The Attitude
Posted on August 8, 2010
I would have been early for church, but a big idea popped into my head, and I had to heed the call. And you would think the church would understand, right? Even Socrates argued that beauty is divine. So when I am so blessed as to be visited by divinity (which means to me, as a Christian, The Holy Spirit), I try not to resist.
Except that now I was going to be late for church. I drove almost all the way to the church parking lot before deciding it would be too disrespectful to walk in so late. So I went to The Audubon Center, parked under a chestnut tree (I'll bet almost nobody even knows it's chestnut tree), and wrote a few lines. I figured I'd kill some time and attend the eleven o'clock service.
But the Holy Spirit was, once again, blowin' in the wind, so to speak, and before I knew it, I was running late again.
Just as I pulled into the church parking lot, I was stricken with a wave of apprehension. (In the same way that I am often hip to the Spirit, I am vulnerable to the devious mind-games of the anti-Spirit.) I really had to fight myself to get out of the car, turn off Le Chat Bleu by Mink DeVille, and climb the stairs toward the church.
As I began to ascend the stairs, I crossed paths with a guy much older than me in a nice grey suit--yes, it had pin-stripes--who was leaving the earlier church service. Being elderly, it had taken him a little effort to get this far, though the earlier service had been dismissed long ago.
The old dude looked at me and said, "Enjoy some blessings."
I smiled politely, but my internal dialogue said, "FUCK YOU!! YOU DON'T KNOW ME AND YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT ME!! And I know a thousand motherfuckers that smile when they see you and are evil as shit!"
As soon as these words crossed the lips of my mind, I knew I'd better check my attitude and be careful not to say anything too aggressive or angry, especially to the gauntlet of smiley do-gooders that would inevitably greet me upon entering the church.
I was formally greeted by a minimum of five smiley do-gooders as I tried to enter the chapel, having avoided a minimum of five others, and wasn't even permitted to find a seat of my own. A smiley do-good usher insisted on walking me to the row of his preference and forced me to shake his hand before allowing me to go to my seat.
I am often a smiley person that says "Hello" to strangers. There have been times in my life that I've been desperately low, and the smile and kind words of a stranger have sustained me. If I can sustain a weary person with a simple smile and greeting, I don't want to miss the opportunity to do so.
But just last week, I saw one of the ladies that leads the church-sponsored small-group Bible-study I started to attend in the hope of making some new friends in the community. Not only did she not say "Hello" to me, she looked away when I attempted to make eye-contact.
I did not become angry with her; I just figured she was shy and feels secure when leading a group but insecure when in undefined social-situations. I WAS angry the following evening, however, when I attended this church-sponsored small-group Bible-study and was greeted by a note taped to a fence that served to inform me that our evening of fellowship and learning was canceled due to a meeting of church-leaders.
What, this is the kind of church where ten people offer a meaningless "Hello" when you walk in the door but not a soul will so much as shoot you an e-mail to notify you that a meeting is canceled? That's a good forty-minutes of driving and 1.5 gallons of gasoline consumed for no reason! What a waste!
"Fuck these people," said my bad attitude.
I would have had more respect for these smiley do-gooders if, instead of saying "Hello," they sneered, "Mister, you ain't shit."
Dan Wasson told me that he used to play in a jazz-outfit with a drummer that was prone to smoke crack ("cookies" was the word of the day). Dan said he knew the drummer was fucked up if he greeted his band-mates with sweetness and excessive kindness. On the contrary, he knew the band was going to kick ass if, when he entered the club, the drummer greeted him with, "Dan Wasson, you ain't shit."
"You ain't shit," taken literally, implies that you are not a waste, not excrement. "You ain't shit," taken figuratively, means that you better get rid of your attitude and re-learn a little humility.
And isn't humility a big part of the Godly world-view? Doesn't Micah 6:8 say that all God asks of us is Justice, Mercy and a Humble Walk with our God?
So I suggest our smiley do-gooders get it right and start saying, "You ain't shit," when they see me coming.
Anyhow, I sat down and was very happy to hear Pastor Ed's sermon, though the bad attitude inside my head has given him the nickname, "Alpha Eddie." Obviously, the dude wants to be the head honcho of a mega-church. He wants to be on television, radio, wants a gazillion hits on the website, etc. The dude would not be content to preach to a roomful of ambivalent drunks.
As he preached, I replayed the events of the morning in my imagination. My thoughts were broken by Eddie's utterance of the words "PREMARITAL SEX."
Struggling with the daily burden of celibacy that comes from living three-hundred miles away from my wife, the mention of PREMARITAL SEX triggered something.
I picked up a pen and wrote:
This is NOT premarital sex
because there is no way in Hell
that I am going to marry you.
