having a job at a fast food restaurant. He may work a four hour shift behind a counter, not sixteen in the fields.

   He will learn to communicate with people of all ages, serve with a humble attitude, and learn to listen and take instruction. He may even empty the stinky trash. But he won’t die.

   It is not the government’s role to protect citizens from necessary and beneficial experiences simply because an over-protective nanny bureaucrat begins to fret.

   These same well-intentioned motives will deprive him of experience, a work ethic and pride that comes from having money earned legitimately.

   We now have a generation who feel the need to do very little because of this coddling.

   Beware of feel good solutions that prove to be ultimately stupid. We don’t need to feel good all the time. A little discomfort can be good for growth and our character.

  

  

   

The Hitch Hiker

   Those of us with a sound mind know we operate in the realm of reality. We are aware of the environment around us, the dangers, the opportunities, rhythm, ebb and flow of the world we live in.

   On occasion, a reality pokes through the veil of my perception of the world. I’m reminded the circles I run in, are but a sub-division of a much larger world with realities that I’m aware of, but don’t think much about.

   This happened to me early Thursday morning. It was late when I was driving home from work. Actually, it was early, three or three thirty in the morning. I saw a guy on the side of the road thumbing for a ride. I didn’t see him until beside him. Moving too fast to stop, I kept driving.

   But regret followed when I noticed the way his head and shoulders sank as he realized yet another car had no intention of stopping. At this time of day, alcohol was probably involved and a wild story as well. NOBODY would be giving this dude a ride. I did a U turn.

   I pulled the truck to the shoulder in front of him. As he approached, I saw him hesitate a little, to see if it was a legitimate offer or getting him to jog up and then drive off. He later told me a few pulled that gag on him.

   His name was Eddie; he was a middle-aged guy, medium build and height and dressed typical for Florida with tank top and shorts. He carried his flip-flops because they broke from so much walking.

   We made casual conversation. His car broke down and had to walk for three hours trying to get a ride. Relieved to find him a normal guy. I’ll admit a voice in my head kept asking why the truck was stopping, was I nuts, did I want to be on the news? etc. Now I was glad I ignored it.

   We talked about how in years gone by, if one needed a ride, stick out that thumb, wait five minutes, and you’d be on your way. I’ve done it often. But the world has changed, and folks are reluctant to trust strangers. I’m not sure if it’s more crazy people in the world, or just more news coverage of them.

   As we talked about general things, he mentioned he served in the military. I thanked him for his service and inquired of the details. I don’t believe he would have told any of this had I not asked. He wasn’t the type to bloviate.

   He served four deployments in Afghanistan and Iraq. He told me he literally shed tears as they moved into Baghdad and witnessed the suffering under that loon Hussein. He went on to relate that he served as a sniper, with twenty-six kills to his credit.

   I’ve heard for every terrorist killed by a sniper, it's considered to be eight to ten lives prevented from being lost.

   I congratulated him on his success. I never met a war hero before. But he was less than proud and grateful.  He told me about his friend Mack, who trained with him, they were together for years. Mack gave him the coordinates on the target. He would inform Eddie if it was a hit or miss. The bad part was Mack actually witnessed the kills. Eddie said he couldn’t always see but Mack could. Mack was a great friend but had issues after the war. He struggled with things he’d seen that he couldn’t forget. He never got back to his full potential after the bloodshed he witnessed.

   “I just hope that God can forgive me.” Ed said softly. 
    I told him of the statistics I heard about, of the lives he prevented the loss of, and they now had kids and grandkids. Literally, hundreds of people were alive because of his service to the country.

   It seemed like great encouragement to me but he stared out the window at the closed businesses and darkened homes passing by.

  “They had families too.” was his only reply.

   Having the privilege of being a spectator in the arena and not a participant, I wanted to say “Well, one shouldn’t attack a Superpower if family well-being is a concern.” But I didn’t. It wasn’t a political thing, but human suffering. It hurt, and I had no authority to comment, even if its purpose was support.

   Ed continued and told me of four failed marriages and a girlfriend he was on the brink of losing. With anger issues, he was unable to maintain a good relationship. His haunting past stole any contentment he might have.

   You may pass Eddie on the street someday. You won’t look twice. He doesn’t stand out, just a face in the crowd.

   I wonder how many other people I pass in my travels, who carry around a burden that lingers forever, haunting and harassing their lives.

   We all struggle with various issues, complain about how hard we work, our jerk boss and taxes that never seem to stop.

   Life isn’t easy. But after my encounter with Eddie, I am embarrassed to whine. Bad drivers and long lines at the store are laughable in comparison to what my tortured friend deals with daily. It ends with the newscast for most of us; but others carry it for years afterward.

   Our troops deserve our support. They have witnessed hellish nightmares that haunt them long after they come home. Part of me is embarrassed for not having served, the other part is eternally grateful.

