Lately, I’ve started to become a crazed fan of the TV show House M.D. On each episode, Dr. House and his team of surgeons treat patients who are inflicted with some disease or ailment (rest assured, I won’t be able to pronounce it).
Each case follows the same premise: the surgeons start off by identifying each of the symptoms that the patient exhibits. From there, they toss around possible diagnoses about the patient's condition. Eventually, they run tests, analyze their findings, and narrow their diagnoses down to just one. Incidentally, it never seems to be the real issue. There always seems to be something deeper that was missed; something that hasn't been accounted for.
So the doctors are forced to delve a little further to get at the source of the problem. They run even more tests, they probe even deeper, perform medical inquiries on the patient's parents, siblings, environments, homes, etc. They investigate everything they can to make sure that they get it right.
I think that this show's premise can easily juxtapose our lives and how we respond to sin. If you think about it, the biggest reason why folks can't seem to be "cured" from their sins is because we don't deal with the deep issues. We only focus on the things that are right in our face; the things on the surface. Sure that guy is mean. But have you ever asked why he's like that? Sure that woman is an alchoholic. But have you ever asked why she's like that? Sure that young person is disrespectful, full of attitude, and sexually promiscuous. But have you ever asked why (s)he was like that?
The sad truth is: We respond to sins (both ours and others) like House and the other doctors deal with their patients. We examine the problems that a person has, lists the possible diagnoses, and then we give them the type of treatment that we think they need. What we don't seem to understand is that we're not fixing the problem; we're only warding it off. The sin is not defeated. The person is not cured.
I suspect that most people are only willing to confront the things that appear on the outside; while being completely unwilling to attack the issues that are buried deep inside. We look at the symptoms that are external; the actions, the words, the expressions. But how often do we search deeply to discover the internal symptoms? How often to we examine the deeply internal, indelible existent of sin?
Given all the "sick" people of the world, I suspect not very often.
I think that we don't dig as deeply as we should becuase we're scared. We're scared of what we'll find. We're scared of being exposed as being sick ourselves. We're scared of releasing whatever it is that causes us to sin in the first place. We're scared of change. To be honest, I really can't tell for sure why we don't explore the deeper recesses of ourselves. But I do know that we don't.
But, the fact remains: if we expect to be cured, we must be willing to go into the deep, dark abyss that is our soul and to fight whatever monsters we find there. Otherwise we really haven't built up an immune system strong enough to fight our sicknesses. The same sins will keep manifesting themselves in us. We'll never find healing.
I don't know about you, but I don't wanna be a frequent guest star on House for more than one episode...
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Lately, I’ve started to become a crazed fan of the TV show House M.D. On each episode, Dr. House and his team of surgeons treat patients who are inflicted with some disease or ailment (rest assured, I won’t be able to pronounce it).
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
I was watching an interesting sermon from Joyce Meyers the other day talking about how Jesus made all the right choices while He was here on Earth. I wanted to blog about that earlier but, as some of you can tell, my mind has been directed elsewhere lately. But now that the family incident in question is behind me, I'd like to get back on track (Thanks endlessly to EACH OF YOU for your comments and prayers. They mean a lot!)
Getting back to the point at hand, for this particular post I thought that I'd take some of the more difficult choices that Jesus had to make and put them into a choose your adventure book. Here's how I imagine it would look...
Imagine your life. You weren't born into the wealthiest family. Your friends aren't exactly the most the highly renowned people in the society. Your job doesn't pay you six figures and gives you a car, a laptop, and an expense account. You've got people out there who hate you for no vaild reason; other than their own insecurities. Nevertheless, God has given you a specific job to do. Do you accept it? If yes, continue to page 2. If no no, go to page 8.
Now that you've accepted the terms and conditions of God's job for you:
- Imagine being left alone in the middle of the dark, while your friends went to sleep on you.
- Imagine the feeling of being kissed by the very person who is betraying you.
- Imagine hearing the piercing calls of a rooster; a sound that you didn’t want to hear because it symbolizes that fact that your closest companion just denied knowing you THREE times; even when he promised to NEVER do it once.
- Imagine the feeling of knowing that you’re about to receive a punishment that doesn’t, by any stretch, fit the crime.
Are you ready to call it quits and give up on God? If yes, go to page 8. If no continue to page 3.
Since you've chosen not to give up on God, here comes the real test:
- Imagine the excruciating feeling of bone chips, sharp pebbles, and punishing leather whipping across your back and tearing your flesh.
