However, this story is apparently for real:

Christian-Themed Pornographic Film Up for Industry Award

While I was surfing the web looking for sites to add to my links list, I came across this gem from Opium Magazine:

An Interview With a Christian Porn Star

I should mention at this point that the article is pure fiction (the magazine specializes in literary humor).

As I said in my previous post, I received plenty of rest and relaxation yesterday. I spent a large majority of the day at a local shopping mall hopping from one store to another.

One of these stores--Suncoast (a subsidiary of Sam Goody/Musicland)--is currently in the process of going out of business (they just announced it yesterday), so everything in the store is 20-40% off. (I know, this sounds like a shameless plug.) So I spent part of the afternoon browsing their inventory, making my way through their classics collection, sci fi collection, horror, and finally (if you've been reading this blog you already know) the adult videos.

I know what you're thinking, but the truth is, I spent most of my time smirking at the idiotic-ness of most of the titles I saw. You see, my first real exposure to adult videos actually occurred at an adult video store, so as a result, most of the titles I see in retail places like Suncoast, Sam Goody, or FYE seem kind of soft by comparison. For example, "Girls Gone Wild" is kids' stuff compared to "Muff to Muff" or "Gangbang" (both of which you can find in a real adult video store)--and "strip-off" titles like "Hot Body" are ridiculous fluff compared to the actual X-rated straight, bisexual, transexual, or multi-sexual content (some of it 4 hours per tape) that, for many porn enthusiasts, serves as regular fare.

(I told you I wasn't going to hold back in my discussion of sexual topics. :))

I was flipping through the titles absent-mindedly, finding the usual nonsense I would expect to find in a general retail place, when I discovered a copy of Seduction Cinema's award-winning lesbian epic, Gladiator Eroticus. I had read reviews of this DVD online and was pleased at the degree of positive feedback it had received. However, during one of my "binges" last fall, shortly after a church I had been attending for 6 years disbanded, I had watched several other DVD's from this studio. While interesting, erotic, and funny (at times), these films exhibited a degree of locker room-style humor that I found irritating, and which detracted from the overall "seductiveness" of their products. (Sadly, the porn industry seems to be filled with assholes who see sexual freedom and the freedom to engage in wanton stupidity as one and the same . . . )

I thought, however, that Gladiator Eroticus might be different, since this particular DVD had won an award for best erotic film of the year.

Let me be blunt . . .

The erotic girl-on-girl sequences were hot. In fact, they were hotter than I was expecting, given the randomness and idiocy I had seen from this studio in the past . . . with the exception of the rather random 7-girl scene at the end (which seemed to have been put there for no reason other than to have the film's main actresses do a group sex scene).

The story . . . was okay. It was a parody of the movie Gladiator starring Russel Crowe which had the special effects budget of a backwoods movie studio using camcorders and a storyline that was somewhat riveting--with the exception of a ridiculous "vomit" sequence that not only made me nauseous myself but also nearly prompted me to stop watching the DVD.

Mostly, I was left with a feeling of frustration, as I am with any porn film--and I think I have come to understand why.

First off, there was (and is) the quality of the adult film genre itself to consider. Of the (many) adult films I have seen in the past 2 years, I have found perhaps 2 or 3 that have exhibited some modicum of class (after all, intelligent people have sex, and want sex, just like everyone else, right?). And the titles I'm thinking of are Visions of Passion, The Mummy's Kiss, and Femalien (and also, as irritating as its cinematography may be, Emanuelle From Outer Space)--all of which are professional Hollywood films (and exhibit professional, if low-budget, Hollywood cinematography and acting).

But the main reason for my dissatisfaction, I think, is personal. You see, as much as I enjoy these films (even the stupid ones) when I watch them, they leave me with a more profound sense of my own loneliness and dissatisfaction with life. I guess they're like heroin or cocaine in the respect that for 2 hours, they allow me to engage in the illusion that I have really lived--but also, like cocaine or heroin, they prevent me from doing as much living as I would like. I keep thinking, unconsciously, "I'm 33, and I'm watching porn--and I haven't actually had sex with anyone in my life." It's like this vicarious activity brings out in stark relief the painful reality that I am, at 33, a virgin.

I long ago dropped the obsession I once had with pornography as a "sin" (prounounced "SEE-in" in the South:))--but I have not dropped my overall dissatisfaction with life. All pornography is doing, at this point, is highlighting that dissatisfaction, and making it more painful for me to live as a result. So I will stay away from pornography.

I will not, however, expect anyone else to follow along with me. After all, sex is an intimately personal thing and not to be decided on the whims and opinions of others (except where legality applies)--and it may be that you as a reader can in fact watch pornography without the emotional and spiritual baggage of an unrealized life.

If so, my hat is off to you . . . 'cause at this moment, I can't. :)

It's okay, though--sexuality can be expressed in ways other than pornography. I guess it's not too late to try a few of those out for myself. ;)

After 2 weeks without a day off from work, I was (thank God) finally able to spend a day yesterday to myself. I didn't do anything especially exciting--just went to the local mall and spent the afternoon listening to music samples at the FYE store there.

Music is a wonderful thing--I even suspect that there is an underlying "rhythm" and "song" to the universe. (After all, music is, among other things, an exercise in perfect mathematical precision.)

When I feel lost, there always seems to be a song somewhere that captures how I feel. When I was lonely 17 years ago and wanted to commit suicide, the sound of the acoustic guitar in Metallica's "Dyers Eve" was a soft, melodic companion to me. When, years later, I struggled with issues of religion, God, and personal failure, R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion" was like a voice in the wilderness capturing the anguish of my soul in one fiery, prophetic breath. When I raged against the setbacks I received 3 years ago after attempting to build a life for myself in Fort Worth, Texas, Cinderella's "Nobody's Fool" kept ringing in my ears, as a personal anthem.

Music allows us to be sad, to be humiliated, to be alone . . . and it allows us to express joy, rage, passion, or fear. I have shed many tears to Foreigner's "I Want to Know What Love Is" because for a long time, I felt that I didn't know, and never would have the opportunity to learn. I have laughed at songs like Bon Jovi's "Lay Your Hands On Me" or Madonna's "Like a Virgin" that express so openly, and so humorously, our sexual desires and drives. And once, I ran away from home with the sounds of Bon Jovi's "Blaze of Glory" playing in my ears.

Music has always been, and will always be, a core part of my life--I cannot imagine a life without music in it.

And this is why I have come to believe that the conservative Christian maxim that believers in Christ should only listen to Hillsong, or hymns, or songs of adoration about God from Christian musicians . . . is a horrible affront to human dignity and well-being. We are people with complex personalities, broken lives, and tumultuous emotions--our experiences with ourselves, much less with God, cannot be limited to a happy song of praise (in fact, they can't be limited to anything). We have fears, we have doubts, we get angry . . . and these are all, I believe, God-given (or at least God-allowed) states of being.

It hit me yesterday as I was listening to trance music samples and thinking "my conservative Christians friends would have a cow if they could see me today" that really, all music is God's music. Even heavy metal. Even rap. Even country and western.:) All music carries the same cry of the human heart that has been raised from the beginning of time--the cry of one soul to another.

At its heart, this is the essence of what the human relationship with God really is.

It doesn't always have to be nice, or pretty, or full of joy. In fact, let's face it--most of our interaction with God tends to be antagonistic to some degree, as it does with any parent, brother, sister, or other family member. There is always a hint of pain, as well as an undercurrent of companionship and friendliness, in the human relationship with God--and sometimes the "song" of that relationship carries with it some discordant notes.

In my heart, even when I have wanted to accomodate and appease others, I have never believed that it was ever right, healthy, or (if I may be so bold) holy to pretend to be anything other than what I am. For one thing, I figure if God is really a God of truth (and is really omniscient), he already knows what is going on inside me anyway, so there's no point. Even more importantly, however, I have discovered in my short, exquisitely painful life that it has become more exhausting and emotionally damaging to lie than it is to do anything else. So when I "talk" to God, I don't always do it in a respectful manner--in fact, God and I have had some pretty dreadful, knockdown dragout fights over the years (especially the past 3).

But our "song" continues on, despite our jagged notes.

Human life, human experience, cannot be circumscribed into the realm of the serene, or the blissful. Sometimes, many times . . . it sucks to be alive. Sometimes the very act of living is an act of defiance against life.

Writers like Tolstoy and Dostoevsky and Shakespeare have explored, in depth, the lost-ness of the human experience--its pain, its tears, its soft sobs--and these are the writers who tend to be remembered, not because they are household names (after all, we are an internet culture, not a book culture) but because they evoke something of the eternal soul which is as valid, as legitimate, and as right as pleasure, happiness, and joy.

God--or at least the God of the cross--is a God of pain, suffering, and humiliation as much as he is a God of love, peace, and reconciliation. His blood, his tears . . . they once joined our own.

And yet here we are, 2000 years later, playing the same games we were playing millennia ago--telling people what's "good" and what's "bad," what's "in" and what's "out," what's "Christian" and what's not. I think sometimes that our parochialism in regard to what music Christians "should" or "shouldn't" listen to is no more noble or wise than the average high school squabbles over the importance and validity of rap music versus folk, or country, or goth. We're little kids on the playground, wearing our t-shirts, and just like little kids . . . we seem to have missed the point.