  

  

   

Why Christian Art Should Be Banned

   There are many people these days that seem to gravitate toward simple solutions to complex problems. For example, someone was killed by a bullet, we should outlaw guns. Or, since a person can’t raise a family or buy a house with a burger flipping job, let’s raise their wage so they earn $60,000 a year so now they can.

   They seek a political solution to all our ills. The thought process is about a centimeter deep. It seems like a good idea for the three seconds that they ponder it. These solutions never work because there are always unintended consequences to all these actions. It’s unfortunate that elected officials entertain such stupid notions, either to be popular or are stupid themselves.

   But since dumb ideas are gaining in popularity, I have decided to jump on the bandwagon.

   So I propose that we ban Christian Art. Not Art in general, just Christian Art.

   Hear me out and follow the reasoning. In our world today we have a plethora of thorny issues that can be traced back to a core problem: Men and their lack of leadership. If you fix that one thing, everything else will begin to turn around.

   There are men who lack the nerve to commit and get married, and the traditional family suffers. Co-habitation is popular because it offers an exit strategy that is quick and painless, except for the kids and the lousy example they see.

   The men who do marry often lack the maturity to keep a promise that was made when it ceases to be fun. There are dead-beat dads who need their money more than the kids need provision, and there are bums that just don’t like the work thing because it’s not always the pleasure that little boys in men’s bodies need a steady supply of.

   Welfare payments and food stamps are needed and taxes go up, taking from the people who are trying to do things the right way. And the single Mom has to work and struggle instead of making a happy home for her kids to be raised in.

   Inner city gangs happen because of kids with no guidance and too much time. Drugs, hopelessness and irresponsibility abound and perpetuate. This all happens because one person failed to set an example for someone else to follow and shirked the responsibility to lead in a small way.

   We look for a hero to lead, but we look in the wrong places. We often turn to the media and see athletes beating up their girlfriends, movie stars getting DUI s and politicians caught in a scandal.

   So what does all this have to do with Christian Art? It’s simple. The Headwaters of everything that makes a society function has been horribly misrepresented. Look at the artwork of Christ over the centuries. He is shown as this mopey, limp-wristed guy staring down at the ground. There is this aura thing around his head and his palm is always turned up. These paintings are full of symbolism and were done with good intentions but sorely misleading. Jesus Christ was bold and confrontational. He challenged the leaders of His day to their face. He never shrunk from controversy. Also, He would have been a blast to be around. He drew crowds everywhere because people wanted to be near Him. The artwork depicts a sad faced Jesus that didn’t know how to smile. Seriously? What did He talk about? Joy, abundant life, hospitality to strangers, being a light to others; how do you live that out and never smile?

   The plagues in society mentioned above can all be cured by this one Man. But no one considers Him as a possible solution because He looks wimpy. If the ancient artists painted Jesus more like William Wallace in “Braveheart”, complete with warpaint, perhaps more men would emulate His leadership and become real men. Men that protect their family, love their wives and provide for their children make for a strong nation.

   Although it is oversimplified, you understand why I think Christian Art should be banned. It hides the solution our country is desperately searching for.

  

   

The Sugar Police

   The dictionary defines “dignity’ as “ bearing, conduct or speech indicative of respect or appreciation.” The word came to mind recently as I was watching the news as they reported about Mayor Bloomberg banning large sodas in New York City. It has since been struck down by a clear thinking judge.

   How much regard for dignity is shown when an official bans a soft drink? It isn’t cocaine, it’s not alcohol, it’s just fattening. Maybe he thinks he was elected Mama of New York instead of Mayor.

   Don’t get me wrong, I’m not advocating for Coca Cola, I don’t even like the stuff. But I am a big fan of freedom. I like to think of it as being the Sovereign King of a kingdom the size of the space my feet occupy. It’s not a huge domain but it’s all mine. The surrounding territory I may have little power over. No matter. I control where I live, what I do for a living and . . . what goes inside my mouth Mr. Bloomberg. I have this covered, thank you. I still own ME. You have invaded my personal space, please back away quickly Sir.

   Apparently, all of the serious problems have been eradicated in New York. There is no unemployment, homelessness, drug abuse or crime of any kind since the top cat is focusing on bad habits now. After love handles are conquered, I wonder what will be the next frontier? Dirty windows? Restrooms out of paper towels? How about nose blowing in a restaurant? Now that is a threat to life as we know it. Perhaps we should cite clerks that don’t say ‘thank you’ enthusiastically enough?

   That may sound ridiculous, but it is the natural progression to monitoring what legal drinks people consume. This kind of Utopia seeking nut will never stop at soft drinks. They will continue until they are content with the perfect world they have created. And this crowd always thinks they are getting closer every day. One more law here, another restriction there, and before you know it, all will be well except for the fact that no one can legally leave their home.

   I don’t mean to pick on New York. Chicago is another fine example of the Nanny from Hell.

