Coming to Terms with Obamacare

I don't like being told what to do. I suppose it's human nature, or perhaps a Western thing. Wherever it came from, it gets reined in appropriately when it comes to God (mostly), traffic laws (mostly), and the Protestant Work Ethic (which, from my observation is not so much Protestant as it is Decent Folk - I mean, the Catholics I know work every bit as hard).

As I have gotten older, I have realized this basic fact: people do what they want to do. They may argue with this if you butt in and say it to their faces, but if they're honest and thoughtful enough, they will eventually have to agree. The first time I had such a thought was many years ago, as a young wife. I was putting away groceries and was angry at my husband. (The reason isn't important, and not just because I don't remember; chances are very good that he had done nothing wrong, just annoying.) Perhaps as a Freudian move, I threw a package of hot dogs across the room in exasperation. Why am I here?! I thought.

And just as quickly, I realized The Truth: I'm here because I want to be here.

Keep that in mind, the next time someone complains about a situation or person. Why stay, then? Because the reasons for staying outweigh the trouble, guilt, cost, etc. of changing jobs, roommates, spouses, residences, etc.

Americans - and I am painting with a very wide brush, I realize - choose the things which control us. We vote for the people who make our laws. We set our alarm clocks to go off at ungodly hours of our own free wills, because we want to keep our jobs or get to the mall for an early bird sale. We follow traffic laws because we don't want to get tickets. We study because we want to get good grades, pass the class, graduate the program. We put ourselves through extreme discomfort in order to finish a race or lose weight or get in shape.

But the title says "Coming to Terms with Obamacare" and so far, I haven't mentioned insurance. I don't like having to get insurance just because the government says I have to. So, as I sat down to log onto the healthcare marketplace, what were my options? I could not get it, and pay a penalty. Or I could get it.  I decided to get it.

So what were my options? I couldn't get it through my husband's work because he said it was too expensive. I looked at the marketplace options, which cost even MORE. Then I remembered that friends had belonged to a Christian organization that operated LIKE insurance - monthly fees, coverage, but had a different philosophy. Would that work?

I looked into it. The idea is like this: you pay a monthly fee that goes directly to someone else's medical bill, so you're helping someone. And not just any person: someone who is a Christian, so...the theory goes...someone who has a healthy, moral lifestyle. When I looked at the application, however, I balked. I was supposed to promise, close my eyes and hope to die, that I live according to the New Testament.

Talk about a broad brush.

Throw seven Christians together (please - not literally) and you'll get seven interpretations of what a "New Testament" lifestyle looks like. For some, it means no drinking. For others, drinking in moderation. For others, getting plastered as long as you're doing it at home where no one will see you. And let's not even talk about sex...there are probably a few people who think anything but the missionary position is a sin, even if you're married, monogamous, and straight.

I didn't like the idea of the government telling me to get insurance, and now I didn't like the idea of an insurance company (yes, it qualified for Obamacare) telling me what constituted a New Testament lifestyle. Because frankly, I don't even live MY idea of what that means. Not every minute of the day and night. And that's what I would be saying, if I clicked the appropriate box. (There wasn't a "some of
the time" option anywhere I saw. I looked, much the same way I've always looked for loopholes in what my parents told me to do, school rules, employee requirements, etc.)

So I was back to more traditional insurance coverage (as in "more expensive") and my nephew Jason helped me out. He found a plan that is astronomical to someone who doesn't spend much on health care annually (currently, me), but makes me legal. Since I only work part-time, I am now, pretty much, working to pay for my insurance, which galls the shit out of me (not a New Testament-approved word, there, which renders me non-New Testament-compliant at the moment and thus, from an honesty standpoint, ineligible for the Christian pseudo-insurance that costs less).

But as I have pondered, and read liberal Facebook posts, it strikes me that Obamacare and the Christian organization are doing basically the same thing: paying the bills of other people who need help. It's just that with the latter, you're paying for the needs of "nice" people, "good" people, "Christian" people. And with Obamacare, you're just helping the poor.

Sort of like what Jesus did. Ouch.

Venting a Bit about a Bible Study

Several weeks ago I went to a Bible study. There was a kids' group at the same church was going on which ended before the Bible study, so I had to leave early. And it's probably a good thing I did, because I might have been compelled to interrupt, or pose a question that would have stepped on - from what I could tell - the toes of just about everyone who had been vocal.

The minister decided to tackle homosexuality. Looking at the materials that were handed out for reference I wasn't sure which direction he was headed. I wanted to keep an open mind, hoping that I would hear a refreshingly compassionate message.