The music of the soul--in all its beautiful terror--comes in many forms.

Perhaps we should take time to listen to the song.

This is an open letter. To anyone and everyone it may concern, may I begin with the following words:

Fear of God--this is a concept with which I have been intimately familiar most of my life. Even as a child, I was afraid of God, afraid of what he could do to me, afraid of what he wanted to do to me--from a very early age in life, I decided not to let God inside of me. I walked in suspicion of God, and of all of his characteristics as described in the Bible--I stepped around him in a wide circuit that included occultism, witchcraft, and atheism.

Then I came to Christ, and I reconciled with him . . . and I came to know a new fear--a fear imposed by religion. It was a fear of truth.

From somewhere along the way--I'm not sure where--I learned that God was a caprcious deity who "chastised" and "corrected" those who misstepped, to the point that making a mistake became a terror more palpable than any other terror I had known--except for death. In the name of "appeasing" my God, I participated in slander, prejudice, and the worst forms of judgmentalism. In a church where people were often pressured to leave when they didn't conform, I participated in their ostracization--in a movement that often judged those outside of it as "rebellious," "anti-Christian," or "evil," I became a steadfast adherent.

I hurt a lot of people along the way--people I should have called "brother" and "friend."

I'm sorry.

To all of those people (some of whom may read this letter), I say, you were right--right about me, right about Christians, and right not to let what you knew to be true fall before the force of a crushing, if suspect, ideology of religion. I wish I could have seen that 3 or 4 years ago, when the new-ness of my reconciliation with God was so present in my life . . . however, my reconciliation with truth (which is one and the same with God) has enabled me to recover some of that spiritual beauty I thought I had lost.

I will not compromise what I know to be true for what a congregation, a Christian, or a spiritual leader says I should believe to be true. I will not compromise a purity that God has woven into me for a pseudo-purity of rules, restrictions, and idiotic assumptions. I will not pretend to be anyone other than I am--nor will I ask anyone else to.

I am.

I was.

I will be.

And I will inspire others to make the same confession with me--so help me God.

Cynicism . . .

It's an ugly charge, and certainly one worth considering when leveled against you--but is it always accurate? For example, I have written (and will continue to write) a wide array of scathing criticisms of church politics, church procedures, and church prejudices . . . but does that mean I'm being cynical?

No.

It means I'm frustrated, and I'm highly demanding, given the example Jesus Christ himself set--as ridiculous as it may sound, I hold out hope that people who take on the name of Christ will also gain the capacity to take on the attributes of Christ (and in case you're wondering, yes that does include the miraculous). I've seen this standard met by believers in my own life (and these are people I've known more than superficially--these are people who have been dear friends of mine and of my family), so I find it hard to comprehend why the church as a whole (in the United States) finds it acceptable to fall short of this standard. This frustration, this passion, this bitter disappointment, is what has driven a large majority of my disillusionment with Christianity, with my own spiritual journey, and with church doctrine, practices, and beliefs.

This isn't cynicism, my friend--it's justified outrage.

I get so sick of people like me, who have legitimate issues with conservative Christianity (or Christianity in general), being told we're simply a bunch of numbskulls launching potshots at God's exalted bride--that we're too busy "whining" to "participate" and "offer solutions". We're castigated as "cynics," dismissed as "irrelevant", or branded as enemies or troublemakers.

I'd like to ask the ones responsible for the name-calling and accusations to answer one question: why do you think church attendance is weakening in the United States? (Hint: It's not because people are less interested in the welfare of their souls today than they used to be.)

Cat got your tongue?

I have a few possible answers, suggested in the following vignettes:

1. A few months ago, a church I had been attending for 6 years disbanded. It was (or should have come as) no surprise, but it was sad. Despite the best efforts of some of the parishioners (including me), the congregation could not rise above its own internal conflicts.

2. Shortly after that, another congregation in the DFW area expelled someone I knew, simply because she and their senior pastor (who was single) liked each other. (Personally, and I will go on record here--that quite possibly ranks as the dumbest reason to expel someone from a congregation that I have ever heard.)

3. Another friend of mine (this one lives in Pennsylvania) has run into criticism after criticism because he is (1) in his early 40s and (2) not married yet. (Jeez, I didn't know that was a crime . . . )

4. In all the church environments I have worshipped in (including the very loving, healthy church I am part of now), I have never . . . and I mean, never . . . felt comfortable talking about my experiences and history with transexuality.

Do you think I'm alone in having these issues and complaints?

My friend, I am one of many people who have similar histories and similar stories to share--there are, in fact, millions of us. Are we all wrong? Are we all victims of "bitterness" and "cynicism"?



Are we all dismissable?



In closing, I have a reply to all of the people out there who stereotype me and others like me as cynics and casual outsiders. It is a simple message most of us will recognize as a cultural axiom:

If you are not part of the solution, then you are part of the problem.

MADONNA
"This Used To Be My Playground"

[Chorus (first time without background vocals):]

This used to be my playground (used to be)
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to
Whenever I was in need
Of a friend
Why did it have to end
And why do they always say

Don't look back
Keep your head held high
Don't ask them why
Because life is short
And before you know
You're feeling old
And your heart is breaking
Don't hold on to the past
Well that's too much to ask

[Long and movie versions only:]

[chorus]

Live and learn
Well the years they flew
And we never knew
We were foolish then
We would never tire
And that little fire
Is still alive in me
It will never go away
Can't say goodbye to yesterday (can't say goodbye)

[chorus]

No regrets
But I wish that you
Were here with me
Well then there's hope yet
I can see your face
In our secret place
You're not just a memory
Say goodbye to yesterday (the dream)
Those are words I'll never say (I'll never say)

This used to be my playground (used to be)
This used to be our pride and joy
This used to be the place we ran to
That no one in the world could dare destroy

[Short and movie versions only:]

This used to be our playground (used to be)
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
I wish you were standing here with me

[Movie version only:]

This used to be our playground (used to be)
This used to be our great escape
This used to be the place we ran to
This used to be our secret hiding place

This used to be our playground (used to be)
This used to be our childhood dream
This used to be the place we ran to
The best things in life are always free
Wishing you were here with me

U2
One

Is it getting better?
Or do you feel the same?
Will it make it easier on you now?
You got someone to blame
You say
One love
One life
When it's one need
In the night
One love
We get to share it
Leaves you baby if you
Don't care for it

Did I disappoint you?
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?
You act like you never had love
And you want me to go without
Well it's

Too late
Tonight
To drag the past out into the light
We're one, but we're not the same
We get to
carry each other
carry each other
One

Have you come here for forgiveness?
Have you come to raise the dead?
Have you come here to play Jesus?
To the lepers in your head

Did I ask too much?
More than a lot.
You gave me nothing,
Now it's all I've got
We're one
But we're not the same
Well we
Hurt each other
Then we do it again
You say
Love is a temple
Love the higher law
Love is a temple
Love the higher law
You ask me to enter
But then You make me crawl
And I can't be holding on
To what You got
When all You've got is hurt

One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should
One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But we're not the same
We get to
Carry each other
Carry each other

One...
One...

True Colors
by Cindy Lauper

You with the sad eyes
Don't be discouraged
Oh I realize
It's hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside you
Can make you feel so small

But I see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow

Show me a smile then,
Don't be unhappy, can't remember
When I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I'll be there

And I'll see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow

This morning, I logged onto CNN's website and saw the following article (which I'm sure is probably headline news on CNN's cable channels as well):

Church of Christ Pastor Slain

The following passage from the article, in particular, caught my eye:

"They were a nice family," said former Mayor Jimmy Whittington, who said he worked with the minister collecting donations for hurricane victims last year. "They just blended in."

Ash said he never saw any conflict in the family.

"He seemed like he was real happy here, and we were happy with him," Ash said. "He preached the Bible. He didn't make his opinions known on what was popular or what was politically right. He just preached the Bible."

"Hmm," I said to myself. "Isn't this the same denomination that espouses strict female submission in the home?"

I remembered a story a friend of mine told me recently about going to a local Church of Christ congregation in Fort Worth. She said that she was not even allowed to pray in the Sunday School class she attended--instead, a young man sitting next to her was asked to pray for her. She described the experience to me as a very humiliating and shocking ordeal, and said she never attended that church again.

Given what she said and what others have said to me about the Church of Christ, I wanted to find out for myself what their doctrine regarding women was--so I looked up their directory of doctrinal beliefs (see link below):

Common Church of Christ Stances on Women

As you can see on opening this directory, three of the six sermons listed concern only the role of women as mothers. There is no mention of women having jobs or careers outside of the home, as if the possibility of a woman serving as a professional, an artist, or in any other capacity unrelated to the terms "wife" and "mother" is beyond the denominational leadership's imagination.

The following quotation, from the sermon "The Priceless Woman," is instructive:

The subjective, submissive role of women in the home and church has never lent itself to public accolades or front-page recognition. It is unfortunate that we forget the many references Paul makes to our equality of value in Christ where "there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus" (Gal. 3:28).