   In a city that can boast of the highest homicide rate in the country, take a guess at what Mayor Rahm Emanuel has on his little liberal brain. Sugary snacks! We’ll deal later with the teenagers shot to death in the inner city, world renown government corruption and the eroding manufacturing base. That’s all silliness! It’s the Honey-Buns in the vending machine that will push us over the cliff. Hershey Bar task forces are what is called for in a desperate situation like this.

   Please excuse my sarcasm here. It can’t be helped. The shocking thing isn’t that politicians suggest this kind of buffoonery, it’s that they can say it with a straight face. Is anyone else offended at the hubris it takes to be a self appointed food cop?

   If a Mayor can dictate what a city is permitted to eat, maybe it’s not too intrusive enough to oversee personal hygiene? Bathroom habits should be randomly checked to insure that the all-important public safety is intact. After all, people can die from E-coli. There. We have our justification. The dirty little fools need supervised. Like stupid children, they need us even if they don’t like it.

   Of course it is even worse at the federal level. What is Obamacare, but a cradle to casket plan to oversee lives? ‘This is a dangerous activity, you needn’t do that, this is bad for you Sweetie, stop it now!’ or ‘You will buy health insurance you don’t need and can’t afford, or else!’

   The paradox is that these are the so-called pro-choice leaders of the nation. ‘You have every right to an abortion if that’s what you want’ is their proud motto. Now, just to be clear, what we are saying is that we have the right to end the life of a sleeping unborn child, but when it comes to the beverage at lunch, these are decisions that should be left to the wiser, deeper thinking leaders in charge. Okay. I’m clear now.

  Our nation has lost its vision of personal freedom and how precious it is. Our Founding Fathers thought it was worth dying for. I believe they would be embarrassed to see their descendants being led around by the nose by elected control freaks. We haven’t lost our dignity; we gave it away.

   

The Turkey Trot

  Yeah. So, about a year ago, my wife tells me that she wants to run in the Turkey Trot this year. I was a little surprised to be truthful. My mouth was saying something like ‘Well, okay if that’s what you want to do’. But my mind was really thinking: ‘Why would anyone…? Are you kidding me…? What the hell is that about?!’

  For anyone unfamiliar with it, the Turkey Trot is a footrace that is held early on Thanksgiving Day. It is usually to raise money for some worthy cause like curing cancer or feeding the hungry. While I wouldn’t argue with that, the practical side of my mind wonders why we don’t simply donate the money and stay in bed on our day off. In my defense, I am naturally a night owl and get a second wind at 9:00 PM. Rising at 5:30 AM would never cross my mind unless our house was on fire. And even then it falls between maybe and probably.

  However, being a devoted husband, I found myself driving the 25 miles to the high school stadium where the “trot” was being held. I went with the understanding that I was purely support staff and nothing more. I would hold on to the sweater, encourage and meet up at the finish line.

  We arrived before the sun was fully up, and I was astounded to have to search for a parking space. The stadium was packed as though it was a NFL game during the playoffs. I was taken aback. Way aback. The streets were cordoned off for the race, and the sidewalks were jammed with trotters walking from their cars from every direction. Although it was a National holiday and businesses were closed, there was a sea of people. Older people, little kids, dogs on leashes, strollers and runners with furry turkeys on their heads. The atmosphere was alive and buzzing. Though I tried to remain an uninvolved observer, (since I felt that the interest would pass after she did it once) it was difficult not to get drawn in to the electric excitement.

  While my wife was running alone, I was milling around, fearing I might miss the parade on TV, or get the bird in the oven too late, something happened.

  I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but I suddenly knew that I was going to run in the race next year. Yes. There was too much fun, life and challenges going on without me. There were pictures being taken at the finish line, high fives, hugs and back slaps that made me feel like a real weinie for being satisfied with holding someone else’s personal effects. I was the bystander observing real life from the bench. No, this would not do.

  Well, nearly a year has passed since the turkey trot, and again my dear wife brings up the date, the registration and questions about me really participating. I marvel that the earth has actually revolved around the sun in what seems to be the length of time it takes to watch a bad movie.

  Should I have kept quiet? Did I speak up on a silly whim, and should I back out now?

  No, I registered and would follow through. I must admit that I had a few fearful visions in my head. One was of young, fit runners glancing nervously at a paunchy, mid lifer getting oxygen on a stretcher. Another was of an empty stadium, and a few officials being annoyed that they almost missed Thanksgiving because they had to wait for the last straggler to come through, which would be me.

  But alas, I did just fine. Not only did I make it, but I had a blast. There were amateur bands playing in driveways along the way, and encouraging people waving, wishing well and offering drinks of water. I ran until I gave out, caught my breath and ran some more. I count myself among thousands of others now. I am a runner. I am anxious for next year. I am angry at myself for dismissing it so quickly. But I am also fearful. What if there are other wonderful, fulfilling things that I have refused to consider? What else has been written off as something that’s not for me, that needs to be placed in the ‘Under Consideration’ box once again?