Not so much.

I became increasingly uncomfortable, thinking of friends who are gay or have family members who are gay, who would be so hurt by what was being said. The thought that I couldn't, in good conscience, invite them to attend that particular church with me made me feel sad.

Understand, the verses being quoted were accurate. It was just that only certain verses were quoted. Which is, of course, the way any message goes. You can't quote the entire Bible or you'd be there all day and night. And I think that only when the entirety of scripture is considered, do some things start to make sense. It's just quicker, and easier, and more painless (for those speaking, usually) to use an abbreviated approach.

Later,  I emailed the minister and let him  know my thoughts. He responded quickly, and said that by the end of the Bible study (remember, I had left a little early), they had gotten around to the "all sin is sin" which was supposed to take the edge off the judgement and condemnation that had come up previously. And it's true. All sin IS sin. But I would bet money, if I were a betting woman, that the majority of the folks sitting in that church that night had one list of their own fairly mild and even reasonable sins, and the far worst sins that everyone else commits.


The Greek word we translate as sin is a word picture. "Hamartia" is actually one of several words translated "sin" but it is the main one. It means missing the mark. The bull's eye of a target represents the holiness and perfection of God. We constantly miss the mark - no matter how close we come, we are never spot on. We might be way out on the edge of the target. We may be a centimeter from the black bull's eye. Or if you're like me, the arrow is off in the woods somewhere and it takes the better part of the day to even find it.

The point is, we are all sinners. Humans are born into sin. My husband used to get a rise out of my mom when he would look at his newborn son and say, "Repent!" He was joking, but not theologically. We are born in the likeness of our father Adam, with a sinful nature. When we are born AGAIN, accepting the forgiveness and sanctification of Jesus Christ, we become saints. We have all the power of the Holy Spirit within us to avoid sin, something we didn't possess prior to that. Before sanctification and spiritual regeneration, we can try really, really hard to do better and often are able to accomplish wonders through sheer will power, but we still have, at our core, a sinful heart. After....the power is there to say no to sin. And yet we do not. We may continue to entertain "little" sins, or may struggle with "big" sins, but continue and struggle we do.

The problem with a lot of Christians, as I observe and read, is that we are fine with this state of affairs so long as we focus, at church, in the news, on Facebook, on all the sins with which we don't have a particular struggle.

If I'm skinny (I am not) then I point my bony finger at the sin of obesity. If I'm a teetotaller (I am not) then all alcohol consumption is reprehensible. If I'm straight (which I am) then lsurely I must attack those who are not.

This may come as a surprise to some of you, but a Christian can lie, be unfaithful to his or her spouse, cuss someone out, steal things from his place of employment, discipline a child in anger, ignore someone in need, be a glutton, be proud of not being a glutton, worry - all sins. There were probably some on the list that struck closer to home for you than others.

But back to that Bible study.

I love sex. I'm so thankful God created the sexual relationship for men and women. I happen to be attracted to men, and both enjoy and appreciate the wisdom and wonders of monogamy, so that worked out very nicely for me. But I know others who knew, from a very early age, that they were attracted to the same sex. I know men (and women) who have monogamous, committed, long-term relationships that make many of the heterosexual, Church-sanctioned unions I've observed look bland and loveless....which they are. Which honor God more? Committed, loving same-sex unions that are villified by many in the church, or white-knuckled, angry, abusive marriages between men and women but do nothing to honor the perfect picture of Christ and the Church...which biblically, marriage is to be.

Granted, I used to be very black and white, very cut and dried, very...self-righteous. I knew the Truth. But when Saint John has the gumption to say that if everything Jesus did or said was written down, the whole world couldn't contain the books...John 21:25...then it makes sense to me that Jesus may have had some things to say about things we don't understand completely.

I don't understand the whole gay thing. At first glance, it's pretty clear that male parts fit nicely into female parts. Male parts don't fit as well into male parts. Female parts are missing some key ingredients. Adjustments are made that apparently make it all work, and that's, frankly, neither something I'm interested in nor something that is any of my business. And too, if it's just a matter of parts, what is all the hoopla about anyway?

Because it's not about parts at all. It's about PEOPLE. People who have feelings, and emotions, and dreams, and valid expectations for how they are treated by people who claim to follow Jesus Christ.

I recently had a gay man tell me they don't understand the whole gay thing either - they just knew, and chose to be true to who they were.

