C.S. Humble

There is a great difficulty in loss. Grief is in many ways an inconsolable journey that one must endure with those who have shared in the loss. But even as those people journey together; they are all of them still alone, for the journey is a lonely one.
We were extremely excited when my Wife and I found out that we were going to be parents. The initial shock of the pregnancy test stupefied us to a point of almost non-reaction. We truly felt in that moment like we were going to finally reach the accolade of being, ‘Grown-up’. For six beloved weeks we planned, feared, trusted and loved for one another in a way that each of us had never known. Rubbing my wife’s porcelain stomach, looking into her eyes and smiling a smile that was genuine, I knew that this pregnancy would be one of the defining events of my life.
How very right I was.
Becky called me at 4:45 P.M., right as I opened my desk drawer at work. I picked up the phone only to hear the heartbreaking sound of my wife weeping. I suppose that as soon I as I picked up the phone and could hear her, I knew that our child was gone. Dead. Lifeless.
‘We lost the baby,’ she said in a tone that was self-accusatory.
‘What,’ I questioned back. Though I don’t know why I asked the question, I heard her perfectly the first time.
‘We lost the baby,’ she answered again. Her voice, filled with sadness and I could almost see the squinting corners of her face along with the tears that have always made her eyes so very blue.
I was allowed to leave work early and meet her back at our home. For the lasting of the day, we simply rested in one another. Knew each other in a way neither of us had ever known. This was our first collective loss, the first life that we really shared together, created together, was snuffed out by the harsh and natural world we live in.
Interestingly enough I didn’t blame God. Nor did I turn toward the idea that the great and grand plan of God would work in some way allow this to my greater good. I believe that down that path lies madness. Rather I simply still believed that Christ was Lord, that the immeasurability of his love and grace would some way pull my wife and I into joy again.
I still believe that.
-C.S.

Sancutary

By

C.S. Humble

(Criticisms and Comments are welcome and appreciated.)

Paul was mad as hell. He kicked the door in front of him open and immediately pointed to the man standing in front of him. ‘You’re a damned liar,’ Paul screamed. He then crossed the aisle with a righteous fury.

‘I’ve lost everything because of you and the bullshit that you have told me,’ Paul’s finger never wavered as he reached the bottom step of the altar and stopped. ‘My dignity, my sense of direction and my purpose are all gone because of the little red letters that were supposed hold the wisdom of the ages. If you were so high and true then I wouldn’t be in this situation,’ his fire raged on.

Paul spread his hands out and lowered his head, mocking the figure before him. ‘Was my divorce in your plans? Did the foreclosure on my house in someway benefit your ‘purpose’ or how about my Father’s cancer; how about an answer for that one. The man never smoked a day in his life! Do you understand just how much suffering has taken place either by your hand or in your name,’ the raging man questioned. Are you sure that we wouldn’t be better off without the ridiculous notion that we aren’t good enough and that our ‘sins’ have broken us off from some portion of this universe that is too sacred to allow such a broken people,’ Paul began to pace from the left side of the altar to the right.

Silence filled the seats and echoed in the vaulted ceilings. Paul scoffed and pushed his hands out, as if he were done completely with the idea of the man in front of him even existing.

‘I’ll give you this, you sure know how to cover all the bases, oh yeah, that you’re good at. Instructing us to not look for a sign, placing our faith and trust in that you were everything you said you were. You conned us in to thinking you had this enormous and magnificent divine plan for each and every one of us. The truth is, and I know the truth now, it’s that even if you do exist, you don’t know what the hell you are doing. You spin us about in this realm of pain and you tell us to be quiet and pray in order alleviate our suffering,’ Paul’s throat began to burn, the volume of his voice lowered.

‘You promised something that you can’t give. You told me that I could have a new beginning to my life. Instead I got divorced and lost everything that mattered to me,’ Paul lowered his head, the beginning phases of exhaustion taking over.

Silence once again filled the room.

‘I just want to know why, that’s it, just give me the reason behind this maddening experiment of humanity,’ Paul sat down in a pew and placed his head in his hands. I never asked for you to die for me…I never wanted this guilt or shame. But you gave it to me, sealed in a fools gold box and wrapped in faux silk,’

‘Of course it was easy in the beginning, all the new handshakes and hello’s from new people who seemed genuine. Phone calls on Monday from my deacon, checking in on me. Wednesday meals seemed real enough and so did the relationships I initially forged. But I guess that’s the way your whole system works, make a man believe in you with enough blindness and stupidity and bam, you’ve got money in the coffers and asses in the seats. You’re the one who should be suffering, not us,’ Paul’s eyes lifted to the man again. Tears ran down his hot cheeks and his stomach began to turn sour.

