A dramatization in the style of Lovecraft (hopefully)

I saw the "No Guns Allowed" sign, but didn't care. I had a license to carry, and no pot-smoking hippy was going to put up a sign and keep me out. I opened the door, and walked inside. Enemy territory. Would they know? What would happen if they saw that most hated of tools, the bringer of death to this world, The Gun?

"Hello!" One of the hippies said cheerfully, unaware of the horror that had just walked into their presence.

"Good morning" I replied, knowing that this was anything but. This was a morning that would cause screams that would echo through time, screams normally reserved for Elder Things.

I walked over to the wall of DVDs. They were alphabetical, and not sub-divided by type or genre. Typical of hippies to know only one way of organizing things. I'd stopped by the shop to find a rock documentary, but it wasn't there. Probably too loud and angry for the store owners to handle.

A dilemma presented itself. I could stop by the music selection, I'd been looking for a certain Collective Soul album, but one of Them was there, and they might not have it, either. I could destroy this man's sanity by my very presence, and yet it might be a waste of my time. Perhaps I should leave immediately?

I decided to risk it. This lesser creature was not worth worrying about, and could easily be replaced.

I sauntered over to the bins and found that these, too, were only sorted alphabetically. The store's selection was actually decent, and I grabbed several other albums that I had been looking for.

"Have you found what you're looking for?"

I glanced over at the hippy that had spoken to me, and he suddenly appeared to be sweating slightly. He tugged at the already-loose collar of his polo as I politely responded "Yes, thank you."

Realizing I had a limited budget, I walked past the man towards the front of the store. I heard him collapse behind me, giggled gibberish pouring from his mouth. The overwhelming horror of The Gun had taken his sanity by sheer proximity, even without him being directly aware of its presence.

I made eye contact with the hippie that appeared to be the manager, and indicated with a nod that I needed to pay for my goods. He directed his remaining subordinate to the till, then began clawing his eyes out, whispering formless words of horror at what he had just seen.

I glanced down, but my heavy jacket was still concealing The Gun. I wondered what he had seen, clearly simply being a Bearded Man could not cause that kind of reaction, but shook off such idle thoughts as I approached the register. I had more important things to do than ponder the inner workings of the hippie mind.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" the cashier shrieked as he began biting his own lip off.

"Yes, thank you."

"Would you like a bag for this?" He shrieked again, I barely avoided the spatter of blood that came with this question, his lips were tattered, and he now appeared to be chewing on his tongue.

He held out the receipt to me, but I declined, not wanting to risk contaminated hippie blood in my car. Suppressing a smile, I walked to the front door and paused to put my sunglasses on, which gave the now-eyeless manager time to cheerfully giggled out the words "Have a nice day!"

"You too, sir" I replied, knowing that the rest of his life would be marked by nightmares of this day. I pushed the door open, smiled at the sunlight that streamed in, and left the store.

******

Author's note: This was written entirely as a writing exercise (because H. P. Lovecraft is the man), dramatizing a completely normal trip to a record store. No hippies were hurt in the making of this story, nor during the actual events that took place.

The moral of the story is that those signs are pointless, and stop absolutely nothing from happening. I'm a nice guy, and that sign might as well have said "no germs allowed" for all the actual effect it had on me. Guns go wherever the people who carry them want to take them, and as long as people are willing to walk past the signs, the signs don't matter.

Leaving Protestantism Part 1:

I was sitting in a basement-turned-coffee shop, where a Sunday evening church service was being held. I was there that Sunday because a friend of mine invited me to attend, saying (quite correctly, I might add) that there were several very beautiful women there who were solidly of the Christian persuasion. I'm not exactly a complicated guy. Christian women aren't generally found in bars on Friday night, so if I'm going to find a lady to marry, I should probably look for her in a church.

The pastor was the epitome of the "relevant, seeker-sensitive" type. Denim shirt, one too many buttons unbuttoned to be business casual, stating that he's not a traditional pastor, so he can be approached. Same with the week's growth of beard. The carefully unkempt hair. That affably friendly demeanor, the affinity for Apple products, the discerning taste in coffee. The tattoos that speak of slight edginess, just enough to say "I know what you've been through".