- Imagine the metallic taste of blood in your mouth.
- Imagine an undersized crown made of prickly thorns being crammed on your head.
Do you give up yet? If yes, go to page 8. If no continue to page 4.
So, the disgusting taste of your own blood didn't convince you to give it a rest, huh? Well, here comes the good stuff. Don't say you weren't warned:
- Imagine the burden of carrying a heavy, splintered cross through an entire town; all while still being beaten.
- Imagine how hot the dirty, stoned streets are under your feet.
- Imagine the feeling of the sun beaming down on your mutilated body.
Still not willing to tell God to kick rocks? If yes, go to page 8. If no continue to page 5.
If you've gotten this far, I suspect you still haven't learned your lesson yet. Sigh! Oh well...
- Imagine the numbing pain of sharp nails penetrating your flesh.
- Imagine the sounds of people mocking you, cheering against you, or challenging you to save yourself.
- Imagine watching your mother cry out for you.
- Imagine the crushing blows that your heart takes for each painful breath you draw.
- Imagine the horrid and pungent taste of vinegar as a thirst quencher.
- Imagine the sharp pain of being stabbed in your side.
So, at this point you still haven’t thrown in the towel, but you’re getting close. Death is getting closer and closer by the second. But you still have the chance to get out of this before it's too late. Do you? If yes, go to page 8. If no continue to page 6.
After everything that you've been through, you finally give in, let out one last cry, and breathe your last breath. Your friends, family, and even your enemies know that this is the end. But is it? Go to page 7
Though you're offiically dead, a few strange things will happen:
- Someday, the stone that seals your death will be rolled away.
- God will raise you from the darkest, loneliest, and most painful parts of your life.
- You will resurrect from the world’s evil and appear to the world unscathed.
- You will one day have a seat next to God on His throne.
- All of those whom you love and adore will have finally have the chance to be freed from the eternal punishment that comes with sin.
At some point in this story, you decided to turn away from God's will and avoid the pain and suffering that He required of you. As a result, no blood has been shed for the remission of sin. The curse of sin and death has not been removed. Millions of lamb will have to be slaughtered for man's atonement. Yet the people whom you love will forever remain prisoners of sin. But, it's not as bad as it sounds, right? At least Satan's happy!
© Inside Andre's Head, Publishing. All rights reserved.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Something funny just occured to me. My blog is officially one year old this week (Happy Birthday "Inside Andre's head" !!!). All this time I've ranted, commented, and pontificated on everything from war, to stupid presidents, to how much I love and hate my (former) church, to institutional racism, to my on again, off again relationships with friends (also here, and here, and here...). But, oddly, I really didn't throw in any plugs for the family. That being said, I'd to introduce you all the Fam. Since most of them have own webpages, anonymity is not all that big for them...
Brief description: If I had to pick out my absolute best friend on the planet, Robin would be it. Although Robin is the youngest of the girls in my family, she's still a year and a half my senior. Incidentally, we didn't really start to become close until high school. Being one of the popular kids, she was able to use her influence to assimilate me into our school's culture. I think that it was largely because of that, I was able to build some of the sociability that I have today (which still isn't much, but it was a lot more than what I once had!)
As we matured in age (being 27 = really mature!), so too did our relationship. So much so that -- even as we dealt with difficult times and sour relationships in our lives, we could always rely on each other for support (without judgment), unbiased feedback, good intentions, and love.
I think that what's most interesting about Robin is her multiple dimension. Don't be fooled by the pretty-girl appearance (at least I think she's super model material). She's one of the most brilliant minds around (she's got two degrees and a few different certifications) and is one of the funniest people on the planet. Just to add to her resume, Robin is also one of the most daring and adventureous people I know. She's been living on her own, in various parts of country; since high school, can get a new job at the drop of hat (so much for a "bad economy") and has traveled all over the place.
Favorite past times with Robin: Watching Cops, making fun of D. West, his strange "motivational" techniques, and his tight ass sweater vests, laughing at our disfunctional extended family, hearing her insane and off the wall stories (usually about how some nutcase is trying to hit on her) and ranting about stupid people.
Favorite memory of Robin: Hmmm. I'd have to say just recently when I visited her new spot in Miami. All I can say is: Day-yum! Must be nice...
