Bon Appetit, Bucko

To those whom it may slightly concern:

It has occurred to me recently as I purused a copy of the latest "Bon Appetit" magazine that there are many addictions in this world, and many perverse obsessions to be enflamed and fed. I am writing this letter both to draw attention to those perversions which are espoused and propagated by culinary arts magazines, and to nullify the perceived acceptability of said perversions. I am going to take as my example two popular magazines, copies of which can be most conveniently purchased at your local convenience store (convient, yes?): "Rolling Stone", and "Bon Appetit".

Now at first glance, one may posit that they have very little in common. The absolute crass fluff of the first is rendered immaterial when compared with the joyful, artistic, useful dynamism of "Bon Appetit"’s representation of the latest culinary masterpieces—the skill in the cooking process, from conception to creation, the creativity, the absolute sensual dream into which the connoisseur is plunged when spooning up the first light, smooth, florally aromatic bite of rich cherry-almond ice cream, featured on the cover of the July issue.How, then, could "Rolling Stone"’s gross hyper-realized exhibition of the female body compare to the uniquely satisfying utilitarianism of Bon Appetit? What similarities, one might ask, could there be between such a tasteless appeal to our already-abused sex drive, and a tasteful (in all ways) aid to our culinary creativity and ability to join with community around the superb, God-given gift of food?

I would, for an answer to the above questions, request most humbly that you take a long look at the pictures on the respective covers of the two magazines in question. And as you do, allow me to point out a couple of similarities, and the ideals underlying those similarities. The pornography industry operates upon one over-arching, guiding principle. That principle is, as I stated before, hyper-realization. The sexuality which is actualized in pornographic magazines, soft- or hardcore, is a flagrant misrepresentation of the reality in which we are actually immersed. The real, intimate act of sexual intercourse is, as most would agree, a deeply private and beautiful act, and a far cry from the mechanistic pleasure, electronic music and 12-inch……




....high heels (gotcha) of the porn industry.

“So?” you might ask. “Where’s the problem?” Allow me to explain. The hyper-realization of the images creates for the avid reader a world of illusions, a world of concepts, as Nietzche would say, the aesthetic fog of which renders the reader’s perception of reality vain, distorted, confused--the problem with the most beautiful, glorious, technicolor dream is that it is an elusive and ethereal phantom conjured by the bizarrities of the sleep-washed brain, and will never be any more or any less than that—a dream, a ghost, an unreality. To indulge oneself in these dreams as part of everyday life, to placate the waking mind’s sexual hungers with fantastic visions, will lead to the creation of a world in which the reader is a constant dreamer, in which a human is living in a hyper-realized conjuration. And that waking fantasy-world is all-absorbing, and yet completely unfulfilling, as it can never become a reality.

Those who are caught in the unmerciful claws of such an unending fantasy will find themselves ever-hungry and never-fulfilled, because their unrealistic concept of what would be fulfilling, dictated by the porn industry in this case, can never be actualized, can never be real. Once one is convinced that the imaginary is the only thing worth embracing, it is hard to be satisfied with reality, with what is true. And so the dreamer, forgetting he is in a dream-land, forgetting that what he desires has been conditioned by fictitious representations, wanders, ever-hungry, cold, and despairing, in search for that which he will never find. He has, through blatant indulgence in his sexual desires, through embracing the pornography industries’ methods of ensuring his continued dependency and their own continued economic growth, welcomed into himself a system of thought in which he becomes a puppet, buying, consuming ever more of the lude sexual images in a search for a perfect gratification which does not exist.

Sounds pretty hopeless and probably very overstated when I put it like that, doesn’t it? Right now you’re probably thinking that I should find myself a “nice Jewish boy” (as my mother used to say) and calm down. Quit ranting and let the economy do what it needs to do. But stick with me here. Let me try to summarize what I’ve said so far:

Consumerism exploits a naturally-occurring drive or hunger, in this case the sex drive. It convinces us fully that fulfilling that desire is central to our survival or happiness. It then presents us with an alternate world of illusions, constructed by the perfect forms and images we consume. Thus it ensures that we will always have the drive to buy, as we will always desire and never attain the images projected by these fantasy-writers. The images are hyper-, or over- real. They are fake. And yet our perverted hunger perpetuates our need to consume, dictating that we continue the search in an attempt to attain the perfection displayed by this un-world. So: We are told that some thing is vitally important. We are shown what this thing is. We are then asked to go out and find it. Unfortunately, the thing for which we are looking is not real. And so we must keep searching, keep consuming, forever. Not a bad plan for the money-makers, right?

But here’s the kicker: as we explore our fantasy world, haunting the perfect streets in the endless hunt for the perfect life dictated by our gods, those perfect idols we see on the magazine covers, we forget to embrace our reality-world. We forget the beauty of the real world, we forget the necessity of searching for and embracing ourselves and our own growth, so engrossed are we in a search for imaginary beauty. Is the importance of seeing this alternate reality for what it is beginning to make sense? We spend our lives looking for happiness in a system which operates by perpetuating our unhappiness. Thus we never grow and we never learn how to embrace the real world. Keep us searching and they’ll keep us consuming, that’s the idea-makers’ motto.

So what does "Bon Appetit" have to do with all of this?

Let’s all pick up our copy of the magazine and take another look at the silky, rich darkness of the smoothly bittersweet chocolate, shining like the sins of kings, whose sensual embrace ever-so-lightly caresses the startlingly beautiful and delicate pink cream of that cherry-almond confection (or as I like to call it, “Miss July”). Tell me—have you ever seen an ice cream cone that stunning in your life? I would probably sell my brother for that ice cream cone. (Sorry, John. In consolation—you’d probably sell me for that ice cream cone, too. Heck—I would sell me for that ice cream cone. But I digress.) I’ve never, and I promise you I never will, see or taste or smell an ice cream cone that delectable, that explosive. And that, as with "Rolling Stone", is their intention. They want you to live by desiring the unattainable. Giving up your brother to attain it (if not your brother, at least your money, your mind, and your life). Selling your soul? Pretty much. That cone is just one footstep in the endless search for the perfect treat to satisfy our over-stimulated food-drive. They make us want it, they make sure what we want is something we will never find, they make sure we spend our lives searching--they make sure we spend our lives consuming.

They want you to worship them as your god. What, after all, does a Creator do? Projects or forms a world on which He can place His creations that they may live and grow, and fulfill His ultimate purpose. And what are these ideas-sellers doing? Exactly that. They are creating and projecting into our minds a world into which they can immerse us, that we may ever strive, and ever search for their truth, and thus fulfill their ultimate purpose. They are making us into hamsters on wheels, and we cannot even see it.

So what effect do "Bon Appetit"’s images of food pornography have on the common man? Personal therapeutic chef Jay Holecek, who utilizes his skill, creativity, and knowledge to address diagnosed digestive disorders, states that hyper-realized images of food “hurt everyone involved” in that the images give the clients a conceptualization of reality which the chefs cannot actualize. Thus the chef is blamed for incompetence, and the consumer unwittingly imbibes and perpetuates the parasitic dream-world of consumer-driven media. These false images ensure that people are “less willing to seek the real-world cures of healthy, whole eating”, as they will constantly be driven to the search for a phantom miracle cure.

