I just came back from Tim Burton's "Alice in Wonderland". It was as I expected... dark and strangely real. Really, how can it be anything else coming from him?? I've never seen more head offing's by the largest head you've ever seen, 3D Reality, and even more grim, the search for the truth! Tackling your biggest fears and looking them straight on, or through the proverbial "looking glass", up close and magnified can scare anyone into not telling the Queen of Hearts that you ate her Tarts! I contemplated this spiritual journey so much today that I stopped at Barnes and Noble on my way home to pick up a copy of Alice's Wonderland... a blog is to come!
But for now.. the main event... and that is answering to sentences before the verdicts...as the Hatter is faced with... and unfortunately many of us in this lifetime.
The Mark Gospel tells the story about the fate of John the Baptist. His head was off'd!
In preparing a Sunday sermon, even for myself, I am forever perplexed as to how to handle delivering such a vulgar text to children... (I should just consult with Disney.. as they do it ALL the time!) Quite often I jump to a reading from the morning instead! Most Gospel readings are easily communicated to the young. At times, some lack the substance of a good tellable story. No meat in which to sink my story-telling brain into! Others can be too abstract and short... and yet I seem to make it through.. (quite often, and not intentionally, delivering the message through the child, who in turn tell the family who couldn't make heads or tales out of the sermon in "big church." ) And lastly, there is the Gospel story which really isn't tellable to children. (There are a few...) But for now, I am lucky to live in the moment of communicating my thoughts to the grown-up worshipper!
Refresher: John the Baptist= Cousin to Jesus through Mary, son of Elizabeth and Zacchariah (aging parents thought to be unable to conceive), reportedly born 6 months prior to Jesus' arrival. Elizabeth's womb lept when a pregnant Mary visited her, grows to be a great prophet, lives an ascetic life.. in the wilderness preaching about the coming of one greater than he, claims he baptises with water, while one greater than he will baptise with the fire! He is "wild and woolly".. dressed in his animal fur and eating locusts and honey .. greeting people in the river Jordan prophesying and cleaning them.. preaching loudly about what is to come.
Ok.. you remember now? The untellable part.. the beheading. A very gorey and gruesome telling by Mark, who transcribes from Simon-Peter, the manner in which John faces his death. John is critical of King Herod and his wife Herodia. They have an incestuous marriage that is also considered adulterous. (Now.. its getting good.. how on earth could this juicy story be communicated to children???) HE is quoting scripture and Jewish law that firmly spells out that what these two are doing is clearly wrong. He is not quiet about this! As well he shouldn't if one is considered a prophet. It is unclear however if Herodia's divorce from her husband.. (Herod's brother), to marry Herod is considered sinful in the eyes of theologians.. as a.) she did divorce him/lived separately from him and b.) could remarry if it so pleased her if that was the truthful case. The reality I'm afraid though, is that Herodia was also Herod's niece.. yuck. and found to be in a pleasing marriage previously to Phillip. Nothing wrong with him according to the story.. she just wanted another man. NO sign of his infidelity, unfaithful behavior. Supported her, cared for her, etc.. good husband.. she just wanted another man! Oh and yes.. which happened to be her husband's brother... another Jewish/Biblical No-No. (and Phillip was still alive!)John does not make this easy for them. He is prophet.. prophets are not quiet even to those in authority. Those of means and/or living the exact way they want never want to be questioned. They have large agendas to fulfill.. no one will stand in their way! We know what happens to those who prophesies and speak up.. one of 2 things.. they are the receivers of wheels full of grease or.. off with their head. We know John's fate. But there comes a time when the moment of truth is given to the executioner. Unlike Alice's tale, most of us do not know when that day will arrive.
"A prophet is a truth-teller and often governing authorities don't like a truth-teller telling the truth about them." "A prophet is one who speaks to those in power. A prophet usually gets into trouble for criticizing the governing authorities. Those authorities often imprison or kill that prophet in order to silence him. The prophet becomes a martyr.. one who dies for the faith." Interesting set of defining terms. A prophet is the proverbial, "whistle-blower".. one might say. All truthful to me... however..it is clearly up to the listener to decide who in fact is being employed to prophesies God's truth or their own! or Am I late? or is just a figure of my imagination??