The very nature of a woman's glory is in her quiet spirit, so that their husbands "may without the word be won by the conversation of the wives; While they behold her chaste conversation coupled with fear" (1 Peter 3:1-2).

Notice the terms "subjective, submissive role" and "quiet spirit"--they are very important here. The Church of Christ ascribes to the notion, derived from a passage out of Paul's first letter to the Corinthians, that women are not allowed to speak in the church. This means that women cannot speak in congregational assemblies, and cannot counter or challenge their (male) preachers, husbands, or fathers when it comes to matters of spiritual importance. Thus, the words "quiet" and "submissive" (which appear several times in this particular text) are key to a complete and accurate understanding of long-held Church of Christ beliefs.

The April 4, 2005 sermon entitled (predictably) "Genesis 3:20-21" contains the following "disclaimer":

Before this time the woman was simply "ishah" (woman), but now she is given a name by her husband. We should consider that she was not given a name with which to remember her folly in the Garden, or a name to remind her of the sentence she was under (the pain in childbearing and the subjection to her husband), rather she was given a name corresponding to her honorable position as mother of all living. It seems to me to be a queenly name. From the beginning a man's wife was to be cherished and not demeaned or bought and sold like cattle as was done in the ancient world and is so often done to this very day.

The preacher of this sermon fails to take into consideration that not only was this passage written by people who assumed that women were property (to be bought or sold like cattle), but the preacher himself, in effect, is doing the very same thing by restricting the woman's place and function in this world only to that of parent and womb. It is a classic rhetorical move, dating back centuries and even millennia (after all, why would someone who exploits others admit to it?).

However, the Church of Christ makes it clear in their doctrinal stance (as represented in the above sermons) that they do not view women as self-sufficient individuals with their own dreams, desires, and spiritualities. Instead, the signficance of women, in their eyes, seems to be directly proportional to their ability to serve as wombs, as housekeepers, and as guardians and caretakers. This is, on its face, an unbelievably oppressive point of view, to the point of spiritual and emotional abuse. It is not surprising, therefore, that a woman married to a pastor in that denomination would find an extreme measure acceptable in securing her release from a life of constant fear, torment, and frustrated desires and ambitions.

I know, I'm supposed to be at sympathy with the pastor and not with the woman suspected of killing him, but really . . . think about it with me for a moment, will you? A woman does not suddenly (overnight) go from being a nice, quiet, dutiful housewife to shooting her husband in the back, taking his kids, and driving 400 miles before being discovered by state police without some prior antecedent--it simply does not happen. There had to be something deeply disturbing in her family life, or in her church life, to prompt a woman whose reputation was so spotless to commit a crime so bizarre and so brutal in its exercise. There had to be a major degree of emotional, spiritual, and perhaps physical abuse for her to even think of doing something like that--and remember, she did take the kids with her, rather than abandoning them.

Perhaps it was the strict religious atmosphere in which she had lived, breathed, and slept for so long--perhaps it was something more.

At the very least, however, I think that her church environment, given its beliefs and stances regarding women, did not serve to alleviate whwtever was going on.

Today, I took a new step in my journey toward spiritual freedom.

A couple of weeks ago, I experienced a torturous ten or fifteen minutes of personal recrimination, and good old-fashioned white anglo-saxon protestant guilt, when I saw a stack of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit magazines at a local Barnes and Noble. As I mentioned in an earlier blog, I literally walked out, then in, then out of the store before I decided not to buy one.

Ladies and gentlemen . . . this is not freedom. This is hell.

Do I recommend that every man pick up a Playboy at the nearest local store (or at least the nearest store that sells Playboys)?

Of course not. After all, our society has become so ridiculously repressed when it comes to sexuality, so hopelessly double-minded about what is, ultimately, one of the human race's most basic and natural activities, that I fear a lot of men would, on seeing a magazine containing nude and sensual photos of women, allow themselves to lose all sense of control and proportion--and become victims of a kind of sexual "binge and purge" cycle that, one begun, would be incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to stop.

(I speak from personal experience in this regard, as someone who has viewed a variety of XXX-rated and other overtly sexual products, including Playboy. Having an unhealthy attitude about my own sexuality going into this experience caused a horrifying degree of emotional (and spiritual) self-torture and self-hatred that I am still, to some extent, recovering from.)

However, if a man has a healthy attitude toward his own body, and has (as most men do) an interest in women, I don't see the harm if he chooses to pick up an issue of Playboy (or even a copy of Playboy's "No Boys Allowed" :)) if he so wishes.

It isn't a matter of what is viewed. It is a matter of how a potential buyer feels about himself and his innermost sexual drives and desires. Are they something he celebrates as a normal, everyday part of life--or are they, in his mind, associated with evil, and pain?

My friend, it is a terrible thing to go through life hating yourself . . . especially an important, essential aspect of yourself. Believe me, I know--I've been there. And if you, as I once did, think of Jesus as someone who, in the name of "freedom," wishes you to repress the most basic, defining elements of who you are, then you have a very twisted view of the faith you have adopted.

Freedom is simply that--freedom. The freedom to be yourself, the freedom to allow yourself to experience the things you were designed to experience as a man, woman, or transgender . . . these are things I believe essential to a pure, and healthy, understanding of the freedom that Jesus offers each of us. Perhaps this sounds heretical or even self-serving to you, perhaps you have never heard a Christian say anything like this before, or perhaps, like me, you always knew, in your heart, that there was something more to spiritual freedom than what conservative Christianity had to offer.

However hard this statement may be for you to accept . . . it is still true.



I went to the same store today, meandering through the bookshelves and the magazine racks, as I had done many weeks before--not intending to buy anything. I saw the Sports Illustrated--Swimsuit Edition display, its stack of magazines virtually unchanged from when I had seen them a couple of weeks before. After thinking about it, for a total of 2 or 3 minutes (and not going in and out of the store this time :)), I decided to pick up a copy. I strolled up to the counter, magazine in hand, smiled at the cashier, and bantered with her as I would during any normal purchase--it was, in fact, one of the friendliest exchanges I have had with a Barnes and Noble employee. I walked out of the store, bag in hand, and made my way to the downtown Fort Worth bus station.

I sat on the back of the bus, where I normally would sit, on my way to TCU--and spent the majority of the ride reading the Swimsuit Edition, right out in the open, as I would any other magazine or book.

I am happy to report that the sky did not fall, and I did not become a raging hormonal lunatic damned to attack any aspect of visualized nudity and sexuality he encounters. There was no "slippery slope," and I did not suddenly feel the fires of hell burning in my belly.

I simply enjoyed the magazine, leafed through its pictures, and admired the beauty I saw in them--and as hard as it may be for some readers to believe, I didn't even have the urge to masturbate. (Yes, I know some of you out there think overtly sexual material, by necessity, prompts masturbation . . . jeez, people, really--can we all at least pretend we're older than 14, please?)

Does God approve of what I did? Well, I don't know, but I can say this: whether he does or not, it is an issue between him and me.

Spiritual freedom, like political, social, or economic freedom, entails more than anything else the ability to make one's own decisions. If we cannot allow ourselves--and allow others--this freedom, then we are, I fear, worse than liars. We are, as Jesus said of the Pharisees, a people who neither allow ourselves to enter the kingdom of God, nor allow others the chance to see it for themselves.

I was on my way to TCU and waiting by a bus stop (as usual) when something hit me. I had always been bothered by the name of God from the book of Exodus--"I am". (I mean let's face it--"I am" is one hell of an odd way to present yourself to someone you created, especially if you want him to be your acolyte. :))

In the years since I became a Christian, I've heard two overlapping explanations for God's use of "I am" as the name by which he apparently wants the human race to recognize him:

1. God wanted to establish himself as a person who exists (as opposed to a force or impersonal entity).

I understand why a lot of conservative Christians might believe that--after all, it does serve the conservative Christian movement's fundamental goal of distinguishing itself from other religions and other points of view about the nature of the universe--but ultimately . . . this reasoning is bullshit.

Assuming that the Exodus story was a literal event, neither Moses, nor the Hebrew slaves, nor the people he met in Midian, nor the Egyptian rulers and slave masters themselves would have been able to conceive of a supreme force (or energy) that was not a personal deity. The prevailing religions in Egypt were polytheism and emperor worship--and any Hebrew (slave or free) who did not subscribe to these religions had the ancestral stories of his tribe. None of these faith/belief systems challenged the concept of a personal deity, and I find it unlikely that any of the principles involved in the Exodus--either Hebrew or Egyptian--would have been able to imagine a universe without a personal creator.

Assuming, as I think we can, that the Exodus story was an oral tradition handed down through the centuries and finally written down during the years of Israel's exile in Babylon (or afterward), I think we can safely say that a similar situation existed. The religious environment of the time of the Babylonian exile and the Persian rule offered the same choices--monotheism and polytheism. While Persia and Greece doubtless introduced descendants of the Israeli exile to belief systems comprising agnosticism, pantheism, and Zoroastrianism, the monotheistic traditions (and oral histories) of the time would not have allowed for the acceptance of a divinity without personality or being.