Unfortunately for those caught in this cycle, the only true cure for fantasy is reality. So I would humbly request that "Bon Appetit" keeps its indulgent, gratifying, fantastical images to itself that I may stay focused on a real search in a real world, and not be tempted to plunge into an illusive, exploitive, never-ending treasure hunt in a world whose foundations are sand and whose pillars are insubstantial simulacra.

Your humble servant,
Jeanine

A Forest Adventure

It is dark here. Not an absolute darkness, like the thick, oozing inkiness of a cavern or the thin, moon-blanched darkness of the midnight air.

This is a patchwork darkness, a ragged, multi-layered darkness, a darkness composed of myriad shadows, so many dancing, lilting shadows that the walkers have begun to forget what they themselves look like--they can see but darkly in this place of eternal twilight. The dusky gray-green of countless years is visible in some remote areas, illuminated by brilliant, silvery lights which flit like will-o-the-wisps between branches: remote but somehow very near, and entrancingly beautiful. The lights are responsible for the ever-restless shadows, for though the trees are still and silent, not stirred by a single breath of wind, their dark images leap and lunge like flames, like claws, like half-remembered nightmares, vague and senseless.

The walkers know these shadows well, for it is always twilight here, a twilight provided solely by the shining lights peppering the deep grays of the foliage; the lights of the sky are not visible from inside this dusky hall of leaves. And the walkers know the forest, how well, it is not clear—but they are beginning to fear it: the twisted gray trunks, tall as stony towers, and powerful beyond imagination, the gnarled roots, hard and unforgiving, like cold marble, the infinite branches: a sea of faded claws eternally grasping, like the age-twisted hands of an old enchanter holding a macabre vigil over his dark works.

The way itself is narrow, weaving through an undergrowth so dense it is almost solid: a high, encroaching wall of sharp thorns, brambles, old leaves crisp with death, and odd, misshapen boulders splashed with the dark red striations of iron ore, which nevertheless recall in the walkers an image of the crimson blood of a successful hunt, making them uneasy. And above, always the infinite trees hold their tongues, and the walkers tread in a silence so thick with menace that it is palpable, and weighs heavy on their hearts, so that their own tiny words come out as cracked and desperate whispers, sucked into the vast gloom and there devoured.

The meandering, thin trail has a worn look, and the hard-packed, bare earth along that thin strand is easy on the weary feet of the walkers. Many, it would seem, have trodden this path.

The walkers themselves are mostly silent; they had learned long ago that their words were small and futile in the powerful silence of the forest. Some keep their eyes on the trail, watching the slow but constant progress of their own tired feet. Some gaze at the forest looming like a great dark canyon wall over their heads. Some walk with their eyes half-closed, staring entranced at the remote but piercing brilliance of the dancing lights. And some, eyes wide and unblinking, stare directly ahead, watching the unflinching footfalls of the guide.

Yes, there is a guide, though the notion of someone volunteering to tread this eternal, alien wilderness is almost unthinkable. Yet his sure footfalls never falter, and the burning light of the torch he holds high above his head to aid the wanderers is never extinguished. On and on he leads them, never wearying, as they stumble on root and branch, though he has told them time and time again to step where he steps, and they will not fall.

Sometimes, a walker will step off the trail. The flickering beauty of the many lights in the distance draws them. Those lights sing sweetly of day, of sun and sky and the end of an endless night. And the walker hears the song, and its echoes bounce around him, amplified by the barrier of thorns, and finally he can bear the twilit path no longer and he takes a step into the brambles, grasping for his knife, that he may cut through the undergrowth and finally, finally, find comfort in the liquid glow of those far-off silvery eyes.

But every time he takes that first step, a step which is far too bold for the thorns surrounding his feet, he is lost. As if the forest has come alive and taken him, or as if he has become a part of it, he steps through the wall of thorns and is lost from view. The other walkers never know if he finds those silver lights in the distance, and if he does, what the lights show him, what secrets, hidden deep in the growing gloom, they reveal. His back turned, there is nothing the walkers or their steadfast guide can do but call his name, the voice of the guide resonating like a ceramic bell, cutting clear but quiet, through the dusky air.

And sometimes, the cries fall on unheeding ears. That path, narrow and winding, is indeed a trying one and a long, and those glimmering lights are so beautiful, so incredibly enchanting. And the walker bears on through the brambles, away from the path, knife in hand as he slashes through the ancient growth, his eyes ever fixed upon those blinking lights like earthbound stars in the distance. The cries recede at his back, though they never completely fade, and he forges on, the smug look on his face turning slowly to one of horror as he comes nearer to his destination.

And sometimes, the walker turns. He steps off that path and at once slips. The branches suddenly move, they are far more alive than he had thought—hoary fingers tear at his flesh, and the stillness is pierced by the hungry silence of brooding minds, like great dark spiders who have found prey at last. An uneasy fear grips him, but more than that there is an aching anguish, and a surprised confusion, and the source of those feelings is completely unknown— and suddenly, though very near to it, he cannot see the trail, he cannot see the walkers, he cannot see the guide, though the guide can see him.

But he remembers. He remembers the flames the guide held in his quiet hands, and he remembers the dancing, warm light as it brought the wisdom of the guide’s kind face into sharp relief. And though he does not see that torchlight, does not see that steady gaze as the guide swept his charges with a calm, appraising gaze, the lost walker knows he must call out, must call out to the guide and find that trail, where the silence is not so loud, where the muteness of the tress is not so deafening. But still something holds him back—his desire to call out is suppressed by the fascination he feels with those lights, and he delays, until finally, fear digs her ugly claws into his body, prompting a cry of pain and torment, and he turns to where he thinks the trail is, and screams like a child for help.

And immediately the guide is there, cutting through the deep pools of midnight shadow, brambles tearing at his skin until the blood runs down his legs and hands in smug little rivulets. His face is scratched from the trailing fingers of the trees, and the thickets of thorns, grown tall as a man, grasp at his hair. Through the dusky, malevolent wild, his footsteps never falter—he can hear the wanderer’s cries, he must find him and how him the path through the undergrowth and back to the trail.

After what seems like an eternity, he reaches the spot in the deadly wilderness where the walker lies, rendered motionless by fear, his voice brittle and monotonous as he continues to repeat his mewling whimper for help. And the guide takes his trembling hand and sets him gently but firmly on his feet, telling him to stay close on the journey back, for there are many things fouler than brambles in the dark places of this world.

He can but guide them. The wanderers must place their faith in that torchlight and the steady footfalls. The silver of the lights may seem at moments to shine brighter, but those that leave the path to embrace them must struggle through a dead land to find that those lights, so enticingly brilliant from far away, are in truth drops of dew, clinging to the underbelly of a great dark serpent.

And the guide will always be there. He is the great Ferrier and the great Pathfinder. Some may even call him the Great Tactician.

