Bored

Bored: (adj) feeling weary because one is unoccupied

With those who have communion wine running through their veins, I would probably get in trouble for suggesting that there are parts of the writ of Holy Dictionary BScripture which could certainly use a good edit.

As a writer, I edit myself all the time. Matter of fact, if somebody pulled out an article I wrote seven years ago, it’s possible that I might need to apologize.

So as I look down the list of the Seven Deadly Sins (which I shall not mention due to space and out of fear of immediately falling under conviction) there is one obvious absence, which should either be inserted to replace one of the existing choices–or maybe as just a header, to describe what causes all seven.

Bored.

When we are bored we are capable of everything from stumbling to atrocity.

I do not know where we got the idea that life was hatched in the mind of the Creator with the intention of constantly entertaining us, but part of maturity is certainly realizing the importance and inevitability of “down time.”

For instance, nothing is more annoying than a seven-year-old child telling you that he’s bored–especially if you’ve just returned from the park, a movie and Baskin Robbins.

The need to be entertained is what motivates both sluggard and murderer.

I always feel I have achieved the best of humanity–and made the Good Book sensible–when I finish my day without ever feeling bored.

 

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Boggle

Boggle: (v) to be astonished or overwhelmed when trying to imagine something.

Human beings are emotional creatures.Dictionary B

Perhaps our greatest error is when we fail to recognize this simple fact.

It’s not that women are emotional and men aren’t. Men cry like babies when they lose a football game.

We even have religions which try to do away with emotion, contending it’s the universal stumbling block to spiritual growth.

Good luck.

Our emotions will not be denied, ignored or passed over in favor of reasoning.

So long before our minds are boggled, we are emotionally confused and spiritually vacant. In other words, we have a feeling about something and no belief system to address it, so we are brain-dead-confounded.

One of the best reasons to believe in a Creator is to understand how we were created. We feel, we believe and then we think–even though there are those who say we should think first and then develop belief, ending with a confident feeling.

But it doesn’t work that way.

We feel first and then have belief so that we actually can think about it and come up with a common sense solution.

Our entire society, political arena and world order is presently boggled.

Why?

Because no one wants to deal with their feelings, and then find the faith to be reasonable.

 

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Blameless

Blameless: (adj) innocent of wrongdoing.

Dictionary B

People were killed because they happened to be in a night club with a man who brought a gun and a nasty vendetta.

It doesn’t make sense.

Human beings who insist on the world being sensible end up either committing suicide or writing really bad poetry.

But we are not blameless.

I want to find my fault in the fiasco. I am weary of studying the scrambled brains of troubled little boys.

None of us are blameless.

All have sinned and fallen short of glorious possibilities.

An attempt to point fingers–especially prompted by political motivations–is what truly enrages our Creator.

So I went off yesterday morning and did what I think I do best. I shared a message of good cheer enjoined with personal responsiblity.

For after all, I will never change the world by focusing on its tribulation.

I am also useless if I quietly intone to others, “Be patient because God is in control.”

I find value in the human tribe when I bring a spirit of good cheer with a simple idea on how to make things just a little bit better.

I didn’t shoot one bullet at the Pulse Night Club in Orlando, Florida.

But legislation is useless. I must share a responsibility to make this world a little bit more pleasant by offering a courtly grace to the next brother or sister I encounter.

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Bind

Bind: (v) to tie or fasten something tightly.

Dictionary B

No one particularly cares for restrictions.

In other words, “you can do this but you can’t do that.”

It was the first error in judgment by the Creator when He offered diversity to Adam and Eve, but restricted them from one particular activity, which immediately caused them to lust to acquire it.

We don’t like no.

I suppose we could analyze that or call it rebellion.

Or we could intelligently surmise that human beings need a measure of rope, even if it does threaten to hang them.

Terms like:

  • A binding agreement.
  • Bind us together.
  • All bound up.

They make us squeamish, nervous and overly curious about the mystery of the hidden tease.

I will grant you that a certain amount of rules and regulations are necessary to maintain decency and order, keeping us from anarchy.

But whenever possible, people should be granted the freedom to err without condemnation, and to repent minus interference.

It’s not easy to achieve.

But I’ve always found that the organizations, churches, political parties and families which have the most binding rules also have the most disguised iniquity.

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Bikini

Bikini: (n) a very brief two-piece swimsuit for women.

Dictionary B

I grew up in a time when seeing a woman in a bikini at the swimming pool was like looking at pornography.

Since we didn’t have dirty pictures on the Internet, the only time there was an opportunity to view partially exposed breasts and the majority of a female torso was at the local pool.

When bikinis became popular, girls immediately started wearing them because they thought they were “cute.”

I think deep in their consciousness, these young ladies were aware that they were torturing the boys by displaying the fruits of the flesh without offering them a chance to take a bite.

I vividly recall the first time I saw a girl in a bikini. I spontaneously had an orgasm. It wasn’t planned. It’s probably not something I should even share. But I do so because it always reminds me of the sense of humor our Creator had in constructing human beings–and also our timetable.

At the moment in life when we have the most sexual prowess, we also have the least control. And later on, when viewing a bikini is still pleasurable but no longer eruptive, our plumbing seems to be a bit clogged.

I am sure the heavens find this to be hilarious. I know God must be a gentle trickster–because He does fool us into believing that we are much more powerful than we actually are.

And then, when we scatter our efforts and end up with futility, He is there as a kindly Father, to retrieve our egos and allow us to live another day.

I will always like bikinis, but there is nothing at all as powerful and poignant as the first one I viewed at the local swimming hole…when I practically lost my head.

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Bestow

Bestow: (v) to confer or present an honor, right, or gift.

Dictionary B

I still occasionally laugh at myself for sitting around waiting for “the magic.”

Without offering judgment, I must tell you that it is a common weakness in the human race–believing that talents, gifts, prosperity or even a sunshiny day are bestowed upon us by some force of nature or heavenly Creator who apparently has found us to be particularly cute.

Matter of fact, for years I have sat quietly by and listened to people talk to me about my “God-given talent,” nodding my head–apparently agreeing with their assessment that such opportunity was bestowed on me by the heavens above.

What life has given me is an aptitude–what you might call a set of attributes that just might be conducive to one adventure over another.

But because of the goodness of God, I am completely able to ignore that aptitude and insist on contradicting my natural tendencies and pursuing my own free will.

Or I can pursue it.

But aptitude does me no good unless I bring the right attitude–which can never be bestowed upon me.

No–I choose it or I lose it.

And then, taking the aptitude, or at least my rendition, blending it with a good attitude, I can ascertain my altitude.

How high will I fly?

I’m not sure.

But I know this … the wings won’t be bestowed upon me.

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Bellyache

Bellyache: (v) to complain noisily or persistently.

Dictionary B

When does comparing become complaining?

When does musing over better ideas turn into lamentation over our lack?

When do we find ourselves bellyaching concerning the tenuous nature of the human race instead of uplifting our species to find the Kingdom of God within us?

I think it all depends on whether we lose our sense of humor.

The minute we feel it is our mission to discuss humanity and the failing conditions of our race in serious terms or with statistics and facts, we are in danger of turning into the kind of intellectual snobs which we normally disdain.

  • With every suggestion must come a hope.
  • Every criticism requires a door of escape.
  • And when we address the creation of Eden–man and woman–we need to afford them the respect given by their Creator, who looked down on them in their total nakedness … and thought it was all good.

 

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