The Alternative Mainstream

Verily I confess unto thee, O Lord, my manifold sins and wickedness, for I fear I’m the center of thine wrath and, in drawing such anger, hath visited Connecticut with collateral damage of biblical proportions – for yea, I was the one who scorned and trash-talked your servants in and near our nation’s capital last winter whilst they were smitten – even as they closed their schools with the mere whiff of the threat of foul weather.

He’s there. I’m convinced of it. There is a three-inch tall, invisible man sitting on my shoulder. He twists, bends, and breaks definitions while whispering in my ear, paralyzing me because I’m checking, re-checking, and re-re-checking my motives.

The Pentecostals & Charismatics for Peace & Justice are at it again. First, they promote peace, justice, and human rights. Second, they launch a film project pointing up the hardship of Palestinian Pentecostal Christians as well as Israeli injustice.

Perhaps all Christians need a local-yokel Nobel-prize winning Theravada Buddhist to chase them back to their Jesus freak roots – especially when she’s neither yokel nor local.

“… awkwardly, the issue of civil dialogue is germane to all of us, including those who raced to the microphones and implicitly accused others of complicity in a terrible crime because of their incivility …”

I ponder the nature of assassination and the destructiveness of raw power – because that is assassination’s essence: a deranged, narcissistic minority of one wields power over the vast majority. It is the ultimate totalitarian act, usually void of recognizable reason. Entire populations are robbed of the leaders they elected.

True confession: I’ve never thought too highly of the suburbs. Until I married, I’d lived almost my entire adult life in cities.

Thomas Chasm tells of a fascinating scheme in which we effectually plant trees when we race our fingers across our keyboards.

I could have been doing something constructive – like finally writing the sermon that’ll grip the hearts of millions, catalyze spiritual renewal, bring peace and harmony, and solve all the world’s problems in one fell swoop. But hey, it was Saturday evening – and Saturday evening is Saturday evening and this particular Saturday evening was New Year’s Day. Nuts to the world-saving sermon. I wanted some tube time, so I flipped on the idiot box and watched “V,” which stands for “Visitors.”

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