The one called to say, "prepare the way of the Lord", however had no other agenda. He did his thing. He baptised folks in a river. He preached and shouted to all that would listen about the love that was near and here to save us all." He defended scripture, sure. But so did many Jewish officials and high priests. They just weren't "loud." Prophets are always loud.. they quite often get in trouble for "opening their big mouth"... exposing the injustice, telling the media the "real-deal." The punishment in society for calling a spade a spade is quite often a large one.. (unless you can afford high end counsel or decide that the exposition of the fake or defending of the truth is more important than your own welfare.)
Prophets don't lead a life they cover up. They wear what they want. Drive what they want. Live wherever they need too.. they lay it all out there... (As our friend Alice does. She quite often tells those around her who and what she is once she figures out that is what she is here to do.) They know what they are called to do. The deal they make to this is between them and their creator.. not for someone else's judgement. Whether or not they decided to give up a materialistic life is not a mystery. They certainly don't act duplicitous by "preaching one thing and living something different." If you were a prophet ... (and I believe we are all prophets on some level), and you choose to drive a a ride for "the people" then you should also own the fact that you do so to live in a home worth 2 millions dollars on the water. However, don't preach about poverty and service, and hide your assets aways! John didn't. He wore his craziness out in the public eye... as does the Mad Hatter... who isn't so mad ! He lived the way he thought God wanted him too.. he lived the way he could better hear the word of God...most importantly.
Herod liked John. That's the irony of the story. He enjoyed his preaching, his work with others. Thought him a holy man. Herodia on the other hand, did not! She had a mission in her mind and that was to remove that which caused her to examine her life and actions. (Our Queen). She couldn't by law do anything with John. (Unlike the Queen). She wasn't in the authority to do so. It wasn't until Herod "opened his big mouth" at a birthday, given by him, in his own honor, that prompted him to make a deal he couldn't get out of. Herodia's daughter gave a dance performance for her step-father.. one is led to believe it may have been promiscuous although scripture does not support this. How ever it was performed was so appealing to Herod that he in fact promises her anything at all that she may want.. boasting.. even half of what he owns! (Remember this promise is bellowed throughout a large party with many ears and eyes watching). Historically, Salome, (a name that is widely known but without evidence to be truth), asks her mother what it is she should ask for. Well.. Herodia can't resist but to ask for John the Baptist's head.. on a platter no less! Surely Herod cannot turn down a "deal" made in public. She manipulated her husband to do exactly her bidding in order to take care of a "loud mouth." How Herod must have felt. To be the one credited with killing the Baptiser! It may have been one thing had he really despised him. But, he didn't. A man of Herod's power and status could've eliminated him any time previous to this occasion had he felt threatened by his power. Herod was guilt ridden. He had no choice but to execute John. John's head was served up on the silver tray to Herodia as ordered by her to her daughter.
I write this story to you as someone who had a head-offer in their life.... was very influential in the direction or future of my life and fate. Someone who caused significant damage to me like Herodia does to John. Cut my head off so to speak. Ironically, this person, claimed publicly that they in fact they were here to do this work.. referring to themselves very loudly and openly, as "John the Baptist". "The wild and woolly beast sent in to shake things up.. be the loud mouth and prepare the way!" When in fact they were the Queen of Hearts. They were claiming to be a prophet. They were claiming the right to behave in a way because they were authorized by "God" to do so.
The story of Alice is one of opposites. One of questioning if the glass is half full or empty. Whether time is measured by the day or by the hour- it is story to help us believe that we are capable of doing 6 impossible things before breakfast everyday. Are we too big for the rabbit hole? Or, is he mad? or Am I?It is interesting- because they're are no clear answers and no, one Queen, who gets to pass judgement on others fates, eliminating those before they get too close to the truth! "Off with their heads"... "No soup for you" (Seinfeldian), mentality that really can affect us.
John's death did not put an end to his legacy. NO- in fact it helped him to become even bigger than who he was. He still does not hide his fate or his mission. Jesus still was the way after John's death. Jesus is still the way after his own head-offer did away with him! Alice found out that she needed to face her stuff head on. She was rocked with confusion about life and death throughout this story but when the blue caterpillar informs her that death is impossible and that transformation is always the next step she discovers that you no longer have anything to fear. She looks into the face of the deck/death and screams, "You are only a pack of cards!" She knows that one person's view isn't enough! It's YOUR reality that is real!
John knew who he was. So did Jesus. And in the end so did Alice!
The sequel to follow...
Mad as a Hatter in Newport
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
"Bless her heart!"
I'm writin' y'all tonite about living in the South! Many of my friends have spent some time living just South of Newport, (if that is REALLY true!) Or, so they tell me! I have had the best time in my home away from home that I can sit here on this warm Saturday eve in late winter/early Spring dreaming about good ol' southern hospitality!
