Tiny Lifequake

I could spend a lot of time setting this up, but I won’t.

Humans are storytelling animals. I certainly like to tell myself stories, and more often than not, they’re all just fancied tragedies. One of the prevailing ones is a narrative of failure. Certain situations summon this mean, inner narrator, and almost without me having to do anything, the story begins. It’s a tale I’ve told myself for a very long time, and it always ends with me feeling like I’ve been through an existential meat grinder. Such was the case on the day I lugged myself into the domesticated hell of Katy, Texas. Image Continue reading

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People Matter.

When I was little, I had a Jewish friend named Sally. When it came time for me to be baptized, I told my mom how excited I was to tell Sally about my decision. My thrill was smashed by one of those adult ideas that 10 year-olds don’t understand. She told me that Jewish folks don’t believe Jesus was the son of God.

 

Wait a minute. Isn’t that what this whole dunk is all about? I profess my faith that Jesus was the Messiah. I am cleansed of my sins and find eternal life in heaven. And more pressing here, those that don’t adhere to the Good News are doomed to eternal damnation in the flaming pits of hell. That’s what you guys said, right?

 

I’m going to heaven, right? Continue reading