Brief description: As I've always maintained, Tamika is my role model. Anything that I've ever strived for or accomplished was motivated by something that Tamika had already done. Even as long ago as elementary school, Tamika has always made strides toward excellence.
What's interesting about her is she spent a large portion of her life as a student athlete. Prior to watching her grow and develop, I always thought the term "student athlete" was an oxymoron (sort of like Hippie Conservative. But I digress...). But, as she excelled in sports, while graduating with high distinction from high school, college, and graduate school, she quickly dispelled that stereotype.
I think that Tamika often gets a bad rap as being rebellious and indifferent toward many things. Perhaps some of that has rubbed off on me (Talk about stating the obvious). But, that reputation aside, when it comes to things for which she has a passion, nobody is as energetic and determined as Tamika. Her disposition quickly turns that rebellion and indifference into independence and strong will. She's a fighter, spunky as all outdoors, and willing to take on just about any challenges that pop up in her life...and ours. Like Robin, Tamika is adventurous and always willing to take risks. Living in and traveling to multiple places is further evidence that Tamika is always on the go and always keeping active. Strange behavior for a narcoleptic (inside joke...)
Favorite past times with Tamika: Text messaging each other. We probably spend more time typing messages to each other with our phones than we do physically speaking to one another; complaining about Momma, hearing about how much she hates her job, and watching her coach basketball teams.
Favorite memory of Tamika: I'd have to say that watching her march during her commencement as she received her Master's degree. That memory sustains me every time I get flustered with being in grad school myself.
Brief description: Ah! Kimberly, Kimberly, Kimberly. As the oldest sibling, Kim has always assumed a sort of authoritative role; matched with a pretty level head, a positive disposition, and a voice of reason. Similarly to my other sisters, Kim was the active, always-on-the-go type. She lived a pretty fast paced life in Atlanta at a time when progressive shifts in the south were first starting to peak for African-Americans. The South was starting to rise again (I mean that in an anti-Confederate, non-racist sort of way), and she was right in the middle of it all. But, as she grew older and a little more conservative, she accepted a different role as a family women. In so doing, she slowed herself down to meet those demands. Changing and adjusting lifestyles -- to me -- is one of the strongest indications of her character.
Also, Kim is probably one of the more spiritual people in our family. She has a pretty insatiable hunger for learning God's word and for applying it to all aspects of her life. She's a pretty emotionally charged person (sometimes to her detriment), but can pretty reasonably balance that out with logic and common sense.
Favorite past times with Kim: Exchanging recipes (I gotta give it up. Kim is one of the best cooks around. She introduced to the better side of asparagus), listening to her try to convince me about how great Cincinnati is, and having our Biblical/spiritual discussions (if you recall reading comments from Kim aka "Big Sis", she's one in the same).
Favorite memory of Kim: Helping her move into her first college dorm. Watching Kim be the first one in my immediate family (and one of the first in my extended family) to go to college, I was injected with desire to be a college man myself. The rest, as they say, is history...
Brief description: Let me just say that this is the first and only time that I will ever use the name "Donte". From here on out, the correct name is "Toe Joe".
Toe Joe is the "baby" in the family which, by rule, gives him a sort of entitlement. He got his nickname from being a fat baby with narrow and slanted eyes (similar to a sumo wrestler with the same name). Though he grew out that and transformed into a pretty boy, cassanova-type, the name sorta stuck.
Toe Joe is not particularly emotional or expressive (at least not in public view). But, he is pretty personable and incredibly socialable. He was always been popular (especially with the girls) and never really had an enemy to speak of. I suspect that it has more to do with his laid back demeanor, his humor, and his wit than anything else. Toe Joe is one of the types of people that you can get pretty upset with, but never really hate. Truth be told, Toe Joe and I really couldn't stand each other when we were both living together at home. But once we both moved out on our own, we started to get pretty close.
Maybe it was a bit of a foreshadow, but Toe Joe; being the baby of the family; was the first (and so far, the only) child in our family to produce a baby himself. You remember him, right? Ever since Landon ventured over to this side, Toe Joe's outlook has changed. He's a lot more open and expressive (especially when it comes to Landon), and a lot more responsible. But, even with everything going on, Toe Joe is still Toe Joe.
Favorite past times with Toe Joe: Blasting him for flaking me when I visited (I was in Florida for four days and saw him for about three hours. To this day, he claims that he was "busy"), Feuding between his San Francisco 49ers and my Dallas Cowboys, counting the number of shoes he has, having three-way conversations with Robin where we talk about our dysfunction extended family.