I love the South. I always thought one day I would live there. Once, years ago, I imagined honeymooning in New Orleans. (mind you, never been hitched). Scarlett O'Hara tells Rhett Butler when he asks her, "Scarlett would you ever marry for fun?" Her response.. "Fun for whom?" However, I began to think I could and should be residing there. It always appealed to me. The 80's brought on Steel Magnolias and JFK. Although, Burn Notice... sealed the deal for me! I wondered about attending worship services in the South, pretty dresses, and just enough gossip to intrigue even the most humble Christian! I wasn't wrong... except I thought I would love grits!
When I think of Southern living many interesting details immediately come to mind. Obviously the weather is glorious most of the year. It is like living in Spring, (my favorite season), ALL year... (although, the Tulips still only come out when they're supposed too.) With the exception of that blast of wilting humidity that arrives around late May/June, I have grown very fond of my southern hood. I quickly figured out that "their Summer is our Winter." My childhood friend Wayne lives in the Orlando area. When I asked him about the move to the South, he said, "Dawn, we just stay inside all Summer. October is perfect until May. No shoveling or outrageous heating bills.... c'mon down!" I thought... hmm... that's seems appealing enough. Go home for Christmas snow and be done! I spent much of last Summer there.. and honestly, he was right. Weather at this point in life does make a difference. I love the fact that my god Ra, begins sunning me around this very time, and ends before Thanksgiving. It's a wonderful thing, that Vitamin D !
Besides the temperature.. most importantly is the temperament! Good ol' southern hospitality! It took me a spell to g'it this one...Boy-Howdy... Sometimes I say.. yes.. indeed this is surely the place and other times...."um... speed it up, I could be dying tomorrow!" It is truth when folks tell ya that life is slower and nicer past the Mason-Dixon line. Being kind takes time!!!!
For example, I found a good hair salon finally , (let me define salon... one that is not in someones garage and sells products that have not been distilled in someones backyard!) Anyhow. I have pretty low-maintenance hair.(I am not a full on platinum blonde!) I go in for treatment about 3x a year. My usual appt here is not nearly 4 hours... okay.. let's be fair, perhaps, it was a slow rainy day or that the girl sensed my anxiety as I would much rather have a molar filled than be there.. but none the less.. in the North a filling and my hair usually take about the same amount of time... in the South, it is a personal day from work! I told myself that was okay as perhaps that is the "true mission" of a salon, a day of pampering!
The Publix.. a rather hip chain of grocery markets. (I much prefer to the Winn Dixie or the Piggly-whatever!) There motto, "Where shopping is a pleasure!" I have decided, is really a fact. The 2nd least favorite thing I hate besides the hair salon, is grocery shopping! Just can't stand the crowds and searching for what I need. Mostly though, it's the lugging of my purchases. Upon a rather large shopping excursion... without male company... I happened in the check-out line and I began to bag my own groceries. (comes naturally). Some poor clerk comes running over and quietly sates, "Ma'am what ever on earth are you doin'?" I am dumbfounded and explain that I am baggin' my supplies and I assure them that I intend to pay for them.. (haha) She looks up at me and says, "You're from the North aren't you?" Perhaps, my accent? Perhaps my buttoned up attire? Or simply my work ethic??(Over zealous and over worked way of living).
I sheepishly nodded and smiled... She said, "That's my job." I agreed to let go of this task, be a Belle, or a customer, and move ahead with my adventure. I was telling myself though, "Relax, and enjoy this, this is what woman do here in the South." No sooner had my bags been in the carriage, I place my hands upon the handle of the cart, and the clerk again states, "M'aam.. where can I take you?" "TAKE ME????" I respond and say " Um... no where my shopping is complete, thank you." She said, "Well then fine ma'am, allow me to walk you to your vehicle." She rips the cart from my hands and proceeds out into a 60 degree evening... I am thinking to myself... "Oh shit, do I have cash on me???? We get to the car and I slip her a few bucks and she looks at me as though I have now committed mortal sin..."No thank you ma'am we are not allowed to accept tips. Is this your vehicle? Please pop the hatch for me." I am stopped dead in my tracks staring at her. "Keys ma'am?" I reach for the keys fumbling around in my handbag.. get the car open and I watch her LOAD the groceries into the car!!!!!! I am grateful, but thinking a million thoughts right now.. "Why can't it be snowing? Why can't it be 10 degree wind chill? Whatever happened to Almacs on Bellevue Avenue???"
