I have this ritual I go through every weekend since my first clubbing expedition. :)

I try like mad to make sure I'm caught up on sleep beforehand (knowing that I will be awake all night on Friday, and will probably stay that way through Saturday), then on Friday (assuming I have the opportunity to leave my things at home and properly prepare for the night's activities--which I didn't last Friday) I spend some time bathing, shaving, putting on my "club clothes" (today I'm wearing blue jeans and a black button-down T-shirt--before, however, I wore all black, except for my white sneakers), and excitedly dancing in my living room (sometimes clothed, sometimes naked) to the beat of trance artists like Ian Van Dahl, Lasgo, or 4 Strings.

I then ride the bus to the local mall (where this weekend I took care of a couple of errands), and ride the return bus from the mall for an hour and 15 minutes, all the way downtown to catch the TRE (Fort Worth's commuter train to Dallas). I usually hit Dallas around 7pm, and with 2 hours to kill before the club opens, I make my way to the local Mickey D's (that's McDonalds) prominently located right in the middle of downtown Dallas. I've noticed that 7pm seems to be a good time to arrive in Dallas, btw--there are more people out on the streets, and the panhandlers aren't in full force at that hour (some of these guys I don't think are above the act of robbing someone at knife point for a little extra cash).

I then make my way (by foot) to the Lounge, a 30-40 minute hike from the McDonald's. I use Pacific Avenue to get there--Pacific is one of the safest streets in downtown Dallas, I've found, as it follows a DART train route (DART stands for Dallas Area Rapid Transit). It does, however, deviate from the train route (and enter what I call "Beirut") until it crosses the freeway, where the Lounge is located.

After I leave the Lounge (at 4am), I head down Pacific Avenue to an eatery across the street from Baylor Medical Center, where I get some breakfast before waiting at the nearby bus stop for transportation back to Dallas Union Station, where I then wait on the 8:08 TRE to bring me back to Fort Worth.

On Saturdays . . . I sleep. :)

Today, I wanted to write about something that happened several years ago when I first began attending TCU that left some very disturbing memories for me and for several dozen other students, all of whom attended a student ministry affiliated with Chi Alpha (which is in turn affiliated with Assemblies of God).

I would like to say, before beginning my story, that what I'm about to share in no way reflects on Chi Alpha (either the TCU chapter or the national organization) or on Assemblies of God (with whom I've almost always had very positive experiences, and consider to be on the whole very top notch people and a healthy denomination as a whole).

My story begins, appropriately, with my church. I have mentioned before that my church carried a very "us vs. them" attitude toward people and institutions that weren't avowedly "Christian," and we considered TCU to be somewhat of a mission field at the time. (In some ways, this can be healthy--after all, any work place and any school or college in the world is full of hurting people needing a touch of love, tenderness, and friendliness in their lives--but in our case, it definitely carried a "conquer the ideologically uncooperative" aspect, which was unhealthy.) We talked about connecting with some Christian organization on campus and having an "evangelism night" with/through them, and I was elected as the point man for this endeavor.

I clicked through the TCU student ministries web pages and immediately felt I had hit paydirt when I saw "Chi Alpha (Assemblies of God)". I contacted their (then) leader by email and asked if he would be interested in coordinating something with my church. He said "sure," and I thought it would be important to attend one of their Thursday night services so I could "seal the deal" personally.

Well, the first Thursday night I was there, the worship service was quite powerful (and contained elements of the miraculous--one of the leaders there shared a word he felt was from God for me that was not only very specific but 100% accurate, and something I had never told anyone about before). I was hooked--and I found the (then) Chi Alpha pastor's sermon and leadership to be quite dead-on and effective--and so I continued attending their weekly Thursday night services.

I quickly became a heavy attender of Chi Alpha events, including their Empower Groups, and prayer meetings, and I saw things happen that I never expected to see in a semester at a university ministry. Students with major issues were coming in and receiving healing (emotional, psychological, and sometimes even physical), and the overall atmosphere was charged with electricity and with (I felt) positivity. There was an open-ness in this group, an honesty and willingness to confront things in themselves that allowed, I think, for great healing and growth to occur (they almost doubled in size while I attended over the course of that semester).

I attended over the summer (they even had summer services and events, geared toward incoming freshmen) . . . but by that point, I had this nagging sense inside of me that something was terribly wrong within the organization, or even perverted in some way. I couldn't put my finger on it at the time--it was just an overall intuitive sensation of "not-rightness" within the organization ("perversion" kept coming up inside of me for reasons I couldn't explain at the time).

That fall, I attended the first Thursday service, and James (the aforementioned Chi Alpha pastor) stood up (in an abrupt announcement, if I recall) and said that he and his wife were moving on, and that their seconds-in-command were taking over the ministry. I was stunned, and I remember my feelings after hearing from one of the Chi Alpha members that "I think a lot of people saw this coming" (I didn't know what that meant, but at the time, I had no reason to believe it didn't simply mean "he's moving on, and we expected him to do that").

