what education?

sitting in an overstuffed chair, pontificating about one’s preferred view of reality, suggesting that we are all philosophers, strikes me as an odd way to claim that you know what you are doing, let alone know who you are. yet, every year, institutions spit out more pontificators, more myopic dreamers, and dump thousands of them on the western world to fester, rot, and decay. those who somehow rise above the intellectual wasteland, or who are the sons and daughters of privilege, succeed entering such an imperfect world. the system that once reigned before the turn of the century was less corrupted, or felt less corrupted, because some of us did make it through the maze, and did actually use our diplomas as a means of gaining access to a system that was closed without the printed paper document.

all that has changed. now, the result of a college education is sometimes like a game of Russian roulette. it does not help that so many older, but less wiser adults, as if pining for their college years, insist that “a college education” is necessary to gain any kind of economic freedom in this life. brainwashed by this lie…that one must be liberally educated, weighed down with a load of debt to achieve it… an increasing number of ill-prepared, lacking any idea of who they are, rush off to a university to work for that $150,000 (or more) document of printed paper.

not everyone can be an X-Ray Technician. or a professor. or a veterinarian. eager lemmings chasing their peers down a slippery slope and off the edge is not a recipe for success. leave it to a senseless and perverse generation to hide the truth about supply and demand  from their students. keep them  dumbed down. God forbid that one would graduate and come back and take one of THEIR jobs. it is unthinkable. let them major in Gender Studies and end up working at Family Dollar for $8.50 an hour. that’s the thinking. i would know, i heard it many times in the past.

but i am no longer a part of their world. my contact comes mainly from those i know who are entering the college world. and i find that world has so drastically evolved into a system that disables the learner, and leaves he or she so tied to debt that it does break some beyond  the point of making it in this life.

and because of this, i will no longer recommend the old school route for the majority. sure, i know there will be some who still succeed, in spite of the cost involved, and the time and effort. but it is  more important for the student, graduating high school, to have gut-level  reality experiences that educate him or her. experiences where they work, where they take the initiative, where they develop compassion and character. real education.

rescue

young people like to commit suicide by jumping off that big bridge.

if you travel to West Virginia, or you plan to travel to West Virginia, and you pick up some brochures…or go to a website…and look….I can almost guarantee, with certainty, that a photo of that bridge will be on a cover, on an ad,  on a brochure, or on a commercial. you can’t miss it.

there’s that bridge.

you can go to a restaurant overlooking it. you can go to the edge of it on a hiking trail…on both sides. you can even jump off the bridge…on a bungee, and swing back up. in theory. but you cannot jump off the bridge without a cord, without a parachute, and expect to have a good chance of surviving the fall…from the country’s highest single span bridge.

young people like to commit suicide by jumping off that big bridge.

today I was far from that structure…but close to it in memory…as I listened to an old woman who grew up not far from the place where the bridge was built. she told me she did not like driving over the bridge. on windy days, if you are in a small vehicle, it is not particularly pleasant if road work has limited it to one lane on each side, which I have seen. it is also not particularly pleasant when you look out the window, and instead of focusing on the  vehicles and the fog that lies below you, you see someone near the edge of the bridge.

young people like to commit suicide by jumping off that big bridge.

but the planners probably never imagined that the towns nearby would become another stop on the opioid express, and the bridge itself, would become a link between the substance and the result of that substance. because when you have given up on life, and you want to end it quickly, what better spot to do it than a super-high bridge with a walkway, where people jump off on a bungee cord for a thrill?

if I ever drive across that bridge again, I will be watching. and, I hope, someone else will be watching. watching daily. watching to rescue the broken. and just like the temptation of that bridge for those who have given up on hope, those of us alive, in every sense of the word, should be watching, ready to take not just a step of compassion, or kindness, but one of rescue. 

wherever we go, wherever we are.   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

abandoned, but not forgotten

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early in the morning, while dogs barked and children played in the back yard, a deer jumped over the fence and ran off into the nearby worlds, leaving a little fawn alone, to curl up into a fetal position up against the chain link fence.

and looking down at that little fawn, I could not help but want to pick her up  and take care of her, even though she was in a state of shock, unable to move. but not even a slight nudge would awaken the poor creature.

some of you will recognize how I felt looking down on the poor little creature. but some of you will not. some of you may have little feeling left. the world has left you feeling cold inside, and you see nothing out there comforting. you may even be like the mommy deer who abandoned her child when she ran away from what she thought was danger.

