Day of Judgment

Day of Judgment: (n) Judgment Day.

I was recently accosted by a religious fanatic.

He explained to me the error of my thinking.

For I personally favor believing in God without needing a devil, enjoying Earth, not worried about heaven, and dying without expecting too much.

This particular advocate for the Good Book was completely frustrated by my ignorance and heresy.

Here’s what he told me:

“You can’t have God without the devil. You can’t have heaven without hell. And you certainly don’t have redemption without sin.”

He was pretty sure he was right. He was more than willing to offer me many examples to prove his point.

He reminded me of a man I once met at a shopping mall, who wanted to sell me a magical pan. He knew everything that pan did and was even willing to demonstrate its uniqueness.

But at the end of the whole experience, since I really didn’t need a pan and wasn’t planning on using it, I walked away as he spoke to my retreating form. “You just don’t know what you’re losing!”

When I think of the possibility of a Judgment Day, I consider that judging, which I have been taught to avoid, will apparently, in that last hour, be levied against me.

And what will God judge?

My motivations?

My energy?

My persistence?

My intentions?

My results?

My Biblical prowess?

Or my church attendance?

Then I asked myself, what kind of individual would be interested in that kind of stuff?

Also, what kind of heaven would that individual really have to offer?

So I set it to the side.

If there is going to be a Day of Judgment, when I arrive, there won’t be any time to cram for the test or make up credits.

I will be who I will be.

I will know what I know.

And I will be evaluated on what I held dear.



Cutter: (n) a person who repeatedly inflicts self-injury by cutting the skin, as to cope with negative emotions.

Her mother told me that Denise was “a cutter.”

Mother asked me if I knew what that meant. I did.

But it didn’t deter her from continuing to explain—vividly—the numerous times that knife went to flesh, carving out a hideous landscape of despair.

She tried to explain the diagnosis and the opinions the psychiatrist had for the source of the grief felt by Denice.

I listened. Well, no. I actually didn’t.

I was polite.

The reason I didn’t give much heed to the conversation was that I have learned a valuable lesson:

The power of “I don’t.”

  • I don’t know what I’m doing.
  • I don’t understand, even though I’ve been educated.
  • I don’t have the power to save people.
  • I don’t have sure-fire solutions to motivate change.

I don’t know what to do to stop a lovely young girl from defacing the beauty of her earthly canvas.

She likes to cut herself. She says it relieves tension and guilt.

It gives her a sense of temporary redemption from the screaming demons in her soul.

I don’t have the cosmic energy to take this damaged child of God and lift her out of her anguish.

What I have is “I do.”

I do have the possibility of screwing her up even further.

So I sat down and talked to her for about five minutes—mainly about myself. She even seemed somewhat interested. She was perplexed—because I’m sure she thought I was just another “healer” who had come to try to rescue her from herself.

I wasn’t.

You see, I do care. But I don’t have miracles.

I do love Denice as my fellow-traveler. But I don’t have magical potions or mysterious words to break the spell.

Sometimes it’s just good to know how limited we are so we can avoid the need to prove a point, and instead, emotionally embrace those who are hurting and hope—yes, hope—that some of the virtue of affection transfuses.

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C


Bleak: (adj) without hope or encouragement

Dictionary B

The abiding sense of superiority is generally accompanied by a pious smirk.

Often, when I involve myself in discussions about hope, possibilities and even the importance of kindness, a roomful of pseudo-intellectuals will smirk at me. Matter of fact, the entire entertainment industry seems to be on a dismal journey to convince the world that “dark is the new light.”

Yes, we’re supposed to take unseemly, nasty characters and find a tiny stream of goodness within them.

It’s a convenient assertion.

After all, if it turns out that I am a bit more righteous than the average protagonist, I leave the theater feeling really good about myself.

But it is a dangerous practice–giving human beings too much rope. They will not only hang themselves, but also use the slack to cut none to others.

  • If the whole world is mediocre, then what is the definition of good?
  • If evil is the norm, then why pursue excellence?
  • If politicians are all liars, then how should we listen?
  • If religion is possessed by “greedy Gantrys,” then why should we pray?

In the pursuit of realism, what we have discovered is a bleak bitterness which promotes the decay of mankind … minus the possibility of redemption.

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by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abject: adj. 1. {of a situation or condition} extremely bad, unpleasant and degrading: abject poverty; {of an unhappy state of mind} experienced to the maximum degree: abject misery  2. {of a person or their behavior} completel without pride or dignity, self-abasing: an abject apology

You gotta watch out for that “Ject” family. They are really bad seed.

I guess RE Ject is the father of the mix, with OB Ject being the mother, creating the juvenile delinquent of AB Ject.

Yes, it is very important to remember that rejecting things sets in motion sensations which are very difficult to retrieve through a simple apology or by  sending a dozen roses. I think we have more success in ignoring human beings than in rejecting them–but there are always people who love to start a good war by inviting rejection into the conflict.

Then someone comes along an object. I don’t know if there is anything more useless than an objection to a rejection. I mean, after all–you’re in a defensive position, and the person or persons who have already decided to put you on the crap list are not going to be swayed by either your reasoning or your pleading.

This further stirs the pot.

So after reject has brought about an object, which is dejected (Wow! another family member!) you end up with an abject situation–which is completely without redemption.

Matter of fact, I find it very difficult to believe in any way, shape or form that God has rejected me simply because I’m a goofball. If I felt rejected by the Divine Nature, I would certainly have an objection to Him referring to Himself as Love.

He may disapprove. He may think that I am crazy or loony. But rejection would not be a good thing unless you are prepared for an objection which might lead to dejection–and then force me into abject stupidity.

That Ject family–you gotta watch out when they move in next door. The neighborhood goes to pot and the real estate values plummet.


by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abeokuta: a city in southwestern Nigeria, capital of the state of Ogun; pop. 308,800

You see, all he wanted to do was give out Bibles to natives. He certainly wasn’t interested in acquiring finance. His only concern was to provide the Word of God to lost souls in Nigeria who did not have any way of learning the truth of the salvation plan because they lacked a book to explain it to them.

He wrote me a lengthy letter to share his vision and also reinforce his credentials, listing numerous universities and organizations which were most definitely acquainted with his passion.

I was about eight or nine long paragraphs into this plea from Africa, when suddenly my the writer pointed out to me that even though he was not interested in money, a certain amount of cash would be necessary–along with the shipment of Bibles–as a tariff on all products from America, even if they were in black covers stamped with the word “Holy.”

So along with sending him a hundred Bibles, it would be necessary for me to include a wire transfer of $250 to cover those taxes and charges, so as to ensure that some desperately befuddled Nigerian would receive illumination from on high.

As a courtesy, he included the procedure by which I should transfer these funds–as soon as possible–even before the Bibles were shipped! After all, who knows when the monies would  be needed?

I do believe he was from Abeokuta.

I must confess to you, heathen that I am, I passed on this remarkable opportunity, kept my bank account intact and was forced to resort to a simple prayer for all those potentially damned Nigerians, who would be vacant of redemption due to the absence of my Bible shipment.

Such events do not make me cynical. They actually serve to make me more voracious in my appetite to find the authentic.