I looked around, and I saw people I'd known at other churches, some of them 15 years earlier. I'd gotten to know some of the church members, they were mostly transplants from one church or another. There were a few converts, but the vast majority that I talked with were folks who'd "stopped being fed" by their old churches, and left them for greener pastures.

I felt kinda sick when I realized that this is Protestantism everywhere I go. I was a member of a United Methodist Church when I was in Tulsa, but then I moved to Idaho, and I went back to the church I attended while there. That church was almost all transplants, too. So was the proto-megachurch I attended for a few months before I went to college.

I was living in a world of church hopping transplants. That's what Protestants did, I realized. We attended a church because the pastor was cool, or because the music was good, but sooner or later the love affair cooled off, and we moved on. We had better excuses than that, of course, but that's what it was.

It was all about us. That's not how I saw it at the time, of course, all the years I was a part of it. No way, man, I was trying to find the pure church, the one where the pastor was doctrinally sound, the music was good, and the people were friendly. I attended four churches in 17 years in Idaho.

I left one because it started to preach Prosperity Gospel heresy, and I got so sick of the ensuing bullshit that I walked away from the faith for a few years.

I left the second because there was a persistent rumor that the third had a nice collection of singles. Like I said, I'm not exactly complicated.

The third was a good church. I left it, though, because after a while I wanted something new. Got tired of the old, didn't feel like I was getting much out of it.

The fourth I left when I left town to go to college. I guess that's actually a good reason.

But still, I church-hopped. Worse, I made a sport of church criticism. Because in the end, it was about me, and what I wanted. What I wanted out of a church was the main thing. What I thought correct doctrine was. What I thought were good songs. What I thought church folk should act like. And whether or not other people measured up to my standards.

Me, me, me. I, I, I.

Because that, ultimately, is what Protestantism is. It's foundational, really. We're taught early on that the Bible is the supreme authority on every matter of Doctrine. Sola Scriptura, and because Scripture alone is the final authority, it's up to each of us to make sure that our interpretation of it is perfect. Whenever one of us has a disagreement, we turn to Scripture to solve it, and it should be the end of the matter.

What really happens, though, is that my interpretation is more accurate, more Spirit-guided, more Bible-based than yours. So I'm going my way, and you can go yours. We have a schism, and we go our separate ways. Then another few years down the road, I get into another doctrinal debate, there's another question that we go to the Bible to answer, and if and when we don't agree with each other, we have another schism.

It's been estimated that there are around 33,000 denominations of Protestantism. Think about that for a second. That means that 33,000 times the Bible was raised up as the ultimate authority in our lives, and the end result was a fracturing of the family, not reconciliation and peace. Just schisms, sunderings, and rebellions. Protests. Something like 1.7 times per week since Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of a Catholic Church.

It's all we do. We get along for a while, then we leave. We Protest. We decide that *we* are the authority. *I* decide that *I* am the authority, really. "We" only comes into the picture as long as you and I agree, otherwise I go where I believe I should go, and it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.

Sola Scriptura becomes Solo Scriptura. Me Scriptura.

Look where this brought us, what the Fruits of the Tree of Sola Scriptura have brought us: Rates of divorce that are utterly indistinguishable from the secular world. Heresy abounds. Doctrine is downplayed or simply not taught (which is "rebranded" these days as "Focusing on Christ and Him crucified) so that we don't offend anyone or make them feel excluded. Lines in the sand are wiped away, because it's politically incorrect to stand opposed to things based on religious principles these days. Alcoholism is far too common. Drug abuse isn't unheard of, and I don't mean the newcomer that stands in the back, but in pastors and regular attenders. Pornography use is so common that it's rare to hear a man say that they've never used it.

And in every church, people hide their sins behind masks of perfection, of godliness, too afraid of the criticism of their fellow man to actually come before God in humility and deal with the very problems that destroy their lives.