I sat in the car. I stopped and I watched her retrieve other carriages in the lot scattered here and there and I said.. " THAT's WHY they don't have a carriage depot!!!!!" Okay.. I am officially loving the South! I only wish they had her drive home with you so you could walk those bags up 2 flights of stairs! Oh well...small southern baby steps!
The Suite of lovely Spanish-style, stucco apartments I stay in has a paperboy... if you will. It reminds me of the old show Melrose Place. This place is located on a main strip similar to Thames Street. Paper-people are almost non-existent in cities, and they certainly don't ride bicycles and hum a paper at your door to deliver the morning news... no it is far better than that. There is a paper boy who comes to call at 6am faithfully and the reason I know this is because his beat up pick up truck comes barreling into the complex exactly at dawn and is playing music I would normally find exciting exactly 12 hours later! After the first few mornings of thinking a neighbor had a really loud TV or little kids, I realized that this is how he woke his clients to the delivery of the days' news! Then it became exciting! What would today be???? Def Leopard?,Skynryd?, Styx?, ACDC?, ZZ Top?.. a southern rockers dream reveille! Then Sunday came. The southern hospitality was even present in our paperboy... I lay there, it's quiet as you would imagine on Sunday, 6am.. and I detect a familiar melody...." We've only just begun.. white lace and promises.. " I lay head faced down in my pillow smiling! And softly sing, "A kiss for luck and we're on our way!" I giggled so hard that I was even now loving our paperboy even though my head was still rocking from the Disco 70's band the evening before."
Life in the South is really forgiving.
Many other instances remind me that I like this way of living as, "You are the customer, the little lady, the girl in need of a 4 hour salon treatment and lovingly referred to as "Sugar"...except for the times when I hear, "Bless her heart!" Well. let me say.. when YOU are the one who is the recipient of heart blessing! Well... thankfully years ago, my friend John educated me on this one! John, a friend and colleague, would often use the expression, "Bless her heart!" during times when we were speaking of someone who... well.. needed to be "blessed".
I guess!! Forever, I never knew what this meant, except, that" I" thought it meant his Christianity shining through! I always took to heart his kind blessings and wondered how on earth he could be, "blessing her??" Well. I did not need to spend years in Mobile, as he did, to understand what this truly meant! I had a good southern mentor! Again, just the South's way of being hospitable! (Even, if the grocery clerk said that to me on her way back from my car!)
I can see why people move there. I completely understand why folks HATE living here after being there. (The frigidity on all levels!) I can even see why the men are attracted to "Belledom"... although I TRULY struggle with that one! But, I can say that I have never been welcomed so graciously, treated so decently, and made-over...sometimes so fakishly, (WHO CARES!) then in the South! It is a nice place to visit and live. Where else can you get 10 months of Spring, $1.75 Sam Adams drafts, $63 Dirty Martini's, Valentine's Dinner at a posh country club with the loveliest octogenarians, alcohol and popcorn at the local movie theatre, Indian grocery stores, and a Nascar watching boyfriend! The only thing missing is my platinum doo! (And that's only because I can't sit in the chair for 8 hours!!!)
Damsels in distress???.. maybe... however I have learned that this isn't the worse thing. The South is a flashback at times. It is a reminder that men are men and women are ladies.
We Yankee-chicks sometimes need reminding!
A girl gets used to her life in the South. My airport scenes now end something like this...
Scarlett: "Rhett, Rhett, - Rhett, where shall I ever go? What shall I do?"
Rhett Butler: "Frankly Scarlett, I don't give damn."
Scarlett: "Rhett, don't. I shall faint."
Rhett Butler: "I want you to faint. This is what you were meant for. None of the fools you've ever known have kissed you like this, have they? Your Charles, or your Frank, or your stupid Ashley!"
Scarlett: "Tara! Home. I'll go home. And I'll think of some way to get him back. After all... tomorrow is another day."
Bye y'all,
S. O'H
I love the South. I always thought one day I would live there. Once, years ago, I imagined honeymooning in New Orleans. (mind you, never been hitched). Scarlett O'Hara tells Rhett Butler when he asks her, "Scarlett would you ever marry for fun?" Her response.. "Fun for whom?" However, I began to think I could and should be residing there. It always appealed to me. The 80's brought on Steel Magnolias and JFK. Although, Burn Notice... sealed the deal for me! I wondered about attending worship services in the South, pretty dresses, and just enough gossip to intrigue even the most humble Christian! I wasn't wrong... except I thought I would love grits!