‘I can’t believe in this anymore. I can’t have my life filled with your judgment and constant instruction,’ Paul stood, turning his back on the man.

‘I can’t feel broken and unworthy all the time. Why don’t you have your Preachers talk about the depth of grace you supposedly have, or the width of the love that you so firmly attest to. Why can’t we have a community,’ Paul finally came to the point that had actually brought him here.

‘She left on Thursday morning. After I told her about the affair,’ Paul choked. ‘I wanted to finally clear the air, get the infidelity off my chest and move on with her, for the rest of our lives. We could have grown old together, that’s what I wanted,’ he began to shake with tears, his stomach uncontrollably started to spasm.

‘”Our covenant was broken”, that’s what she said. I had shared myself with someone else and that such a stain could never be removed or worked out. No apology I could produce or love that I could promise would ever mend the rupture that had been caused by my mistake,’ Paul’s voice again echoed with rage.

‘Love delights in the truth, huh? The truth destroyed my life; you destroyed my life with a masquerade of love and failed philosophy. Ever since you came to earth we have done nothing but continue to steal and murder and war with one another. How many lives were lost because of your Crusading cross or you’re Moral Majority? Explain that to me, just once I want a fucking answer.

You don’t get to play the silent and mysterious God with me any longer, because I’m real and you have to deal with the fact that I’m calling in your bullshit and wanting an answer.

Answered with only the quiet of the midnight, Paul became even more enraged.

‘You’re a coward on a throne of worldly delusion and you have no power over me anymore. I refuse to be guided by a system that doesn’t rebuke War, slavery or the murdering of children. You are too ancient to hold any wisdom,’

Silence remained.

‘Take your predestination, your plan and your offer of eternal life and nail them to the cross, because I want those ideas to die with you. Once we get passed the delusion that you matter, you’re word and grasp on our world will perish. And we will be a better world for it,’ Paul said as he walked back down the aisle to the exit.

‘I don’t need to kill you, because you are already dead. I know that now.

You can’t hurt me anymore,’

Paul was exiting and passed a young boy, dripping wet, coming inside from the rain

‘There is nothing in there for you boy,’ Paul said as he looked into the stormy night.

The young boy smiled at him and said ‘Sure there is,’ then walked through the doors into the sanctuary.

It is plausible that I am the greatest writer to have never written a book. However I am in the planning stages of a Novel. I supposed that it would be easy to write a novel if I had any sort of story worth telling.
—
I am on at a good clip on learning Latin. ‘Why’, you may ask am I learning Latin. Because I am pretentious and I don’t have to explain myself to you.

Vi Veri Veniversum Vivus Vici

(Oh, I’m sorry, do you not know Latin? Looks like you better learn Latin or read Faust.)

I feel as if I am in a lukewarm place spiritually. But I do not fret over that simply because I am a man of extremes. You could suggest that I have a mercurial nature; in that I explore my different passions at different times. My theology is in a good and malleable place however, my doctrine is quite inactive and that unacceptable.

Speaking of Theology; I have a postulation.

‘When one is searching for the God of Calvinism, not the God Calvin supposed but rather the proposed all-knowing Deity of Neo-Calvinism, they may find themselves looking for a god that simply does not exist, rather than the actual God of Christianity (whom I believe does exist, though you may disagree). In the same regard, we may all, ourselves, be looking for a deity that conforms to a method that we can ascertain in our own minds. This can lead to making God in our own image, rather than the inverse.’

As my friend David Gallaher suggests, ‘that statement has been made before, though probably more clear and eloquent’. But it is just something that has been on my mind. But I don’t really want to fully get into the whole Impassibility of God and all that.
—–

Working at the American Cancer Society has benefits (Bene, being the Latin word for good, which is where get the root for that word ‘benefit’. See you are learning already, and it’s fun.)

But I need to ask myself, what am I doing and where am I going. Is the goal to become a published author or to search out another career that places me in a better position to serve those who are truly disinherited and not just those who are smokers trying to quit.

All in good time I suppose. The quest is unclear at the moment, however the adventure is, as always, quite rewarding.

In all things,the end is important, but not at the expense of this present moment.

Go out and be lead forth in peace.

-C.S.

Note: This short essay is a critique on Garth Ennis’ story, Preacher. However, not having read Preacher, it may simply befuddle your mind.