Favorite memory of Toe-Joe: Hating him for being so spoiled as child. Momma and Daddy used to let him get away with murder...the little brat. One time, he went crying to my dad telling him that our cousin threw him out the window. Just to appease him, my dad yelled at the poor cousin! Sigh! That was the story growing up...
(5) The parents:
Brief discussion: It's no accident that I don't have a picture of my old man. That just goes to show that I really don't have a whole lot to share about my dad. I assure you: It's not from a lack of knowing him. He's just not very dimensional. He doesn't really have much of a personality, he keeps mainly to himself, and he's one of the most introverted people I know (with us, anyway). I suspect that I get that from him. This isn't to say that my dad is completely indifferent to everything that goes on around him. In his life, he's dealt with a divorce, the loss of three brothers, his father, and his stepmother. While he was obviously pretty emotional about those things, he's emerged from those events unscathed.
To make up for not being very open and parentally affectionate, my old man compensated by being a strong provider for the family. He'd make sure that we were taken really good care of; along with other people in our family, our friends, or whoever just happened to be in the room at the time. Even to this day, he still tries to pass out money like Jehovah's Witnesses pass out Watch Towers. So, if anybody needs some money let me know.
Interestingly, though, ever since he and my mother divorced, he has a different outlook on things. He's been more open with us, jokes more, and doesn't shield his emotions as much. Growing up as a kid, we'd be luck to get him to crack a smile, much less to be completely open about things. But I guess that having some changes occur in his life and dealing with the self actualization that comes with getting older, has caused him to reevaluate certain things in his life. Who knows for sure?
Favorite past times with my dad: Going to wrestling events as kids, coming up with schemes (with Toe Joe) to secretly throw away the hideously disgusting egg omelettes he used to make for breakfast, personally delivering our lunch (and sometimes lunch for our friends) at school. Teaching each of us to drive at least one year before driver's education.
Favorite memory of my dad: The first time he looked me in the eye and apologized for the wrong he caused in our family. To this day, that stands as the most significant thing he's every said to me.
Brief description: Similar to the soap operas that she loves to watch, my mom is an emotional roller coaster. One day I love her to death; the next day I want to strangle her; and then I go back to loving her the day after that.
For starters, my mom is the perfect family figure. She has an unmatched love for kids (you can imagine that she's been on cloud nine with Landon), was a loving and devoted wife for years (I still say that she got the short end of the stick with her former marriage), and took pride in doing the laborous domestic work. Affectionately nicknamed "Cookie", her cooking skills, for example, set her apart from the pack.
Being a housewife never really lended Momma to developing herself outside of the home. She never really had what you call a career, only had a brief stint with college, and never really did much socializing and traveling outside of church (in her defense, though, some of that had to do with my old man being so introverted). I think that's always hung heavy on her; especially since some of her older sisters were just the opposite (had careers, traveled, and were more sociable). But after her divorce, she became a lot more active, social, and outgoing; sometimes to her detriment.
My mom makes questionable and costly decisions most of the time, which usually are a product of her naivety. And even though we usually wind up fixing her problems for her, it's hard to stay upset with her. The fact remains that she has a heart of pure gold, a deep spiritual connection to God, a love for her family and friends, and is probably one of the nicest people you'll ever know.
Favorite past times with my mom: getting scared to death by her ghost stories (to this day, I believe that a ghost named "Miss Mary" lives in the house), throwing down on her dressing (Sorry Diane, but I think my mom's dressing can beat anybody's), and watching her sing in the choir.
Favorite memory of my mom: Taking her to her first Detroit Pistons game. Though the Pistons were on the losing end of that game, we had a blast together.
There you have it. That's my family. Is there any wonder why I'm so crazy?! Just kidding!
Seriously, though we're all separated by hundreds of miles, my family is...and always will be...the closest thing to my heart. I love you guys!
Monday, September 18, 2006
Not too long ago, I was in deep contemplation about a crossroad that I’ve been facing. Do I leave my church or do I stay?
Well, I think I’ve made my decision. Or, to put it another way: I think my decision was made for me.
Without getting in the explicit details, my pastor pulled a REALLY FOUL number yesterday; in the middle of worship service no less. He blatantly lied against someone and blasted him in front of the entire congregation. Interestingly, he did so immediately after he “apologized” to the guy for a previous scuff. Don’t get me wrong: I don't necessarily feel bad for the man whom my pastor attacked. He’ll be fine. He’s a big boy and is more than able to spiritually handle his affairs. What bothered me most was what this situation represented: an insecure pastor who has to validate and protect himself at other people’s expense. That, to me, is not a healthy body.