Why, Mama C, Why?!?

For most of my time spent as a follower of Christ, I have taken the notion of our complete free will as human beings for granted. Clearly (I said to myself on numerous occasions, generally late at night) we were given free will so that we might exercise choice, because only through choice can we come to know God, as choice, choosing God, sanctifies us, makes our soul, little by little, into a Christ-like thing. To be with Him, we must choose to be with Him, over and over again--He did not want automatons, He wanted us to want Him (as that very famous and overplayed song goes)--that was and is the only way into the club, so to speak.

All well and good, this is basic doctrine--we must be willing to accept Him into our hearts and acknowledge Him as our Lord. We must choose to hand over our lives. As CS Lewis (one of my very favorite gentlemen) says, "[Our] free will is trembling inside [us] like the needle of a compass. But this is a needle that can choose. It CAN point to its true North; but it need not..."

So we have established that we are, in truth, creatures of free will. You could say we are creatures of complete free will (not including the freedom to condemn or judge, as Adam exemplified)--creatures with complete choice. And what does having complete free will mean? Well, "will" means one has the drive to accomplish something, some task. "Free" implies a lack of constraint by a certain entity or system. Put them together, and "free will" means that our drive to accomplish a certain task, or reach a certain goal in a certain way, should not be constrained or limited by any system.

Interesting. Are you seeing something odd? I am. We live in a culture which promotes the very opposite of this God-given right. Let me, perhaps, elaborate:

How Mother Culture Attempts To Limit Our Free Will:

--Well, first let me state the obvious, which will NOT be what this long rambling rant is about. Human laws limit our free will, as the very knowledge that we are imperfect leads to the (correct) assumption that we will exercise the imperfections in our natures in a way that hurts others, and takes away their common rights. (Here's an interesting little proof for the fallen nature of man: If we are creatures of free will, why do we need laws constraining this will? Because clearly we are not exercising it in the way it was intended to be exercised, as a gift from God would not require these limitations to be necessarily set on it UNLESS it was perverted from the way it was intended to function).

So, now that THAT little rant is out of the way, back to my dissertation on Mama C. Why has society taken this constraining, limiting form?

Well I see two answers. One is perhaps the overarching macro-answer (as it were), and the other, the little teeny terrifying answer. We shall start with number one, yes?

Number One (1): Consider this:

You have just made a somewhat bad decision--say you quite accidentally got completely smashed and hooked up with your ex-boyfriend. Probably not a good plan, right? Who would you prefer to have around afterwards, the friend who tells you it wasn't that bad a plan, and that you didn't do anything super-wrong, and not to worry about the consequences (they won’t be that awful), or the one who sensibly tells you you probably just created for yourself a situation in which someone is quite likely to get emotionally PWND like teh n00b (if not pregnant)? In other words, would you prefer the one who makes you comfortable with your decision, or the one who makes you uncomfortable (there we go with that word "comfortable" again--it's all related!!)?

Well--being the emotional creature I am, I am sorry to admit that I would quite sensibly and understandingly listen to the realistic Friend Two, and perhaps at an intellectual level understand what they were saying, perhaps even make a couple feeble attempts to embrace it, but in my heart of hearts I would be far more drawn to the words of Friend One, who makes me feel good. And I assume most of you would subscribe to that viewpoint, as well.

Well let's look at this little paradigm on a larger scale, shall we? How is society, Mother Culture, formed?

Mother Culture operates along the same guidelines as Friend One. Deep down inside, we know we make bad decisions, in all matters of living. We know we live incorrectly, I know that in many ways, I do not live in accordance with Christ. So what, in our fallen nature, have we done, to make ourselves feel better about these poor choices? We have gravitated towards a societal structure which comforts us, whispering in our ears that our every poor choice wasn't so bad and isn't that important anyway. She tells us not to fear if we selfishly hurt our friends--we can always buy new ones, and humans were meant to be completely self-sufficient anyway. She tells us not to fear a lack of communication of truth in relationships--mystery is more important and enticing. We have created for ourselves a mother who validates our every poor choice--what little kid wouldn't want that?!? It's the "Donuts for breakfast" phenomenon, and we've found a mother-figure who will pour us a glass of milk on the side, smiling indulgently all the while.

And what happened after we created this incredibly validating, comforting societal structure? Well...think of it this way:

Why do you trust name-brands more than generic brands? Why do you trust your professor more than spotty old Uncle Joe when it comes to the date the American Civil War started? Why do you listen to your coach's corrections, but not your fellow swimmers'? Here's why: You accredit a certain amount of power and knowledge to those you choose to follow; to live by the lessons of someone whose precepts you did not respect would be foolish.

So then, what must we do in order to further validate Mother Culture? If you want to feel valid in your bad choices, you must find some way to convince yourself that the entity validating those choices is in possession of a higher knowledge, and more power, than you are. So, we must accredit Friend One with power and knowledge, so that we might feel wise in subscribing to her "codes" and "laws": we must give up our power of choice to Mother Culture, so that we might feel wise in our acceptance of her as a stronger, smarter guide. We must give her credentials, and thus give up our own right to choose.

And that, friends, is what we've done. We have found a big fluffy blanket to cover over our bad decisions, and now we have accredited said fluffy blanket with enough credentials to back up her every statement, so that we might feel comfortable following her blindly into the "anesthetic fog" (an incredibly apt term, if you think about it--thank you again, CS Lewis).

So we have accomplished two steps of our macro-societal journey: I like to think of them as Personal Validation (directed at our poor choices) and Extra-Personal Validation (the creation of "credentials" for this governing entity). What next?

Next is a little term I like to use, the "Great Forgetting" (stolen and reconfigured, thank you Daniel Quinn):

Well the problem is, we've truly managed to convince ourselves that Mother Culture is omnipotent, that she is the dictating force. So focused were we on self-validation, we decided to conveniently FORGET that we made her what she is, thus we FORGOT that we gave her her power to begin with, in an attempt to make her that much more convincing and ourselves feel that much more justified in listening to her. We have in an attempt to make her power and thus our own validation complete, FORGOTTEN that it was once not that way at all. We forgot we gave her a large part of our free will, which means we also forgot that we can GET IT BACK.

------------------------An Elaboration------------------------

What do I mean when I say we forgot that we gave her some of our free will? Let me tell you. What I mean is this: we forgot there is a way to not let her rule us, to take back our will, to live in a way which is not defined by the system, by her.

It is not, of course, to rebel against the system, and leave it—opposing a system continues to define the system, and perpetuates its existence (opposing a set of rules at every point will define what the rules are. For example, if your mother tells you not to spoil your appetite before dinner, and you turn around and spitefully consume a tur-duck-en, you have, in opposing your mother’s will, acknowledged the presence of her will, and the form that it takes, and so acknowledged the system).

So we have placed ourselves in an anesthetic fog, ever deepened and perpetuated by the Deceiver. And we, having forgotten we ever gave up this will to choose how to live, do not think there IS a will to choose how to live. The only way is, of course, through big Mama.