In short . . . this line of reasoning is rooted more in the struggle of 21st century conservative Christianity to maintain its identity in a pluralistic world than in historic and textual fact.

2. God's use of "I am" as a name was intended to establish his superiority over the people who worshipped him.

I can summarize my response to this claim in one word:

Why?

Think about it for a moment. "God". Does that not, in itself, symbolize a degree of superiority?

Prior to this name-change, God (or at least the God of the ancient Hebrews) was simply known as "Elohim" or "God". (Well, actually "Elohim" is literally "Gods" (plural), but we'll talk about that in a later post.:))

So why the hell would "God" need to call himself "I am" in order to prove his superiority? (It certainly seems like a rather ridiculous way to go about it, in my opinion.)



Today, however, as I was waiting for the bus, a third possibility occurred to me:

What if "I am" was a way of reminding the Hebrews of the importance of recognizing and cherishing their identity as a self-sufficient, free people?

Think about it. "I am." It's the most profound (and defiant) statement of the human existence. I am. I exist. I was here. Regardless of what anyone does to me, they cannot erase my existence . . . even if they were to erase the memory of my existence. That I am remembered is not nearly as important as the fact that

I

was

here

at

all.

To have breathed, to have taken space, in a world where people are often ignored, terrorized, or shunned, is the most basic claim that, ultimately, each and every one of us can make--and often, many of us fail to recognize the profound importance of this simple fact. Regardless of what anyone else does to us . . . we are here. Regardless of how we are characterized by others . . . we are here.

Sometimes, to merely exist is, in a small way, an act of defiance--and a sign of freedom.

Perhaps this is what "I am" of Exodus meant to convey to the ancient Israeli people, in a way they would be sure to remember.

Or perhaps (as with many other things) he was simply misquoted.

Imagine

Imagine there's no heaven,
It's easy if you try,
No hell below us,
Above us only sky,
Imagine all the people
living for today...

Imagine there's no countries,
It isnt hard to do,
Nothing to kill or die for,
No religion too,
Imagine all the people
living life in peace...

Imagine no possesions,
I wonder if you can,
No need for greed or hunger,
A brotherhood of man,
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say Im a dreamer,
but Im not the only one,
I hope some day you'll join us,
And the world will live as one.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Writen by: John Lennon
© Bag productions inc.

As of today, I said good-bye to a Christian radio station I had been listening to (off and on) for two years--KCBI, 90.9 FM on the Dallas-Fort Worth radio dial.

Why did I say good-bye?

Well, I'm glad you asked. :)

My odyssey with Christian radio began approximately 6 years ago, shortly after I became a Christian. I was under the impression that Christian radio was good and holy, and that any believer should be listening to other believers on the radio for encouragement and support in his/her beliefs, so I tuned in to a station that played some fairly energetic music (and featured charismatic preaching) called KVTT (91.7 FM on the Dallas-Fort Worth radio dial). Now, as anyone with any semblance of common sense knows, Christian radio is probably one of the last places any believer should go for encouragement--or anything else, for that matter--but I was young, stupid, and new to the precepts of a faith that I had shunned for most of my adolescent and adult life.

KVTT is, to put it bluntly, one of the weirdest radio stations in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. It did, and still does, feature quality Christian praise music from churches around the world, but as I'm sure most listeners are well aware, it also hosts a variety of shows from "faith" preachers, conservative Christian evangelicals, and a man who not only declares that we are about to lose a third of the human race (based on the second half of Revelation 9) but who also (if you do some digging) subscribes to a movement called Oneness Pentecostalism, which has some very strange ideas about the Trinity. (In short, he's a nut.)

I stopped listening to this station after two or three years, shortly after I stopped watching TBN (please, if you watch TBN . . . you and I need to have a conversation about the magic of creating an on-air personality :)). The next logical choice was its major competitor, KCBI--a station I had discovered some months before I switched (and found to be quite heavily focused on the Bible, which I figured was a good thing).

As any radio listener from Dallas-Fort Worth can attest, KCBI approaches the Bible and Christianity from a decidedly Southern Baptist stance, while KVTT approaches . . . well, let's just say KVTT has a rather un-Southern Baptist view of things and leave it at that. :)

Over the past several months, as I've gotten tired of conservative Christianity's nonsensical behavior, I have also gotten tired of the platitudes, pontifications, and well-intentioned "warnings" from the ministers featured on KCBI (one of whom I described in an earlier post--and who has once again demonstrated his ignorance of what God's point really is in his radio shows this week). I got tired of Beth Moore's constant attempt to be a Christian version of Oprah Winfrey. I got tired of the bland-ness of the music the station was playing. And I got tired of one of the morning DJ's playing amateur evangelist and saying ridiculous things like "You know what, you can talk to God too" after every song (jeez, just DJ already, will you?).

After fuming over "that idiot"'s sermonizing on the air for the umpteenth time this morning, I decided that if I wanted to leave my apartment complex without killing someone, I'd better switch to another station as soon as possible. So I switched to a station I've listened to off-and-on for a year (and have enjoyed)--89.7 FM, the Christian Rock Station, as they call themselves. These guys do what a normal radio DJ crew does, play songs, play commercials and PSA's, and keep their p.o.v.'s off the air as much as possible. It's the first Christian station I've listened to that actually acts like a Christian radio station (instead of a Christian preacher's tape repository).

They play mostly heavy metal music (which is an added plus)--and even though some of it is shockingly bad (a lot of Christian heavy metal musicians are still getting their feet wet in the music genre, apparently), it still beats the nonsense I had been listening to courtesy of KCBI. Also, its DJ's seem to be much more willing to talk about the real, day-to-day stuff that happens in their lives (including sex, arguments between husband and wife on the way to work, and problems at the office), as opposed to offering up a G-rated version of things that make their lives colorful.

So I have to ask myself . . . why can't Christians be content to run a kick-ass music station with quality DJ's?

And for that matter . . . why can't Christian DJ's be content to be themselves--even if it means swearing, talking about sex, or even having a beer or two?

Maybe that will have to be on my agenda of things to support and promote, huh? :)

I just found out my bio has almost 300 hits (and as of today, this website is barely a month old).

Ah, popularity . . . :)

A friend of mine sent me news of an article that came out of TCU's student newspaper, the Daily Skiff, two weeks ago about Christian Nudism. (They can call it Naturism if they want, but I say "the hell with splitting hairs!")

It has the distinction of being one of the best articles I have seen in that particular newspaper--and no, it's not because I agree with the content (I often find that a bad article in support of a good cause is far more irritating than a bad article that expresses faulty ideas).

Clothing Restrictive: Society Should Accept Nonsensual Nudity

Chrustian nudists, unite! You have nothing to lose but your conformity!

The link below is an article I found online that contains, in my view, one of the sensible p.o.v.'s about the collision between Christianity and sex that I have ever seen:

Sex

In fact, I recommend that anyone suffering from a bout of right-wing religion check out this useful web site! (See links for more information.)

I collect these song lyrics whenever I'm not posting, not because I want to put something into my blog as filler (God help us all) but because I think these songs, and others like them, make a point about me and where I am most of the time--and I suspect they touch a similar chord for you, as a reader.

Let me be honest--I am a person looking for love, as I'm sure you are. I'm not talking about a "happy, feel-good" kind of love, the kind of love one often hears associated with God or with Christian charity (or Hollywood). I'm talking about real, deep, honest, in-your-face, up-close-and-personal love, the kind of interpersonal compassion, care, and trust that most of us wish we could have in our closest relationships.

I'll give you an example of what I'm talking about . . .

Over the past 6 years, I have had the privilege (and the hell) of being close friends with someone I met at Texas Christian University shortly after I moved to Fort Worth. I met her by accident, actually. Her roomate and I were dating at the time, and one afternoon, she happened to be home when we were there.

She introduced herself, showed me and my girlfriend some paintings she was working on, and played the guitar for a little while. Immediately what caught my eye was the rather obvious resemblance between the way she presented herself, and an emotional self-portrait she showed me that depicted her as a woman with bruises, scars, and no smile. It seemed as if she was desperate for someone to like her--but more than that, it seemed as if there were an old soul inside of her that had too much depth and intensity to allow itself not to be liked.

I became friends with her shortly afterward, and six years later, we are still friends.

It hasn't been an easy friendship. We've baited, hated, and tried to destroy each other more than once, and for a year, I even stopped speaking to her. We know exactly what buttons to push to get each other mad or irritated--or simply to get under each other's skin. She's called me "hypocrite", "preachy", and "judgmental" more than once. I've called her "manipulative", "psychotic", and "my personal district attorney" . . . among a few other things I'd rather not mention. :)

Several times, I've told myself, "This woman is your worst enemy. Get away from her as quickly as you can, and don't look back." And several times, I've stopped speaking to her, never meaning to start again.

And yet . . . God help us both . . . we still care about each other.

So we've reconciled, and reconciled, and reconciled, and finally (thank God) decided to work on some of the root issues that have plagued our friendship for 3 years. And in my memory now, all of our fights have somehow become enjoyable things.



