This guy doesn't work here 'cuz it's fun!

Despite the smile on this guy's face, he is not working here 'cuz it's fun!

Stay tuned for more stories on This guy doesn't work here 'cuz it's fun!

Hollywood and the Proclamation of the Gospel

Calling all bright minds please go to Brian_Russell & ocmartinez blogs and enter the discussions.

For my younger friends of the west coast - please expand the discussion.

Your life experience lens is valuable to the discussion!

GODblog.com

Sometimes I just scare myself. My xanga site has the link loaded correctly. Can someone help me with my blogger site? I am driving mega traffic to GODblog!!!!!!!!!!

Movie Night

Movie Night

For being one so sensitive to visual stimulation, I sure can't sit through a movie. Everyone - EVERYONE - watches movies, often using them for excellent point illustrations and always as a common denominator in conversation.

Youth of today use movies as a communication medium. It's as if an energy (in addition to social) takes place in the universe through the movie. I understand the dynamics, I just can't join 'em.

For me movie watching is a form of torture. I figure out the ending long before I should and everything seems completely implausible. Violent images haunt me - so I will never sit through one of those. Musicals are kinda cool. I liked ET and the dacha in Dr. Zhivago. Matrix scared me into doubting reality just a tad too much - I won't do THAT again!
I have never watched TV either. But if I walk by one that has a good commercial on, I will get sucked right in - but only for the good commercial.

The only other person I know that this holds true for is my mother. .....Scary.

Cicadas

God, thank you for your Creation, and please reveal the deep theological meaning of cicadas. Amen

The one thing about summer that I really do not like, (actually, in Chicagoland there are two, the first being humidity), is the NOISE cicadas make. I intentionally chose the word, "make", rather than create. Cicadas make noise. There is no beauty in their sound, and they are not the type of bug that makes one "ooooooooh" with delight in their appearance. But YOU, you Lord, created them!

I could complete a little locust exegesis and then do some really bad hermeneutics, but I don't want to! I want one of those quick revelations. Better yet, just get rid of the critters... ugh, 8 more weeks of the bugs!

Terrorism

Terrorism Rears
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/in_depth/uk/2005/london_explosions/default.stm

These are PEOPLE who have been shredded apart, torn from life.

Jury duty

Jury Duty July 5, 2005

In my festive post Freedom Day celebration mood I awakened to a day that provided my introduction to the jury duty selection process. I will never be the same.

Although theories abound as to how one is “called” to jury duty, I could find no explanation for the first experience exposing me to the criminal court system of Cook County (Chicago). From the 6th floor waiting room, I viewed acres upon acres of towered, barbed wired 30’ fenced prisons filled with front page news stories - stories that precipitate hugging a loved one while weeping... Sobering. And the place was filthy.

I take my civic responsibility seriously and I allowed time to lose my way, was loaded down with reading material, and prepared to sit amongst the masses with a grateful heart and open mind to what God would reveal.

The diversity of 400-500+ people in the initial holding room was unimpressive. It considered that, although serving on jury is the law, most occupations, businesses, and personal responsibilities demand allegiance to one’s personal survival first. The result was a reduced playing field of jurors. But for me, God provided this window with no current job, kids away, and a break from academia.

My commitment was to the process and I approached it as a child of God (vs. Atilla the Hun), and was totally prepared to see through God's lens, not the “public/secular” lens. I seek to understand and act on justice, as the Lord requires. I did not articulate this with anyone, and was at peace.

I was in the first group of 50 to be called, and the very first called in the courtroom, the first to answer all the questions. It was I who was walked through the questions as the judge explained the "whys" of each. He was a pleasant fellow who engaged each individual with respect and compassion. I felt confident that my responses indicated an intelligent and just individual. I told him where I lived, that I was a student, both university names, the degree programs, that I worked in nonprofit, that I had been an elementary school teacher of the Physically Health Impaired, that I had two kids, and I didn’t know what my husband did for a living, that I got my news from the internet, that I did not watch T.V.- ever, among many other points of his and court interest. I learned that I really have had an uneventful criminal history compared to everyone else! ... I did NOT tell him that I was a Christian nor who I voted for (he didn't ask either)...I looked really nice, summery but conservative.

The case before the court was burglary. The defendant was tall, mid 30’s, white and I didn’t know of him or anyone else involved.

So why was I dismissed? I am so very bummed...

What is a Warrior?

The countenance of her face reflects experiences of battle victories and losses. She stands with her right hand clutching a blood-stained sword, and her left hand grasps a battle seasoned shield. Although in every battle death seeks to lay hold of her, she has a certain amount of control over her fate. She also has an end to each battle; a time to count her losses, say goodbye to fallen friends, and time to heal from her wounds. She is a warrior in the physical realm.

Now the warrior is fighting the bloodiest battle known to her. Yet there is no bloodshed. Feeling she could literally sweat drops of blood - she finds there is no sweat on her brow. The thrust of a sword pierces her heart, and the slash of a broadsword opens her chest. Either one a fatal blow, she looks to view the carnage and welcome death, but she finds neither. There is no bloodshed. Nor is there closure of death bringing the battle to an end. The wounds are not visible, but they are cut deeply into her chest. And there is no time to dress them, as there are other warriors tucked behind her, and one whom has already been carried off into captivity. Instead, she must press on and immediately raise her sword and shield again in anticipation of the next blow.

Many have been in these battles for years, but they remained content to watch from a distance in the "safety" of camp. They shouted the occasional encouragement for a warrior on the battlefield - even entering a major skirmish from time to time. But they spent most hours in the camp never properly preparing for THE battle of their lives. Becoming ripe they were lulled into sleep while the enemy walked right into their camp and took captive that which is the most precious to their lives.

A suit of armor rarely used, but necessary for the preservation of life, is awkward to put on in the heat of battle. The few dents in the shield are reminders of battles long past. The sword is unfamiliar. In a true warrior's hand the same sword would be a extension of her natural body. The fluid movement of the dance would include blocking, slashing, thrusting forward with the death blow, taking no time for rest, immediately positioning for the next move and advancing herself. She would take the battle to the attacker rather than allowing it to attack her.

The surprised warrior in the camp has no time to practice such a dance. She can only live as if every breath depends on the success of each battle. Every word, every thought and every action must be guarded. Such has been true of our warrior.

While experiencing victories and losses in the ebb and flow of life, her loved ones have been carried off by the enemy. Unprepared to fight this type of battle, too slow to dress herself in true armor, she watched in horror and disbelief as the enemy dismantled her camp and destroyed those most precious to her.

With a shredded soul and grief-stricken heart our warrior feels the Spirit of her Commander rising from within. It is with that in mind that she rediscovers her true armor. She determines there is no time to sit and watch for the next attack. She must prepare and press on.

Yup - blogger is much easier to use!