When I think of Southern living many interesting details immediately come to mind. Obviously the weather is glorious most of the year. It is like living in Spring, (my favorite season), ALL year... (although, the Tulips still only come out when they're supposed too.) With the exception of that blast of wilting humidity that arrives around late May/June, I have grown very fond of my southern hood. I quickly figured out that "their Summer is our Winter." My childhood friend Wayne lives in the Orlando area. When I asked him about the move to the South, he said, "Dawn, we just stay inside all Summer. October is perfect until May. No shoveling or outrageous heating bills.... c'mon down!" I thought... hmm... that's seems appealing enough. Go home for Christmas snow and be done! I spent much of last Summer there.. and honestly, he was right. Weather at this point in life does make a difference. I love the fact that my god Ra, begins sunning me around this very time, and ends before Thanksgiving. It's a wonderful thing, that Vitamin D !
Besides the temperature.. most importantly is the temperament! Good ol' southern hospitality! It took me a spell to g'it this one...Boy-Howdy... Sometimes I say.. yes.. indeed this is surely the place and other times...."um... speed it up, I could be dying tomorrow!" It is truth when folks tell ya that life is slower and nicer past the Mason-Dixon line. Being kind takes time!!!!
For example, I found a good hair salon finally , (let me define salon... one that is not in someones garage and sells products that have not been distilled in someones backyard!) Anyhow. I have pretty low-maintenance hair.(I am not a full on platinum blonde!) I go in for treatment about 3x a year. My usual appt here is not nearly 4 hours... okay.. let's be fair, perhaps, it was a slow rainy day or that the girl sensed my anxiety as I would much rather have a molar filled than be there.. but none the less.. in the North a filling and my hair usually take about the same amount of time... in the South, it is a personal day from work! I told myself that was okay as perhaps that is the "true mission" of a salon, a day of pampering!
The Publix.. a rather hip chain of grocery markets. (I much prefer to the Winn Dixie or the Piggly-whatever!) There motto, "Where shopping is a pleasure!" I have decided, is really a fact. The 2nd least favorite thing I hate besides the hair salon, is grocery shopping! Just can't stand the crowds and searching for what I need. Mostly though, it's the lugging of my purchases. Upon a rather large shopping excursion... without male company... I happened in the check-out line and I began to bag my own groceries. (comes naturally). Some poor clerk comes running over and quietly sates, "Ma'am what ever on earth are you doin'?" I am dumbfounded and explain that I am baggin' my supplies and I assure them that I intend to pay for them.. (haha) She looks up at me and says, "You're from the North aren't you?" Perhaps, my accent? Perhaps my buttoned up attire? Or simply my work ethic??(Over zealous and over worked way of living).
I sheepishly nodded and smiled... She said, "That's my job." I agreed to let go of this task, be a Belle, or a customer, and move ahead with my adventure. I was telling myself though, "Relax, and enjoy this, this is what woman do here in the South." No sooner had my bags been in the carriage, I place my hands upon the handle of the cart, and the clerk again states, "M'aam.. where can I take you?" "TAKE ME????" I respond and say " Um... no where my shopping is complete, thank you." She said, "Well then fine ma'am, allow me to walk you to your vehicle." She rips the cart from my hands and proceeds out into a 60 degree evening... I am thinking to myself... "Oh shit, do I have cash on me???? We get to the car and I slip her a few bucks and she looks at me as though I have now committed mortal sin..."No thank you ma'am we are not allowed to accept tips. Is this your vehicle? Please pop the hatch for me." I am stopped dead in my tracks staring at her. "Keys ma'am?" I reach for the keys fumbling around in my handbag.. get the car open and I watch her LOAD the groceries into the car!!!!!! I am grateful, but thinking a million thoughts right now.. "Why can't it be snowing? Why can't it be 10 degree wind chill? Whatever happened to Almacs on Bellevue Avenue???"
I sat in the car. I stopped and I watched her retrieve other carriages in the lot scattered here and there and I said.. " THAT's WHY they don't have a carriage depot!!!!!" Okay.. I am officially loving the South! I only wish they had her drive home with you so you could walk those bags up 2 flights of stairs! Oh well...small southern baby steps!