I know, you're probably saying to yourself, "He's stupid," and maybe you're right. Maybe it is stupid to love someone regardless of how often she agrees with you, or how well she cooperates with you when you need something, or how often you've been hurt and disrespected. Maybe it's stupid to regard someone as your close personal friend even though she's a (royal) pain in the ass sometimes.

Then again . . . isn't that what I want?

I want someone to love me in spite of myself, to love me no matter what kind of stupidity I engage in--to care about me when no one else does. Let's face it--isn't that what each and every one of us, deep inside, hungers and thirsts for? Don't we all, at some level, want a relationship with someone who can (and will) hold us, stroke our hair, and tell us we're all right (even when we're not)?

I guess what I'm saying in this blog entry is that today, as I look back on relationships that have been of deepest importance to me, I'm starting to realize that there is a certain degree of bondage in love, a degree of "what the hell is this?" or "how the hell did I get myself into this situation?" that implies panic and horror more than it does pleasure and happiness.

I suppose that's why it tends to be frowned upon by a lot of people--because it doesn't respect personal or relational boundaries, and because once we allow ourselves to experience it . . .

we

cannot

escape.



Personally, I'm starting to think this whole "love" thing is a real drag. It asks way too much of me, and it seems to cause more pain than it actually prevents.

Damn if I can do anything about it, though . . .

I Want To Know What Love Is
Foreigner

Gotta take a little time
A little time to think things over
I better read between the lines
In case I need it when I'm older

This mountain I must climb
Feels like a world upon my shoulders
Through the clouds I see love shine
It keeps me warm as life grows colder

In my life there's been heartache and pain
I don't know if I can face it again
Can't stop now, I've traveled too far
To change this lonely life

Chorus
I want to know what love is
I want you to show me
I want to feel what love is
I know you can show me

I'm gonna take a little time
A little time to look around me
I've got nowhere left to hide
It looks like love has finally found me

In my life there's been heartache and pain
I don't know if I can face it again
I can't stop now, I've traveled too far
To change this lonely life

Chorus

Amanda
Boston

Babe tomorrow's so far away
There's somethin' I just have to say
I don't think I could hide
What I'm feelin' inside another day
Knowin' I love you

And I I'm getting too close again
I don't wanna see it end
If I tell you tonight
Will you turn out the light and walk away
Knowin' I love you


CHORUS
I'm gonna take you by surprise
And make you realize Amanda
I'm gonna tell you right away
I can't wait another day Amanda
I'm gonna say it like a man
And make you understand Amanda
I love you


And I feel like today's the day
I'm lookin' for the words to say
Do you wanna be free are you ready for me
To feel this way
I don't wanna lose ya


So it may be too soon I know
The feelin' takes so long to grow
If I tell you today
Will you turn me away
And let me go
I don't wanna lose you


REPEAT CHORUS


You and I I know that we can't wait
And I swear I swear it's not a lie girl
Tomorrow may be too late
You you and I girl we can share a life together
It's now or never
And tomorrow may be too late


And feelin' the way I do
I don't wanna wait my whole life through
To say I'm in love with you

Self-hate.

It's the one thing religion is good at fostering.

We hate ourselves because we're not tall enough, because we're not smart enough, because we made a mistake a long time ago with life-changing consequences--and we hate ourselves because we have trouble measuring up to the dictates of our religious elites.

Yesterday I took a walking tour of Dallas, and one of my main points of interest was a place called Deep Ellum. For those of you not from Dallas, Deep Ellum is the place where most of the club scene in DFW is located (though there are quite a few clubs in Fort Worth as well). It is located some miles away from downtown Dallas, on the other side of a major Dallas County freeway in fact, and it is obvious that the community does not exactly thrive during the day. Approximately half the buildings I saw had "For Lease" or "For Rent" signs on them, and the other half looked deserted. I saw very few people around--only the occasional wandering tourist or some Dallas resident looking out of place in the environment of artistry, alternative lifestyles, and the macabre offered in what very justifiably can be said to be the heart of DFW nightlife.

There's a point to this observation . . . :)

Over the past semester or so, since I've started working at night, I've found out a lot about the DFW club scene, particularly from the cabbies I have talked to. I've heard stories of TCU students (usually women) hitching cabs home after drinking themselves into a state of complete inebriation. I've heard stories of women propositioning cab drivers, I've heard stories of cab passengers masturbating in the backseat of the car while talking to their sweethearts, and I've heard that most of this "wild" action occurs between the hours of 2 and 4am.

This is a far cry from the Fort Worth/TCU scene I'm used to seeing during the daytime. Sure, there are the usual groups of students who smoke, drink, and cuss (all of which are no-no's in the so-called "buckle of the Bible Belt"), but I've never seen so much as one nudist, or swinger, or pothead here during the day.

Most people seem very strait-laced, in fact. I've often wondered to myself what people do for fun in this town besides eat, do karaoke, and go to the movies (all of which I could do in my hometown, which is considerably smaller than Fort Worth). And go to church.

And this is my point. Fort Worth is a place where, for the most part, people do not seem to feel free to be themselves. The fact that some of them are willing to go to the extreme of escaping their city and their communities for an entire night to do so indicates the extent to which Fort Worth, and particularly its church establishment, have brutalized the general populace.

Personally, I do not see calling people to a greater level of responsibility and self-respect a bad thing, nor do I believe it is ill-advised to tell someone that his/her habits, fascinations, and obsessions are self-destructive. For example, I applaud anyone who would tell a man, upon finding out that he regularly beat his wife, that his actions are sinful, or who would confront a friend who was an alcoholic with the fact that he/she needed to get off the booze and get sober before something bad happened. These are very laudable activities, and I certainly would approve of anyone standing up not only for his/her beliefs, but also for the well-being of others.

However, as I have become well aware during the past few years, there are people out there who view doing anything outside the Christian subculture to be a sin and an offense against God--and worse, there are people who, for whatever reason, are willing to use God (and their knowledge of the Bible) to control others, either for financial gain or for other, more sinister, reasons. Even worse, there is a subculture of Christians who came out of "colorful" or "alternative" lifestyles, are ashamed of the memories they have of what they were before becoming Christians, and who, in a desperate attempt to wipe away the stain of those memories, not only repress themselves to the point of exasperation, but ask others to do the same (presumably out of loyalty to them, or to God).

Self-hate.

That's what Christianity (or the Christianity I have become so familiar with in the Bible Belt) specializes in.

And yet the Christ on whom the Christians rely so often for their strictures, their warnings, and their sermons . . . was so much kinder in his outlook toward people--and toward colorful, alternative people in particular.

I guess that's the difference a thousand years or two makes . . .

MICHAEL JACKSON

"Heal The World"

There's A Place In
Your Heart
And I Know That It Is Love
And This Place Could
Be Much
Brighter Than Tomorrow
And If You Really Try
You'll Find There's No Need
To Cry
In This Place You'll Feel
There's No Hurt Or Sorrow

There Are Ways
To Get There
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Little Space
Make A Better Place...

Heal The World
Make It A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Entire Human Race
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me

If You Want To Know Why
There's A Love That
Cannot Lie
Love Is Strong
It Only Cares For
Joyful Giving
If We Try
We Shall See
In This Bliss
We Cannot Feel
Fear Or Dread
We Stop Existing And
Start Living

Then It Feels That Always
Love's Enough For
Us Growing
So Make A Better World
Make A Better World...

Heal The World
Make It A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Entire Human Race
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me

And The Dream We Were
Conceived In
Will Reveal A Joyful Face
And The World We
Once Believed In
Will Shine Again In Grace
Then Why Do We Keep
Strangling Life
Wound This Earth
Crucify Its Soul
Though It's Plain To See
This World Is Heavenly
Be God's Glow

We Could Fly So High
Let Our Spirits Never Die
In My Heart
I Feel You Are All
My Brothers
Create A World With
No Fear
Together We'll Cry
Happy Tears
See The Nations Turn
Their Swords
Into Plowshares

We Could Really Get There
If You Cared Enough
For The Living
Make A Little Space
To Make A Better Place...

Heal The World
Make It A Better Place
For You And For Me
And The Entire Human Race
There Are People Dying
If You Care Enough
For The Living
Make A Better Place
For You And For Me

(repeat chorus)

Last night as I was listening to Christian radio (usually my first mistake), I happened upon a sermon by John McArthur entitled "The Sinfulness of Sin." Its aim was, in the speaker's p.o.v., to remind listeners that without an adequate understanding of sin and its just punishment, no one can fully understand grace. Its text (and some of you will doubtless sigh along with me here) was Jesus' discourse on fulfilling the law and the subsequent discourse on murder/hate, adultery/lust, divorce/adultery, oaths/truth, vengeance/love for enemies from Matthew 5, verses 17-48.

At this point, I would like to say that when it comes to 'fessing up to the truth of who you are and who you've been, I think that recognizing one's sins for what they are (and not making excuses for them) is a key part of growing up and acting like an adult (to say nothing of being a Christian), so I don't have a problem with a preacher who wants to talk about the power and deadliness of sin in people's lives.

