Stumbling Toward God?

“Say something about beauty”–the Ungame

She has a smile that would make wise men do foolish things… and I am not a wise man.

That’s not particularly relevant to anything, but it’s been in my head for awhile. I thought it had a nice ring to it but it didn’t fit into any of my other postings.

Tim, I can’t help but notice that your blog now has a flower on it.

Yeah well, I had planned to make my own template when I first started this. I even took an online crash course in CSS, only to discover that I didn’t have any design ideas. So until I get around to that, here’s this nice water lily. ‘Cause it’s raining.

Here’s one. I wrote this song about five years ago. It was among those I had abandoned for being too depressing, but, well, today it just seems appropriate.

I always hated Sundays. Growing up, it was supposed to be a weekend; a day off, like Saturday. Only it never was, because I had to do homework and chores and whatever else before Monday. Later in life, I had a job where I had to work on Sundays. It was only for three hours, but it was right in the middle of the day, so I couldn’t make any big plans, and I was only making minimum wage at the time anyway, so it was pretty much a wasted day for about twenty bucks. So Sundays always felt like a rip off.

I liked October. Maybe it was just that the shortening days interacted in such a way with my schedule that it seemed to be twilight a lot longer than in other months. October is a little gloomy but not really cold, and, to me at least, it seemed to have a perpetual sense in the air of old things passing and new things beginning– a surreal time, like when you are on the edge between waking and sleeping and reality mixes with dreams in strange ways.

At one point, I wanted to write a song called “October Sunday” to try and capture the contrast of my least favorite day with my favorite month.

Well, times change. They don’t even have Autumn in Phoenix, and somehow, it just hasn’t really been the same since I came back. For the past year or so, Sunday has become my favorite day of the week.

It was raining when I woke up this morning. Since there was no food in the house, I went for a short walk in the drizzle to the grocery store around the corner. There was the peculiar smell of fire mixed with rain- very surreal. October Sunday. On days like this, I wish I was a rockstar.

The most common response I seem to get to this page is that people have no idea what I’m talking about. I can’t help but wonder, is that unusual?

In a rare moment of clarity, I thought I would explain a few things, X-Files style.

A Scarecaster is something like a Telecaster, custom made for a scarecrow. So that should pretty much clear everything up then, right? Good. Let’s talk about something else now.

I was recently asked what my biggest regret was. So I thought about it. Then I thought some more. And some more. Finally it hit me, and I responded, “Taking too long to think things over.” It would have been a joke if only it was not so true. I have a bad history of thinking too much, trying to look at something from every possible perspective, and taking so long to figure out what to do that I usually end up doing nothing at all and miss the opportunity entirely.

So, what the heck happened to me on [hold on a second…] September 27th? Well nothing happened to me exactly… I was at school and I saw something that took me quite by surprise and managed to trigger some old memories. I was hit with a profound blast of missed opportunities and unfulfilled dreams and spent the next few days drowning in waves of old memories. Then I came to my senses.

I have been wondering if anyone with modest math skills would recognize that I have been a Christian for slightly over a year, yet I just declared that I have learned nothing at all for the last two. Now obviously I must have learned something. In all truth, the past couple of years have probably been the most enlightening of my whole life. However, when I had come to my senses, I realized that I was well on my way to duplicating a predicament that I have been in before. So how much have I really learned if I’m still making the same old mistakes? What good is knowledge if it doesn’t translate into practical wisdom?

The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge,

–Proverbs 1.7

So, I trust that raises more questions than it answers. If it makes anyone feel better, I’m not really sure what “Chasing Ghosts” is about either.

Awhile back I heard something on the radio about “separation of church and state” and was inspired to write this story. I gave it to one friend to read. At the time I was going for straight up shock value so I gave it to him with no explanation whatsoever. I don’t know if he missed the analogy I was trying to make and was just incredibly disturbed that I would write such a thing, or he just thought it was stupid, but he never mentioned it again and I let it go.