It was actually a question if one of the churches I used to attend, denomination-wide (which means millions of people), would officially change their stance on homosexuality. And I mean it was serious enough that the pastor made a semi-official statement that if the bishops changed the official stance of the denomination, he'd leave. 

Why was it even brought up? Was it because the Bible we unanimously declare to be the final authority changed, because the words moved around on the page on every Bible ever written? No, because the politics don't favor it anymore. Far from standing on Scripture Alone, these days we don't stand on, for, or against anything.

Roughly a year ago, I ran across a question that I couldn't answer at the time: "If the road you followed brought you here, was it the right road?"

The more I look at not only my life, which is alternately a mild success and a flaming train wreck, but at the state of the Protestant Church as a whole, the more I realize that no, we're not on the right road. The last 460 years have been a disaster, and the Reformation, while it sounds like a good idea, isn't working out.

For all the newness, for all the "innovation" we crammed into our services, for all the projectors we displayed sermon notes on, for all the low-cost warehouses we converted into megachurches, for all the debates we've had over doctrine, for all the colleges we've built to teach theology, for all the tactics we've tried to reach the unreached, for all the changes we've made, for all the problematic things we've reformed, the wheel that the Protestants keep trying to reinvent is nowhere near as structurally sound as the original.

I guess it looks cool, though. It's hip, we use Apple products and digital projectors. Out pastors have tattoos. I suppose that counts for something to someone. Not to me, I couldn't give a shit. I don't go to a church because it's cool, it has to have sound teaching (and hopefully single ladies.)

So, about three months ago, I decided to join the Orthodox Church. Because while the Protestant church has become an ever-changing and spineless wreck, the Orthodox Church doesn't change.

Worship styles at my last church changed every three to five years. The Divine Liturgy, which is celebrated (if that's the word) every Sunday morning at every Orthodox Church in the entire world, hasn't changed in roughly 1700 years, and St. John Chrysostum, who wrote the Divine Liturgy, based it largely on the Liturgy of St. James, who was the brother of Christ. It's as original, as pure, as any church service could ever be.

The doctrine at the Methodist church I used to attend was roughly 250 years old, and was an offshoot from the Arminian movement (early 1600s), which was a reaction to the Reformation, which happened in 1547, which was a reaction to the excesses and corruption in the Roman Catholic Church, which broke off from the Orthodox Church in 1054. The Orthodox Church, in contrast, has never changed.

If the Protestant Reformation has taught me anything, it's that what works should be kept, and what doesn't work should be discarded. Chew the meat, spit out the bones. Well, I'm spitting out Sola Scriptura, and I'm keeping the Bible. I'm spitting out fads, and I'm keeping Tradition. I'm spitting out the Me-centered church service with flashy lights, rock guitars, and stylish young worship leaders, and I'm keeping the Divine Liturgy.

Because it's all about me, and I've been on the wrong road for thirty years.

**********

I feel like noting that the above is a lot of "Why?" with very little "How?". The how is actually fairly simple: I have a friend that's Greek Orthodox, and we've gotten into multiple debates over the past three or so years about Orthodoxy and Protestantism. I'm a pretty solid debater, or so I like to think, and while I can score points on the guy on other subjects, when it came to Orthodoxy he never lost a point, ever. After a while, it came down to making excuses for why I wasn't joining the Orthodox Church. While I didn't understand the "Why?" of a great number of things the Orthodox Church does, it was clear that his kung fu was stronger than mine.

Then a blogger (Arctic Pilgrim, if you ever read this, email me!) whose blog I regularly read (It has since been taken down. Tragic.) started a series on questions he had about Protestantism, and his posts greatly, greatly clarified the issues and questions I had with Protestantism. Most of what I wrote above his blog helped clarify for me, since before he started talking about the "fruits of Protestantism" my thoughts on the matter came down to a much less structured "The other guy wins debates, and has done it enough times that I know he's right, although I don't understand why".

Then, like I related above, I ended up in a coffee shop, and had a moment of clarity. One of the few things I'll brag about is that I don't shy away from owning up to the reality of a situation, and the reality was that I just couldn't do Protestantism any longer. I knew it was bullshit, and even if I didn't then (and indeed, don't currently) understand all of Orthodoxy, what I do know is that the Orthodox Church has a much more legitimate claim to authority than any Protestant could hope to have.