And she soothes us, telling us not to worry, that we haven’t truly given up our freedom of choice to her. She tells us, on a constant basis, that in ever way, we have control, we have every choice in the world. A few examples (with a little help from some friends):

---A fine fellow named Albert Borgmann provides me with my first example.  Technology.  Think of all the little
instruments you use, you rely on, every day.  Not just your car, your shower, your high-powered fruit-juicer (okay
 actually that’s at home).  Think more critically—you cannot convey thought to a large audience without the use of
some machine—a microphone, a bullhorn, a gun, even.  Wide dissemination of ideas is impossible without a pen
or computer.  In every way, we have become cyborgs—we live in a symbiotic (perhaps parasitic) relationship
with metal and plastic.  And what does each and every one of these instruments whisper of?  Control. 
Borgmann discusses a means/end relationship, in which the only purpose of a tool is the commodity it produces. 
Seems harmless at first, yes?  But look at it this way:  We flick the switch.  Hey presto!  Let there be light! 
We slip into a car—and the journey of complete control (temperature, visibility, journey itself) begins. 
No microphone?  Two people hear me sing.  Microphone?  Millions cringe in distaste as my vocals perform the
auditory equivalent of the fat man stripping down to a Speedo at the public beach. Technology, Mama Culture’s
 great triumph, lulls us to sleep, telling us not to fear giving up our freedom to the system, because we still, in all
these multitude of little ways, have control over our actions and the world at large.  (But, as a friend of mine says,
what happens when the power goes out?? ;)

--Through social “formulas” (disseminated in every magazine you can find), the untruth of complete control is
perpetuated.  Look at Redbook, Cosmo, even Health and Fitness.  “10 Tips To Great Sex”— so if I memorize
these ten small notes on this bright pink page my sex life will without a doubt make Hugh Hefner cower in abject
fear?  Do I have that much control?!?  Well yes, that’s what Mother Culture would say—she’s all about
means/end relationships:  “If you do x, you will receive y.  You are in complete control of receiving y because you
have the complete free will to choose whether or not you do x, and there is no process in the middle which may
affect this completely direct relationship.”  That is her message.

--Now this last bit is truly terrifying (if the first two weren’t enough for you). Many of you may have heard of the advent of subliminal messaging in commercials. Do you know how deep this runs? I am just beginning to formulate a mental image, and it is highly disturbing. Think of it this way:

We have just been lulled to sleep by our mother, Mama C. We have been sung the lullaby of control, the means/end lullaby in which our free choice leads to desired outcomes. Now what? Well, now that we think we have complete control, now that we cannot see two feet in front of us through this fog of comforts, it is time for the Enemy to move in for the kill. Think about it—the best way to attack someone, if you really want them dead, is to attack when they can’t see you, attack when they’re defenseless and confused, lost in a proverbial fog. Scarily enough, we’ve provided the Enemy with the cover of night, and he slipped in unnoticed. Still wondering how? Let me elaborate:

You’re happy. Friend One has you completely comfortable in your decision, and has completely won your trust. She has taken you out dancing to forget your troubles, and has bought you a celebratory drink (or four) in honor of your latest brush with fate (and Planned Parenthood). You are feeling warm, fuzzy, slightly inebriated, tired, and lazy. Thinking does not sound appealing. She’s right, after all—she’s a knowledgeable person on matters of the heart and you very much respect her opinion. So why not just relax in the comfort of her words?

Here’s why--what you don’t realize in your happy fog of excess Whiskey Sours is that she has slipped out back and is busy calling up your ex-boyfriend, and telling him that you want to get back together with him, and are an emotional mess (why is she lying? I don’t know…think up your own reason). She is busy moving in where you can’t see her, slowly taking away your options and your choices, in terms of who you are, how you are perceived, and what actions you will take in your future. She has taken away your free will in this situation and replaced it with limited choice, choices which bad, wrong and deceitful, that can only lead to disaster.

So you see how it begins:

1) We created an entity which validates our bad decisions and poor choices, which validates our fallen nature, through comfort and distraction and endorsement of poor morals and complete self-sufficiency. This entity is Mother Culture.

2) In order to feel sensible in subscribing to the product of this creation process, we had to do two things:

--accredit her with an amount of knowledge and power which would justify our dependence upon her.

--forget that this process of creation and accreditation went on; AUTHENTICATE her, as it were.

3) In the dictatorial power we have ascribed to her, she creates a haze of pseudo-control so that we may not fear continuing to live by her precepts.

4) In steps the Enemy. We are lost and confused, without bread or water. It is the perfect time for a full frontal assault. He, like the deceitful Friend One, steps out back whilst we are doing the equivalent of river-dancing on the nearest bar-room table, and begins to, without our knowledge, take away our options, take away our free will.

How does he do this? In many ways I know nothing of, but one I'm just beginning to see: he takes away our choices by completely circumventing our will to choose. And here's it is circumvented: If there was a way he could make you NOT KNOW he was leading you toward choosing the wrong thing-- that he could make you NOT KNOW you were being led blindly, that he could make you NOT KNOW he was there, wouldn’t that be a brilliant strategy on his part? You would not even feel your will being stolen.

And here is one example of this (thought there are of course many more): our ideas-machine, our advertising machine, one of the many war machines of the Enemy. Gradually, the enticing subliminal messages insidious in every aspect of society draw us toward a poor choice, a choice made because we don’t think we have any others, because our very free will, our very free will which God gave us as a gift, has been rendered vain, has been crippled.

Scary thought, no?? We have, in conjunction with the Great Deceiver, affected a triumph of negatively-based automatism, unless we can awake from this anesthetic fog and begin the struggle to regain the free will which was so graciously and necessarily given to us.

Now remember—I am not an anarchist. Do not oppose the system, be a creeper: USE the system. To Christ’s ends.

And I do not endorse the random detonation of fireworks.

….Unless you’re going to call me and tell me beforehand so I can come and watch…

Why Idols Suck So Very Badly

Chokay so---this is my small addition to my previously composed note concerning Mic Jagger, Monty Python, and Ice Cream With Two Swirls In It.


And before I officially begin my small addition, I must add this disclaimer, in response to various comments and queries:

This is NOT, I repeat NOT a call to isolationism, escapism, or repression. Relationships, with both objects and people, are necessary, and therefore emotions are real, valid, and necessary--we were made as physical beings, and are called to be interconnected, we ARE one body. I am merely advocating a process of removing oneself temporarily from relationships which have become perverted because of our gravitation towards a perception of control, so that one can see if one is abusing one's relationships. Please--if you are going to read this, try to keep in mind that as unclear as my communication skills may be, I am:
1) Providing observations concerning a process which I have begun to attempt to embrace because the Lord placed it on my heart--this is not a call to action or an accusation, it is merely my thoughts.
2) Aware of the absolute necessity of relationships, of emotional and spiritual connection, and the strong feelings which can and do accompany this connection. I am simply outlining my belief that people tend to abuse their relationships as amusements, or distractions, to render thought unnecessary. I'm not telling you to be hermits. I don't want to be a hermit. I like people far too much. I like to hear myself talk far too much. Can't you tell?? :P

That being said:


I want to address a question which I've heard quite a bit from various people in the last couple days, concerning fasting in different aspects of life.