That’s why my decision has been made for me.
That’s why I’m leaving.
The truth is: if I hadn't grown up in my church (my whole family went there so it was a given that I’d be there too), I would've probably left a long time ago. While we're at it: I probably would not have ever chosen a place like this as my church home to begin with. I never put much thought into being there. I was really there because everybody else was. Simply put: being there seemed like the easy and appropriate thing to do.
Sadly, after being with this particular church for over 20 years, I can only remember a handful of important sermons, a few worship experiences, and a tiny morsel of cases where I can recall actually being “fed”. Perhaps the saving grace of it all; the thing that makes sense out of my time at this church; are the relationships that I’ve built over the years. I was talking to one of my best friends the other night and we spent a couple of hours reminiscing about our childhood experiences at the church and all the fun we had. Although many of my relationships have dematerialized over the years; almost to the point where I’m now just another face in the crowd, they have always been the most important and significant part of my time at this church. I think that I put up with all the church’s nonsense (past and present) because of the J.D.’s, the A.D.’s, the R.R.’s, and the J McQ’s, in the congregation whom I know and love (I used initials here to ensure anonymity. They know who they are…). Above everything else, these people help to make up my spiritual lifestyle.
In some ways, I would argue that my only legitimate reason for being at church (lowercase “C”) was to create, build, sustain and edify relationships with other believers who have accepted God. From those relationships, you can then form the Church (capital “C”). I don’t think that I’d have as much of issue with the instituion of church (lowercase “C”) if it didn’t try to be the end all for spiritual growth and development. All of the attributes of the Church (capital “C”), like love, forgiveness, tolerance, patience, humility, compassion, selflessness, etc., have been replaced and substituted by the programming and routine of church (lowercase “C”). Yesterday morning, for instance, to make up for the fact that we were finished with morning service before the end of our radio broadcast, we filled in the remaining time by doing some fake, half-assed attempt at worshipping. D’oh! Was that a worship experience or was it another example of service being dictated by program?
Things only get worse when my pastor pulls the foul numbers that he did yesterday.
** End of digression **
Don’t get me wrong: I think that we should always remain in prayer for our leaders. We should always love and support them, even when they screw up. But, I refuse to believe that we have to tolerate their antics when they’re done so blatantly and disrespectfully as to tear down another person. As the Bible reminds us, we all sin and fall short of God’s glory. But do we all intentionally fall short while using the power of the pulpit; the very place where you should be sharing God’s word?! If this is the behavior I’m to expect from my leader, I need to go elsewhere.
All things being equal, I plan to let him know that I’m leaving and exactly why I’m leaving. To just get up and leave is not only irresponsible on my behalf, but I believe that God would hold me accountable if I did that.
Make no mistake abou it: I'll always keep the church and its pastor in my prayers and I'll always consider it home. But I'm done with that place.
Friday, September 15, 2006
I have a friend who; unbeknownst to me until recently; reads my blog a lot. She told me that, while some of my posts are pretty interesting, none of them are profound enough to generate too much discussion. Ten, fifteen or (on a good day) twenty responses will be all the discussion generated from one of my posts.
"Some of your posts are a little controversial. But, you need some truly hard hitting stuff," she told me.
Alright then. Fine…
Pat Robertson is a great evangelist. Benny Hinn is a true healer. Rev. Run really is a hip hop prophet. Slave labor isn’t all that bad. All gays are going to Hell. Jesus actually WAS a Republican. Paris Hilton deserves all the attention she receives. We really should post the Ten Commandments everywhere. Global warming is a lie. The Middle Passage was fictional. Bush really did win both of presidential elections fairly. Brokeback Mountain should have won the Academy Award for Best Movie. Myspace.com is a great place to socially interact and exchange intellectual thought. Democrats aren’t stupid after all. Season three of Nip Tuck didn’t suck. OJ is innocent. Jerry Falwell would make a terrific Secretary of Defense. Britney Spears is a terrific mother. Male “fashion experts” aren’t gay. Nice guys actually finish first. Mega churches are FAR better than smaller, more need-meeting churches. Bush's lack of intelligence is overstated. Criss Angel actually can walk on water. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes make a great couple. Allowing gay marriage will lead to people marrying animals; which is good since people should be able to marry animals anyway if they truly love them. Baptists are the only people going to Heaven. 50 cent is a true role model. I love being a white man.