Over the course of the next year, Chi Alpha dwindled in numbers, in resources, and in enthusiasm, and I realized in the wake of some things I learned in the aftermath of James' leaving that he'd hurt a lot of people in the process of taking Chi Alpha's TCU chapter to where it had been by the time he left. Things I had seen during that time started clicking and making sense, like the way I saw him bully students who weren't "in line" or the way emotionality in a Chi Alpha service was used against students, to make them believe, do, or say things they wouldn't do otherwise with proper thought and reflection. Remarks he had made about constant sexual temptations and issues, and about the ministry's finances, suddenly made new sense to me, and I began putting 2 and 2 together.

I'm still not exactly sure what happened (though I have a pretty good idea), but when I heard someone mention to other Chi Alpha members that a former leader had left because of a "moral failure," it didn't surprise. And because of this failure, Chi Alpha's TCU chapter was virtually eviscerated (although it did change into something more solid, more loving, and more (I hope) intimate, effective, and healing for students and ministers alike).

I wish I had listened to my intuition that spring and summer--it would have saved me a lot of grief and personal disappointment. However, I did manage to meet 2 men who became lifelong friends through that my experiences with that ministry, so perhaps it hasn't been all bad. :)

Bob Dylan
"Blowin' in the Wind"

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Don McLean
"American Pie"

Verse 1
A long long time ago
I can still remember how that music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they'd be happy for a while
But February made me shiver
With every paper I'd deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn't take one more step
I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died

{Refrain}

So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my chevy to the levee
But the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye
Singin' this'll be the day that I die
This'll be the day that I die


Verse 2
Did you write the Book of Love
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells you so
Do you believe in rock n' roll
Can music save your mortal soul
And can you teach me how to dance real slow
Well, I know that you're in love with him
'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes
Man, I dig those rhythm & blues
I was a lonely, teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died
I started singin'

{Refrain}

Verse 3
Now for ten years we've been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin' stone
But that's not how it used to be
When the Jester sang for the King and Queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
In a voice that came from you and me
Oh, and while the King was looking down
The Jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned
And while Lenin read a book on Marx
The quartet practiced in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died
We were singin'

{Refrain}


Verse 4
Helter Skelter in a summer swelter
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter
Eight miles high and falling fast
It landed foul on the grass
The players tried for a forward pass
With the Jester on the sidelines in a cast
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While the Sergeants played a marching tune
We all got up to dance
Oh but we never got the chance
'Cause the players tried to take the field
The marching band refused to yield
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died
We started singing


{Refrain}

Verse 5
Oh, and there we were, all in one place
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again
So come on, Jack, be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack Flash sat on a candlestick
'Cause fire is the devils only friend
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
No angel born in Hell
Could break that Satan's spell
And as flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died
He was singing


{Refrain}

Verse 6
I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store
Where I'd heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn't play

And in the streets the children screamed
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken
And the three men I admire most
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died
And they were singin'


{Refrain}

Bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my chevy to the levy
But the levy was dry
And them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing this'll be the day that I die

They were singin'
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my chevy to the levy
But the levy was dry
And them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing this'll be the day that I die

The Rolling Stones
"Sympathy for the Devil"

Please allow me to introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste
I’ve been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man’s soul and faith
And I was ’round when jesus christ
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that pilate
Washed his hands and sealed his fate
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name
But what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game
I stuck around st. petersburg
When I saw it was a time for a change
Killed the czar and his ministers
Anastasia screamed in vain
I rode a tank
Held a general’s rank
When the blitzkrieg raged
And the bodies stank
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guess my name, oh yeah
Ah, what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah
I watched with glee
While your kings and queens
Fought for ten decades
For the gods they made
I shouted out,
Who killed the kennedys?
When after all
It was you and me
Let me please introduce myself
I’m a man of wealth and taste
And I laid traps for troubadours
Who get killed before they reached bombay
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, oh yeah, get down, baby
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what’s confusing you
Is just the nature of my game
Just as every cop is a criminal
And all the sinners saints
As heads is tails
Just call me lucifer
’cause I’m in need of some restraint
So if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy, and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or I’ll lay your soul to waste, um yeah
Pleased to meet you
Hope you guessed my name, um yeah
But what’s puzzling you
Is the nature of my game, um mean it, get down

I wrote in a previous blog entry about Islam and Christianity, and I wanted to take the time to make one point that I think is very important for both camps to consider.

For 1400 years, virtually ever since the day Muhammad became filled with the fire of revelation and personal conviction, Christianity and Islam have been at odds. Holy wars, crusades, jihads, inquisitions . . . Islam and Christianity have shared a history of mutual hatred, misunderstanding, and violence that has marred human history over the centuries--and threatens in this decade to bring human civilization to its knees.

Let me set the record straight, ladies and gentlemen: Christians and Muslims worship the same God.

Whatever you've heard about Allah being some sort of pagan moon God (or, if you're Muslim, whatever you've heard about Christians following the ravings of a lunatic) is ridiculous. In Arabic, "Allah" is simply "God"--there is no connotation beyond that. The word "Islam" itself simply means "submission to God".