See--I keep telling people I want to run away to British Columbia and help a local artist blaze a trail through the virgin forest which comprises half of his property. In other words, I have this urge to go maple-syrup-and-a-cottage-

in-the-woods-ing. And what I keep providing as the reason, because it seems like a simple, short, and easily-understood answer, is "I think I'm over-connected".

But WAIT. WAIT. What does that MEAN? How am I over-connected, and how is that detrimental? Why does that disallow true worship, and why would abolishing this over-connectedness, and in time establishing the correct amount of connectedness, allow for peace, as opposed to comfort?

So I guess that's my real question--what is the nature of the peace the Lord will bring, if I am to fast from these idols of mine? Why is the Lord automatically connected with "peace"? Or, simply put, how is true peace different from the comfort derived from amusement, from distraction?

So here's my random thoughts:

Think of what causes emotional upheaval in your life. What causes fear, what causes anger, what causes pain or sadness or whatever other burning emotion you happen to subscribe to on a regular (or irregular) basis. What causes this emotion, when you boil it down as far as it can be boiled down?

Well, I found my answer (slightly altered to fit my needs o' course) with a little help from a friend, and here's what I would say:

Loss. Every strong emotion you feel goes right back to loss. Saddened by a friend's death? Desperate to control a bad habit or addiction? Angry at you father's lack of interest in your chosen life path? It all goes back to loss--loss of your friend creates sadness, loss of control over yourself creates desperation, loss of your father's validation (or, if his will is strong enough, loss of your life path, in addition) creates anger.

And, in opposition, what causes temperance in emotion and feeling, peace? The lack of loss. The loss of loss creates peace.

So, here's my conclusion: All this stuff, all this worldly matter: your friend, your relationship with your friend, your addiction and the body which it seemingly controls, your father and the life path which he invalidates, ALL OF IT, is ephemeral.

And what does the word ephemeral mean? It means that it is passing, that it is fleeting, that it is here today gone tomorrow. Here today, GONE tomorrow. Here today, LOST tomorrow. All the things of this world, as has been drilled into our heads over and over again (heck it's been drilled into mine and I've been in this gig for half a year) will be lost. You will lose them all, at one point or another. So over-attachment to, perversion of the acceptance of God's gifts, IDOLATRY: of your friend, of your relationship with that friend, of perceived control (power), of your body, of your life path, of your father, will always cause intemperance in emotions, will never allow peace, because these idols will always be lost at some point. Idols may to some extent distract you from the fear of loss, but true peace can never be attained through worshiping them--

"What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don't they come from your desires that battle within you?" James 4:1

WHEREAS:

As we've also had drilled into our heads, God is eternal, and constant. So how could you find anything BUT peace in placing all of your faith, hope, and love in something which will always be there? If we truly embraced no idols, and worshiped only the true God, emotional upheaval would be nearly impossible.

Think of the stress provoked in you when you lose your iPod. Admit it, you know it's true. Now--if you didn't attach a little TOO much importance to it, would it cause that much stress? If it wasn't acting as a distraction, an idol, would you be angry at its loss? No--it wouldn't be important enough to be very angry about.

(Which is of course not a call for repression of emotions, and certainly not an invalidation of emotions (in correct measure). We were made as relational, corporeal beings with physical and emotional needs. So feelings of loss are natural and expected to some extent. But the extent to which we feel them, the VAST intemperance in our emotional states, the complete inability to find peace, points to pervasive idolatry.)

So idolatry will always cause intemperance, and true worship of God will always bring peace which culminates in glorification, because we will always lose our idols to time, and we will never lose our Lord.

So--would you rather place all your eggs in a basket made of soggy, rotting straw (ew), or a steel strong-box? Yeah--it's kinda like that. Boooo, idols, boooo...

Aaaaand in conclusion--how am I over-connected, are most of us over-connected? We are over-connected because we place too much importance on our iPod, too much importance on our life path, too much importance on relationships and people. We idolize them. And see, since they're all transitory, and we worship them--place hope, faith, and love in them, it's really gonna suck when we lose them.

you might even say:

PWND.

Which is why IDOLSSUCKSOFREAKINBAD.


The End. <----hah. irony. or a vague and easily-missed trope. who knows...) Well, ps. please don't think I'm trying to say relationships and people aren't important. Everything in balance and for the right reason, though: I think investment is one of the most important things in the world, investment in a deeply emotional sense. We are made to be connected through love--to deny that would be foolish. But there is a HUGE difference between investment and idolatry. And I think the difference is in your intention. Why are you putting yourself in a relationship with this specific person, why are you going to hang out with them today? If the answer has to do with control, over them or the situation (you are using them for distraction, validation, etc), you know which way you're probably goin'. dundunDDDDDDUUUUUNNN okay now I'm done...

On Tactics, The Third Way, And Double Ripple Wonder

Let me paint you another scene (and this one is not nearly as endearing as I like to think the first one was): A girl. Me, even. Sitting on the edge of her bed, head in hands. If this was a movie, the song in the background would be…hmmm perhaps “In My Darkest Hour” (which seems appropriate because part of the reason my head was in my hands at that point was due to the fact that that very song had been stuck in my head for the past two days, and it was driving me slowly insane). But why the head in the hands (other than the pervasive internal drone of Nickel Creek), do you ask?

Well—it has to do with a concept very new to me, in some senses. A concept encompassed by a prayer I’ve heard someone else say, but never fully understood until now. “Lord—please don’t let me be overly comfortable”. I have to admit it sounds a little crazy at first. But maybe it would help if I got back to my little tale of potential angst.

Why, then, is this girl sitting in such dark angst on the edge of her brightly-colored comforter? She is…uncomfortable. Yes, friends, for perhaps the second time in my life, I was incredibly uncomfortable and uneasy, and had no idea why. Literally, no idea why. I kept wondering—how can I be uncomfortable—I have NO concerns, no worries, nothing I am needed for or needed to do. No school, no work, no monetary concerns, no social drama, not even (since I was fasting) any food! How could one live with so little demanded of them, and be so very uncomfortable?

And then I realized how, in one sudden flash. As I said, I had no concerns—or, more aptly put, I had no distractions. For various reasons, all of the idols which usually populated my life and allowed me to be comfortably numb (as the song says) had been obliterated. And I was left highly uncomfortable, no distractions, only me and my short-comings and the Lord. A highly uncomfortable place to be, if you will. I actually had a moment (early in the morning, mind you) when I had a type of vision, you could say. I very vividly saw myself, sitting on my bed, looking up. But instead of sky above me, there was all this stuff, for lack of a better word. Objects and people’s faces and past situations, all my distractions, whirling around above me in this huge, loud mass that stretched from horizon to horizon. And I saw a tunnel open up in the middle of the cloud, and the Lord was visible at the other end. The idols all threatened to fall back into that opening, but suddenly I truly, truly did not want them to…

But let me start from the beginning of my thoughts. To me, there are three ways. I will (inventively) call them Way One, Way Two, and Way Four (NO! Three! …sorry, Monty Python moment ;). I will provide an outline for all three, as they relate to society and to my life as a follower of Christ.

