In The River

In the river I'm gone
In the river I'm gone 
In the river I'm gone
In the river I'm gone
(Sarah Masen's song, The River, from the album, A History of Light and Shadow, 2007) 

I never thought much about that part of Christianity that is all about escaping the cruel evil world.  

I remember being told sometime back when I was a youth that if I got "saved," then eventually I would get to leave earth and go live on a cloud in Heaven, or in a mansion in Heaven and I could never quite reconcile either of those with reality.

For one, does Jesus really get off on big houses?  I mean is that what our reward basically amounts to is a large house with many rooms and servants and a decent sprinkler system?  How about a few Rolls Royces while we are at it?  Does God come over to your mansion for dinner parties and will I have to wear a fancy antebellum dress on this ocasion?

The cloud idea was also a little crazy.  Wouldn't you fall right through?  If not, how do planes fly right through clouds and how many Heaven-dwellers are knocked right off the tops of clouds when planes fly by?  Also what about issues like exposure?  Wouldn't we eventually die if we had to spend eternity outside like that, with no shelter?  

Yeah, I know this is coming off a little silly.  Really, I don't mean it to, but you know it is me talking.  I tend to lean towards the silly.   Anyway, the main point of their sermons is this:  "Your life truly sucks right now, doesn't it?  If you accept Jesus Chirst (he always has a last name in these sermons) as your lord and personal savior, not only will it get dramatically better, but eventually you get to leave behind this shithole."   Okay, I may have gone a bit beyond with the term shithole, but you get the picture.

Christianity was a means to escape the world. If I can dwell on Heaven a little more, I don't have to dwell too much on what is going on right now, right here, and right in front of me.  I needed that as a teenager.  I really did.  My life did suck.

No, I did not have abusive or alcoholic parents.  I did not have a heavy drug habit or anything like that.  Nopers, as a teenager, I was just plain unattractive and unpopular and desperate for friendship and acceptance.  Sounds a bit like something a drama-queen might say.  In fact I was so unpopular and unwanted by most kids my age, I thought that becoming a Christian, though being a form of social suicide, would be much better than the life I was living up to that point.  In fact, I needed Jesus as much as I needed anything back then.

I eventually grew up and I eventually grew to realize that this world is God's creation and that I am also his creation.  I learned that escaping was not at all what Jesus was talking about when he said things like Love your neighbor as yourself, and go the extra mile, and do not divorce your wife, and do not objectify each other, and that the kingdom of God is here, near, and now.  Jesus was overly concerned about how we treat others right now, right here, and on earth.  At no time did he say "forget all that shit, we are out of here in 5, 4, 3..."  He just simply doesn't say that ever.  

So I have settled into the idea that Heaven is really not at all what we think it is, and neither is Hell.  We simply don't have the answers.  None of us do, and neither does the Bible.  But, sometimes I still want to just hide.  Sometimes I still want to get away.  Sometimes I could just withdraw from everything and everyone and just totally isolate myself.  I don't get it.  I don't understand it, but it's true.

So, when I heard this song by Sarah Masen, I just fell into it.  I listened to the lyrics and I just fell into it.  For me, "the river" is not just the equivelent of spiritual bliss, it is a means to escape all of the hard stuff.  A way to run into god's arms and just cry, or sit and be quiet or just relax. Because sometimes I am like this big kid.  With all of my knowledge and education and experience, sometimes I want my big daddy to just wrap his arms around me and hold me.  

At those times, I am sick of my job, my church, my life and people and I just want to escape it all and be with someone who I think not only understands me, but maybe who understands me more than I understand myself.  Maybe this is a form of Heaven.  Well it seems that way to me.  This is a place that I can go whenever I want, but there is also a certain amount of depravity in staying there, isn't there?  Sarah, has put her music online for folks to listen to and I invite you to quietly listen to this song with me.  Below are the lyrics.

Click Here to download the song:

I could never get close enough to your fire

And now that my flame's gone out, I won't try
Cause I'm in the water under and going down tired
And if there's life at the bottom, I guess I'll find out
 
Somehow I knew I wasn't meant to burn on
And how could such darkness make any sense, I don't know
But everything is pulling like Easter, somethings begun
But everything's moving toward something that's already done

In the river I'm gone (x4)

I can see your light on the surface, now it fades
But I am still alive, some second wave
And I can hear singing, some distant parade
And over and over, I hear the same refrain

In the river I'm gone (x4)

Come with your weary
Come with your thirst
Come with your fading 
Come with your hurt
What is not is now
Come with your doubt
Come on

In the river it's gone 
In the river I'm gone
In the river it's gone
In the river I'm gone

Come to the river
Come with your burdens
Come into the river 
Come

In the river I'm gone (x4 and fade)

When I was Just a Little Girl...