What does the word "Christ" mean? It means "Messiah," which means "Anointed One." It was the ancient Israeli promise of a restoration to power made manifest--and Christians ("those who are submitted to Christ") believe that Jesus of Nazareth fulfilled these prophetic expectations.

Let's look at the 5 pillars of Islam, which Christians often point at as evidence that Islam is a restrictive regime:

The prayer--3 times a day--about there being no God but Allah, and Muhammad being his prophet, is really not that different (in substance and practice) from Christian prayers like "Now I lay me down to sleep/I pray the Lord my soul to keep" or "God is great/God is good/Now we thank him for our food" that many Christian families teach their children to recite 1-3 times a day in their households. (BTW, it is my understanding that in Islam, Muhammad is not worshipped--only acknowledged as the last prophet of God, but also one of many others, including Moses, Isaiah, and the other men of the Bible.)

Weekly fasting and annual observance of Ramadan are no different (in substance or form) from the millennia-old Christian practice of weekly fasting (traditionally on Fridays) and Lent.

Moreover, the hajj every Muslim is required to make to the city of Mecca is not very different from the individual pilgrimages that Christians make to sites of religious and spiritual signficance for themselves, such as places of martyrdom or places, like Palestine, where Jesus walked.



Am I advocating pluralism here?

No--after all, I follow Jesus, and I believe Jesus to be exactly what my Muslim brothers claim he is not--the Messiah, and the Son of God.

However, I would like to suggest that the differences between Islam and Christianity (either in substance or in application over the centuries) really amount to one thing--whether or not one believes that Jesus was (and is) the Messiah . . . and nothing more than that. Christianity has had ample opportunities to show Christian love, charity, and respect to peoples of the world who subscribe to other beliefs--and to date, our performance in this regard has been egregiously poor.

Before we criticize the Osama bin Ladens and al-Zarqawis of the world for using religious ideals for violent purposes . . . maybe we'd better examine our own history (past and present) for similar abuses.

Rozalla
"Everybody's Free"

Everybody's free to feel good
Everybody's free to feel good
Everybody's free

Brother and sister together we'll make it through
Some day a spirit will lift you and take you down
I know you've been hurting
But I'll be the one to be there for you
And I'll be there just helping you out whenever I can

Everybody's free to feel good
Everybody's free to feel good

We all are a family that should be together as one
Helping each other instead of wasting time
Now is the moment to reach out to say to you
When everyone is sharing the hope then love will win

Cause
Everybody's free to feel good
Everybody's free to feel good

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I guess I should go ahead and share that I have been in transition over the past couple of weeks--a friendship I have had the pleasure of being involved in for quite some time now has blossomed into something more, and the event has, of course, blind-sided and overwhelmed us both.

It's a new thing for me, being in a healthy relationship.

I've been in several unhealthy ones before, largely as a result of my own choices and irresponsibility as a man in responding to the emotions and concerns of others. I can tell you the ins and outs of how to alienate a woman and what not to say (and when the worst times to say certain things are)--and I can tell you (in vivid detail) what it's like to scare someone who may (or may not) love you away because of your personal intensity.

It's so nice to be in a relationship where I'm encouraged and nurtured to grow, and to have a healthy connection with someone who loves me and cares for me far more than I deserve. I wish I could have had this kind of experience a long time ago--but then again, perhaps the timing (given the self-evaluation I have undergone after my ex-church closed its doors) is perfect after all . . .

In my last post, I talked (in a roundabout way) about accepting responsibility for your desires and ambitions.

In this post, I'd like to talk about something more specific . . .

I'm sure all of us remember where we were the day hell unloaded on the United States in 2001 (the day the planes crashed into the World Trade Center). I remember that day particularly vividly because I was frantically working on a 2 page reflection paper that was due at 10:30am that morning. I entered the TCU Library logged onto cnn.com (as was my usual custom before working on a paper), only to find the website not loading (this, I knew, meant something was going on). I kept working on my paper (this was around 8am CST) and tried USAToday.com with a little more success.

On it was a headline story about a plane crashing into the Twin Towers and money floating down to the street.

I kept working, and kept monitoring the news site, hoping to learn more. When I saw a sentence pop up on the story saying the FBI had begun an investigation and that the President's administration was calling it a terrorist attack, I became alarmed (especially when I saw nothing new for approximately 15-20 minutes while booting the window up over and over again). I tried cnn.com again--no luck.

At that point, I didn't know if anyone else in the library knew about what was happening (or might be), but I knew there was a television in the Student Center which was tuned to news programs 50% of the time, and I would probably find out what I needed to know there--so I packed up my things, left the library, and walked over to the Student Center, not knowing what was happening (or could be).

I got there just in time to see the North Tower crumble to the ground on live television.