--Way One—

Way One is the way of us all, our tendency as humans. Think of what distracts you, what you expend your “energy points” in doing. School? Work? Social drama? Pick a starting point. For example—I picked food. Food (thank you John Piper) is something most everyone has a semi-abusive relationship with. Stressed? Have some chocolate. Depressed? Let’s go get a carton of double-ripple-wonder (I have no idea what kind of flavor that would be)—forget about him! Long day at work? Well at least I can get my double-bacon-cheeseburger on the way home. Food covers up our dissatisfactions, our real troubles. Food, perverted from its true use—the opiate of the masses. So, knowing that this was true for me, I got rid of it. One less thing to distract me from what I really should be dealing with, right?

But what was my first reaction? “This is gonna suck—I’ll distract myself from not having food by trying to find a job”. Weeeell now---what did I just do? I traded one distraction for another. And the more I think of this, the more true it is. We are always willing to trade in one thing for another, in an endless attempt to distract ourselves. Think about yourself. What would you do if you had no food? What would you do if you had no computer? What would you do if you had no food AND no computer? We all have obsessions, and as a good friend of mine once said, “it seems like we trade in one for another”.

Why would we do this? Why the continual deferance (delaying of the truth, as Derrida would say), the continual trading in, the continual need for distraction? Let me provide you with my ponderings:

1) We defer things in an endless desire for comfort, comfort in the fact that we have a shelf of idols securely in place. And this shelf of idols is perceived as being much more comforting than the Lord, because:
2) What is an idol? Something we set up as a god, but which in truth we have power over. Why do we create idol after idol for ourselves? Because it is far more comfortable to live in a world where He who has true power over us is blocked from view by our multitude of idols, which we have power over.
3) So in sum—why do we have an endless array of idols? Because it is easier to worship that which you control than that which you do not. It all goes back to control.
And why, WHY do we fear losing control so very much? Well, I tend to agree with a friend of mine—to acknowledge we have no control is to acknowledge that there is one above us who does. And to acknowledge that is to acknowledge that not only do we live in His mercy, but we owe Him our allegiance:
“Why do you call me Lord, Lord, and do not do what I say”? Luke 6:46-7. Well, this is why: allegiance takes work—it takes going against our broken and selfish and perverted desires, and using God’s gifts as they were meant to be used. Much easier to just take the gifts, pervert them and control them, not acknowledge the Giver. And the only way we have found to do that, take the gifts and not see the Giver, is to worship idols, and block the Giver from view. We have found a way, Way One, as I call it, to displace the source from which the gifts come. Terrifying.

--Way Two--

Way Two is, as I call it, living outside the system. Way Two is fasting. Way Two is removing from availability all sources of idolatry which we could try to grasp at. As CS Lewis says, one only knows what “drunk” is when one is sober, one only knows what “bad” is when one is good. It is only from the outside that we can truly observe the system, when we are inside it, we are too enmeshed in its operations.

So what does fasting do? It removes us from this system of idolatry entirely, and allows us to see the idols at work, allows us to identify our own idols for what they are. Idols, comforts, distractions, controls. They are one and the same, in most cases—what are your idols? Fast from one--remove yourself from the system of one, and see what pops up to replace it. By removing oneself, one can see shortcomings--what one grasps at to maintain a self-perceived semblance of control.

--Way Three--

So now, the Third Way. Chokay—this is complex (at least to the author going on minimal sleep it is…)

The Third Way, to me, is the way of Jesus. Let me explain. The First Way is living in and embracing perversion in the system, utilizing the gifts in the wrong way. The Second, removing oneself from the system entirely (the Cottage-In-The-Woods-Conun

drum, as I like to call it, total fasting), not accepting the gifts. The Third—using the system to your own ends, to God’s ends—accepting the gifts as they were meant to be accepted. We must live within the spatial and temporal confines of the system, but we do not need to use this system in the way that the First Way does. We can use tactics to circumvent this. The Third Way, to me, is appropriating the system as it was supposed to be appropriated, and the First, the perverted way which we have learned and been taught to live in it.

But what, you ask, is this system I keep referring to?

The “system”, in this case, is the way in which we in our fallen nature receive the gifts of God. The gifts of God, which take the form of our instincts, our desires, our drives--in sum, how we live. So—review with me—the three ways:

1) We live in the perversion of the system—we abuse the gifts of God (think of our natural drives and how incredibly perverted they have become due to our need to control them—love has become pride, hunger has become gluttony, the need for shelter, greed, etc etc) because we do not acknowledge that we do not control them. In order to ignore our lack of control, we distract ourselves with comforts.
2) We live outside the system. We deny the gifts of God, in order to take some “time away” and discover how best to begin accepting them without abusing them. How do we turn these idols, these opaque barriers which stand before God and block Him from our view, into glass sheets, through which we can see Him? We must take some time away altogether in order to understand how to turn opaque into transparent, which will allow us to see God, and will not diminish Him in our sight.
3) We reinstate the acceptance of these gifts correctly, we live with these gifts, as corporeal beings who need them, but use them as God intended, in accordance with Him, in acknowledgment of His control. We’re living within the system, within the gift-exchange, if you will, but we’re finally appropriating it correctly (hooray De Certeau). Like Jesus—the Great Tactician.

So this leaves one final question. How? How do we go the Third Way? Let’s assume we’ve removed ourselves from the system—we’ve located and denied the prevalent idols in our lives—we are, at this moment, Cabin-In-The-Woods-ing it, as it were. Where do we go from here? These idols are in some cases necessary gifts from God—the gifts mentioned earlier—food, shelter, love, human relationships. How do we reinstate them in a non-abusive way, when we have gone through life abusing them? How do we reinstate them in the correct balance, as gifts, but not idols?

This stumped me for awhile, not gonna lie. How do you balance something which you only know in imbalance? And what is the answer?

Well it’s plain, simple, and not very difficult, but not very easy. As Jesus did. You choose not to worship them. You choose, at every corner, at every temptation, to turn instead to your Lord, to call him Lord and to do what he says. Sounds very very idealistic and naïve, doesn’t it? Well that’s what I thought, when a good friend of mine first explained it to me like that—just turn to God, again and again. But it’s as simple and difficult as that, friends. And here’s why (I hope you can sense the rant coming):

Each time you make a choice, you are slowly becoming a person whose nature it is to make those choices. You are slowly (once again, thank you CS Lewis) turning your core, your soul, into something. Your choices are the outward manifestation of who you inwardly are, yes? So your choices, then, are the overflow of your heart, yes? “Out of the overflow of his heart [man’s] mouth speaks” Luke 6:45. Well then each time you choose something, it is both affecting and reflecting the nature of your heart. So if each time fasting shows you your idols, you choose to rid yourself of them, and turn instead to God, you will in time become a person who by nature does not worship idols. You will become a person whose soul embraces gifts as they were meant to be embraced. You will become a person who by nature sees not the distractions of their own world, but God. Once again, sanctification comes through choice, but not through control.

