A wolf amidst the sheep?

If flying is throwing yourself at the ground and missing, and luck is throwing yourself at a Ford LTD and missing, then God must be the result of throwing yourself at an explanation of the universe and missing.

I went to church this morning for the first time in many years. I was invited by my aunt, and normally I would decline this sort of invitation. This time, however, a cousin of mine was giving a revival sermon. I have a lot of respect for this man, and I didn't want to miss this opportunity to hear him speak. I love a good oration, and I was curious to see how good he was. The promise of post-church dinner also played a minor role in my acceptance of this invitation, but mostly it was the cousin.

It was a bit of a shock going back to Reevesville Baptist. When I got there it seemed so small, and I commented that I remembered everything being much bigger the last time I was there. This should give a clue to how long I'd gone without attending. The scale of everything was just wrong, and what had seemed such an enormous edifice to God's glory in my childhood now struck me as a rather timid, austere chapel. Barely a closet of Christ compared to the majestic cathedrals in other parts of the country (or even the state). The walls are bare white, and undecorated in a manner that only Protestants can get right. There are three stained-glass windows, each bearing a scene from the Gospels, on either side of the pews. They struck me as rather gaudy today, as though affronting a bare pretense to the beauty that Catholics have long since brought to bare on worship.

The service was odd for me. There were a few jaw-dropping moments that made it difficult for me to retain my composure. At one point all of the children were brought to the front of the room and given a mini-sermon by a Sunday school teacher. The theme of this sermon was, "All of you are special, as long as you love God." My stomach turned a bit as this woman held a bowl of candy and asked these kids, "Raise your hand if you love God," and then gave all the eager youngsters a piece of candy to reward them for their naive public pledge. The Chinese once used a very similar method of brainwashing on American POWs to sway them toward accepting Communism.

There were a few songs, all of which I found difficult to follow. Lots of talk about clean blood, lambs of God, and taking up a cross. It's odd how I had sung these hymns as a child, and never took the time to read the words. I just sang along with everyone else, and never bothered to think that these lyrics might actually mean something. As an adult I can safely say that most hymns are badly written bad music. Dull, nonsensical, poorly timed, irritating to the ear, and difficult to sing.

Eventually my cousin got up to give his sermon. I was surprised to find him a very sober speaker. I was expecting fiery passion and hellish admonishion. I was expecting sweating and shouting. I was expecting people to scream, "Amen" and fall unconsious. He calmly laid my suspicions aside in the first few seconds of his speech by saying simply that he isn't "that kind of speaker." He, as it turns out, is a very structured speaker. He lays out his points, and then sets out his supporting points. He uses repetive rhetorical devices to create a sense of calm rhythm. He instills in his audience a confidence that he knows what he's talking about, and a feeling that he is compassionatly delivering a message that he thinks is important.

The message, on the other hand, was rather difficult for me to follow. It was something to the effect of, "We need revival because those who are full of God's love will be prosperous in life." It sounded good, I guess, but then he started referencing the book of Joshua. Now, I'm not fond of most of the bible. That said, I'm least fond of the Old Testament. How anyone can twist the stories of the Old Testament around to make a morally instructive lesson for a modern person without breaking his own spine is beyond me. The story of Joshua is no exception. It is a continuation of the lovely story of the Jewish invasion of "The Promised Land." This sounds very sweet as long as you keep glossing over the fact that other people were living on this promised land before the Jews got there, and these Jews butchered most of these people like cattle. These people committed no real crime save living on the wrong stretch of dirt, and for that crime these Isrealites slaughtered, robbed, raped, and enslaved them (and that was if they were in a good mood). The pinnacle of morality, these people were not.

After the sermon we were invited to the front to get saved, I can only assume from bands of marauding Isrealites that might lop our heads off and take our land at any second. I politely declined the offer, though those near me may have mistaken my shaking for some attack of zealous fervor. I was merely aghast at having been encouraged to act like Bronze-Age land-snatching hoodlums in such an even-toned manner. I saw numerous people that I hadn't seen in years, which was nice, and adjourned to my aunt's for a delicious chicken dinner.

In closing, I'd simply like to comment that if you're trying to teach people how to be successful and moral and you have to resort to using the story of Moses and Joshua to do that, then you've missed the mark by a wide margin. If you're trying to teach children to be moral and successful, and have to resort to brainwashing techniques that would turn most people's stomachs in any other setting you've missed the mark by an extremely wide margin. This experience has gone far to revive my atheistic fervor, however. Because if brainwashing and barbarism is the best Christianity has to offer then I want none of it.

It's Rainin' Men!

Got in my first collision on my motorcycle yesterday. I'm driving home from the library, and this kid in a light-blue Ford LTD turns in front of me while pulling into the Dollar General. I screamed, and slammed on the brakes. Luckily I wasn't going very fast, so I hit him at a rather low speed. I smacked into his passenger fender and flopped over the handlebars onto his hood. I think he was as freaked out about it as I was.

There he was, minding his own business. Just driving into town for some chips or whatever. All of a sudden some motorcyclist drops out of the sky onto the hood of his car. Has to be pretty disconcerting. Certainly rattled me up. He was asking me if I was okay, and I wasn't sure what planet I was on. Why do people have the need to ask that question? Are you okay? Of course I'm not okay! I've just been in an accident!

So, the cops show up. I was kind of hoping to avoid this, as at that moment I remembered that both my insurance and motorcycle permit had expired. I could tell the cop wasn't thrilled with having to write the guy that just nearly got killed a bunch of tickets. A bit like rubbing salt in the wound. But, as he was writing out the tickets that would have revoked my priveledge of driving anything more substantial than a golf-cart (and even that had better not be on a state thoroughfare) the kid's mother shows up and starts screaming for my blood.

She was royally pissed that I didn't have insurance, and was adamant about me going to jail. This pissed the cop off even more, and he politely told the lady, "If you want to go by the book then we can. I'll write your son a ticket for failure to yield right-of-way, and everyone will be treated fairly." She instantly changed her tune. She starts asking me if I'd be willing to pretend the whole thing never happened. I have to admit that I was fervently hoping for this eventuality, and assured her that I was very good at minding my own business. This made everyone there very happy.

Except me, whom it merely made not unhappy. I still had a maimed bike and wrenched shoulder to contend with. The last thing I wanted was a bunch of hassle from cops and insurance companies. I had bigger fish, so to speak. As it happened, my aunt and uncle were driving by at the time of the accident and stopped to help. They called their son, who showed up within minutes with a trailer to haul the thing back home. After we got there my cousin helped me fix it up a bit. It was really cool of him because at no point did I ask for his help. He just saw that I needed it, and did it without being asked. That's rare treatment, in my experience.

So, I'm bumming rides from relatives until Monday. I get paid then, and I'll be able to buy some insurance. I'll be back on the proverbial "Straight and Narrow" in that respect. It was odd having my life flash before my eyes, because not a whole lot happened. If it was a movie I'd have fallen asleep in the middle. I'll have to work on that, I guess. Insurance first. I was spared The Man's wrath yesterday. I don't want to push my luck.