There was a massive crowd of students gathered around the television, all deathly silent. I edged closer, and I remember losing all focus on everything around me except what the ABC news crew was saying (and the images of destruction they aired over and over again). The first things I really heard were "the Pentagon has been hit" and "the President is on Air Force One, and we do not know his location at this time"--both of which evoked nightmare images I had grown up with of what to expect in the 15-30 minutes before nuclear annihilation during the Cold War. I remember Peter Jennings saying, amidst the drone of field reporters, "And now, to add to the chaos, we're getting reports of another jumbo jet crashed in Pennsylvania" (we, of course, know that this was the one jet prevented from reaching its destination due to the courageous--and self-sacrificial-intervention of its passengers).

I stayed glued to the television--I stayed glued to every television.

There was an announcement that TCU would be closed for the day, and students gathered outside for an informal and communal time of prayer.

None of us who were there felt safe for a long time after that day--and I had nightmare scenarios going through my mind of planes falling from the sky by the dozens and destroying homes, offices, and stadiums.

This past Sunday afternoon, I watched the movie United 93, which details the final moments (at least as they've been pieced together) of the flight that crashed in Pennsylvania--and which was apparently headed for the White House or Capitol Building in D.C. I knew it would be an intensely traumatic experience, as I had run scenarios through my head of what those passengers must have gone through in their final moments on that flight--but it was also, I knew, a necessary healing experience.

I remember watching the scenes of the men preparing themselves emotionally and spiritually to destroy 3000 lives, including their own, and at first, I wanted to say, "poignant" and "heroic". After all, as anyone who has seen the film knows, the hijackers were portrayed quite 3-dimensionally (as were the passengers and crew), and no one can deny that their actions weren't, at some level, courageous (if you don't think so, I challenge you to strap on a belt of plastic explosives around your waist sometime--I don't know what it's like (thank god), but I do know it is a course of action that I do not remotely have the balls to undertake).

As the movie progressed, however, I began to think something else: "Just because an action is heroic doesn't mean it isn't destructive or evil."

I applaud personal conviction--and stand by the ones I have. I believe that it is important to know who you are and stand up for what you believe is right. I believe that a person who is willing to suffer or even be killed because they do not (and will not) renounce their faith in God (whatever he/she/it may be to them) is a harbinger of beauty, wondrous to behold.

I also know, however, that it is a deeply-ingrained human tendency to attach words like "heroic" or "inspiring" to actions that are, at their essence, monstrous. Christianity, for example, has seen more "heroic" butchery in the name of God in its 2000 year-long history than any other religion that has ever existed--crusades, inquisitions, holy wars, and on and on and on.

Those men who flew the planes that day hoping to etch their names in history succeeded--however, they did so at the cost of 3000 people who neither knew about, nor wanted to be part of, this event. Your nation, your personal convictions . . . your God . . . are not worth someone else's well-being--and life. They are not worth a broken family, a dead child, or a ruined livelihood.

I don't care who you are or what God you believe in--you have no right on this Earth (or any other) to take someone else's life in your hands against their will . . . and as far as I'm concerned, if you are guilty of taking other people's blood in the service of your beliefs, you deserve every ounce of hostility you receive.

Those men (as I said above) may have been courageous--but they were still villains. And anyone who advocates the shedding of blood in the cause of their God (whatever that God may be) is just as villainous as they were.

I had a very interesting (and unexpected) conversation with a less-than-sober man who drove me home at 3:30am this morning. He told me about his life, said he was going through a pretty rough divorce (which was to be finalized in the next few weeks), and had been spending a lot of money in strip clubs (he spent most of his time talking on a cell phone to one of the strippers as he was driving me home). Obviously, he was a man who had issues (:)), but he also struck me as a good-hearted man who wanted (and craved) to do the right thing, even in spite of his imperfections. (After all, it isn't every day that someone volunteers to drive a male TCU student home at 3:30am, and I was quite thankful for the ride (and for not having to spend $20 on cab fare).)

What was most interesting to me about the trip was his incessant need to prove that he was a decent man and a family man after telling me he went to a strip club. He asked me if I was a Christian, and he repeatedly mentioned his attendance (and service) at a local church as a counterbalance to his nocturnal activities.

I kept thinking, "Why on Earth does this man feel so double-minded about his desires and wants--and what kind of religious mindset drove him to the point of not admitting to himself what he is, and who he is (and has been)?"

This dovetailed, in my mind, with a visceral reaction I had to a song I listened to on a Christian station over the weekend. I don't remember all the words, but the first stanza went something like this:

Everything I want
Is tearing me apart
And I know
That it's a dagger to your [God's] heart

My visceral reaction was to say (to the radio), "What do you care what God thinks about what you're doing, if you really want it?"

It didn't make any sense to me--in my experience, either you want something, or you don't--and if you don't, that's okay. If you want money, or endless sex, or power, or fame, then those are (for you) acceptable ambitions, and I wish you the best of luck in achieving them--but if you want something else, like self-improvement or a better relationship with God, then what would make you claim you want something that (to you) is diametrically opposed to those pursuits?

Paul talks about this mindset in his epistles--and while some Christians today might find it heroic, he had another name for it: double-mindedness.

