Tag Archives: unrighteousness

Debase

Debase: (v) to lower in rank, dignity, or significance

It’s difficult to know whether human beings prefer stories which end in success or are finalized in some degree of tragedy.

I, for one, become light-headed and sleepy if I hear too much good news all at the same time, fearing that some of it may be embellished to maintain the sugar content.

Yet I have to admit, all of this “dark theater” that surrounds me adds an extra layer of worry to my soul—which is desperately in need of being cleansed from unrighteousness.

But universally, all of us are aware that we take our turn being debased. Or as I jokingly call it—spending time in “de-basement.”

Sometimes we even stand in line for it.

We’ll enter a contest, apply for a job, petition for a cause only to be flattened at the last moment like a housefly which paused too long next to the watermelon.

It’s not just part of life.

It is actually the portion of life that makes life ultimately livable.

If I don’t know how to do without, or be left out, rejected and mistreated, I will never have the sensibility to be merciful to others.

It’s a helluva way to learn it.

Certainly the heavens should have thought of a more cotton-candy schooling.

But sometimes you go without so that when you go with, you have a greater appreciation and perhaps even a broader understanding of value.

So give me a story where someone tries, fails, survives, laughs, rallies and then kicks ass.

Thus, the definition of the American dream.

 

Afraid

Words from Dic(tionary)

dictionary with letter A

 

Afraid: (adj.) feeling fear or anxiety; frightened.

 It was my favorite shirt.

I was nineteen years old and it was during the era of the counter-culture—hippies, rock and roll … well, you know the groove.

It was gray and had embroidered white velvet flowers on it.

I loved it.

It was almost too small for me, so depending on whether I was in one of my puffy weeks or thinning days, I could sit down wearing it with spreading buttons or with more comfort.

I didn’t care. I worshipped it.

I wore it at least five times a week. My criterion for deciding whether to don it in the morning was sniffing under the armpits to ascertain the intensity of its lethal nature.

One day I noticed that some of the threads on the bottom of the shirt had come loose. I didn’t think much about it. I just pulled on them and tore them off. After about two weeks of doing this, I realized that my shirt was no longer shedding threads, but had actually torn and was practically ruined.

At that juncture, somebody pointed out that if I had sewn up the bottom of the shirt instead of pulling on the threads, the problem would have been solved and I would still have my garment. (I continued to wear it in its dilapidated condition until one day I was walking down the street and a guy handed me two dollars, thinking I was homeless…)

The reason I share this story is that being afraid is a lot like being a-frayed.

Our threads come loose and we yank on them, pull at them, deny our feelings and pretend everything is all right until we have no opportunities left and we stand, clothed in unrighteousness.

Yes, afraid is when we refuse to sow up our fears and tie up our worries and instead, allow them to destroy everything we like. And even when we use noble words like “responsibility,” “concern,” “involvement,” “anxious,” or in some cases, even “wondering”—we’re just masking the monster.

I lost the shirt off my back because it was “a-frayed.”

If I become too afraid—well … I can lose my own soul.