Just read an article on Huffington Post that made me think back a bit to when I was a kid.  I know weird, right?  I never talk about being a kid.   Okay, that was admittedly a bit of sarcasm.  I frequently talk about my childhood, but that is because I think childhoods are important.  I think they shape us into the adults we become.

The article by Kristen Wolfe entitled Dear Customer Who Stuck Up For His Little Brother was about a teenager (around 17 YO) who in fact defended his little brother’s (10-12 YO) decision to choose a video game that had a female lead character in it and a purple controller for the game against his own father who was threatening the child with bodily harm if he chose these things.

The father stomped off angry and the boys, though emotionally affected stood firm together.  It is an amazing story.  The father wanted his son to choose something more “manly” apparently, something with guns or zombies in it, but the boy insisted that he wanted the girl-game.

I thought about why the father was so insistent and I think it is because somehow he believes that if the boy chooses more manly games, then the boy will somehow grow up to be… more manly.  The opposite argument also works in this case, if in fact the boy plays with girl-games, then he will most likely end up to be gay, or a girl – which is one in the same for this father obviously, and both are anathema to the father.

But, is this assumption true?  I mean, when I was a young father raising my boys I think I felt like it was my job to mold my boys into “men.”  And my definition of men was something like this father’s.  It was tough, strong, manly, or masculine, or macho, and straight, not gay.  I was deluded into believing that somehow just by the toys I let them play with, the clothes I let them wear and the things I let them do, I could somehow make this sort of thing happen.

So I only let them play with toy cars and trucks and other stuff like that.  When kids were playing dress-up and putting on dresses, I did not allow them to play that way.  I made crude jokes about gayness and gay people in the home to make sure the kids knew that this was not an acceptable way to be.  I did everything I knew to try and control their future outcomes.  I believed that I could somehow, prevent gayness, or create straightness if you will.

Years later, I am convinced that I was wrong to try and do this.  I also now realize that being a man has nothing to do with a person’s sexual preference.  After all, there are plenty of tough determined men in the military stationed in Afghanistan right now on behalf of our country who happen to be gay. 

I realize also that there is no way for a father or mother to create or foster or nurture or make kids grow up to be straight.  You can certainly make them miserable by trying -- as the father in the article certainly was able to demonstrate.  I don’t know what the scene was when those boys got home or in the car on the way home, but I can imagine that it was not a pleasant one.  Just because dad backed down in the store it does not mean that the discussion was over.

Here’s another thing, does playing with cross-gendered toys mean that you have a gender identity issue?  Does a boy playing with Barbies make the boy instantly gay?  Does a girl playing with a set of tools make her a lesbian?  What is wrong with people?

When I was a small boy I distinctly remember that my favorite person in the world back then was my Mom.  She was a SAHM, who took being a Mommy to the nth degree.  She saw it as her duty to spend every waking moment with me, caring for me, playing with me, reading to me and talking with me.  She also did a fair amount of cleaning.

Seriously, a lot of cleaning.  I don’t mean like dusting and then sleeping.  I mean hard core cleaning.  I honestly think she was a bit OCD  However, when she cleaned she would play the most beautiful music.  While most Moms of that day were listening to top 40 stuff of the 70s or Motown, Mom would play her Doris Day records from the 60s.  I grew up listening to Doris Day and singing “Que sera, sera.  Whatever will be, will be.  The future’s not ours to see.  Que sera, sera.”

My favorite toys back then were a plastic toy vacuum cleaner, a few dolls and a golden brown teddy bear, appropriately named “Goldie.”  She had a husband teddy bear named Ted.  I think he was actually doing my dark brown teddy bear (Markeesha) on the side, but that is another story.  These were a few of my favorite things. 

You know why?  I wanted to be just like Mom when I grew up.  And she seemed to favor these things, including the vacuum cleaner.  It’s a miracle that my favorite toys weren’t an old dust rag and a mop and bucket, considering how much Mom cleaned.  No, instead it was toys that could let me play like my Mom.  I wore her shoes around the house too and liked to make things with her.

Guess what, I'm not attracted to men in the least.  So, there you go.  My worst moment as a child growing up?  The day my Mom put all my girl toys in a plastic bag and I never saw them again, including my Goldie bear.  I cried and cried and cried.  It was heart-breaking.

Maybe she too was afraid of her influence on me.  I still believe that spending all that time with Mom and playing with tender toys and listening to Doris Day and having my Mommy wipe me down with a cold wet wash-rag and stay by my side all night when I had a fever made me into the caring and compassionate man I am today.  Thanks Mom.  I forgive you for taking Goldie away.    

“When I was just a little girl, I asked my Mother what will I be.  Will I be pretty?  Will I be rich?  Here’s what she said to me.”  “You will be a good man, John.  You will.”