The following are some examples of single-minded activities (some good, some bad):

1. On September 11, 2001, over a dozen Saudis committed to Osama bin Laden's struggle against the United States chose to infiltrate, take over, and destroy 4 jumbo jets, knowing full well that their bodies would die in fire.

2. In a move that she probably knew would cause her intense pain and suffering, Rosa Parks decided that it was more important to retain her dignity as a human being than to accede to a system of racial brutality that caused African Americans like her to be treated unfairly (and cruelly) on their daily trips to work.

3. In 2002, two men engaged in a season-long shooting spree that terrorized residents of northern Virginia, Maryland, and Delaware. I'm not sure what their mission was (other than chaos), but their actions were definitely single-minded.

4. In autumn of 1962, John F. Kennedy did whatever he could to avert a nuclear war with the Soviet Union, while maintaining America's position of sovereignty.

5. On highest authority, a crew of pilots and bombadiers flew a plane dubbed the Enola Gay over a little coastal city called Hiroshima and unleashed the deadliest signle weapon man ever invented for violence against man.

6. Through force of will, Bill Clinton negotiated the Dayton Accords (which settled the war in Bosnia), the 7 year peace pact between Israel and Palestine, and ratified the Kyoto Treaty.

I could go on and on, and you can probably think of examples closer to home, but the point is that regardles of their intent and consequences, these are the actions of men and women who know what they want and do not apologize for going after it. (They are also the actions of people capable of taking responsibility for their poor, or successful, life choices.)

My point?

(You know there is one. :))

We often lie to ourselves about what we want and what we say we want--and this is the essence of what Paul calls double-mindedness. It isn't necessarily a state of conscious betrayal (even conscious betrayal is an act of single-mindedness, even if it is also an act of disloyalty), but a disconnect between what we say we want and what our actions clearly indicate that we do want.

Personally (and I'll probably get in trouble for saying this), I think there should be a lot more straight-up pagans in this society. After all, if that's what people want to be--in the dark, at night, when nobody else is watching--then as far as I'm concerned, they should be able to pursue that aspect of who they are to the fullest . . . which I suspect would also prompt people who want to believe in Christ to express their desire to the fullest. Whether good or bad, vampire or vixen, charitable or insulting, there is nothing wrong with being who you are--and there is nothing wrong with allowing yourself to explore who you are.

Self-improvement is good, and it is important, but it is (I've learned) impossible without a clear articulation (even if only to yourself) of what you have wanted out of life, and what you will strive to achieve in life.

And now, on to the 3rd installment in my (evolving) clubbing diary . . . :)

I really thought about not going this time, largely because of my money situation and the uncertainty of not knowing what job I was going to have (or how much I would be paid), but there was a draw inside my spirit pulling me toward another Friday rendezvous with the Lounge, and (for lack of a better way of saying this) it was too irresistible for me to ignore.

I had actually expected to see another live electronica show (unfortunately, as I realized an hour and a half ago, I got my dates wrong) and was surprised to find a crowd of Indians and Pakistanis congratulating me for "coming out to see Rago" (whoever he was). I just smiled and nodded along with them, waited, and was virtually swept inside by a mob of people who were waiting to see a performer I later learned was a Punjabi hip hop star with a damn fine singing voice.

I sweated my way through 3 hours of the worst DJ-ing I have heard to date. (It made the video DJ look good by comparison. :)) I swear to you, I am not exaggerating when I say that the same songs--in the same order--were played 3 or 4 times (I mean, how many times can you really appreciate lyrics like "move, bitch, get out d'way, get out d'way, bitch, get out d'way," anyway?). The man was basically pretending to DJ and looping a CD over and over again (I know because it was the first thing I heard on the first night I attended the Lounge, and while it was playing that night, I heard one of the staff mention that it was a CD).

This, however, was Shakespeare compared to the DJ who followed him and who (again playing the same damn songs) kept saying ridiculous or completely unintelligible things over a microphone the whole time. I was actually (I kid you not) praying that God would deliver me from this man. :)

(I would have gone to the Video Lounge, the establishment's other dance room, but hardly anyone was there (or dancing)--and the tunes weren't that much better.)

Finally (thank God!) he was replaced, but the incessant "yeah, yeah" continued (which was, thankfully, far better than what he had been saying--whatever it was :)), and finally, I saw 4 men get up on stage and begin a short hip hop concert.

This was a relief, for 2 reasons: (1) It gave me something to listen to which was more interesting than the CD and someone's pointless and incessant yammering, and (2) it drew the largest crowd of the night. After the hip hop mini-concert ended, Rago (whom I had just heard about on my way into the Lounge that night) began his concert. It was (to use the vernacular of the nightclub scene) fuckin' awesome (:)), but it was also unsatisfying. I found myself craving for the rave I had experienced the week earlier (and had expected again that night).

After Rago--and another guy who was from the UK--ended their hip hop concert, the next DJ appropriately followed things up by putting on the same damn CD that had been playing all night!

