Insane!!

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, and expecting different results each time. Not technically, but basically. If you do a gainer into a pool and break your nose, chances are you’ll break your nose again if you continue to do gainers. Which is why I do not do gainers. By this definition, I know many, many insane people. My dog. He runs when his leash is on, chokes himself, then does it again. My gerbil is constantly trying to chew through the same piece of hard plastic. Every night. My cat sits on my lap while I’m reading, and I throw her off. Then here she comes again. Now, this does not only apply to my unobservant house pets. This applies to all of mankind. Build a house on a beach, is slides off. Build a bigger house on the beach. It still slides off. What I’m trying to get at, is that men have been at this for years. Since the beginning of time, when cavemen froze to death for not inventing clothes. Mankind is certainly delusional. We buy nice cars. Very shiny, with loud engines and a bunch of cool parts that I don’t know the name of. But now look, my heart is mad at me cause my house costs less than my car. Okay, well lets climb the corporate extension ladder, and work weekends. Now we’ve bought a new house, it has shag carpet, a leather sofa, and I giant rotating bed. Now our heart is filled. Wait, that huge yard in the back… it’s missing a boat. Okay, now work late into the night. Okay, got a boat. Now your heart is mad at you. Why on earth would you buy a boat without buying j.crew boating attire?! Okay, bring your work home with you and work on it in the morning. There ya go, you have a nice car. A beautiful home. A giant boat. And stylish shorts that need a little more length. Is your heart happy? No, you have to top yourself don’t you? See, let me show you what happened. You had a longing. Even though you had a good running car. Even though your apartment was snug enough for you. Even though you could fish from the pier. Even though you had t-shirts from the half off section of wal-mart. You had a little longing that wanted to top itself. To continue to fill the hole with people, and things. We’re all born with a hole you see. One that only Jesus can fill. Now, before you read this and say “I’m already saved. Who cares.” finish it up. I am not talking to the unsaved people. I am talking to Christians. Yes, you may have been saved before you could go to school, but you still have a hole. See, this hole is easy to mistake for something else. A girl. Or a car. Or shag carpet. And every time that she leaves and breaks your heart, or the engine stalls, or a kid spills grape juice, you see it again. You catch a glimpse of that hole, and you think you need another girl. Or a better car. Or a darker carpet. But the hole was there for something else. You’ve been filling it your whole life with uselessness. And you never see it. Your chest aches, and you think it’s cause of the car payment. It took me years to figure out why that little hole was there, no matter what came and went. But now I found out. I’m sure it won’t be easy to keep empty for Him. I know it will be a struggle, and maybe the legend of Zelda will take over sometimes. But remember when you lose your car, or the game gets scratched, or your girl leaves you, the hole is there for a special reason. Put something special in there.