Once I realized that, it was just a matter of manning up and making the change, which I am in the process of. I started with doing daily liturgical prayers while I was in Lesotho, and started attending an Orthodox church as soon as I returned to the US, as to my knowledge there is not an Orthodox church in Lesotho.

Thoughts on Love (And Tacos)

It seems to me that "Love" has been thoroughly muddled as a concept in modern society. These days, "love" is now a half-physical, half-emotional sensation that one seeks to satiate the way a pile of tacos would satiate hunger pains. Now, granted, I do love me some good tacos, but the way I just used the word "love" hasn't a thing to do with what the word really means.

If we take the physicality (sex) out of what love has come to mean, and then take the often-deceptive emotional aspect (romance) out as well, we're left with "unselfish actions done for other people." By that definition, giving a homeless guy tacos (a recurring theme in this post is how much I love tacos) is an act of love. It's not a thing of sex, nor is it a thing of romance, but it is undeniably an act of love. And tacos.

I wonder what would happen in modern society if we stopped using the emotional/physical concept of modern "love" when it came to starting a relationship, and started basing our relationships of the concept of "acts of love"? What would that look like? What would it mean in practice?

This is just my opinion, but I believe that the most basic act of love, the act that all other acts of love should build upon, is prayer. If one can't be bothered to go before God on behalf of another person, does it really matter if one buys them tacos? Prayer should be the very foundation of every other thing we do for another person, and if there's an easier or more basic loving action that one person can do for another, I've not heard of it. It's easy to focus on big things, but it's really the smallest acts that matter the most.

There's a girl out there, and I don't even know where she is these days, who stole a small piece of my heart a few years ago. She didn't ask if she could take it, and to be honest, I don't know if I want her to give it back or if I want to give her the rest of it. She stole it by being gracious and forgiving and kind when she didn't really have any reason to be and when few other people were. By her loving acts, she stole a small piece of my heart, and that small piece of my heart loves her to this day.

I've never even given her a hug, so I know my love for her isn't a thing of physicality. Nor do I spend much time daydreaming about her, I long ago realized that daydreaming about girls is a dangerous thing, and even more dangerous when they're attractive. Pretty girls are a lethal danger in this world. So whenever this girl pops into my mind to remind me she's got a piece of my heart, I take the time to pray for her.

It's all I can do. I can't go on a walk with her and buy her tacos (I don't know what town she's in), and I'm not sure that I should pursue her as a future wife anyways. I try to avoid building up a huge amount of emotion for her, I know that in all likelihood, I won't even see her again. I do know, however, that the stupid little piece of my heart that she took loves her, and the only way I can express that is to pray for her whenever I think about her.

So she's one of the line items in my list of people to pray for when I pray in the morning, not that I'll say that I actually go through that list daily. I don't know that I'll ever ask her out, I don't know if I even should, but I do know that if she ever asks how I feel about her, if God ever sends her my way, I can honestly say that I have regularly prayed for her for years. 

I love her, and it's expressed as an action, not as emotion or as physicality. I think it's better this way. It's not about what I get out of it, it's about going before God and saying "I don't know why I care for her, but I do, so please take care of her. Help her through life, keep her safe, and give her a hug." Because that, not tacos, not a wedding ring, not sex and not romance, is the most loving thing I know of.

Maybe someday God will bring her back to my life and I can buy her tacos. Maybe I'll wake up next week and not even remember her name. I suppose it doesn't matter, really. 

Love isn't about me, it's about other people and doing things for them. There are people in my prayer list that are there simply because they treated me like shit and if I can't forget them, I would rather pray for them than hate them. God has called us to love our enemies, and if prayer is the most basic act of love when it comes to pretty girls, it's probably the most basic act of love when it comes to my enemies as well.

Although granted, I'm a lot more eager to buy her tacos than I am to buy them tacos.

Tacos rule.

Undo.