There were good moments, though:

I got to know a guy named Kevin who had lived in the Dallas area for 3 or 4 years before moving away (he was visiting), and he informed me about various club activities in the area--in particular an event known as "The Church" that takes place on Sunday nights at the Lizard Lounge (geared more toward a goth audience). He said the event was quite outrageous (in a good way)--and that it involved a climactic event at midnight in which people came out in vampire costume, and paintings of erotic (and gothic) subjects, like vampires, were unveiled.

(Oh, to be able to afford cab fare to that event! :))

During that time, however, my backpack (which I had brought with me out of necessity, as I had no time to rush back to my apartment and drop it off) went missing. I realized this after Kevin left (I figured he wasn't the one who took it--but since I never saw the guy who did, I could have been wrong), and I asked some of the staff if someone had turned it in. They all gave me blank stares.

Somehow, even in my frustration, I knew I would get it back. (This wasn't a hope--I've had those before, and they have always been wrong in these kinds of situations.:)) I sat watching the staff people glumly--and then the strangest thing happened.

I saw a couple of the staff members walking out of the bathroom with various personal effects--including one very distinctive (and blue) backpack. I followed the person out to the front desk, where I saw the manager trying to figure out who these things belonged to.

Apparently, someone had been stealing things people had left behind on their lounge seats as they got up to dance, and put them somewhere in the men's bathroom, hoping to find valuables inside (in my case, had he been thorough, which apparently he was, I could have been in serious trouble). One of the staff members found him with the belongings (apparently going through a woman's purse), and as I was recovering my backpack, the bouncers were in the process of identifying (and running after) the man responsible.

As I left, I made sure to thank the bouncers for their work in recovering my belongings, and in (as the manager said) kicking the perp's ass for me. As much as I found the overall "scene" of the night to be not my thing (or not what I had expected), it all turned out well in the end, and I got to know some people in the process who I probably wouldn't have had the privilege of knowing otherwise.

I have been describing my clubbing experiences as a sort of spiritual awakening, and for me, this is not an exaggeration. I am, as I mentioned to someone who has become very special to me, in the process of "becoming" something--of realizing whatever it is I was put on this Earth to do, and as ironic as it may seem to some of you who have (as I did) come from conservative Christian backgrounds, these (currently weekly) clubbing excursions have become a vital part of that process.

I mentioned last week that the live electronica performances (and rave that developed in their wake) constituted an exhibition of human sexuality I had never imagined possible in a public place before--what I didn't mention was that this exhibition was also an event of spiritual significance--positive spiritual significance. As crazy as things became that night, I walked in (and walked out) knowing that I belonged to a community, a cause, and a God that were at once accepting, primal, and pro-creative (not "procreative" in the sense of breeding and bearing children but pro-creative in the sense of exhibiting wondrous joy in the creation of something beautiful and new, whatever that something may be). These were, to use the vernacular of our times, my "peeps"--I was blood kindred to them, and they were blood kindred to me.

It is this tie (and bond) of fellowship and (for lack of a better word) "oneness" that causes the age-old Christian exhortations toward men and women of like belief to knit their hearts and souls together . . . to ring hollow. Do Christians knit their hearts and souls together? I have seen very few Christians who did. In churches, and on Christian radio, I hear far more about "propriety," "obedience," and "accountability" in relationships than I do about "sharing," "love," or "friendliness." The Christians who exhibit these latter qualities, without prioritizing the former, are generally seen as "weird" or "flirting with the [gasp] world."

I will ask a question that I once asked about Christian radio: What is wrong with a Christian having a beer with good friends, or celebrating a special occasion with someone through nightclubbing or dancing, or having honest conversations about his/her sexuality (and sexual urges) with others?

I could even see (and I know this will shock some) a Christian going to a strip club with a friend or two (or, as is usually the case, twelve or so :)) in good conscience. (I personally wouldn't do it--but not because of some antiquated belief about what Christians "do" or "don't do". I just simply know my limitations, having gone clubbing a few times now, and know what I am equipped to handle.)

I know . . . some of you are saying to yourselves (and probably can't wait to say to me), "well, then, if you believe that, you probably believe (or should believe) that a Christian can rob banks with his/her friends in good conscience, snort cocaine with loved ones in good conscience, and engage in drive-by shootings with lifelong buddies in good conscience."

I never said anything about doing harm to people--or doing harm to yourself.

All I said is that a Christian can go to strip clubs (or drink, swear, and carouse) in good conscience--not every Christian can, however, or should. For example, there are people I know who would be horribly (and perhaps irreparably) damaged if they went to a college party with their friends--some because they carry bitter memories of what came before, and some because their personalities and character do not fit the occasion at hand. For some people, attending a strip club, or a sex club, or even a neighborhood bar, would be a horribly terrifying and traumatic experience which would, regardless of their experiences, leave them feeling violated--and that's okay. The fact is, God made us all different, with different capacities to handle different challenges, and there is nothing wrong with our accepting that in ourselves and in others.