So in sum: Fasting (and that does not refer solely to food, of course) is the tool by which we can step outside the system and thus see how it is being abused. And once we can see that, and identify our own particular idols, we can learn to, through choice, embrace them as gifts, in balance with their purpose as the Lord intended it to be.

So FINALLY, I begin to understand.

Lord God, please do not let me live in comfort. Do not let me be lulled to sleep. Give me this day my daily bread. But no more. Everything in balance.

Or as my brother used to yell at me “DAD IS A MOSSY STONE. DO YOU WANT TO BE A MOSSY STONE TOO? ROOOOLL, PUNKY, ROLL!!”

But…that’s not as eloquent.

Fear, Choice, Control--WTF, mate?!?

Allow me to paint for you a scene:

It is Christmas Eve. (It can be any year from 1995 onward--the only difference in your mental image would be that as the years progress I look increasingly less and act increasingly more like an enormous nerd.) But I digress. It is Christmas Eve, and my older brother (who in my opinion looks a little something like Strider from Lord of the Rings), my mother, and I are sitting in a rough semicircle, facing my dad, grandpa storyteller himself, as he slowly cracks open the one book we all know by heart, but have never read from the page. He's the only one allowed to do that. He pauses, looking quietly at each of us in turn over the top of the book, allowing the suspense to build. The image of my father, a little benign smile on his face as he peers knowingly at me through wire-rimmed spectacles, will be forever burned into my memory.

And then...the story begins. This story, more than anything else, is our tradition. Part of me wants to pull away from the statement I just made, and list instead our breakfast mimosas, my brother insisting on listening to the Peanuts' Christmas album no matter HOW OLD HE GETS, perhaps my dad getting teary eyed and calling his mother, my Grandma Teen, the one time a year he calls her. But deep down, I see the other moments as transitory, and this story, this little story in its little white book-jacket with its printed words that I've yet to see, will outlast them all. The other memories are incredibly, incredibly beautiful to me--(take a moment and think of your own Christmases, and I think you'll understand), but to me--this story that my father reads, that my father TELLS, is timeless.

Want to know what this story is? I'm sure many of you are guessing it's the story of the birth of Jesus. Good guess.

But---no. This story, short, simple, and seemingly trite, is called "The Precious Present". Have you heard of it? (I know one person reading this has...) A short, simple, new age (forgive me I'm not actually sure what that term means...I just like using it) book about a man and his search for happiness. And there is one line, in this entire story, that truly stands out to me. Every time my dad gets to it, he again pauses, savoring the nugget of profound wisdom which he is about to impart (for the nth time of course) to us all. He stops speaking for a moment, peering once again over the top of his glasses, and, using his right hand for added emphasis, states “Pain is the difference between what is, and what we want it to be.”

Well now. Here’s where our adventure begins. With that line. Well—with almost that line. I have changed it a bit, to fit my purposes…but first let me explain:

I’ve spent some time now thinking about a couple different components of life, and how they relate to each other, and what their individual roles are in my life as a follower of Christ. So first let me provide you with the terms, and then, like my terrifying high school writing teacher pounded into my brain, I’ll define my terms.

Control (or lack thereof), Fear, Choice, Focus.

Now. To define, I’m going to provide you with a metaphor. (Those of you who know where this is coming from…you can stop laughing now :P). Ready? Rock-climbing. Even if you don’t know much about it (and I certainly don’t), I’m assuming you know the basics. I mean the uber-basics. Person. Cliff-face. Danger. General direction: up. That’s about all you need to know for now. I’ll come back to it in a bit. Glad I could break it down for you.

So first—fear. What is fear?

Fear is the inability to accept a lack of control. Think about the situations you fear. What are they? Taking tests—that’s always kinda scary. Performing—whatever kind—singing, comedy, acting, cheerleading, whatever you want to think about. Danger—choose your own adventure: sky-diving, scuba diving, playing with fire because it’s pretty (it’s true…I’m kind of a pyro :), etc. etc., and human relationships: the shaky one with your boss, the uncomfortable one with your potentially-more-than-frie

nd, or the uncertain one with your spouse. What do all these situations have in common? You are not in control of them—their outcome or any of the actors in them. Oh sure—preparation makes a difference…but in the end, you are by definition a separate entity from the situation, and thus are not in control of it. Claiming control of it would be, to me, claiming not to need God—it would almost be claiming to be a god. So—premise number one: God did not give us control over situations.

Premise number two: Fear, then, is the inability to accept this. Fear is the inability to accept that we have no control over situations. And that’s how I changed the line in my father’s story to fit my needs. Fear is the difference between what is, and what we want it to be. What is? We are not gods. We do not have control. And that is exactly what we want.

Now here’s (to me) some good bits of evidence about our lack of control:

1) Fear itself posits that we do not have control. I believe we would all agree that fear is a primal, an animal, an innate instinct. It is an instinct which, because it is natural, must have and have had a purpose. It wouldn’t have been given to us if it was not needed. And I am certainly not discrediting this—fear raises a warning flag—it says “pay attention! Something volatile may be happening!” However, on top of that, it also, well, helps me prove my point regarding our lack of control. Let me explain: Fear is an innate knowledge that signals to us that something may be happening which can affect us. Now—if it acts as a flag, as a signal, it is in itself acting as a liaison. If your car is out of gas, how do you know? Because the little light on the dashboard lights up. Because there is a signal, acting as a liaison, between the car and you. You are not the car, you had no way of knowing it was out of gas, except that a signal was built into one of the two entities in questions, to communicate between them. Same thing with fear. You are not the situation. So fear acts as the necessary signal between you, to say to you: “hey look! Potential problem!” If you have to be told what is happening by a liaison, then you clearly do not know yourself, and if you do not know by yourself, then you could not possibly be in control of the situation. There would be no need for fear if people had control, because there would be no need for a liaison—we would already be “inside” the situation ourselves, we would already have knowledge of it.
2) Trust. How does trust relate to fear and control? Well—think again of your own tendencies. I’m sure you would acknowledge you have trust issues in some aspect of your life. I know I do. People. I don’t trust people. I don’t trust them to hold me and carry me, and I don’t trust them not to hurt me. Now think about it—if I had control, would there be any need for mistrust? Why is mistrust so incredibly universal? Because we know, inside ourselves, that in truth, we have no control.

So fear, my fabulous friends, is both proof that we know we lack control, and the product of our inability to accept that we lack it. Let me give you an example.

