When you consider that I do not watch Larry King Live and the fact that I do not really keep up with current events as they pertain to the "Christian" music scene (or any music "news" for that matter) it is easy to understand how a scandal that broke back in April would have only today reached my ears. And that is exactly what happened today.
In the past I have broken from the expected position of throwing stones at various people on the basis of moral and behavioral situations. I have spoken out about the desperate need in America today to quit separating out particular sins, transgressions, etc. that we feel are deserving of special attention and punitive actions. Today is no different...well, mostly no different.
For the last few weeks, I have been combing through my own life, my own circumstances, my own problems. Without going into a lot of details, it is safe for me to say that I am not writing this article to announce that I am a lesbian, so if that is what you were looking for from the title, I'm sorry to disappoint you.
What happened today is that I learned of the recent announcement by Jennifer Knapp that she is involved in a long-term relationship with another woman. Knapp is known in music circles as a Christian artist, which is to say that she sings "Jesus music". For some reason, people involved in artistic endeavors that are also followers of Jesus Christ are expected to only use their art for sacred purposes while Christian plumbers, engineers, taxi drivers, bankers and salesmen are allowed to work in the secular realm - another argument for another day.
What I want to do is take my own recent time of reflection, which had nothing to do with sexuality or mainstream ideas of morality in general, as an opportunity to stand in Ms. Knapp's shoes and look at the face in the mirror and see how it feels. I have to tell you, it looks pretty frightening. I can't imagine looking to one side and seeing the smiling faces of Melissa Ethridge, Sara McLaughlin and the Indigo Girls willing to accept her in a world that she has been taught was darkness while on the other hand seeing the likes of Bob Botsford and Fred Phelps waiting with baited breath to tear her to shreds and make a name for themselves as righteous holy warriors. Who are the good guys in this scenario? Where is the safe haven, peace and love coming from?
And we see hear the arguments of what Scripture says about homosexuality but never from Luke 15. You see, the prodigal son knew he was far from home. He knew he was going to starve out there and was just willing to clean toliets for something to eat. His father didn't hurl insults at him and point out all the places where he screwed up and make up a list of punishments for him. He didn't ridicule him in public and cause a scene where everyone could see. He restored him, and reached out to the son he loved.
How is the response of the parable's representation of God the Father any different from the attitude that God holds toward Jennifer Knapp right now? Isn't understanding that the whole point of the parable?
I'm not making excuses for people and I know that there are times when people have to make judgement calls based on thier own morality and conscience. What I want to say is if Ms. Knapp's announcement makes her music less enjoyable to you, don't listen to it. Just please don't treat her like many treated Ellen DeGeneres, deriding her and even making asinine cliches out of her name. Please don't attach the name of Jesus to crude, hateful, self-righteous attempts to police morality.
If you have a problem with Jennifer....drop her a line and let her know. Something about "if your brother offends you" comes to mind...
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
The Ax Man Cometh
I've been fighting a few stumps this week. Well, to be honest, I have fought them longer than that. The difference this week is that I finally was fed up and decided to be done with the stumps. They looked innocent enough. Just a few shrubs that should have taken a short amount of time to dig up with a shovel and be done with it.
The stumps had other ideas.
I employed the services of a handy-dandy 4-wheel drive pickup to finally drag one from his perch - kicking and screaming the whole time. It was ugly and half of my wife's flower bed came with it. Fortunately, the bed was not currently in use - after all, there were two bothersome stumps sitting where the new plants are to reside. I laughed in maniacal triumph at my victory over stump #1 and then noticed the mess that was caused. A careful investigation of stump # 2 revealed that a similar plan of attack was probably going to create the need for a licensed plumber to reset my sewer line and probably cause my poor wife to call the men in white coats to come and carry me to a place a little more fitting for a deranged conquistador of stumps.
Not that I could blame her.
So, I changed course and used some of my equipment - namely an ax-ish tool that has seen better days. The blade of the tool has roughly the same sharpness of a baseball bat or maybe a club...you know...like Captain Caveman.
That was never going to work. And so it was going to be up to that ol' Southern standby...the neighbor.
I am blessed with an outstanding neighbor, the kind that people used to have in the days before they wrote blogs or watched American Idol or Twittered or whatever we do these days instead of talk to those people that we see every day but don't really know. A quick visit across the street, some laughs over "are you still fightin' that silly stump?" and some small talk, I reemerged at home with a formidable ax...well, almost. In reality, the fifth or sixth whack and the stump was laughing again. The poor ax was reduced to a whimpering mass with a severed head. The blow snapped the handle clean in two.