I happened to be thinking about it again recently and thought I would go ahead and post it. I admit, it’s a pretty lame story but hopefully you can at least see the point I was trying to make.

The Dress Code.

There was an old and prominent Institution. The Institution had many strict and unfair rules, and there was much dissatisfaction. Convinced that the flaws within the Institution were insurmountable, a small group decided to leave the Institution to establish their own Institution.

The founders met to draft a charter for the New Institute. They carefully reviewed all of the rules of the Old Institute, and created their own rules to reflect their new attitudes. One man, who felt stifled by the obligation to wear a coat and tie at all times, boldly declared, “There shall be no dress code!” Many others agreed, and it was written into the rules.

Some of the men continued to wear their coats and ties. Others gratefully did not. Though some of the formally dressed men may have been seen to look upon their casually dressed contemporaries with slight disdain, the people were generally comfortable, and most agreed that it was a good rule.

Time passed.

One day, a man decided to wear jeans. Even many of the casual dressers considered this to be inappropriate. Yet they all agreed, “There shall be no dress code,” so no one said anything. In fact, no one spoke to him at all that day. The next day he wore trousers, like everyone else.

The New Institute had grown considerably, and there were many young members who had never known the Old Institute. Talk began to circulate among some of the younger members. “It isn’t right,” they said, “There’s still a de facto dress code in effect.” So they began to wear jeans, and pull-over shirts without collars, and even tennis shoes.

The original founders had long since retired. The current leaders were uncomfortable with these new attitudes. They debated, they argued, but the rules were clear, “There shall be no dress code.”

Soon there were ponchos, saris, caftans and kilts, and their diversity was applauded. Others wore t-shirts, shorts, sandals and sweats, while those who had not even abandoned their ties were increasingly regarded with scorn. One man came in a dress and high heels. “This has gone too far, there is too much distraction!” The leaders cried. “This certainly is not what the founders intended!” But the people insisted, “There shall be no dress code!”

A man arrived in his underwear. He was immediately sent home, certainly common decency must still apply. His fellows grew livid. “‘There shall be no dress code!’ We can wear whatever we please, even nothing at all!” So they began doing just that.

Many were shocked and disgusted, and they lost respect for the leaders’ ability to maintain order. They began establishing private dress codes within their offices and departments. “You can’t do that!” people protested, “There shall be no dress code!” But the leaders refused to take action.

Animosity grew. As the time went on, and the old leaders retired, the undressed slowly became more prominent and powerful in the Institute, until eventually, the majority of the leaders agreed with them. They called all the people together and declared, “There shall be no dress code, so take off your clothes!”

Once upon a time, I was the Equipment Manager for a small (non-travelling) circus. It was my job, technically, to “oversee” the set up and tear down of various circus apparati. Frequently, I would stand back and watch as someone did something completely wrong, and then, once they got to that “I have no idea how this works” point, I would come over to show them the right way.

Now, I did this for purely selfish reasons. I really don’t like to talk to people, so if I simply waited until they realized on their own that their way did not work, it spared me the trouble of having to explain why we do not do things that way, and made them far more receptive to the proper way of doing things, so the whole conversation was much shorter. Also, I would occasionally be surprised that their way actually did work, and I would do it that way myself from then on.

Interestingly enough, God is the same way. Not that God is lazy, antisocial, or has anything to learn from us, but for whatever reason, He will let us do something completely wrong for as long as it takes for us to figure it out on our own. Then when you are flush out of ideas, you may be surprised to find that God was standing there patiently watching the whole time.

I bring this up because I recently came to the realization that the only important thing that I have really learned in the past two years is that I have learned nothing at all.

Today though, I’m feeling optimistic. Maybe it’s because I have “F5/6” written on the back of my hand, and I’m confident that, at the end of the day, I will actually be able to find my !@#$%^& car.

I still prefer the term “Fool.”