"Let me ask you a question: Before you left, several people told you that you weren't going to make it at That School. Do you think they were right?"

It's not a simple answer.

Those "several people" included members of my blood family, and my pastor. You know, the sort of people anyone would want to be supportive when making a major life change. Instead, I was told that I wouldn't be able to hack it academically, and/or would get thrown out of the school.

I don't think I can properly describe the impact that had on me. Instead of going off to college feeling like my family was behind me, like they believed in me, like they wanted me to succeed, I left for college a seething ball of rage. All the people that should have standing behind me had apparently abandoned me.

So when I got to that school, I got there with a massive chip on my shoulder. I was there because I believed God was leading me into mission aviation, and I still do, but I was full of rage, hurt, mistrust and insecurity, and everything and everyone that threatened that goal got hammered. Hard. I'm not known for subtlety or pulling punches, and I was at my worst there.

So back to that question, were they right?

Well, the term "Self-fulfilling prophecy" comes to mind. While I do believe that the people who said those things meant well, the effect was that their words caused so much damage in my life that there was no way I would have finished a degree there. I had reacted to the statements the only way I knew how, and being angrier and working harder only has two possible outcomes if things get pushed far enough.

And they got pushed far enough, believe me.

"I'm sorry" the person said. The person hadn't meant to cause harm, but had. Grievous. Worse than the person could have imagined. Trust was lost, friendship had been replaced by bitterness, family had disappeared under cynicism, and over three years later, some of the wounds are still raw.

"I'm sorry" does nothing. Their sorrow fixes nothing. There is no possible way for anyone to apologize for their comments enough to make up for what I went through, because the universe simply doesn't have an "undo" button. It doesn't matter how many times they apologize, there is no way that anyone can go back in time to unfuck things up.

They can't rewind the night I had to spend in a homeless shelter because I had no where to stay. They can't unspend the money I had to spend just to make sure I didn't leave the town with a legal record. They can't erase the time I spent in a psychiatric ward, or repair the destruction of multiple friendships. They can't undo the anger, they can't make me unfeel the pain.

"I'm sorry" is a worthless statement. It's pathetic. Someone's sorrow does absolutely nothing to fix the damage they've done. Time flows in ONE direction, and it doesn't change just because some pathetic human feels bad about something they did, even if they didn't mean to. It won't even change just because someone tries to "make it up" to the person they hurt.

I suppose I could end this post here. A cohesive point has been made, "I'm sorry fixes nothing, and nothing can undo the past."

But that's not where this post ends. That's just a cynical tumblr-tier rant about pain, frustration, and loss, it barely qualifies as philosophical. It certainly doesn't answer any questions, which to me defies the very purpose of writing.

The real answer to pain, the only way to actually fix anything is to forgive people. That's actually worth writing about.

The people who I *could* blame for what they said three years ago, if I wanted to, need to be forgiven. Not because they deserve it, they don't. Not because forgiveness will magically rewind time and allow everything to be OK like it could have been, it won't. Not because they've made it up to me, they haven't and can't.

No, I need to forgive them because forgiveness is the only thing that allows raw wounds to heal up. It's the only way for the pain to stop and for healing to start. Nothing will ever heal perfectly, and even old scars can be gouged open again, but without forgiveness, all we have is a world full of people full of open wounds. No healing, no fading scars that don't hurt anymore, just pain.

I don't know about you, but that's not an appealing thought. I'd rather move on as best I can than to remain stuck in the past, thoughts stuck on the same old wounds, the same old pains, the same old people. No, things will never be perfect, and the damage we do to each other's lives can never actually be made right.

So my advice is to not worry about who's sorry and who isn't. Don't wait for the other person to repent, and don't demand they do the impossible and make it up to you. Just forgive them, which is a process, not an event. Make peace, if possible restore the relationship, but above all, forgive them and move on.

That Anarchy Post

When discussing a philosophical, political, or religious viewpoint, it helps to start with a precise definition of what certain terms mean. Especially, perhaps, when discussing Anarchism, because after 40 years of punk rock, angry kids, and tyrants misusing the term, "Anarchy" has been redefined as "burning cop cars, doing drugs, and wearing black clothing."