I went to a club for 3 weeks in a row and (for personal reasons) never drank, never smoked, and never approached a woman--it wasn't because I was prudish, or "against" any of these activities, but because I was there for something else. I was there for the music, the dancing, the fun, the experience--nothing else.

I may have been weird (to some :))--but I was me.

And in the end, isn't that what counts most of all?

A friendship I had endured (yes, you read that right) for 6 years ended this past weekend.

It's sad (in some ways)--after all, every friendship, no matter how unhealthy or abusive, contains some good memories--but . . . it's also natural. Friendships have a natural lifespan, as does everything else, and in many cases, people simply grow apart.

During the first 2 years of our friendship, I thought I had found someone I could unburden myself to and share my deepest secrets with--but something always held me back from doing so (I don't know if it was a sense regarding her true personality or what). Since then, her true personality, her real self, has emerged again and again, and it has been very disturbing and repulsive to see (and quite violent every time I've seen it). It is as if sometimes I were watching a screaming toddler in a grown woman's body--never interested in anyone but herself, never concerned about how her words and actions affect other people, and incapable (it seems) of even the tiniest form of self-evaluation.

I got tired of her harangues, her constant emotional blackmail, and her callous diregard for others (I could tell some hair-raising stories at this point--but I'll save 'em for later :)). She became so emotionally violent and vindictive that my progress, and therefore reputation, as a grad student were hampered--and because she was a "Christian" and "talked to God," my faith as a virtually new believer in Christ ran into train wreck after train wreck. (Basically, she was the worst choice in friends that I could have made. :))

She engaged in one of her psychotic flame-binges over the past 2 weeks and ended up telling me (without provocation) not to speak to her anymore. (She didn't even have the guts to say this to me in person--I got an email 2 days after an equally baffling, and unpleasant, conversation with her on the phone.) So . . . I decided to respect her wishes--no protests, no arguments, no attempts to explain my point of view.

I felt (and the timing of everything bore this out) that God was presenting me a golden opportunity to move on.

Relationships have a natural lifespan, I've come to realize. It is very rare (and beautiful) to have a relationship with someone that is lifelong (to me, only relationships with a spouse or family member would fit this category, though maybe a lifelong best friend would also be a possibility as well). Most relationships, however, are but sparks in the engine of life--and I believe that if one is in an unhealthy relationship, he or she is under no obligation (to himself, to the person, to God, or to whomever) not to allow that relationship to die of its own accord.

(Notice I said "allow that relationship to die of its own accord," not "start fights with the other person to drive him/her away".:) I believe that if someone is not meant to be part of your life, then the relationship will just naturally die on its own.)

I don't feel remorse about losing this person--in fact, I feel relieved.

She never allowed (and never wanted) me to be myself--and anyone who bears that kind of attitude toward someone else, for any reason, is not worthy of the title "friend."

Keeping with the money (and gender-bending) theme . . . :)

Dolly Parton
"9 to 5"

Tumble outta bed
And stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
Yawnin’, stretchin’, try to come to life
Jump in the shower
And the blood starts pumpin’
Out on the streets
The traffic starts jumpin’
And folks like me on the job from 9 to 5
Chorus:

Workin’ 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin’
Barely gettin’ by
It’s all takin’
And no givin’
They just use your mind
And they never give you credit
It’s enough to drive you
Crazy if you let it

9 to 5, for service and devotion
You would think that i
Would deserve a fair promotion
Want to move ahead
But the boss won’t seem to let me in
I swear sometimes that man is out to get me
Mmmmm...

They let your dream
Just a’ watch ’em shatter
You’re just a step
On the boss man’s a’ ladder
But you got dream he’ll never take away

On the same boat
With a lot of your friends
Waitin’ for the day
Your ship’ll come in
And the tide’s gonna turn
An’ it’s all gonna roll you away

2nd chorus:

Workin’ 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin’
Barely gettin’ by
It’s all takin’
And no givin’
They just use your mind
And you never get the credit
It’s enough to drive you
Crazy if you let it

9 to 5, yeah, they got you where they want you
There’s a better life
And you think that I would daunt you
It’s a rich man’s game
No matter what they call it
And you spend your life
Going funny if you want it

3rd chorus:

Workin’ 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin’
Barely gettin’ by
It’s all takin’
And no givin’
They just use you mind
And they never give you credit
It’s enough to drive you
Crazy if you let it

Fade:

9 to 5, yeah, they got you where they want you
There’s a better life
And you dream that I would daunt you
It’s a rich man’s game
No matter what they call it
And you spend your life
Going funny if you want it

Still looking around for a job, ladies and gentlemen . . .

Abba
"Money Money Money"

I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay
Ain't it sad
And still there never seems to be a single penny left for me
That's too bad
In my dreams I have a plan
If I got me a wealthy man
I wouldn't have to work at all, I'd fool around and have a ball

Money, money, money
Must be funny
In the rich man's world
Money, money, money
Always sunny
In the rich man's world
Aha-ahaaa
All the things I could do
If I had a little money
It's a rich man's world

A man like that is hard to find but I can't get him off my mind
Ain't it sad
And if he happens to be free I bet he wouldn't fancy me
That's too bad
So I must leave, I'll have to go
To Las Vegas or Monaco
And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same

In the last 4 books of the Left Behind series, we see God and Satan going mano a mano to the end. Their battleground . . . Earth.