Community Kitchen Fun

The community kitchen is a fun place. Now, I understand how some people would assume the opposite. But if you go down there, and serve those people, just try not to smile. It’s impossible. The stories you hear, the people you see, it’s just a great experience. This morning my mother woke me up at an ungodly hour as usual. I sat up and took the better part of three minutes to realize where I was. Wiping away the crust that had accumulated around my eyeball was a difficult task at 5:57. Throwing on a shirt and just making it into my shoes, I fought the urge to sit down. And close my eyes… And go to sleep… I was unsuccessful. As I awoke the second time, my mother offered words of encouragement as she escorted me out the door and into the van. You would think that at this time of year that it would be hot in the morning. It’s hot in the day. It’s hot in the evening. It’s hot at night. It’s hot when you wake up from having that same scary, recurring dream at 1:43. But in the morning? Nooooo, let’s throw a curveball and slap everyone in the face when they try and go serve hungry people. Very discouraging. Anyway, I don’t remember the ride over there. But when we did get there, my mother began to greet the people on the street, the people on the sidewalk, the guy holding the door open, the guy making the grits, the guy that greeted her. I grunted a greeting as well, and I believe I made myself very clear. First order of business was turkey. Now, please realize that up until twenty minutes ago, I was unaware I would even be here this morning. I am tired, half awake, unsure which part of my dream was real last night, and moving very slow. So the head guy in charge naturally tells us to prep turkeys. Not to brag or anything, but I’m a pretty mean turkey prepper. I prepped about twenty turkeys one day, with very little help. But, as previously mentioned, this is not day. This is morning. So, of course being the muscular chap I am, I had to haul the turkey bags from the sink to their final resting place. There was a hole in the bag, and I hope that the blood did not stain the floor. I then proceeded to cut open the bags, exposing the cold, dead flesh of the hefty young foul. My mother than proceeded to reach into what used to be the neck, and remove a bag. I knew the contents of this bag, but was lucky enough never to have seen it for myself. But then, at that terrible moment, the bag tore, and I was staring at it. The neck, a slimy tube I could hardly believe could support a head, resembled a large, bloody, bloated, dead worm. The lungs and/or kidneys which looked just like lungs and/or kidneys, only smaller and covered in blood. He was obviously not a donor. And the heart. The poor little meaty thing that had kept blood running through this young turkey, had allowed him to gobble, to spread his tail feathers and attract ladies. To power his legs that obviously did him no good in escaping the hand/machine that had ended his life, and in his prime, no doubt, as the bag stated. It was really gross. We washed turkeys, held back bile, and removed the life-giving organs of these poor beasts. After that was done, and a long hand washing had ensued, I went to the front lines to serve toast. Now, the thing you should know is on the line, you are exposed to EVERYTHING. Comments: On your hair, smile, apron, and anything else they can see from the waist up. Questions: “you got sugar?”
“you got salt?”
“where‘s the milk?”
“what‘s your name”
“why is this burnt?”
“why don‘t you cook with sugar?”.
Complaints: “there‘s no sugar!”
“they started a fight!”
“I need to talk to Miss Vera!”
“this food is cold!”
“why don‘t you cook with sugar?!”
But, it is still enjoyable. Passing out bread to the patrons, hearing their life’s stories, and today, hearing multiple versions of how a building burned down. From what all I heard, this is what was believed to have happened: There was a short, skinny white guy who no one knew the name of. He was drunk, and high, and decided to light a pile of clothes on fire for an unknown reason. There also happened to be spray paint cans in the building, along with quite a few more highly flammable objects. These exploded under the heat, and the building went down quite quickly. When the police arrived, they located the perpetrator. They then used night sticks to beat him to death, after which the ambulance workers used the defibrillator to bring the poor soul back to life, only to incarcerate him afterwards. Last night was quite a night I suppose. After we had served nigh a hundred and fifty patrons, I grabbed a granola bar, a soda, and headed home. My mother was skeptical of the true story of the building fire, but I really believe it. A skinny white guy. Blew it up. Then got beat to death. And brought back to life. Like law and order. I was drifting away on the way home, and when I got back I crawled right back into bed and picked up where I left off. The funny thing is, I’m not entirely sure what has actually happened today, and what was a dream… I guess I’ll ask the blue elephant that’s doing the spelling check for me.

Wisdom

What is wisdom? We hear people tell us how wise we are when we give advice. Or what a wise decision fast food restaurants made by creating a dollar menu. But what is real wisdom? In our world today, people get confused between being smart, and being wise. There are many, many smart people in this world. But considerably less wise people. The dictionary on my word processor defines smart as “showing intelligence and mental alertness.” Wise, on the other hand is defined: “able to make sensible decisions and judgments on the basis of personal knowledge and experience. Sensible, learned and shrewd.”
Now, besides the fact that this definition is considerably longer and with larger words, what’s the difference? The difference: I can sit up straight in class, listen politely, study hard and earn a good grade. I can follow the rules of success, earn a large salary, support my family, and have a good life. Or, I can sit up straight in class, listen politely, study hard and earn a good grade. I can discern when I should purchase a large yacht, and when I should pay tithe. I can determine when my children need to hear the score of the Sunday football game, and when they need to hear the word of God. I can sit up straight in church, and instead of smiling politely, I can have a determined frown on my face, writing down what the preacher says and studying over it. Being smart is knowing what the world knows. Being smart is taking the world’s words and teachings, and learning them. Being wise is knowing what God knows. Taking His words, and His teachings, and learning of Him. Anyone can be smart. Anyone can be wise. You just have to choose which one to be.