deer don’t have the ability to judge morally, or settle on a life philosophy, or act in a calculated and rational manner. many times I have observed the mother guide her children away from the road, or lead them through the forest away from the sound of gunshots. and we may be more likely to forgive their senseless lack of interest in one another when terrified by what they perceive to be dangerous, if they do run away never to return.

what I do not understand is when one of our own does this to her children. inside or outside the house. inside or outside the womb. especially if that one feels sorry for the little fawn, but not for the little child that God has entrusted her with.

watching the poor little fawn, scared and unwilling to move, reminded me of children…and adults…who are abandoned, and suddenly unable to move. terrified. the world around cold. the moment so overwhelming. you must breathe. you must survive. you must stay warm in the storm around you.

for those abandoned, there is hope, because you are not forgotten. for those of you called in this world to follow the footsteps of the Messiah, you understand what I am sharing. you understand that faith and action are necessary. it is paramount, in these days when more lose all sense of their moral and rational thinking, that we move in compassion to lead the abandoned to a place where they are freed from that terror. from that scar. and from that hopelessness.

the master of the mirror?

are you living a life to touch the hearts of others, to bring compassion to the downtrodden, or are you living like you are looking in the mirror, in love with the image?

where has selfless love gone? where is kindness?

when I spent my days driving around looking for the lost lamb, strung out, on the edge of death, where were you?

meeting with lattes, loud music, and laughter…while another broken heart weeps bitter tears?

will you walk where the lonely walk? will you be the one you were created to be?

someday, you too will be all alone, no one to hold your hand, lying in wait for the darkness to come cover, blue-black creeping up, from toes to the center of your eyes, until it tingles and every image dissolves, and nothing here remains in your memory. will you know what to say when you wake from that sleep? will you see your reflection in the one who wakes you from that sleep?

you are not the master of time. you are not even master of the mirror.

it is time to give up selfishness. this life is not all about you. wake up…before it is too late.

 

 

 

 

flowers dying before their days are done

three people i knew died recently- two younger than me, one a year older. one woman i remember as a teenager, the thin little girl with coal black eyes, a few years behind me in school- vibrant, vivacious, the very picture of youth…yet now dead way before her 50th birthday.

i thought about it, turning one way, then another, wrapping myself like an burrito in the blankets. sleep eventually came, more like an echo of rest than a deep drink of peace…as grey slipped through my kitchen curtains.

…and morning came yet again, and a new day dawned for the living…

but a few days have passed, and in their passing, i am even more steadfast now than ever to live life as deliberately as possible. because it occurs to me that the three people i knew who died did not seem to have that spark about them…and i find myself still slightly amazed that such people could waste so much, so many moments on mundane thinking, mundane loving, and mundane passion.

why think about trivial things that will burn? why concentrate on what does not encourage one who is down, does not save the one who is lost, and does not give life to the heart within you?

why love with a shadow, instead of a whole? why withhold the very essence of what caused God to create us in the first place- a love so beyond understanding in this realm that it still remains a partial mystery?

when i look at living with passion, it is that which comes from selfless love and compassion- viewing life with a mind’s eye that every moment is precious and all are priceless. but – if we do not have this within, what good are we to those around us?

and how could we reflect the glorious love of God, who, going against his own nature, offered a way to have a right relationship forever with His created, living that passionate life here and beyond…the ultimate love?

so it is with a more sober heart i reflect on the recent deaths of three i have known. three, not one. dying like a flower before their time…dying from a lack of nutrients and the water of life….because each of them publicly lived a life that did not reflect the love of God.

Ten Things To Pray For In The Year 2014: # 3 Compassion

without compassion, no one in this world would breathe their next breath. it’s strangely wonderful, this thing we call breathing. it keeps us going, it reminds us we are alive, and it helps take us to new divine appointments.

today, as i was driving through the city, i sensed God telling me to go toward WalMart. No, not to WalMart, toward WalMart. Without going into details, I ended up being part of what God wanted to do in someone else’s life…because…I felt God’s compassion within for that person.

when was the last time you stopped to ask someone if you could help them? yeah, you, the one with the twenty dollar bill in your pocket. have you thought that maybe that twenty dollar bill is in your pocket, not your purse or wallet, because God wants you to use it to bless someone who needs your compassion today? i know, not just from the Word of God, but because i have been on both ends of that twenty dollar bill.

there was a time in my life when i had to feed and clothe more than myself, yet i did not have the funds, nor a job that paid enough, to meet the needs. i went without new clothes longer, since i was the adult. 

one Sunday i sat with my wife and children in a church we belonged to and heard God tell me that the man in front of me had money- I believe it was a twenty- that he wanted the man to give us to bless us. yet the man in front of me, a man in charge of a large company, did not turn around and give me the money. he walked out of the church without blessing our family. not much later he lost his job as the manager of that large company…

today, i met someone who i have met before, a person with a lifestyle so distinctly different, and even grating, to me, that it is only God’s compassion that moved me to help. If I went by my flesh and did what I wanted to do, I would not give this person even a glance. 