This is a personal example: I used to swim. A lot. Some would even say—a ridiculous amount (I would be one of those people). And I’m going to use swimming as my example, but I believe it’s the same for most sports, most performances, so think of those you’ve been a part of, and see if you agree with me:

There’s that moment. Before you swim. Where you’re on deck and you’re absolutely terrified. And reason kinda breaks down and all the sudden you’re facing a million possibilities—what if the water’s too cold, what if the atmosphere is too thin (I was competing in Colorado Springs, okay?), you woke up at 5 am—what if your muscles get that familiar leaden feeling halfway through. What if you ate too much and get sick? What if you hyperventilate? What if you swallow water? What if (and this actually happened quite a lot) you faint? The list goes on and on. And then, something very strange but exceedingly familiar happens. Happened. Every time. Go-time would come, and all the sudden, in an instant, all my fear would be gone. All the sudden—I would experience the most pure ability to focus that I’ve ever experienced. The most immense clarity of what my task was and what I must physically and mentally do. All in a moment, a moment that had nothing to do with intellectual reasoning or my higher brain or anything like that. Pure and simple—I realized, I KNEW in every muscle and every fiber of my body, that I had no control, and I automatically accepted it. And as soon as I knew that, as soon as I accepted I had no control, my fear stopped being a cloud, stopped being an impenetrable barrier, to sound thought.

Now this leads me to my second term, Control.

I’ve already talked about control, about our ability (or inability) to accept that we do not have it. Let me elaborate. I believe control is in a couple fundamental ways linked to another one of my terms, Choice.

Think of a situation you dread facing—one in which you have no control. Say…you need to ask your boss for a raise. Now—do you, fundamentally, have control over the outcome? No…your boss affects the outcome, the factors affecting your boss’ decision affect the outcome, etc etc. Clearly, here, we have no control over the situation. I’ll give you another one: you’re going to propose. dundunDUUUN. Now clearly you do not have control over this situation. I don’t even need to enumerate the possible affecting factors—I can already see you agreeing with me. Now think of the rock-climber I was getting all ready to talk about—do they have control, in the end? Up there on their cliff face—do they have complete control over their situation? No—the rock may be unsteady—they don’t know that, they don’t control that. Their leg might cramp—they don’t anticipate that—they don’t control that. There’s an infinite number of variables in any situation which make it inherently OUT OF OUR CONTROL.

So then—if we don’t have control over anything, what’s the point of free will? If we don’t have the ability to reliably affect the outcome of any given situation, why give us choice in the first place? It’s certainly not because choice does anything. As I’ve already said—just because that rock-climber chooses a certain rock, it does not suddenly make them any more in control of their situation than they were originally. Just because you choose to address your boss in a certain way, does not reliably mean you can actualize a favorable outcome.

And here’s my conclusion (with a little, read: a lot, of help from CS Lewis): If we were not given choice to control things, which we clearly were not, we were given choice for just that reason: to choose. If choice does nothing causal to the outside world, then its main purpose must be internal. (Understand—I’m not saying choice has no effect on the outside world—I’m saying it does not have a tried-and-true, repeatable effect…it does not provide control.) Choice was not given to us to allow us to dictate events—it was given to us because each choice we make teaches us how to choose, and makes us who we will become. As CS Lewis says, if a tennis player practices enough, and intentionally makes enough good serves, they will become a tennis player who is, in effect, a good server. Their individual actions, will in time become a habit, and then a personality trait. It’s the same with our climber—enough time testing handholds, and they will become a climber capable by their nature of knowing a good handhold. And the same thing with choice. Choice was not given in order to give us control over situations, it was given to us so that we could, with repetition and practice, begin to intentionally make good decisions. And these good, Christ-like decisions become a habit. And then this Christ-like habit becomes your personality, your self. Choice wasn’t given to hand over some measure of control, it was given as a tool of sanctification. And God became man that we might have an example of how to make these choices. We have been given an arena in which to practice, the arena of Choice, and now, we have been given a Teacher.

Now—how is fear tied to this? Let me tell you: Fear paralyzes you. And I don’t just mean that in a “ZOMGZ I CAN’T MOVE” way. Fear paralyzes you in every way. Fear is an inability to accept a lack of control. And if one is unable to accept this lack, one is unable to understand why choice must be made. For example:

Our friendly neighborhood rock-climber is frightened. They’re new to this gig, and they are unable to get past their lack of control, and focus on the issue at hand. They sit there (hang there), trying to figure out how they can regain control, before they go on, before they choose their next handhold (I've doen this--I know it's true :). And here’s the problem: Since they will never have control, they will never figure out their little conundrum of how to regain it. And since they will never figure out their conundrum, they will continue to sit there. Now tell me—do you think a tennis player who never raises his racquet will ever become a good server? Will that climber, never choosing to move, ever learn how to find good handholds, become a good climber? Will you ever learn to make good choices if you never choose? Fear doesn’t allow for focused, intentional choice (choice geared toward bettering oneself), because it’s too busy trying to regain control.

Which brings me to focus. Focus is what allows this intentional choice. Oh sure—you can make choices without being focused, but they will never be intentional choices—they will never be choices which improve your serve, teach you a good handhold, or turns you into a Christ-like person. Fear clouds focus, and focus allows for intentional thinking—focus is what, in life, allows us to hear the guiding Spirit we’ve been given.

Sooooooo—in sum:

Fear is the difference between what is (our lack of control) and what we want it to be (a capability to control). Once we accept that we have no control, this difference is stricken, and fear cannot operate as a debilitating factor. When we are not debilitated by fear, we have the capability to think, to focus, and to feel the Holy Spirit. And with these tools, we can make choices. Choices do not give us control, they turn us into people whose nature it is to make that specific choice. Choices sanctify us.

So as I’ve heard before, “if you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there”. In other words: Choose with intention, choose with the guidance of Christ. Because you will become the type of person who makes those choices by nature.

What The Heck Is This Blog About?!?

The title of my blog is derived from a concept developed in one of Michel DeCerteau's greatest works (in my extremely biased opinion): "The Practice of Everyday Life".

In this book, DeCerteau juxtaposes the terms "strategy" and "tactics". Strategy is defined as a system of laws, intended to actualize a certain outcome (a system of traffic lights is intended to actualize a reality in which accidents are avoided, without taking an inordinate amount of our valuable time). Tactics, according to DeCerteau, are the ways in which individuals can be in and use a system to their own ends (not those dictated by the system), by taking advantage of context (think of how one might appropriate the traffic system at 3am in a deserted intersection, even if the light is red--we are utilizing the system, but certainly not as the system itself intended.)

Or, put in another way, to be a tactician is to be in a system, but not dependent on it as that system dictates one should be. Or more simply, to be a tactician is to be "in this world, but not of it". (Sound familiar?)

Who, then was the true Great Tactician? Why, clearly, Jesus Christ! He was the teacher and follower of a Third Way, not inside or outside the world: a way to use the system, the world, society, not as fallen man dictated it was meant to be used (for his own insatiable appetite for sin) but as Christ Himself called for it to be used, to the glory of His father.

Welcome, then, to my random little blog, containing my thoughts on Christ, the many facets of our f*ed up society (or Mama Culture, as I like to call her, thank you Daniel Quinn), and being a tactician-- seeing and following the Truth through the "anesthetic fog" of this world. Boooo, Mama C, Boooo....