My wife suggested that I set aside the brute force in favor of chemical warfare. For once, I agreed with her. So off to the neighborhood hardware store and when I returned I was well armed with a bottle of "stump-be-dead" and a new ax handle - as if I knew something about replacing an ax handle. Some friendly advice from the guy at the hardware store and a man actually reading directions can gel to overcome many obstacles and in a matter of time the ax was enjoying a new golden age - a glory better than before the altercation with the stump. Amazing.
The good news of the day? My neighbor says that he now owns an ax with a new handle for the first time ever. The stump is now gurgling and hacking out in the front yard. My sons got to see dad make something that was wrong be made right again. I got to accomplish something that I had never before attempted and very soon, my wife will have a new and improved flower bed in front of the house. And best of all, that stump will be dead. I may let one of the kids pull it up, just to add insult to injury.
And all of that without the guys in the white coats getting called out to the house...at least I don't think they will...
The stumps had other ideas.
I employed the services of a handy-dandy 4-wheel drive pickup to finally drag one from his perch - kicking and screaming the whole time. It was ugly and half of my wife's flower bed came with it. Fortunately, the bed was not currently in use - after all, there were two bothersome stumps sitting where the new plants are to reside. I laughed in maniacal triumph at my victory over stump #1 and then noticed the mess that was caused. A careful investigation of stump # 2 revealed that a similar plan of attack was probably going to create the need for a licensed plumber to reset my sewer line and probably cause my poor wife to call the men in white coats to come and carry me to a place a little more fitting for a deranged conquistador of stumps.
Not that I could blame her.
So, I changed course and used some of my equipment - namely an ax-ish tool that has seen better days. The blade of the tool has roughly the same sharpness of a baseball bat or maybe a club...you know...like Captain Caveman.
That was never going to work. And so it was going to be up to that ol' Southern standby...the neighbor.
I am blessed with an outstanding neighbor, the kind that people used to have in the days before they wrote blogs or watched American Idol or Twittered or whatever we do these days instead of talk to those people that we see every day but don't really know. A quick visit across the street, some laughs over "are you still fightin' that silly stump?" and some small talk, I reemerged at home with a formidable ax...well, almost. In reality, the fifth or sixth whack and the stump was laughing again. The poor ax was reduced to a whimpering mass with a severed head. The blow snapped the handle clean in two.
My wife suggested that I set aside the brute force in favor of chemical warfare. For once, I agreed with her. So off to the neighborhood hardware store and when I returned I was well armed with a bottle of "stump-be-dead" and a new ax handle - as if I knew something about replacing an ax handle. Some friendly advice from the guy at the hardware store and a man actually reading directions can gel to overcome many obstacles and in a matter of time the ax was enjoying a new golden age - a glory better than before the altercation with the stump. Amazing.
The good news of the day? My neighbor says that he now owns an ax with a new handle for the first time ever. The stump is now gurgling and hacking out in the front yard. My sons got to see dad make something that was wrong be made right again. I got to accomplish something that I had never before attempted and very soon, my wife will have a new and improved flower bed in front of the house. And best of all, that stump will be dead. I may let one of the kids pull it up, just to add insult to injury.
And all of that without the guys in the white coats getting called out to the house...at least I don't think they will...
Friday, April 9, 2010
April 9
I'd be remiss in my duties as a writer of Southern ramblings if I let April 9 come and go without so much as a mention. I've wanted to write something on this topic for some time, so here goes.
For all of you up north or elsewhere on the globe, the significance of the date is that it was the day that Robert E. Lee donned his finest uniform, polished to perfection and with great dignity and honor entered the home of Wilmer McLean to present the formal surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia to his dingy, mud covered fellow West Pointer, Union General Ulysses S. Grant (we all know his name was Hiram, but we humor him anyway). The time is memorialized in the song best known as performed by The Band (better performed by the Black Crowes and also butchered by Joan Baez) "The Night They Drove Ol' Dixie Down".
Yeah, I've read a little about it before. (And the version by The Crowes is my inspiration today)
There is a certain sadness in the heart of this Southern boy when I hear the very name "Appomattox". It marked the certain doom of the Confederacy and the end of an experiment. And yet, while the Tenth Amendment died in that house on that day, there was some good that came from that house. The abolition of human slavery on this continent (as it was operated then) was accelerated by several years and untold lives were saved as two formidable foes ceased trying to destroy each other.
I want to share a little about the fact that the Confederate Revolution was missing one major point that would have made all the difference. Like it's predecessor, the American Revolution, the Confederate Revolution was a fight for individual liberty, a war for freedom from tyranny, oppression and government manipulation. The problem is, they weren't fighting for all Southerners and that is the very thing that doomed the endeavor from the beginning.