The Suite of lovely Spanish-style, stucco apartments I stay in has a paperboy... if you will. It reminds me of the old show Melrose Place. This place is located on a main strip similar to Thames Street. Paper-people are almost non-existent in cities, and they certainly don't ride bicycles and hum a paper at your door to deliver the morning news... no it is far better than that. There is a paper boy who comes to call at 6am faithfully and the reason I know this is because his beat up pick up truck comes barreling into the complex exactly at dawn and is playing music I would normally find exciting exactly 12 hours later! After the first few mornings of thinking a neighbor had a really loud TV or little kids, I realized that this is how he woke his clients to the delivery of the days' news! Then it became exciting! What would today be???? Def Leopard?,Skynryd?, Styx?, ACDC?, ZZ Top?.. a southern rockers dream reveille! Then Sunday came. The southern hospitality was even present in our paperboy... I lay there, it's quiet as you would imagine on Sunday, 6am.. and I detect a familiar melody...." We've only just begun.. white lace and promises.. " I lay head faced down in my pillow smiling! And softly sing, "A kiss for luck and we're on our way!" I giggled so hard that I was even now loving our paperboy even though my head was still rocking from the Disco 70's band the evening before."
Life in the South is really forgiving.
Many other instances remind me that I like this way of living as, "You are the customer, the little lady, the girl in need of a 4 hour salon treatment and lovingly referred to as "Sugar"...except for the times when I hear, "Bless her heart!" Well. let me say.. when YOU are the one who is the recipient of heart blessing! Well... thankfully years ago, my friend John educated me on this one! John, a friend and colleague, would often use the expression, "Bless her heart!" during times when we were speaking of someone who... well.. needed to be "blessed".
I guess!! Forever, I never knew what this meant, except, that" I" thought it meant his Christianity shining through! I always took to heart his kind blessings and wondered how on earth he could be, "blessing her??" Well. I did not need to spend years in Mobile, as he did, to understand what this truly meant! I had a good southern mentor! Again, just the South's way of being hospitable! (Even, if the grocery clerk said that to me on her way back from my car!)
I can see why people move there. I completely understand why folks HATE living here after being there. (The frigidity on all levels!) I can even see why the men are attracted to "Belledom"... although I TRULY struggle with that one! But, I can say that I have never been welcomed so graciously, treated so decently, and made-over...sometimes so fakishly, (WHO CARES!) then in the South! It is a nice place to visit and live. Where else can you get 10 months of Spring, $1.75 Sam Adams drafts, $63 Dirty Martini's, Valentine's Dinner at a posh country club with the loveliest octogenarians, alcohol and popcorn at the local movie theatre, Indian grocery stores, and a Nascar watching boyfriend! The only thing missing is my platinum doo! (And that's only because I can't sit in the chair for 8 hours!!!)
Damsels in distress???.. maybe... however I have learned that this isn't the worse thing. The South is a flashback at times. It is a reminder that men are men and women are ladies.
We Yankee-chicks sometimes need reminding!
A girl gets used to her life in the South. My airport scenes now end something like this...
Scarlett: "Rhett, Rhett, - Rhett, where shall I ever go? What shall I do?"
Rhett Butler: "Frankly Scarlett, I don't give damn."
Scarlett: "Rhett, don't. I shall faint."
Rhett Butler: "I want you to faint. This is what you were meant for. None of the fools you've ever known have kissed you like this, have they? Your Charles, or your Frank, or your stupid Ashley!"
Scarlett: "Tara! Home. I'll go home. And I'll think of some way to get him back. After all... tomorrow is another day."
Bye y'all,
S. O'H
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Son of a Preacher Man
"The only boy who could ever teach me, was the son of a preacher man.. the only boy who could ever reach me.. was the son of a preacher man. Yes, he was, he was. Oh yes, he was!"
Some of you may know who I speak of. And some may not. I am preaching today about my dearest friend, Greg Cole. He is, in fact, the son of preacher man. And in fact the only one who could ever reach me or teach me, for that matter !
Most of you know how Greg's legendary words are used to describe God and Spirit, interpret the bible in a fashion that allows the modern man to comprehend and relate. In fact, some of you may miss those words terribly! I know I did, until I received the privilege this past weekend to once again be mesmerized and literally dazzled by his God-speak.
This blog is about you, Preacher Boy! ("PB") The man formerly known as Preacher Boy... and well, is today. This sermon's for you kid....