On Preacher

It is entirely plausible that Garth Ennis’ Preacher is considered one of the best series produced in the recent era of comics. With excellent writing and a solid concept to work with, Ennis produces a story that in the end remains to be worth telling. However brilliant the work may appear to be after the reader has turned the final page, it should be stated that Ennis’ conceptualization of Religion and God are so negatively biased that it almost neuters what causes the story to be effective.

I must admit that I did enjoy much of what the book had to offer. I deeply appreciate the characterization of Jesse Custer, Tulip and Cassidy; as it seems Ennis has an uncanny ability to bring a character to life and make the reader have a deep appreciation for these characters in Preacher. Coupled with his great ability to make relatable character, Ennis has a moderate insight into the philosophical idea of mankind attempting to understand the human condition. The Human Condition defined as man’s attempt to understand, not only the universe in which he lives, but also to understand the believed creator of that universe.

In the case of Preacher, Ennis paints the creator as a bastardized version of the Judeo-Christian deity and portrays him in the shades of egotism/narcissism and even to the extent that god in and of himself is a parasite on the love of the people who choose to believe and worship him. In essence, Ennis is striving to answer the same questions that most people have about God and yet his bias against organized religion gets in the way of the characters being able to flesh out an answer for those questions. Rather Ennis uses a plot device to end the story, rather than have the confrontation between God and Custer take place in a forum of discussion between the two. But this inability to have that discussion between the two characters is not my chief problem with Preacher.

My main concern with Preacher is that the characters are forced to be what they are. For Ennis, there can be no change with the characters no growth outside what they are. As if each of them is a finished product that must remain in a vengeful and depraved humanity; a fact that cannot and will not allow any of Ennis’ characters to transform into something greater than what they already are.

Even further still, Ennis’ depiction of Humanity is not only simplistic but in many ways offensive. Ennis seems to suggest through the book that man acts as he was created to act and thus the creator must be blamed for the actions of the created. Preacher supposes that man cannot change, not because he does not wish to, but rather because there is no change to be had. There seems to be a great futility in attempting to change, an example seen in Custer’s inability to fully trust Tulip through the entire run or in that change can only occur after a physical confrontation where two characters beat on one another until one is satisfied.

Ennis would have been greatly served with an actual attempt to understand the answers that Christian apologists have been offering to the questions that he supposes through out the entirety of the series. Had he offered a deconstruction of those defenses and allowed the Characters to either grow or recede from that stand point, rather than the stagnant perspective he works from, would have greatly increased my appreciation for the book. Rather than move the argument against ontological process of God or use Jurgan Moltmann’s The Crucified God, which deals with the impassibility of God; to attain some argument greater than, ‘God is the creator of all these people and therefore responsible for the evils they themselves choose.’ In my opinion, would have served Ennis to a much greater capacity and offered a much greater weight to the story.

Ennis, however leaves the reader with no real questions answered and fails to eclipse the main flaw of most modern comics, a flaw that keeps comics from being as potent as novels, poetry and full text stories; the inability to attain a noteworthy critical analysis and offer some type of answer for that deficiency the writer has identified.

When I listen to Beethoven’s String Quartet: Lento assai e cantata tranquillo from Opus 135, I feel as if the weight of the world lifts from my heart. This music cannot simply be described as a wonderful piece of music in the light that Beethoven wrote the piece after completely loosing his hearing. The notes played in this movement connect us with the mind of the man, making it almost a form of telepathy. When I hear this music I can see the dawn just beginning to break on a new day, the green leaves of summer lifting on the wings of the wind to dance along the horizon line.

It endures me to hope further. That this shadow, along with others, will soon pass. The movement reminds me of the eternal treasure that is found in the love of Jesus Christ. It allows me to believe in a brighter tomorrow, a place where love overcomes selfish intentions and ignorance no longer governs my mind.

Melodramatic though it may be, as cheesy as it may sound;

This piece of work signifies all that is good in the world.

And lucky for you, it can be found on Youtube.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=DYvIXbop3pA

I imagine that he was something of a simple man with simple features from a simple town. At one time, he was just a little boy with little hands and friends who would chase him. He would laugh and chase them in return. In those moments, Joseph and Yahweh watched their son grow-up. Mary, watching on with a motherly smile, all her joy found in this young and happy boy.

‘Let us chase you, Jeshua.’ A young boy would call across the grassy hilltop.

‘You know I am not fast.’ Little Jeshua would return.

I imagine him as a shy young man, who at one moment, stepped into the waters of the
Jordan and accepted the baptism of John. His eyes focusing forward as the spirit descended down upon him, a once soft gaze of Joseph’s boy, became more understanding, brazen and filled with a vision of purpose.