The South is a diverse place, made of diverse people from diverse cultures. Each and every component is needed to get a true South. You have to have the West Paces Ferry Rd section of Atlanta, the Ninth Ward of New Orleans, The Great Smoky Mountains, the Paynes Prairie area of Florida, The Alamo, Beale Street in Memphis, The Grand Ole Opry and the 40 Watt - and so much more. You have to take it all or you lose the essence of what it is to be Southern. Tied in all of this is the food, music, lore, the very attitude of the region. And while on that evening of April 9, 1865, they may have drove ol' Dixie down, it wasn't so much a death as it was a second chance at life, the opportunity to go back and be Southern, truly Southern, with everyone and everything included.
If I'm honest, I have to say that part of me would like to see the day where another Southern Nation is born in the spirit of the Constitution but I also have to be honest and say that I would never want to see that nation allow Southerners, or any one else for that matter, to be chained in bondage while guilty of nothing but being a particular race. The immense freedom that is afforded in the Confederate form of government would only be beneficial to some if it were available to all.
I've said all of that to say that seeing the flag furled brings a tear to my eye. But it also reminds me that some people, even close friends of mine, would have been set back if that experiment had worked at that time. I could take this time to explain the facts that the war was about much, much more than slavery. I know that already, the statistics don't lie. But there are enough people arguing that point all over the South today and honestly, I'd rather see the South look to a promising future, one in which Slavery and Jim Crow are laid in their graves.
This isn't just another token "can't we all just get along" article. It is a statement of fact that Southern is a big word with a big definition and if we are to be truly Southern we have to be truly Southern - with liberty for all.
For all of you up north or elsewhere on the globe, the significance of the date is that it was the day that Robert E. Lee donned his finest uniform, polished to perfection and with great dignity and honor entered the home of Wilmer McLean to present the formal surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia to his dingy, mud covered fellow West Pointer, Union General Ulysses S. Grant (we all know his name was Hiram, but we humor him anyway). The time is memorialized in the song best known as performed by The Band (better performed by the Black Crowes and also butchered by Joan Baez) "The Night They Drove Ol' Dixie Down".
Yeah, I've read a little about it before. (And the version by The Crowes is my inspiration today)
There is a certain sadness in the heart of this Southern boy when I hear the very name "Appomattox". It marked the certain doom of the Confederacy and the end of an experiment. And yet, while the Tenth Amendment died in that house on that day, there was some good that came from that house. The abolition of human slavery on this continent (as it was operated then) was accelerated by several years and untold lives were saved as two formidable foes ceased trying to destroy each other.
I want to share a little about the fact that the Confederate Revolution was missing one major point that would have made all the difference. Like it's predecessor, the American Revolution, the Confederate Revolution was a fight for individual liberty, a war for freedom from tyranny, oppression and government manipulation. The problem is, they weren't fighting for all Southerners and that is the very thing that doomed the endeavor from the beginning.
The South is a diverse place, made of diverse people from diverse cultures. Each and every component is needed to get a true South. You have to have the West Paces Ferry Rd section of Atlanta, the Ninth Ward of New Orleans, The Great Smoky Mountains, the Paynes Prairie area of Florida, The Alamo, Beale Street in Memphis, The Grand Ole Opry and the 40 Watt - and so much more. You have to take it all or you lose the essence of what it is to be Southern. Tied in all of this is the food, music, lore, the very attitude of the region. And while on that evening of April 9, 1865, they may have drove ol' Dixie down, it wasn't so much a death as it was a second chance at life, the opportunity to go back and be Southern, truly Southern, with everyone and everything included.
If I'm honest, I have to say that part of me would like to see the day where another Southern Nation is born in the spirit of the Constitution but I also have to be honest and say that I would never want to see that nation allow Southerners, or any one else for that matter, to be chained in bondage while guilty of nothing but being a particular race. The immense freedom that is afforded in the Confederate form of government would only be beneficial to some if it were available to all.
I've said all of that to say that seeing the flag furled brings a tear to my eye. But it also reminds me that some people, even close friends of mine, would have been set back if that experiment had worked at that time. I could take this time to explain the facts that the war was about much, much more than slavery. I know that already, the statistics don't lie. But there are enough people arguing that point all over the South today and honestly, I'd rather see the South look to a promising future, one in which Slavery and Jim Crow are laid in their graves.
This isn't just another token "can't we all just get along" article. It is a statement of fact that Southern is a big word with a big definition and if we are to be truly Southern we have to be truly Southern - with liberty for all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)