According to dictionary.com:

noun

1.

a doctrine urging the abolition of government or governmental restraint as the indispensable condition for full social and political liberty.

Etymologically, it comes from the Greek "anarchos", which is a combination of "an-" meaning "no", and "archos" meaning "ruler".

There is nothing in the basic definition of "anarchy" that promotes violence, chaos, or even being an asshole. So bear that in mind as I proceed from here. It's also worth pointing out that there are many, many, MANY different ways of having an anarchist society that have been promoted over the years, and I'm not even trying to encompass all of them, it is simply the only common term that comes close to encompassing my political views.

It should also be stated, at the beginning of this post, that anarchism as a political ideal is not the same thing as having anarchy as a daily lifestyle. This post is about the political ideal, and reality is just a bitch. America was founded as a Republic, that doesn't make it a Republic, nor does it make "A republic" a perfect system. Same with Democracy, and in this case anarchism. I'm an anarchist because that is the political ideal I believe in most (*right now, which is subject to change in the future), not because I think it's perfect.

At it's most basic, a society (be it a nation, a tribe, or whatever) is a group of people who come together for the common benefit. It makes a lot more sense to work together to raise crops and fight off wolves than it does for everyone to work on their own, because someone needs to be up at night to keep watch, and someone needs to work during the day. Cooperation is a good thing, obviously.

I'm also a Christian. This means that on a basic level, I don't believe in aggression (Romans 12:18, Matthew 5:39). I do believe that the Bible teaches that self-defense is a basic human right and that extends to defending others (Nehemiah 4:17-18) and even to capital punishment (Genesis 9:6), but aggression without just cause is a vile thing. Those who start wars without just cause (even if it's just "limited airstrikes with no boots on the ground") are guilty of murder.

In 1 Samuel 8, the Israelites ask God for a king so that they can be like other nations. They want a warrior, a man who will go out and fight their battles for them. God warns them that the reverse will happen, and that wanting a king is a rejection of God, and God's place as the sole ruler of the nation. They choose to disregard the warning, and Saul, the first Israelite king, is a disaster by any standard. David, who followed, was not exactly a good man, and had a loyal general murdered because he'd knocked up the general's wife.

Israel's government before Saul could be best described as a kritarchy with occasional incidents of theocracy. The Israelites were left to do as they saw fit, with disputes mediated by judges, as long as they generally followed God and weren't being invaded at the moment. It's the only part in the entire Bible where God weighs in on a specific form of gov't, and it's explicitly anti-State. It says "Follow God, and do not desire any other ruler."

Having no earthly ruler sounds like anarchism to me. Going through life with nobody telling me what to do, only God, and the only people I need to submit to are the judges, and that only comes up when there's a dispute with a neighbor? With the only law being God's law, not an endless-changing list of man-made rules and regulations?

An-archos. No rulers...sounds pretty similar.

Of course, Romans 13 tells me to obey the rulers that do exist. Which doesn't sound at all like an anarchist statement, so how do the two reconcile?

Basically, it's a question of realism versus idealism. 1 Samuel 8 is the ideal. Just follow God's Law, put God first in my life, and there won't be a need for a string of loser kings (and most of Israel's kings were bad). The reality is that kings do exist, though, so even though it's not the ideal that God had in mind, we should obey them out of respect for God. Notice that Romans 13 doesn't say "Obey the king because he's right." or "Obey him because his father was a good man.", it says "Obey the king because God put him there."

The reality is that because people screw up, leaders, rulers, and law-makers are something we're stuck with, but it's not the ideal that God had in mind for us.

"Really?" You ask.

Sure. Look at it this way:

In the Garden of Eden, what system of government did God institute? Kings? Presidents? Communism? How about none of the above, just a single commandment to not eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Adam and Eve had absolutely no other obligations, regulations, rules, laws, or even social customs to follow.