‘Who else will be baptized in the waters of our Lord?’

‘I will…’

‘Jeshua, this is a great day for you, come join me here.’

I imagine him as a religious zealot, his reason not overtaken by his passion; his truth not overtaken by his pride. The crowds ever stepping forward while listening to this new teacher, who said that everything they knew was wrong and yet there was no reason to abandon their faith. He gave them a new perspective, an unselfish taking of faith; rooted in a love more powerful than any pillar of fire or oppressive spears. Old words, given new and unveiled meaning; purpose returned to a people who had been searching for a reason to go on. Liars, Thieves, Prostitutes and Murderers are told that the

Kingdom of
Heaven is theirs to have, if they simply serve their fellow man and love the God who has for so very long, loved them.

‘Rabbi, who are we to believe. We have been told for so long by the Priests that we are unclean.’ She cries across the crowd during a lull in the sermon.

‘And who was it that told you that you could not be cleansed?’ He astounds the crow further.

Begrudgingly, I imagine him on the Cross. Wearing a crown that robbed him of the dignity he wore. A king displayed for all, bearing the robes of beaten and torn naked flesh. His mouth dry and his entire body sent into spasms from the coming death that slowly crept into the body of one who had the power to create life from nothing.

‘I am so very tired.’ He thought to himself.

‘Longinus! Make sure that the man is dead.’

‘Harm my son no more!’ Mary cries.

And as the blood splatters across Longinus’ chest and face, he thinks, ‘We were wrong in what we did.’

It is entirely possible that I have missed the point.

I have been thinking on death recently, the way a person is in transition from the tail end of life is heading into the gaping maw of death  and how when that happens it seems to stop time. When my Grandfather was on his deathbed, he had slowly withered away over a ten year period from Emphysema, I remember thinking to myself, ‘I can’t remember a time when you weren’t strong’. That moment, frozen in time, I stood helpless to do anything to heal my ailing Pa. Or when my Paternal Grandmother phoned me to tell me that my 47 year old Father had just had a major heart attack and how I froze, thinking to myself, ‘This can’t be happening.’

Luckily for us, Dad only died for about 30 seconds. Pa on the other hand, lost a twenty year battle with his disease. How ever valiantly he fought, the inability to breathe will eventually suffocate the life from you. I can tell you that from experience as I almost died of an Asthma attack when I was a sophomore in college. And in those moments of weakness, frozen in time, I thought to myself, ‘I should be stronger than this,’ but I wasn’t. Were it not for my Fraternity brothers, who I managed to call and get me to the emergency room; I would not be here.

Death, why does your sting still seem so very sharp even after the Resurrection of Christ Jesus? I know we are supposed to hope in the Resurrection that is promised by Christ and that death shouldn’t haunt us. But it does. I pray that Lord Christ would teach me to hope in the Resurrection, that Death wouldn’t plague my thoughts. But that prayer is still in transition for fruition.

Perhaps my neurosis is grounded in a selfish nature of not wanting to be alone, with all my loved ones gone. I suppose that most people have that fear and that it is natural to fear death. Even Christ in the Garden was fearful of the task to come, his struggle with death and also how he wept when he found John had been killed. The finality of Death was able to shake even the strong foundations of the Foundational Builder.

I am most afraid of my wife dying. We are both still young and have only been married about 3 years, but it seems as if life would lose all its color were she to pass away. The veil of familiarity would fall back over the earth and I would cease to see the meaning in writing the words that for my entire life have given me purpose. What is worth writing about when everything that made life worth living abruptly leaves or slowly withers away into the night?

Again, I suppose that is selfish. But I truly don’t know any other way to feel.

In the spirit of Easter–

I have been thinking about the resurrection and the appearing of Jesus to his disciples in the later chapters of Luke. I began to think about the walk they shared to Emmaus.

How many times have I missed the face of Jesus on my way to Emmaus?

Emmaus truly serves the reader as a symbol of our own path. In that we have walked countless roads in our own lives and failed to see the pilgrim Christ on the way we have chosen. This Emmaus journey, that in all rights should lead me to
Jerusalem, has reminded me of the power God can wield in the given moment. Within each traveler is a journey of infinite discovery. All their stories will mirror my own, in the regard that they too were going to Emmaus, but some will differ in the reason why they seek Emmaus.

While on the way, I must watch for the traveling messiah and I must reflect his manner and attire. Though I am a stranger to many, on the way to Emmaus, I hold in my heart the story of what happened in
Jerusalem. Only three days ago.