If Jesus sat with a woman literally caught just a few minutes before in the very act of adultery and He had compassion on her, tell me who does not deserve the compassion of God? After all, if you are a Christian, a true Christian, you know that it is only God’s grace that keeps you from being as bad off as the woman caught in adultery…or anything else that seems horrendous to us. Jesus died for you and that woman, and whoever you are to have compassion on today. remember that, and use your breath to live life abundantly, in compassion, loving even the one you would never love without Christ, the hope of Glory, within you.

the old gray barn

as long as i have breath, i intend to try to bring happiness where there is misery- if it is possible to nail a board here and there to shutter out the cold, even a bit- i’ll do it for the unfortunate, the lowly, and of course, my friends…and hopefully for my enemies. it is indeed a terrible thing to have a life this weathered…but i often see it on the faces of folks i find again, and those i have just met, particularly in this depressed area. it beggars the question-

does yer life resemble this barn?

…this is what i see everyday on the faces and figures of America, a land once great. God helps us all.

On the edge of the parking lot

She propped a leg on the curb and took some serious puffs on a dwindling cigarette, communicating stress. An older man, dressed in suspenders, a heavy blue-plaid flannel shirt, and pants belonging to a long-forgotten era, brought his pipe and importance to the edge of the curb. She flung her head one way, exhaling, her pony tail swishing, as the old man pointed left at an invisible idea. And then, he was gone. But unlike Joshua marching around Jericho, the old man puffed his pipe and waddled his way around the back side of the restaurant.

As i climbed into my seat and turned the ignition, I wrestled with what had happened in the parking lot. I watched the stressed girl walk back to her job inside the restaurant, while I passed a woman drinking coffee, walking on the curb edge like a little girl playing, and the old man heading toward the golden arches.

And I thought about them, three wandering souls, all looking stressed in one way or another, all exhibiting images of the lost, without a word of speech. I did not see a cigarette abuser, a pipe addict, or an old demented woman, I saw three people in need of comfort, compassion, and a better way in life.

Still, there are many today who would judge them, in the name of tolerance and liberal-thinking; they would be the first to attack a fellow human being. To malign them,  to scatter lies about them, to subjugate them…to bury them in a pit of darkness…that would make these dark fiends happy, to see their fellow men and women suffer so. These are the ones with consciences seared, closed minds to the things of God; the ones running head-first into destruction, seeking others to drag down with them. They speak lies until they believe it is truth, and speak lies against the truth. Their way is the only way, there is no tolerance for anyone else.

Pity them, pray for them, that their eyes be opened, that they repent before eternal darkness covers them. As Christ came for the three wandering souls in the parking lot, he surely came for even those so deep in the pit that hatred and destruction is all they know. God’s perfect plan is that all be delivered from that pit. It is the job of those who have a flashlight to spread the light around so those in darkness can first see they are in darkness and need to get out of it.

If you know the truth (and the truth sets you free), then pray for these unfortunates… and have mercy on those you see…wandering around the parking lot…

another number

burning eyes in the alleyway of pain

can almost feel the sorrow of pelting rain

plastic bags washed up against the broken brick

gnarled hand and coat and walking stick

grasping a rail to break free from crippleness

fallen face the plastic card of hopelessness

groaning steam from ‘neath covered grate,

the old man waking in angel’s arms too late:

another number

in the endless wall of shame

another number

where the ending is the same.

This only part of the poem I originally published on here. It was published, but part of it disappeared.

This poem is simply about having compassion- nothing at all revolutionary. I am not venting about Obama, Islam, fascists, Christianity, or anything else that makes some people censor other people. My hope is that you will read it and dwell on it and remember those in our cities throughout the world- not the USA only- who fall through the cracks because there are too many people only looking to satisfy their selfishness. I trust you will not find this offensive. If you do, please leave me a comment saying so. I do not intende to offend anyone, I intend to perusade others to be more compassionate.