In fact, it was their adding to God's laws that messed them up. Notice how in Gen 3:3 Eve says "...and you must not touch it, or you will surely die" while in Genesis 2:17 God only said that they cannot eat the fruit. Had Adam and Eve not added to God's laws, the serpent would not have been able to cast doubt on what God said. In the additional laws there was room for doubt and confusion.

But Adam and Eve did eat, and were cast out. Skip forward a few chapters, The Flood happens, and God gives Noah ONE law. In Genesis 9:6, again there is no system of government established, no endless codex of prescriptive laws to follow, just a commandment that murderers are to be put to death.

Even after the Torah was given to Moses and a full system of laws was established, the only system of government was "Follow God and the Law", there wasn't a king who had absolute power. The judges had absolute power, but were only raised up in time of need, not during peacetime, as it were, and they did not add to the laws.

Had God actually wanted a certain system of government, it does not make sense that He would not have instituted that and made it clear, but at no point in the Bible is there any such thing.

Instead the repeated commandment is to love our neighbors, which is referred to by Jesus as the second-greatest commandment, the first being to love God. So let's examine what that would look like, if everyone was totally committed to keeping those two.

First off, if everyone loved their neighbors, poverty is gone. Period. Instead of some guy being homeless and starving, his neighbors would take care of him, help him find a job and a place to stay, and get him back on his feet. In a loving manner, not just flicking a nickel at him as they drive past.

Second, if everyone loved their neighbors, crime would largely be a thing of the past. Murder isn't love, neither is rape, theft, or any of a thousand other things that we have laws against. The need for cops would be over.

Third, it would be the END OF WAR. While there would always be a need for weapons in case a neighboring country got hostile, the days of punitive bombing of countries thousands of miles away would be gone.

Now, granted, this ideal system also has as a basic requirement that everyone loves God. That means it's predicated on everyone being a Christian, which sadly will never happen. Ultimately it is just an ideal system, and not a realistic system.

On the other hand, a cursory glance through history has seen EVERY system of government yet devised fail as well. They are all idealistic, because the simple reality is that people are corrupt and selfish, and placing people in power only amplifies corruption and selfishness. Kings become tyrants, voters become leeches, and anarchist burn cop cars.

I'm not saying that anarchism is perfect, but I am saying that if we all really follow God's commandments, we'll remove any need that exists for rulers. The result of everyone following God's commandments would be a peaceful, lawful, healthy society that didn't need cops, courts, or rulers. Everyone would be left alone to do as they saw fit, with no one who would threaten to jail or kill them if they didn't play whatever games the government is playing that day.

If the two greatest commandments, according to Christ Himself, are followed, government becomes superfluous, and for that reason, I consider myself an anarchist.

Four in Four

I just got an email that says I have a job waiting for me, pending some paperwork, in Rockford, IL. I'll be working on regional jets, doing maintenance, which is a huge opportunity for a guy who is trying to break out of the single-engine and light-twin rut that comes with being a fresh A&P that hasn't had much experience. The A&P world is measured in years of experience on specific aircraft, not grades (mine were good) or ability or even years of experience in general.

So don't get me wrong, it's a good job. 

But it also means moving to another new city, another new state, making a new list of friends at another new church. It means, once again, going somewhere new and starting all over again. Rockford will be the fourth city I've lived in four years, and IL will be the fourth state at the same time. 

And Illinois, well, it's not exactly a friendly place for practitioners of the shooting arts. "Felony Possession of Ammunition" is actually a thing there, I'll have to clean my car just to make sure that a spare and lost .22LR round doesn't land me in prison. Taking my rifles is out of the question, and I can't even take just my reloading gear to make ammo in my spare time.
 

It's just not a particularly fun thing to look forward to. I'm not real quick at making good friends, and this job is only a contract gig, so I'll be there for six months, at which point I'll almost certainly move again. It will be a very great challenge to reach out to folks and make connections, knowing that not only will I leave at some point, but I'll be gone by Summer.

I was told at Orientation that I'm too independent and too strong-willed, and need to work on getting along with others in order to be a good missionary. It seems that the events of the past few years of my life have made me a certain kind of person, and I'm not sure if that was something that I could have avoided if I even wanted to.

