Tag Archives: sunshine

Anabaptist

dictionary with letter A

Anabaptist: (n) a radical Protestant sect in the 1520s and 1530s which believed that baptism should be administered only to believing adults.

It’s not so much that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. It’s just that by the time a dog reaches a certain age of maturity, it is always looking for a warm piece of sunshine in which to take a nap.

It is so much easier to teach a young dog which is hopping around with energy, to do something unnecessary, like a trick, because the creature is already predisposed to be active.

When I read this definition of Anabaptist, I immediately noted that their particular goal of profession of faith didn’t last very long. The reason for that is that trying to teach adults to be spiritual is similar to the quandary of pursuing chasing a stick with the old dog.

The people who are most intrigued by God, love, mercy, angels and promises of heaven are young.

Very young.

Perhaps that’s why Jesus told his disciples that we all need to “become like little children.” Otherwise, we’ll have no appetite to learn the new tricks that are available for our spirit.

If you remove Sunday School, Bible school, church camp and youth outings from the average religious organization, you basically end up with traditional worship services once a week … and funerals.

Matter of fact, that is the menu of many congregations in this country.

It is the infusion of youthfulness and the passion associated with it that makes spirituality alive and well. Otherwise, the minute we find a warm place to sleep in the sun, we no longer care about God, the earth and fellow-travelers.

Yes, the Anabaptists made a serious mistake. Merely getting old and sickly does not prepare one for eternity.

It is the introduction of youthful, childlike playing that “draws us nigh unto God.”

 

Donate Button

Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix

Acapulco

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Acapulco: a port and resort in southern Mexico on the Pacific coast; pop. 592,290, full name Acapulco de Juarez.

Since I don’t drink, gamble, have a beautiful body like a Greek god or enjoy dancing in the night life of an exotic resort, places like Acapulco never really drew my attention nor any of my interest. The things that would be of value to me, like the sunshine, water and some good Mexican food, are really available in my neighborhood.

It’s not that I am a curmudgeon who hates to be around crowds of people because I think they are dark and evil or different and weird. It’s that early on I discovered my own level of contentment and toleration for variation–and I love to stay within those parameters lest I find myself spending a lot of money doing things I don’t really want to do anyway, pretending they are the coolest thing that’s ever happened.

I don’t like to be overwhelmed by entertainment. So for me, going to a carnival which is set up in a shopping center parking lot, eating a corn dog, and trying to knock over a few milk bottles with a light-weight ball as I watch children use their tickets to ride on a rickety roller coaster is just as much fun as going to Disney World.

You see, I think there’s a danger in over-stunning our senses with innumerable sources of stimulation all at the same time, without having the opportunity to take in individual bonuses because we are so inundated.

I know I am alone in this.

But I’ve never wanted to be jaded by convincing myself that the only way I can have fun and sun is by going to Acapulco instead of stepping into my back yard with a pitcher of iced tea, a good book and some great music to listen to on a wonderfully sun-drenched afternoon.

It’s not that I’m simple–it’s just that I have five senses and I really don’t want to jam them up, so that they’re running around colliding into each other, vying for attention.

Stop for a moment and taste the iced tea. U-m-m-m. It’s good. Now, put your head back and let the sun warm your face. Excellent.

The one time I found myself at a resort like Acapulco I couldn’t get a moment’s rest or a chance for an idea to stretch its legs, because all the young cabana people were constantly walking up and asking me if I wanted to go deep-sea fishing, sight-seeing, hand-gliding or rollerblading.

I felt bad when I told them “absolutely not.” I wondered if they lost commission because I appeared to be out of commission. After that I decided to avoid such fruitless journeys, and instead, chose to tantalize my sense one at a time.

So you may go to Acapulco and you can even send me pictures.

I think I will just stop off at Taco Bell, pick up a couple burritos, sit in the sun, jot some notes down on a piece of paper, and after I become hot enough, dip the better parts of my body in some cool water.

That’s what I call … a vacation.