However, this particular speaker was, from what I heard, operating on two very shaky assumptions: (1) that people who sin don't know the destructiveness of their sin, and (2) that God's grace is something people can mistake for a "get out of jail free" card that allows them to do whatever they want.

I've met a lot of colorful people in my life (thus far), and I have yet to meet one alcoholic, drug addict, or [insert name of sin here] who does not face, with every waking moment, the devastating reality--and consequences, potential and present--of his/her behavior. As a matter of fact, I have yet to meet one person in general, outside of Christianity, who doesn't know, intimately, what sin is and how it can destroy them. Not everyone may agree with the Christian way of dealing with sin (in fact, most people around the world don't), but they know that (1) it exists and (2) it is lethal--spiritually and emotionally, if not physically.

It is because of this intimate understanding of sin's destructiveness that I doubt if I will find anyone who, upon accepting the grace of God, would hesitate to consider it a tremendous gift--and lease--on life, worthy of a complete spiritual and emotional change on their part. I have yet to meet anyone outside of Christianity who would look upon this grace with disdain or as a license to do whatever they want or as a simple "get out of jail free" card. Most people outside Christendom would welcome the intervention of a God who gives them the kind of purpose and drive to prompt them to make positive changes in their lives--though, again, they might not agree with a Christian about what god, or gods, or divine force that should be, or what process they should take in reconciling themselves to him/her/it/them.

Be that as it may, I listened, grudgingly, to the radio preacher's sermon.

He began to lose me at the point where, when he was describing Jesus' trek through different sins (and standards for evaluating sin), he said that Jesus juxtaposed fornication to lust. (Of course, anyone who has read that scripture knows that it is not talking about fornication but adultery, which is not necessarily the same thing.) It's a typical mistake, and I hear conservative preachers make it all the time, so I was more irritated than anything else. :)

Where I began (literally) arguing with the radio, however, was when McArthur began saying that in the Beatitudes (Matthew 5, verses 3-10), Jesus started off talking about God's grace, and then, in Matthew 5, verses 17-48, switched over to talking about God's law and standard for judging sin. Immediately in my mind's eye, I saw some poor, barely churched Christian sitting in the pew and saying "amen" to something that could cause his/her own personal spiritual and emotional self-destruction.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you know someone who is an aspiring Bible college/seminary student, would you share this little bit of advice with them?

Please . . . for the love of God . . . do not go around saying things that make Jesus (or God) look like a dithering schoolmarm who can't make up his mind. The statement I mentioned above (which I quoted almost verbatim) is exactly the kind of statement from the pulpits of America that prompts people to come to the conclusion that the Bible is a patchwork collection of texts put together by madmen.

Worse than McArthur's implication that Jesus was not able to speak on a coherent topic was the fact that, like many preachers, McArthur apparently missed the point of Matthew 5, which is (as the rest of the Sermon on the Mount was) a withering deconstruction of the religious caste system and its use of spiritual and emotional terror to keep the masses in line. I imagine Christ, standing at the Mount of Olives, speaking to the masses, and looking at the Pharisees and religious leaders who were there every time he said "But I say to you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart" or "But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment" or "But I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife, except for marital unfaithfulness, causes her to become an adulteress".

You see, it is the principle tendency of religious elites to think of everyone else as their personal property, and Jesus was going after the ways in which the religious elites of first century Judaea treated the people of Judaea as their personal property, while telling everyone else (on pain of ostracization and eternal damnation) that they needed to follow their codes to the strictest letter. Grace, in short, was at the heart of what Jesus was saying in Matthew 5--it is the sum and substance of what Jesus was trying to introduce to people on the Mount of Olives.

The problem with most church-types like McArthur (and I've heard quite a few of his sermons) is that they don't get what it's like to be outside the full-time ministry, let alone what it's like not to be a Christian. On top of that, whenever you're dealing with someone who has a tape ministry, like McArthur, you have to wonder if his enthusiasm for what he is saying is driven by a real desire to come closer to God . . . or a desire to divest believers of time and money on his way to producing a TV show.

Personally, I'd rather that preachers spend a little more time focusing on the health and well-being of their churches (which is usually poor) than trying to put their faces on a wide array of collectible merchandise. Not only would half the church's credibility problems be solved . . . but I suspect that we'd probably hear better preaching. :)

Something To Believe In
Poison
(Flesh & Blood)

Will I see him on the TV
Preachin' 'bout the promised land
He tells me to believe in Jesus
And steals the money from my hand

Some say he was a good man
But Lord I think he sinned, yeah

Twenty-two years of mental tears
Cries a suicidal Vietnam vet
Who fought a losing war on a foreign shore
To find his country didn't want him back

Their bullets took his best friend in Saigon
Our lawyers took his wife and kids, no regrets
In a time I don't remember
In a war he can't forget

He cried "Forgive me for what I've done there
Cause I never meant the things I did"

Chorus:
And give me something to believe in
If there's a Lord above
And give me something to believe in
Oh, Lord arise

My best friend died a lonely man
In some Palm Springs hotel room
I got the call last Christmas Eve
And they told me the news

I tried all night not to break down and cry
As the tears rolled down my face
I felt so cold and empty
Like a lost soul out of place

And the mirror, mirror on the wall
Sees my smile it fades again

Chorus

Sometimes I wish to God I didn't know now
The things I didn't know then
Road you gotta take me home

Solo

I drive by the homeless sleeping on a cold dark street
Like bodies in an open grave
Underneath the broken old neon sign
That used to read JESUS SAVES

A mile away live the rich folks
And I see how they're living it up
While the poor they eat from hand to mouth
The rich is drinkin' from a golden cup

And it just makes me wonder
Why so many lose, so few win

Chorus

You take the high road
And I'll take the low road

Sometimes I wish to God I didn't know now
The things I didn't know then

And give me something to believe in

I mentioned in my previous post that I spent a majority of my adolescence pursuing an avid interest in the occult. My interest in things dark and gloomy began fairly early in life, through my reading of a mystery novel series that combined elements of sleuthing with the dark, the sadistic, and the macabre. One of my favorite scenes from one of these novels, and one I remember in vivid detail to this day, was one in which, as three boys (who serve as the amateur crime-solvers in these novels) are tracing evidence in a mystery, they bed down in a tent for the night. Suddenly, one of the boys (the one most likely to panic, of course) wakes up to discover a skull grinning next to his face.

I cannot recall a time when I wasn't interested in the darker aspects of the human existence, particularly the darker aspects of the supernatural. From my first exposure to horror films, I was mesmerized by the genre--fascinated by the irrational places of the human psyche that it touched. And of course, with this interest--and an accompanying suspicion of religion or belief touted as "correct", came a corresponding interest in things labeled "of the devil".

My fascination with the dark coalesced into a fully fledged captivation with mysticism, the occult, and Satanism during my teenage years. I made deals with Satan, I put myself under Satan's guardianship, and I evangelized other teenagers at my high school for Satan. I would have these regular private mystical sessions when my parents were away from home, when I would turn up the radio, play metal music as loud as I could, and zone out into the supernatural.

I had a few demonic friends. One of them was a majestic dark-haired "queen of the night" who eventually enveloped my every waking thought--the other one was her brother. My relationship with this "woman" was quite unique--she and I had a love affair, and during this time, became bonded to each other in matrimony as dominatrix and dominated. Her brother taught me things about the underworld, and how the cosmic history of the universe was a contest between two halves of a reality that had been split in two (between "good" and "evil") a long time before human beings became aware of their history.

Eventually, though, I got tired of the Satanist thing--it didn't seem to be leading me anywhere except the same place I had always occupied--and though my demonic friends weren't exactly happy with my leaving them and moving on . . . I did.

Now, you the reader may ask, "Why are you writing about this in a Christian blog?"

For starters, it was something I needed to explain, as it was mentioned in my last post. :)

Also . . . I think too many Christians, particularly Christians who have become believers in Christ after "walking on the wild side", are too afraid to deal with the dark side of the soul, and with the dark side of their memories. Processing the past, in all its dark and gruesome qualities, is part of learning to maturely handle the present and future . . . and someone who is out of sorts with himself all the time is not a very convincing testimony of God's power to do anything.

There is a reason why people see Christians as "pseudo-happy" or "fake" or "hypocritical"--and it is because in many cases, that is what people who go by the name "Christian" are. People who run away from their pasts, people who are afraid to come out and play with the darker side of life, people who can't deal with reality . . . this is what turns non-Christians off about Christianity and its adherents.

Personally, I don't believe in adopting a "binge and purge" perspective toward life--or any aspect of life. It used to be my attitude toward sexuality--I was a deviant if I did ____ and I needed to come before God on my knees and repent in dust and ashes if I wanted to appease him. This attitude, I believe, more than anything else, is what has hampered me from constructing a view of myself, my body, and my sexuality that is mature, responsible, and healthy. It also, by the way, will lead to the kind of nonsensical "commandments" that often come out of the church, such as that anything beyond holding hands when dating constitutes a sin (or that dating itself is a sin).