Their idols are like scarecrows in a cucumber field, and they cannot speak;

— Jeremiah 10.5

Long story short, a Scarecrow is simply a straw man, hung on a cross, to ward off Blackbirds.

Another interesting feature of scarecrows is that they feel no pain…

For a long time I had planned to make a computer animated mini-rock opera called Dark World about the origins of the Scarecrow. However, I kept postponing this project for years until such a time when my musical ability and my almost nonexistent computer animation skills were up to the task. Ultimately, I got no further than a partial list of song titles, two of which actually have lyrics (somewhere) and some fragments of music.

A number of years ago I realized that the Dark World was not a very healthy mindset to live in and gave up on the whole thing, at which point the Scarecrow became simply my “rockstar” name. Having given that up, all that remains is a simple four letter abbreviation that unfortunately, people often misinterpret as mildly offensive. (It probably doesn’t help that I have, on occasion, facetiously declared my email address to mean “Screw Earthlink!”)

I thought it fitting to end with the last lyrics ever penned by the artist known as Scarecrow. This brief piece had the working title, “What Might Have Been,” but was never actually set to music.

Once…

Awhile ago someone asked me if I still lived at home. In my usual cryptic manner I replied, “that depends on what you mean by ‘still,’ and depends on what you mean by ‘home’.” Then I thought better of it and quickly changed my answer either to yes or to no, though I don’t recall which.

My grandparents owned a house, and when they moved, my parents bought it from them. I needed a place to stay when my prior living arrangements came apart. So, yes, I was living in my parent’s house, but it was neither the house I grew up in, nor did they actually live there themselves.

Anyway, I don’t live there anymore. Now I’m renting a room in another city, near where I’m going to school. Last weekend I went back home to go to church and visit friends, and as I was walking in the front door it hit me, “This isn’t ‘home’.” When I first moved in, I had only intended to stay there until I found another place to live. I actually ended up staying there for about 16 months, which I think is longer than I stayed in the three previous places put together, but I was never really comfortable with it. The furnishings are an eerie medley of my parents’ and grandparents’ things. When I lived there, I slept in the guest bedroom and tried not to touch anything. When I went back this weekend, I slept on the couch.

Last week, I was idly wandering around campus on my first day of school and it occurred to me that here I was at a new big exciting university and I didn’t even care. I have just been sort of on autopilot: Get parking pass. Find classes. Buy books. Someone recently commented on my typical lack of enthusiasm and I replied with some sarcastic comment about “my cold, dead heart.” I was not entirely joking. How did I get so numb? Wasn’t I supposed to get a new heart? When exactly does that happen?

Something happened today. Happened so fast I might have imagined it. But in that instant, my heart HURT. “Felt that one didn’t ya? Heart not so hard after all, huh?” Then it was all over. And I said to myself, “I would like to go home now.”

Maybe it really was just a dream. Yet I was left wondering for the rest of the day, “What does this mean God? How does this fit with everything else that’s been happening?” And maybe, just maybe, this could be the best thing that could possibly happen. Maybe this is exactly what I prayed for.

I rarely update this site. This could be largely because nobody reads it. In fact, I am fairly certain that every single hit since I changed the format was just me checking to see that things looked how I expected. Of course, I have blatantly refused to give out the address on more than one occasion. That is simply because, well, the site is not very interesting yet, and I rarely update it. So ultimately I am only talking to myself, and I can do that just fine without having to type it out, so I rarely update this site. What a vicious cycle.

God, You must have brought me here for a reason, and whatever it is, i’m just not gettting it.

For those following along at home, (all none of you) I mean “here” in the spiritual sense, not “here” Cal Poly Pomona, although that might be worth addressing. Perhaps the two are related. Perhaps not.

I have been engaging in something i know that i should not be, and a brother called me on it, as a good christian brother should. Still, he only knows half the story…

“Love is drowning/ in a deep well/ All these secrets/ and no one to tell”– U2 “Love is Blindness”