This past weekend in a visit to the very hip city, (really), of Jacksonville, Florida, I had the rare opportunity to sit in on 3 services in an Episcopal parish located in a very affluent section of Jax. These were no ordinary church services to me, as I was there to listen to PB preach a rather deep and energized message about affordable and decent housing to the hardworking people of Jax. You see, PB is no longer a collar-carrying preacher, he is the Sr. Development Officer and Interim Director of Development for HabiJax... a cute word for Habitat for Humanity of Jacksonville. Probably the largest non-profit organization in Jax, and certainly,within the top 3 of the largest Habitat affiliates in the United States. Greg, was hired to reach the faith communities about giving, so as the hardworking man in Jax could receive "a hand up and not a hand out!"
WOW! Talk about God directing our lives!
Anyway, Greg informed me weeks ago about his preaching at St. Mark's. He was incredibly excited and ready to get back in front of the people again. Well. Let's be clear, the Episcopal folk! Greg has been preaching all over Jax for some months now. Every faith imaginable! (We even attended a "mega-church" this weekend!!!) But, when PB was asked to deliver the sermons for the 3 services on his home turf he more than jumped at the opportunity! As, for me, it was like going home! Preparing for this a week in advance, he angled me in every way as to how he would connect covenants, plead Luke, and justify Genesis! Ahhhh.. the old days!
We talked, and he taught me. He found every free moment to run some piece of scripture he could weave together by me. He sat at at his house of writing worship, St. Arbucks, and poured his heart and soul into his work. Although, not for him, but for the college boy, and others like Thomas, who grew up in a Habijax home and is studying to become a prosecuting attorney! He wrote that sermon for the homeless, the needy and the lost. He wrote it so that the common man could come terms with how God does enter into covenants with all of us!
So that more, " Thomas' ", Will see and Believe!
PB got up with the same spring in his step. He got up actually several times through the evening to perfect his story. He was a preacher in need of God's people. He needed to get his message into the hands of those that cared, and to do it on his playing field, gave him the home team advantage.
Our triple header was like Opening Day! It was a crisp and clear morning. The kind of morning that reminds you that you are alive and not just freeze dried. A 7:30 service, and after some "thee's and thou's" we were up to bat! PB decided against the purple Lenten tie and went right into red! He would invoke the deity with his passion. And so with home team advantage he took his first swing. I sat in the stands and I white knuckled my service leaflet... it was like watching someone come off the injured list. He got off the bench, and I closed my eyes, and waited. The pitch, and the hit!
As I sat in pool of nervous wetness, ( I was doubting my Tom's that day!) I noticed the most intriguing sign. The chapel-like building was host to a stained glassed system of Jesus' life cycle... Nativity to Pentecost. I open my eyes upon the chills rising up through me, I look at PB. He is on fire... literally!!! His hands appealing to the crowd. The perfect pauses and pleas. The immanent smile. The red aura all around him! PB was standing directly beneath the window of God sending the Holy Spirit to his disciples. Jesus' was represented in garments of flowing red. The east rising sun was illuminating this image so brightly that I hardly knew the difference of where the spirit was! It was pouring down threw Greg's head and around his body... The hue was as bright as the window. I was astounded as to the image. I then looked at the series of windows before home plate. The former was, Easter Day and further down, the Cruxifiction. It all made perfect sense to me.
I watched the crowd afterwards wanting to touch "his" garments. They, as I, were moved by the power of the spirit. They lined up to help and hear more. They lined up to ask and be healed. And yet, there was no one in that room more healed than the one who was speaking in tongues!!! I shed a small tear after the 7am sermon. Although, the third game was clearly the one he came to play.The 11am seats more fans, however the sun had moved and the window was normalized as the others now. PB took the spirit of redemption in hours before. He had knocked one out of the park for the Big Guy! But, more importantly for himself. He was no longer a Thomas, but fighting for one!
I am more convinced than ever that our truest callings and healing are God's way of letting us know, that in fact, no matter the circumstances, we all have jobs to do! God is the umpire in every game! His calls are the ones we wait for at home plate.
God's Will be done... no one can stop that! Let no man put asunder. (Even ourselves!)
PB is back in the fields! He is more alive and charismatic than he has ever been. It made me tear up to be at his opening day!
And ps... I love the new uniform!
Love, Dusty
Some of you may know who I speak of. And some may not. I am preaching today about my dearest friend, Greg Cole. He is, in fact, the son of preacher man. And in fact the only one who could ever reach me or teach me, for that matter !
Most of you know how Greg's legendary words are used to describe God and Spirit, interpret the bible in a fashion that allows the modern man to comprehend and relate. In fact, some of you may miss those words terribly! I know I did, until I received the privilege this past weekend to once again be mesmerized and literally dazzled by his God-speak.