Please . . . let's not forget, ladies and gentlemen, that becoming a Christian does not excuse one from the responsibility of also being an adult. If we cannot handle "off color" conversations on "off color" topics without yelling and screaming at each other, then I seriously doubt our Christianity, or our adulthood.

Yesterday, I was thinking about an incident that took place when I was a teenager--when I was a sophomore in high school, if memory serves. I was thinking about it because (1) it encapsulates in one vignette everything I have ever come to associate with religion and sexuality (for better or worse :)) and (2) it constitutes one of the formative experiences I had as a teenager with women and with sexuality.

I was 15, if I recall, and church for me was one of those drudgeries that came with the fact that I still lived with my parents and did not (at that point) have a driver's license. I belonged to a Mennonite denomination, and while our church did not fit the stereotype of the horse and buggy, the plain farm clothes, and the pacifism people usually associate with Mennonites as a result of seeing films like The Witness (btw, The Witness is set within an Amish community, not a Mennonite community, and the Amish certainly do not see themselves as Mennonites), this congregation had all the charm one would expect a rural white congregation with a conservative bent to have. We stood up, sang a few hymns, bowed our heads as the leadership prayed, and sat for 30-45 minutes for a sermon that, in many cases, was utterly forgettable.

At this point in my life, I had begun to develop an avid interest in the occult, as Christianity was proving (in my opinion back then) to be a farcical religion of hypocrites and hateful people without truth and without power. I was rather angry with the world, I was angry with myself, and I was angry at a God who seemed much like the Christians I was around most of the time . . . full of rules, regulations, and "do rights" but not much else. As a result, I tended to drown out whatever was going on during Sunday morning services with my latest ideas for a short story or novel, or the neat new things I was learning about spirituality and mysticism outside the Christian world.

This Sunday morning, however, was different.

I sat in the balcony--my first mistake. I had discovered a few weeks earlier that most of the "cool" teenagers sat in the balcony of the church (largely to talk to each other during the service), so I made my way up the stairs to the balcony, as I had many Sundays before, thinking I was going to get some camaraderie, gossip, or something to make the whole ordeal worthwhile.

I sat down in one of the folding chairs the church staff had placed in the balcony (which did not contain pews), one row in front of several other high school students (some of whom went to my school). As the sermon began, I settled back in my chair for another long snoozer--one of the guys behind me was cavorting with his girlfriend, who was visiting the church for the first time. Around me, there was more small talk, whispered so that people below the balcony couldn't hear the high school students' disregard of the sermon and overall aspects of having to attend church against their will.

At some point--I'm not sure when it was--I felt a foot on my lower back side, pressing against it.

I was irritated. After all, if someone wanted to make himself more comfortable by putting his feet on the chair in front of him, he was welcome to it, as far as I was concerned. Putting a foot on another teenager's back side, however, is a challenge, and one not to be made lightly.

I brushed the foot aside and sat back, occupying my thoughts with the nightmares and exquisitely dark fantasies inside me. :)

That is when it began.

Suddenly I felt a girl's high-heeled shoe pressing against my side. It was a slow, rhythmic motion, and it was not the absent-minded thump of a foot on someone's back. It continued steadily, the foot slowly traveling around my side.

It was at once exploitative and exciting. I felt a rush inside me at the thought of a girl giving me this kind of attention--and a revulsion at the way that my feelings and desires were being toyed with. I heard the laughter of the high school kids behind me as the activity progressed--and I instantly knew that the culprit was the girl who had come along with her boyfriend to my church for the first time.

I was being invaded, violated--and I liked it.

On it continued, through the rest of the sermon, through the benedictory prayer, and through the benediction itself. The laughter continued, the high-heeled foot continued to travel over my thigh, and I continued to feel a unique mixture of shame and pleasure. At the service's end, I stood up, turned, and caught the assailant with my eyes.

I was at a loss then for how to react (what teenager ever isn't at a loss for how to react to anything?), and in an attempt to appear casual and collected, I said to her, "Were you trying to tell me something?"

All I got from her was a blank stare as she edged past me toward the stairs.

It would be unfair of me to categorize this experience as a defining one in my sexual or religious orientation--but it did, I think, serve to reinforce the "truths" I held to be self-evident at the time:

1. No one who says he is Christian really is one.

2. Church is a place of spiritual and emotional violence and manipulation.

3. Women are not to be trusted. Their only goal is to provoke your most sensitive feelings so they can humiliate you in front of others.

To be honest, these are not maxims I have deviated from very significantly over the past 20 years (especially #3). I still find it hard to trust Christians, Christian organizations, and women.

However, things are changing, and with the passing of each new day, it becomes possible for me to envision a time when I trust freely again.

A couple of days ago, I mentioned my longtime interest in supporting, and possibly even coordinating, a Christian nudist colony--as a corrective to some of the nonsensical ideas prevalent in the conservative Christian community about sex, sexuality, and relationships.

Well, after writing that post, I did some digging (via Google) and found that someone has apparently beaten me to the punch. The link below is an article describing the creation of a Christian nudist colony in Florida, set to open sometime this year.

Christian Nudist Colony Opens in Florida

Also, check out my links list for a website containing plenty of helpful resources for the aspiring Christian nudist!

As an aside . . .

For years, I entertained the idea of forming a Christian nudist colony, and still do. I think it would be a wonderful (and perhaps necessary) counterpoint for the prevailing ideolog(ies) within the conservative Christian community, particularly in Fort Worth. Unfortunately, I've never met the person with the clout, the confidence, and (let's face it) the chutzpah to help get it started--or whose head wouldn't explode at the very mention of the idea. :)

I'd certainly be interested in hearing from any blog readers who have the same inclinations, and would gladly support any brave soul willing to engage in such an endeavor. (I wish I had the money to fund such a group myself.)

I had a personal dilemma today while I was in downtown Fort Worth. This is one to which, I suspect, most Christian males can relate to a certain extent, though it is, perhaps, more aggravated for someone who is (and has been) transexual.

I walked into Barnes and Noble downtown, which at that particular location is a two story complex that contains a coffee bar that is restaurant size. This location also has a rather palatial newsstand section with easy chairs, sofas, and coffee tables. I used one of these coffee tables as a resting place for my backpack while I got something out of it, and there before me was a little Sports Illustrated--Swimsuit Edition display filled with copies of SI's annual homage to the male libido.

At this point in the story, the dilemma every conservative Christian male is intimately familiar with rears its ugly head. :)

I was faced with a simple question: Do I pick up a copy, or not?

I think there were very legitimate reasons for me to pick up a copy. After all, I had never owned one before, not because I didn't want to but because the conservative Christian culture in which I grew up strictly associated "Swimsuit Edition buyer" with terms like "pervert" or "un-Christian", so it was potentially a milestone of emotional independence and adulthood for me.

Of course, there were also very legitimate reasons for me not to pick up a copy, not the least of which is the personal recovery program I have been imposing on myself after binging heavily on pornography over the spring, summer, and fall of 2005. As a recovering . . . sex-a-holic :) . . . I was faced with the question, "Is this a step forward or a step back?"

Ultimately, I decided it was a step back. I didn't buy the issue.

However (and this will no doubt be a familiar experience for some Christian male readers), I spent 10 minutes staring at the issue, then pacing around the magazine section, the walking out of the store, then walking back into the store, then walking back out of the store, before resolving finally to stick with my second option (and my instincts).

Three or four years ago, I would have been inclined to believe the nonsense that a charismatic Christian (and my experience has mostly been limited to charismatic and anabaptist circles) would use to explain the event. You know the story--and if you don't, it goes something like this:

"I was tempted by the Devil. He tried to get me to do something neither Jesus nor I wanted to do. I almost gave in, but I beat him in the end. Thus have I proven my spiritual superiority."

This, quite simply . . . is ridiculous. :)

Human beings are, at their core, sexual. They are many other things, of course, but to deny the sexual-ness of the human spirit is, in my opinion, to deny at a basic level who we are. I think part of my transexuality can be traced to this very point--that during my teenage years, because of my conservative religious upbringing, I did not accept the fundamental truth that part of being a man is having an appetite for women.

Personally, I think the truth of the Christian encounter with sexuality (and with displays thereof) is something like this:

"I have a natural attraction to the female body, and I want to express that reaction in a positive way--but because I have not been told that God looks favorably on my sexual appetites, I will instead repress my sexuality, therefore aggravating those urges beyond the point at which I can express them appropriately or non-destructively."

Note that in the above statement, I never said anything about expressing sexual appetite or desire in a way that is threatening, violent, or demeaning to the opposite sex (or to oneself). I also never said anything about allowing Christian males to do whatever the hell they want. We are, after all, a society of laws and of people--and an appropriate respect for both should be a primary consideration in any decision we make (whether or not it has to do with sexuality).

I am simply saying that a healthy attitude toward sexuality, like a healthy attitude toward anything else, involves a willingness to conceive of sexuality as something enjoyable, pleasurable, and fun. (For all their foibles, this is something people outside of Christianity are better at accepting, for the most part, than the supposedly "happy, joyful, and free" Christian community.) It is not a drudgery, or a curse, or a "temptation"--it is simply a biological function that is as natural as breathing, eating, and sleeping.