For those who cannot yet see Christ on the road can easily see me.

Ever watchful on the road to Emmaus…
Ever vigilante on a road to Jerusalem…

Truth Prevail,

-C.S.

Something you need to know, if we are to get to know one another, is that I have many issues with the current and established Evangelical church. A few other things that should be brought to light; I am only 24 so most of what I say is probably still filled with a childhood of naivety and an intellectual adolescents of cynicism. Also it is important to preface my next few statements and concerns with the knowledge that I attended a Christian University, an excellent learning institution known by Hardin-Simmons University. While attending HSU (as we will call it) it was mandatory that every single student attend at least 40 Chapel Sessions each semester. Chapel was usually a student lead worship experience or a guest speaker who came to educate or preach a message that was supposedly important to the academic growth of HSU. While still attending Chapel sessions in my sophomore year at school, I became an intern at a local church in town; I would end up serving that church in a ministerial capacity for about three years. It served as a wonderful learning experience, in many helpful and some tragic ways. I learned some very basic principles about serving in a Southern Baptist Convention church; more importantly I learned about what drives the Southern Baptist Evangelical mindset, but that isn’t the point of this post. Rather than attacking the hydra in one fell swoop, I would like to touch on a culture point in this post.

I would like to air out some thoughts on Youth Praise and Worship, in so far as my experience has shown me.

1. Emotion against Discipline.

            A vast amount of the music groups that ‘Christian’ youth groups listen to are carbon copy versions of Pop-Culture icons. Do not jump to conclusions about what I am going to say about the Christian music business. No I don’t think that they are all money grubbing fake-o’s who couldn’t make it in the real music industry, that would be a judgment call and the Self-Defeating Man (while self-defeating to himself) strives not to make those types of judgments.  But I am sure we have all seen the Christian promo packets that say,

“If you like (insert famous pop-culture group) then you may just love (insert Christian music group who happens to sound somewhat like previously mentioned group), but because (Christian group mentioned) loves God and their music is actually pleasing to God!”

It isn’t a group of concerned Christians trying to get kids to listen to positive and Christ centered music.

It’s merchandising. (Every time I write that line I think of the scenes with Mel Brooks as the Yoda parody in Spaceballs. ‘SPACE BALLS THE FLAME THROWER!!! The kids love it.’)

And so kids listen to this music which is filled with modulations, originally put in music to make people believe they were having a spirit filled listening experience and go to laser light shows that always end in an altar call. I can just see some C.E.O. pitching the idea to a group of business people.

CEO:               “Ok, here’s the deal, we get these 14-18 year old kids all jacked up on emotion, soda and indoctrination, then we have the band make an altar call at the end of the show. BANG, kids get saved.”

Concerned Partner:       “Shouldn’t the choice also be about understanding the calling that Christ sets before all people? I mean didn’t Christ say to weigh the cost before taking up his calling?”

CEO:         “Oh sure Larry, if you take them out of the emotional atmosphere, how the hell are you going to get them to buy the t-shirts, cds, and then sign up for emotional mission trips to Colorado, where a the youth team does 3 hours of service to a small needy church and Ski’s for 3 days afterward?”

Concerned Partner:       “Well, what happens when we send these kids home, the emotion wears off and the hard questions start being asked, are we just supposed to get them hyped and offer no substance? I mean 99% of these kids don’t know how the Bible was written, who it was written by and 99.99% don’t understand what the point of the Christian life is.”

CEO:                           “What’s your point Larry?”

Concerned Partner:       “Shouldn’t children understand the oath they are undertaking, before they sign themselves up to be representatives of the Living God? Who calls them not only to repentance but to activism, social peacekeeping, and love? And you want them to surrender all that based on a Friday night’s emotional binge? Isn’t that irresponsible?”

CEO:                           “Larry, I think you and I should have a talk after the meeting.”

It seems to me, that most evangelical churches send their kids away to emotional summer

camps, not to be taught how to read or understand the Bible, but rather to just accept all

its words to be true, culturally and socially. It sounds more like Propaganda and less like

the good news of the gospel. What happened to the idea that worship was a discipline? Not Friday night at a Casting Crowns concert. ( BTW, I like Casting Crowns, alot.) Isn’t is something more?

Isn’t it about praising God with silence while you plant seeds and watch the vegetation grow? Thanking God that you have been blessed beyond measure, and instead of going to that 60$ a ticket show, you are going to sponser a needy child?

More to Come on this.

-C.S.