I'm toying with the idea of sharing these thoughts with the folks at tomorrow night's church-sponsored small-group Bible-study. But I don't think they would be prepared for a friendly little "You ain't shit."
Except that now I was going to be late for church. I drove almost all the way to the church parking lot before deciding it would be too disrespectful to walk in so late. So I went to The Audubon Center, parked under a chestnut tree (I'll bet almost nobody even knows it's chestnut tree), and wrote a few lines. I figured I'd kill some time and attend the eleven o'clock service.
But the Holy Spirit was, once again, blowin' in the wind, so to speak, and before I knew it, I was running late again.
Just as I pulled into the church parking lot, I was stricken with a wave of apprehension. (In the same way that I am often hip to the Spirit, I am vulnerable to the devious mind-games of the anti-Spirit.) I really had to fight myself to get out of the car, turn off Le Chat Bleu by Mink DeVille, and climb the stairs toward the church.
As I began to ascend the stairs, I crossed paths with a guy much older than me in a nice grey suit--yes, it had pin-stripes--who was leaving the earlier church service. Being elderly, it had taken him a little effort to get this far, though the earlier service had been dismissed long ago.
The old dude looked at me and said, "Enjoy some blessings."
I smiled politely, but my internal dialogue said, "FUCK YOU!! YOU DON'T KNOW ME AND YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT ME!! And I know a thousand motherfuckers that smile when they see you and are evil as shit!"
As soon as these words crossed the lips of my mind, I knew I'd better check my attitude and be careful not to say anything too aggressive or angry, especially to the gauntlet of smiley do-gooders that would inevitably greet me upon entering the church.
I was formally greeted by a minimum of five smiley do-gooders as I tried to enter the chapel, having avoided a minimum of five others, and wasn't even permitted to find a seat of my own. A smiley do-good usher insisted on walking me to the row of his preference and forced me to shake his hand before allowing me to go to my seat.
I am often a smiley person that says "Hello" to strangers. There have been times in my life that I've been desperately low, and the smile and kind words of a stranger have sustained me. If I can sustain a weary person with a simple smile and greeting, I don't want to miss the opportunity to do so.
But just last week, I saw one of the ladies that leads the church-sponsored small-group Bible-study I started to attend in the hope of making some new friends in the community. Not only did she not say "Hello" to me, she looked away when I attempted to make eye-contact.
I did not become angry with her; I just figured she was shy and feels secure when leading a group but insecure when in undefined social-situations. I WAS angry the following evening, however, when I attended this church-sponsored small-group Bible-study and was greeted by a note taped to a fence that served to inform me that our evening of fellowship and learning was canceled due to a meeting of church-leaders.
What, this is the kind of church where ten people offer a meaningless "Hello" when you walk in the door but not a soul will so much as shoot you an e-mail to notify you that a meeting is canceled? That's a good forty-minutes of driving and 1.5 gallons of gasoline consumed for no reason! What a waste!
"Fuck these people," said my bad attitude.
I would have had more respect for these smiley do-gooders if, instead of saying "Hello," they sneered, "Mister, you ain't shit."
Dan Wasson told me that he used to play in a jazz-outfit with a drummer that was prone to smoke crack ("cookies" was the word of the day). Dan said he knew the drummer was fucked up if he greeted his band-mates with sweetness and excessive kindness. On the contrary, he knew the band was going to kick ass if, when he entered the club, the drummer greeted him with, "Dan Wasson, you ain't shit."
"You ain't shit," taken literally, implies that you are not a waste, not excrement. "You ain't shit," taken figuratively, means that you better get rid of your attitude and re-learn a little humility.
And isn't humility a big part of the Godly world-view? Doesn't Micah 6:8 say that all God asks of us is Justice, Mercy and a Humble Walk with our God?
So I suggest our smiley do-gooders get it right and start saying, "You ain't shit," when they see me coming.
Anyhow, I sat down and was very happy to hear Pastor Ed's sermon, though the bad attitude inside my head has given him the nickname, "Alpha Eddie." Obviously, the dude wants to be the head honcho of a mega-church. He wants to be on television, radio, wants a gazillion hits on the website, etc. The dude would not be content to preach to a roomful of ambivalent drunks.
As he preached, I replayed the events of the morning in my imagination. My thoughts were broken by Eddie's utterance of the words "PREMARITAL SEX."
Struggling with the daily burden of celibacy that comes from living three-hundred miles away from my wife, the mention of PREMARITAL SEX triggered something.
I picked up a pen and wrote:
This is NOT premarital sex
because there is no way in Hell
that I am going to marry you.
I'm toying with the idea of sharing these thoughts with the folks at tomorrow night's church-sponsored small-group Bible-study. But I don't think they would be prepared for a friendly little "You ain't shit."