Desecration
The best "action" novel of the Left Behind series, Desecration lends the opening battles of the War of the End of Days a degree of grittiness and realism unseen in previous efforts such as Apollyon or the God-awful Assassins. The bad guys are actually bad, the good guys have to face issues of death and moral uncertainty on the battlefield, and (a departure from previous novels) God actually seems like a deity who cares about the people he created.

David's death is heartbreaking, and Hannah's reaction to it (and her having a conversation with him online moments before his demise) is spot on. I wish I could say the same for Hattie Durham (her death, while heroic, seems almost pointless), but then again, my alternative plotline (kill Rayford, have Hattie take over his duties) would probably have pissed off a great many Left Behind readers (though, I suspect, it would have made the story far more interesting).

Most importantly, God's actions in this book (unlike previous ones) actually make sense. He heals Rayford, he leads the Israelis through a hail of fire and bullets (and in the face of 3 well-trained divisions), protecting them by his actions against the soldiers, and by his actions against the "new" world system that generated those soldiers. He provides food and water for people who are (presumably) on the verge of starving, thanks to the antichrist's minions, and he speaks to people when they need direction and help.

I wish God had been doing this during the previous 8 books (and during the 3 and a half years those books cover), but I suppose that God (and the authors) had reasons for doing otherwise. :)

The only major drawback to the story is its ending--I mean, come on! Given that God swallows a couple of hundred thousand troops in the desert floor a few chapters back, is it really likely that Carpathia's bombs are going to be any more effective??

The Remnant
What the hell?

This book has absolutely no plot (that I can detect), and the rescue sequence in Greece, involving as it does the deliberate (and wanton) murder of a 14 year-old girl (albeit a 14 year-old girl who mercilessly killed 3 men in the previous novel), was completely baffling to me. Didn't God already resolve the question of whether or not to kill enemy troops in book 9 (the whole, swallowing the army into the Earth's crust deal)? It didn't make any sense to me that a God who could wipe out--with a thought--over a hundred thousand heavily armed troops wouldn't find some way to relieve George Sebastian of the burden of strangling his 14 year-old captor to death (and breaking her neck).

I guess it's okay for the military professionals to do the killing . . . as long as they're on the "right" side, of course. :)

Carpathia descends into 2-dimensionality again, as does almost every character in this book (and Leah's sweet on Tsion Ben-Judah--what the hell??), but what makes this novel unforgivably bad is that the miraculous replenishing of the water to Bihari's cell group (and presumably to the Christians of the world) serves as ultimate proof that the Rapture does not have to take place before any of the events depicted in the previous 8 novels. Remember the whole spare-Christians-from-what's-coming argument in Left Behind? Well, according to the authors of this book (and Left Behind), God can spare Christians from what's coming, regardless of whether or not they are actually here to experience it.

I think some post-tribbers might have a few witty remarks about that . . . :)

(Personally, I find the whole Rapture discussion to be ridiculous--after all, who cares when the damn thing happens as long as I get to fly, fly away when it does? :))

Armageddon
"This book is not about the battle of Armageddon!"--that should be on every book cover.

In over 400 pages, we lose almost every major character in the book--including Chloe (in a rather inexplicable series of events, I might add), Albie (in another equally baffling series of events), Ben-Judah (whose death is covered appropriately), and Cameron (as we discover in the next book)--leaving only Rayford (whose life is in doubt), Leah, and Mac as major characters from the series who will make a return appearance in the next book.

Carpathia loses steam, and doesn't seem all that compelling even after his (and Fortunato's) "frogs" trick, so at this point, I'm wondering what the hell everyone is fighting for--except perhaps time (which none of them has). Rayford's reaction to Chloe's death is less than compelling as well (come on, damn it, that's your daughter getting her head chopped off on national television!), and Albie's death doesn't seem to raise any eyebrows at all (except for Chloe's). By novel's end, I felt the same way as I had at the end of Assassins: "So what?"

I mean, after all, these characters are all coming back in the next book (alive or dead), right? Where's the suspense?

(It seems like the authors finally got the fact that God was coming off as really boorish and uninterested in the welfare of the world he created--I notice that in these last 3 books, God seems loving, caring, protective on an individualistic and collective level, and relevant to the situations people are in.)

Glorious Appearing
God

kicks

ass.

:)

Carpathia gets his. Fortunato gets his. Viv Ivins (that annoying little chiclet!) gets hers. Suhail Akhbar really gets his. And the GC (and presumably the world system) all die very bloody, grotesque, and horrifying deaths.

The end.

(Too bad Satan, as revealed in the epilogue, is going to be up for parole in a thousand years . . . )