Controversial enough for you? :)
Thursday, September 14, 2006
My Inbox is getting pretty full. My phone hasn't stopped ringing (well, except for that brief moment because I didn't pay my bill. *Digression* Don't ever add a person, especially an unreliable person to your cellular contract. *End of digression*). At one point, I even got a few visitors at home.
There really is something to this whole "being missing-in-action" thing.
Apparently, taking a brief hiatus to battle influenza, to get caught up in class, and to manage a pretty heavy workload in the office was just the impetus I needed to get a hoard of people to try and track me down. On the one hand, I think it's pretty refreshing and comforting to know that people out there actually are concerned about a brotha. They seem to have a vested interest in my welfare and appear to take notice when I'm not around.
But why is it that when I am around, I'm like vapor?
Am I living in one of those strange worlds where I need to be missing in order to be noticed? Is my existence so routinized that I could be standing right there in a person's face and not be seen?
I guess, in a way, we're all like that.
We never know what we're missing until it's gone...
Monday, September 11, 2006
I'm really sorry for being MIA lately. I've been unbearably swamped lately. Classes are killing me, work just won't seem to stop piling up on me, and I've been battling a pretty bad case of the flu. But, thanks to you all for your concern, your emails, phone calls, and prayers. It's more appreciated that you realize.
As it stands, I'm still not feeling all that great today, but I really needed to shift my mind away from all of that. So, in keeping up with my nature, I thought I'd share my thoughts on the significant happenings around the world.
It just so happens that the day is September 11th.
On this day, half a decade ago, the world as we know it was completely thrown off its axis. To anyone who has lived on the apparently non-existent planet called Pluto, today marks the fifth anniversary of the World Trade Center attacks. Amidst all the remembrance and reflection of this tragedy, the country has been injected with a new wave of patriotism. Incidentally, though; for many people patriotism and religion have dangerously gone hand-in-hand. Event like 9/11 provide the impetus for such a dangerous blend.
What the incidents surrounding and proceeding 9/11 have taught me is that too many “Christian” Americans find it difficult to separate their politically lives and their beliefs. This is particularly disturbing to me because many Evangelical Christians – especially those on the right – shape their politics using Old Testament Judaism rather than New Testament Christianity. The way I see it, the political and Christian arenas don’t blend well because true Christianity is based on love, serving others, tolerance, forgiveness and selflessness; concepts that are often steamrolled by the industry of politics. Religiosity and politics, on the other hand, are perfect compliments to one another; especially since there is an inherent need to compromise religion for the purpose of gaining political power. That – to me – explains why the “perversity” of homosexuality or abortion can weigh heavier on people’s minds than a dismal economy, inadequate health care, and terrorism. Because of these truths, people like Pat Robertson, John Ashcroft, and George Bush are in the very positions where they need to be. They are right where they belong…in power. Like so many others who use religion and patriotism interchangeably, people like this seek to usurp God’s authority by trying to act on His behalf; falsely spreading their hatred, intolerance, and unacceptance in the name of God. Does this seem like the way that the Jesus who ate and drank with sinners would respond?
I didn’t think so either.
Nevertheless, I still love my country. As much junk as I talk about America and its leaders, there isn’t another place on the planet where I’d rather live. I love that I don’t have to choose between eating and medicine. I love that I can blast the President without repercussion (One second guys. I think I hear somebody knocking on my door…). I still get moved seeing patriotic pictures and messages. I still give it up for the men and women our there fighting so that I don’t have to.
Even though some people have dubbed me militant, I’m very much in love with America.
Don’t get me wrong. Unlike many “God Bless Americans”, I don’t think that God has given our country more favor than all the other places in the world. Likewise, I’ll never believe that the way things are done here need to be the way things are done around the world. Furthermore, I don’t believe that America can truly be defined by the bigoted, intolerant, and delusional leaders in D.C. (though over half the country voted for them. But, I digress…) or by what is voted on by a bunch of old, white men inside of older, not-so-white buildings.
I don’t really know where I’m going with this particular post. But, all I can say is – for good or for bad – God has really blessed this country. But, He hasn’t blessed us so much that we should feel qualified to take His job.
God Bless America, indeed.
All of it.