Oh, You Can't Get to Heaven

 

    I got a chance to be the bad uncle at church this morning - sharing a silly song with the kids. Start the video at the 14:30 mark.

 

Golden Godliness

    Hog butcher, gold digger, the United States is the greatest country in the world. Say it again. Say it more. Robber baron, arms dealer, the United States is the greatest nation in the history of nations. A model of hard work humility, and honest golden worship. Decent men and proud women living lives of good fortune. The envy of the world.

    Look to the unrivaled military straddling the world, land and sea and air and space. Our marching millions. Look to the unparalleled wealth accumulated in cities of glass and steel. Global power, high above all nations of the earth just as God promised in those pivotal Old Testament prophecies.

    But, and hear this, only two in ten will affirm it. Only two in ten will say Amen. Two in ten who understand that America stands a golden head above the other nations. All others are America hating blasphemers who do not understand that gain is godliness. And that we will take it all.

1 Timothy 6:5

Cain and the Capitalist Cult

    The curdled sky unplaceable through the smoke of burning cities
    day and night disfigured, bulldozed earth in a heap of spoil
    Cain stands screaming in the field of blood,
    “Am I my brother’s keeper?” 
    Patron saint of the Capitalist Cult.

No Man Is an Island, or The Implications of Store-Bought Milk

    “Let it go down in history as a scattering of ash: Rugged Individualism is a myth.” The walls shifted. The ceiling pulled back. Wooden furniture splintered on the floor. The words were my own. I spoke them gently; it was my friend who burst in to bring down the roof.

    “I wouldn’t expect anything else from someone like you.”

    “Someone like me?” I asked.

    “Commies like you who admire socialists.” Paintings fell from their frames. The windows fell open. The front door fell off its hinges.

    “Ah…” I said. “I think maybe you’ve got that backwards, but it’s still true. We are stronger together.”

    “People just need to take accountability for their station. Grow your own food and you’ll never have to worry about another government recall. I grow my own. Why don’t you?” My shelves shuddered to the floor, spilling books into a heap.

    “There’s no pure independence. We are, each one of us, interdependent. We rely on each other.”

    “I raise chickens and trade eggs for pork. We have a cow and we tried pasteurizing our own milk, but we’ve mostly returned to store-bought milk. Our water comes from a well. I make diesel from used oil and fryer grease. I won’t be a slave to other producers or to the government.”

    “Hold up a beat,” I interrupted. “You buy milk?”

    “Well, we had trouble controlling the pasteurizing temperatures. The point is, either control your own resources to meet your needs or you depend on others. Choose your path. Choose wisely.”

    The whole house lurched on its cracked foundation.

    “Okay. Okay. Slow down there, Garfunkle. No man is an island. I said it before and I’ll say it again. Rugged Individualism is a myth. We gather together to ask the Lord’s blessing.”

    My friend scoffed a laugh and looked around. “This place is falling apart. You should do something about that. Take accountability for your place.” I sighed and picked up my copy of Donne’s devotions from the floor as he made his exit.

Are You Afraid, Carter?

    Look at me here – a half century, plus a bit more, a half century of living among the subterraneans at the edge of the naked city where it smells of marijuana, the neighbors play their music too loud and their dogs bark all night. These mechanics, hairdressers, and taxi drivers. These field-hands, deli-shop owners, and veterinary assistants.

    And look at the news: another protracted war in Europe with sprawling death count. Look at the news: another endless, pointless war in the Middle East.

    “Knock it off, Carter. You lost your idealism years ago.”

    Hear it? That is, despite the sneering belligerence, the voice of trembling fear and no peace. No peace.

    Look at me here, a half century of September reminders – falling leaves and fading memories – a half century of resignations, recriminations, failures, and false starts. I don’t want to live in the past, but I don’t understand the present and I cannot see the future. How do I disrupt the disorder? How do I deescalate the situation without matching their rhetoric? Without meeting violence with violence?

    “Work out your own salvation,” the voice says, “with fear and trembling. Are you afraid, Carter? Are you afraid? You know you should be.”

    It’s true. I am.

    “And why do you fear?”

    Because the secret things belong to God and who can understand his own errors?

Philippians 2:12