This blog is about you, Preacher Boy! ("PB") The man formerly known as Preacher Boy... and well, is today. This sermon's for you kid....
This past weekend in a visit to the very hip city, (really), of Jacksonville, Florida, I had the rare opportunity to sit in on 3 services in an Episcopal parish located in a very affluent section of Jax. These were no ordinary church services to me, as I was there to listen to PB preach a rather deep and energized message about affordable and decent housing to the hardworking people of Jax. You see, PB is no longer a collar-carrying preacher, he is the Sr. Development Officer and Interim Director of Development for HabiJax... a cute word for Habitat for Humanity of Jacksonville. Probably the largest non-profit organization in Jax, and certainly,within the top 3 of the largest Habitat affiliates in the United States. Greg, was hired to reach the faith communities about giving, so as the hardworking man in Jax could receive "a hand up and not a hand out!"
WOW! Talk about God directing our lives!
Anyway, Greg informed me weeks ago about his preaching at St. Mark's. He was incredibly excited and ready to get back in front of the people again. Well. Let's be clear, the Episcopal folk! Greg has been preaching all over Jax for some months now. Every faith imaginable! (We even attended a "mega-church" this weekend!!!) But, when PB was asked to deliver the sermons for the 3 services on his home turf he more than jumped at the opportunity! As, for me, it was like going home! Preparing for this a week in advance, he angled me in every way as to how he would connect covenants, plead Luke, and justify Genesis! Ahhhh.. the old days!
We talked, and he taught me. He found every free moment to run some piece of scripture he could weave together by me. He sat at at his house of writing worship, St. Arbucks, and poured his heart and soul into his work. Although, not for him, but for the college boy, and others like Thomas, who grew up in a Habijax home and is studying to become a prosecuting attorney! He wrote that sermon for the homeless, the needy and the lost. He wrote it so that the common man could come terms with how God does enter into covenants with all of us!
So that more, " Thomas' ", Will see and Believe!
PB got up with the same spring in his step. He got up actually several times through the evening to perfect his story. He was a preacher in need of God's people. He needed to get his message into the hands of those that cared, and to do it on his playing field, gave him the home team advantage.
Our triple header was like Opening Day! It was a crisp and clear morning. The kind of morning that reminds you that you are alive and not just freeze dried. A 7:30 service, and after some "thee's and thou's" we were up to bat! PB decided against the purple Lenten tie and went right into red! He would invoke the deity with his passion. And so with home team advantage he took his first swing. I sat in the stands and I white knuckled my service leaflet... it was like watching someone come off the injured list. He got off the bench, and I closed my eyes, and waited. The pitch, and the hit!
As I sat in pool of nervous wetness, ( I was doubting my Tom's that day!) I noticed the most intriguing sign. The chapel-like building was host to a stained glassed system of Jesus' life cycle... Nativity to Pentecost. I open my eyes upon the chills rising up through me, I look at PB. He is on fire... literally!!! His hands appealing to the crowd. The perfect pauses and pleas. The immanent smile. The red aura all around him! PB was standing directly beneath the window of God sending the Holy Spirit to his disciples. Jesus' was represented in garments of flowing red. The east rising sun was illuminating this image so brightly that I hardly knew the difference of where the spirit was! It was pouring down threw Greg's head and around his body... The hue was as bright as the window. I was astounded as to the image. I then looked at the series of windows before home plate. The former was, Easter Day and further down, the Cruxifiction. It all made perfect sense to me.
I watched the crowd afterwards wanting to touch "his" garments. They, as I, were moved by the power of the spirit. They lined up to help and hear more. They lined up to ask and be healed. And yet, there was no one in that room more healed than the one who was speaking in tongues!!! I shed a small tear after the 7am sermon. Although, the third game was clearly the one he came to play.The 11am seats more fans, however the sun had moved and the window was normalized as the others now. PB took the spirit of redemption in hours before. He had knocked one out of the park for the Big Guy! But, more importantly for himself. He was no longer a Thomas, but fighting for one!
I am more convinced than ever that our truest callings and healing are God's way of letting us know, that in fact, no matter the circumstances, we all have jobs to do! God is the umpire in every game! His calls are the ones we wait for at home plate.
God's Will be done... no one can stop that! Let no man put asunder. (Even ourselves!)
PB is back in the fields! He is more alive and charismatic than he has ever been. It made me tear up to be at his opening day!
And ps... I love the new uniform!
Love, Dusty
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