I mean, you don't learn to work well with authority when you get thrown out of a school for getting sick and making someone several thousand miles away suspicious that you may do something.

You don't learn to depend on other people when you have to move 700 miles past everyone you've ever met to live with strangers, especially when those strangers turn out to be insane.

You don't learn to be (whatever the "good" opposite of strong-willed is) when a hard life forces you to buckle down and keep going no matter how much you want to find a safe place and hide in it until the storm passes.

I'm not worried about surviving in Rockford, I'm a tough, independent, and strong-willed man that will do whatever it takes to survive. However, I'm worried that by the time I'm done being a nomad and can finally return to HQ for my technical evaluation, I'll have only become more strong-willed, more independent, and tougher. And I'm not even sure why those are bad things.

BUT...

The way to live life is to do what needs to be done now, now, and worry about tomorrow's problems later. Right now I need a job, and this is a job. It's not ideal, but nothing is, and nothing ever will be.

Holy unBlack Metal

I'm sitting in the maintenance office of the MAF hangar in Maseru, Lesotho. There's no work for me to do, so I'm listening to Frost Like Ashes on YouTube. They're an unBlack metal outfit from St. Louis, if I remember correctly, and the current song "Adorers of Blood" is a wonderful praise song in the style of Black Metal. Before "Adorers of Blood", I listened to "Hardest Rocking God of All Time" by Grave Declaration, another unBlack metal outfit.

If anyone asks what I'm listening to, I'll downplay and dodge the question. I certainly won't try to explain unBlack Metal to a group of missionaries that thinks David Crowder is the hardest rock allowed at work. There's just no way to understand unBlack Metal without understanding Black Metal, and Black Metal is something I just don't talk about with strangers. Well, not unless I want to scare them off and make them think I'm Varg Vikernes' biggest fan, anyways.

There isn't a genre of music that's created more controversy than Black Metal. People think pop music sets the standard for shocking and bizarre behavior, but nothing ever done by a pop star has come close to the things done by black metal musicians. Lady Gaga and Madonna subverted Catholic imagery for their music, black metal musicians (and their fans) burnt churches down. Gangsta rappers boast about killing their rivals, black metal musicians have actually done it. There's no compromise in black metal, it's explicitly pagan. Explicity anti-Christian.

Black Metal isn't simply a genre that one listens to. Black Metal, in it's original form, is a lifestyle. The first wave of black metal didn't simply show up on the charts, it announced itself with a multi-year spate of murders, suicides, and church burnings. It's ideological music in the purest sense.

The fact that most people have never heard of Black Metal is simply due to the relative obscurity of the genre, as it's a tiny and extremist fringe inside the perpetually fringe world of heavy metal, but the fact remains that black metal is the razor's edge of music. It's way past "this album sounds too processed"  is a criticism and into a world where "(this album) is the aural equivalent of having your throat slit in one smooth motion" becomes normal. It's not "easy listening". It's not "soothing white noise".

When it comes to Christians listening to music, if there's any one genre of music that we were probably supposed to avoid, that we should have left alone, it would be black metal. It is hands-down the most vile, sick, and evil genre of music ever created. So, naturally, Christianity invaded it in the early 1990s, because we will allow no pit of darkness to remain unlit.

Black metal has always been about the message. And not in the cheeky way that Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin played around with dark imagery, but in an explicit way, where the message in the lyrics was played out onstage, and in the lives of the band members themselves. UnBlack Metal retains the look (minus the sacrificed animals and most of the blood), the sound, and the intense, message-first lyrics, but has swapped out the lyrics for Christian ones. 

Personally, that makes it just about perfect to me, because I'm sick and tired of ever-fancier versions of "Jesus Loves Me" that somehow still manage to be repetitive, technically simple, and theologically empty. Yes, Jesus loves us, but that's a small portion of what Christianity is about, and I want music that reminds me that to be a Christian is to be at war with Darkness.

There's a hell of a lot more to fighting that war than just remembering that Jesus loves us. Let's go kick some ass.

HAIL CHRIST!