You see the face on the tv screen
Coming at you every sunday
See that face on the billboard
That man is me

On the cover of the magazine
There’s no question why I’m smiling
You buy a piece of paradise
You buy a piece of me

I’ll get you everything you wanted
I’ll get you everything you need
Don’t need to believe in hereafter
Just believe in me

Cos jesus he knows me
And he knows I’m right
I’ve been talking to jesus all my life
Oh yes he knows me
And he knows I’m right
And he’s been telling me
Everything is alright

I believe in the family
With my ever loving wife beside me
But she don’t know about my girlfriend
Or the man I met last night

Do you believe in god
Cos that’s what I’m selling
And if you wanna get to heaven
I’ll see you right

You won’t even have to leave your house
Or get outta your chair
You don’t even have to touch that dial
Cos I’m everywhere

And jesus he knows me
And he knows I’m right
I’ve been talking to jesus all my life
Oh yes he knows me
And he knows I’m right
Well he’s been telling me
Everything’s gonna be alright

Won’t find me practising what I’m preaching
Won’t find me making no sacrifice
But I can get you a pocketful of miracles
If you promise to be good, try to be nice
God will take good care of you
Just do as I say, don’t do as I do

I’m counting my blessings,
I’ve found true happiness
Cos I’m getting richer, day by day
You can find me in the phone book,
Just call my toll free number
You can do it anyway you want
Just do it right away

There’ll be no doubt in your mind
You’ll believe everything I’m saying
If you wanna get closer to him
Get on your knees and start paying

Cos jesus he knows me
And he knows I’m right
I’ve been talking to jesus all my life
Oh yes he knows me
And he knows I’m right
Well he’s been telling me
Everything’s gonna be alright, alright

Jesus he knows me
Jesus he knows me, you know...

--"Jesus He Knows Me" by Genesis

Since I started off talking about the purpose of this blog, it's only fair of me to share a little of my own personal history with Christianity and with Christians (such as it is) . . . and I think you'll see from reading even this brief outline of my spiritual journey that I am intimately familiar with the term "spiritual violence".

Let me start by sharing something about myself that I have told very few people (in fact only one person) about until now: For a very long time, beginning with my adolescence (and more specifically with a very traumatic event that occurred to me during adolescence), I have struggled with a condition known as Gender Identity Disorder. This means that at a fundamental level, I could not, for many years, conceive of myself as a man. For a long time, it was actually easier for me to see myself as (and pardon the cliche) a woman trapped in a man's body . . . this was a very deep personal (and private) dilemma I struggled with for many years, and I have only recently managed to get a firm grasp on what was going on, thanks to a series of conversations I have had with a dear friend over the past few months.

As anyone in the GLBT community can attest, the overall attitude and pronouncements of conservative Christianity constitute a source of deep emotional and spiritual pain. For a transexual (the T in GLBT) like myself, it is doubly hard to be part of a Christian community because while homosexuality and bisexuality have become fairly accepted in the United States, to be a cross-dresser or to view yourself as a member of the opposite sex is still considered aberrational enough to warrant severe alienation from others. (NOTE: While I have been working on ways to cope with my status as a man, I will always, at some level, consider myself a transexual, and therefore a part of the GLBT community.)

On top of this (to me) normal, everyday tension with Christianity and with church in general, I witnessed a horrible series of internal fights at my parents' church when I was growing up that eventually ended in an even more horrible church split when I was in college. Since that time, I have witnessed the self-destruction of two more churches (one of which I served a leadership role in), the slow dissolution of a campus ministry I was fond of (and participated in) as a result of "moral failures" in its leadership, and a plethora of personal attacks from well-meaning Christian friends who sincerely believed they were helping me in my "spiritual walk"--and were sincerely wrong.

I have seen more infighting, emotional manipulation, and spiritual tyranny within the context of conservative Christianity than many people will experience in two or three lifetimes--it's really a miracle I'm still walking erect, let alone that I have faith in God, after everything I've experienced, particularly over the past 6 years since I moved to what is affectionately known as the "buckle" of the Bible Belt: Fort Worth, Texas.

As this blog continues, I'll probably flash back to some of these experiences from time to time (any one of which I'm sure could make for a national best seller :)).

Before I end today's entry, though, I'd like to talk about something that happened as I was writing it.

I work (and study) at TCU, and like most students, I come to the TCU Library computer lab whenever I want to have access to the internet. As I was sitting at my work station today, this extremely hot blonde girl with a green top was sitting perpendicular to me, observable from behind my computer screen. And I sat back and said to myself, disinterestedly, "hmm, that student has a fine figure" . . .



My friend, if you believed that last sentence, then you are officially naive. :)

I have found that one of the biggest topics Christians have a problem being honest about . . . is sex. Therefore, as my personal act of Sabbath breaking, I intend to talk very frankly about my experiences and perspectives regarding sexuality and gender identity, as I have in this blog. (This may, in fact, be one of the more G-rated of my posts.)

I know that for some Christian readers, this level of honesty may be somewhat shocking, but I think that in the interests of promoting open and honest conversation, it is important for me to be open and honest as well.

I know, it's a corny name for a blog, especially one about religion . . . but I think you'll see the significance as you read through this and the next few posts.

Let me explain:

In the Old Testament, one of the ten commandments God gave Moses was that the people of Israel were to keep the Sabbath--the seventh day of the week (traditionally Saturday)--as both a reminder of the first week in which God created the Earth (see Genesis 1) and a reminder that after many years of slavery and abuse by their former Egyptian masters, the Israelites were finally to have a place where they could rest from the labors of slavery. It was one of the most sacred commands in Israeli (and later Judaean) culture--not only because it was 4th in the list of God's ten commandments (see Exodus 20) but also because, of all the commandments, it was the most tangible and easiest to memorize and practice.

The people of Israel and Judaea were taught from childhood to respect this day of the week and to treasure it in their hearts as sacred. Exodus 20:9-10 makes the rules of Sabbath observance very clear: "Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your manservant or maidservant, nor your animals, nor the alien within your gates." The religious leaders, during Moses' time and through the centuries, even through the time of Israel's eventual Exile into Babylon and later, had the responsibility of enforcing this edict and making sure that no man, woman, child, servant, or animal worked during this one day of the week, and that everyone respected it as a holy day. In the first century A.D., the religious leaders of Judaea held this duty (among many others) to be one of the principle elements of a righteous Judaean's life.

It was as understood back then that a Godly man did no work on the Sabbath . . . as it is today that a Godly man goes to church every Sunday.

And yet Jesus, the man who claimed to be the Messiah, the man who claimed to be God himself, in the flesh--routinely flouted this command, often in the very presence of Judaea's religious leaders. He also did many other things that were repulsive to the religious establishment . . . like talking alone to strange women, or breaking bread with men who were considered blood traitors to the nation, or even arguing publicly with the religious leaders of Judaea about God.

Sadly, the religion that bears Jesus' name seems to have missed this point.

A few years ago, after leaving a movie theatre in downtown Fort Worth, I was stopped by a group of people who were standing outside at the street corner. One of them handed me a tract--one of those little booklets Christian door-to-door and street evangelists often pass out. I put it in my jacket, thinking "This is a fairly normal group of people--it probably has some scripture verses on it or a review of the core beliefs of Christianity."

When I got home, I read it, only to discover that it was a booklet-length tirade about how seeking solace in movies and entertainment is a sure path to eternal damnation. I immediately threw it in the trash--and wondered how many poor souls would read it, believing that the God of Christianity really was a God who wanted them to be tired and bored for the rest of their lives, on pain of Hell.

To me, this episode is emblematic of a core problem which, in my opinion, will lead to the eventual collapse of Christianity in the West: a fundamental lack of compassion for people. People aren't stupid--most of them know their history, and even more (generally) know the difference between a person who cares about others and a person whose smile and veneer of friendliness are part of an overall marketing strategy. And many Christian organizations today seem more focused on generating marketing strategies and membership drives than in actually reaching to (and caring for) their communities.

Whatever happened to "praying for one another" (James 5:16)? Whatever happened to "sharing everything in common" (Acts 4:32)? Whatever happened to "love one another" (1 John 3:11)?

The apostle John said "let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth" (1 John 3:18). A Christian who simply talks about love (or, worse, about Christ's love) without allowing him-/herself to truly love others is an offense to everyone he or she comes in contact with. A Christian who is not willing to break a few rules for the sake of another person's well-being is an offense to the very man whose name he or she has undertaken--a man who broke every rule he had to break in a relentless display of love and care for each and every man, woman, and child on the Earth. A Christian who preaches reconciliation to God--without practicing reconciliation with his enemies--is an offense to truth itself.

Let me be blunt--the world doesn't need another church. And it certainly doesn't need more Christians.

What the world needs, my friend, is love.

This blog is for the disaffected, the disenchanted, the exiles. This blog is for all the people who want to believe what the Bible says about God but don't want to be associated with Christians and Christianity. This blog is also for those who are dissatisfied with the status quo of 21st century American Christianity and want something different for themselves--and for others.

Let us find ways to break our modern-day Sabbaths together.