I think that many Christians, especially heterosexual Christians, haven't taken the time to get to know any homosexual folks, and so they are lacking an important frame of reference. You can't argue with experience. You can believe speaking in tongues is of the devil, for example, but if you get to know someone who actually DOES speak in tongues, and you discover that you trust their character completely, then maybe...you've got something askew in your thinking. Same here. If you meet gay couples, see their genuine devotion to each other, see their kindness - it's not so easy to hold a sign somewhere with barbaric words like "God Hates Gays."

He doesn't. If he does...if he hates those who miss the mark, who are guilty of breaking his holy Law...if God is not really love, as it says in 1 John 4, then we are ALL in trouble. What the gays are up to in the media and politics should be the least of our worries.

I think what bothered me the most about the Bible study I attended was the use of Sodom and Gomorrah, but only Genesis 19. Hello? Sodom comes up again in Ezekiel:

"'Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy." (Ezekiel 16:49)

I  heard muttered comments in addition to what was being presented in the materials. I heard some extremely arrogant overtones. I saw plenty of folks who were overfed. The church does help the poor and needy, but they were behaving that night, anyway, as being unconcerned over the 8,000,000 gay people in the United States.

Truth is truth is truth. But where we go astray, in my opinion, is believing that the slim leather volume with Holy Bible imprinted on it is the whole of God's wisdom.

Years ago, a man spoke about a dream or a vision he'd had in which he was taken to heaven, taken to a huge tall room that was filled, top to bottom, with books. All the wisdom of the universe was contained there. The angel, or whoever his guide was, went over to a shelf and pulled out a small book. It was the Bible. Precious, yes. Truth, yes. But how arrogant and ridiculous for us to suppose that ALL of God's wonders and wisdom could possibly be condensed into its pages??

Frankly, I have enough trouble just trying to live according to the Bible we do have- I'm pretty glad we don't have a whole Encyclopedia to follow. But I think we need to exercise a bit of humility too.

It reminds me of the Jodie Foster movie, Contact. Her character says this to a group of children:

 I'll tell you one thing about the universe, though. The universe is a pretty big place. It's bigger than anything anyone has ever dreamed of before. So if it's just us... seems like an awful waste of space. Right?

I can't possibly understand the universe...universeS, plural. It is impossible for me to know if life exists
in other forms elsewhere, or in the same form elsewhere. I know less than less about ANYTHING. I believe the Bible is true. I believe that love is true. I believe that Jesus died to open the way back to God for a sinner named Ellen Gillette, and every other person on the planet. I believe that what I don't know is a lot, but that I am called to love and kindness, to love my brothers and sisters - which NEVER, in the Bible, has something tacked on like "unlike they're gay...or another race....or poor...or stupid...or ugly...or unloveable...or of another political persuasion...or believe differently.

Since we know so little, isn't it possible that the Church should err on the side of love and compassion and let God sort out the particulars in his own way and time, rather than attack the particulars and leave people bleeding and dying by the roadside of our self-righteousness?

Apologetics

I really never thought it would come to this. Not in my lifetime, anyway. But increasingly, letters to the editor, columns, Facebook posts, Internet articles and blogs, television commentary, etc. etc. ad nauseum seem entirely content with “defining” Christianity by what this or that person said or did. And

whether that person is an elected official, Hollywood celebrity, or the Pope, everyone who says he or she is of the Christian faith gets lumped in, expected to take the lumps – because let’s face it: the commentary on Christianity is growing more negative every year.

Which Jesus prophesied it would, by the way.

Jesus who? When I was growing up in the Bible Belt of North Carolina’s Appalachian mountains, just about everyone I knew went to church. We knew who Jesus was from Sunday school and insipid paintings. We would hear stories about missionaries going to islands of cannibals or into the thickest parts of the rain forest or climbing the highest Asian mountains to reach people who had never heard the Gospel, had never heard the name of Jesus and it was magical. Can you imagine? They’ve never heard?

Now it is 2013 and there are people in the United States, long considered the gold standard for Christianization, who have only heard the name of Jesus as a curse word. Have only heard the term “Christian” used derisively, primarily in the media.

Prolific novelist, professor, and apologist C.S. Lewis, perhaps best known for the Narnia children’s’ series that have found their way onto the silver screen in recent years, was also a radio personality in the 1940s. His radio material was geared to an agnostic, skeptical audience, eventually appearing on bookshelves as the classic Mere Christianity, which I heartily recommend. I’m not an apologist, certainly not a scholar of any merit. What I am is a learner, and along the way, I have learned this: I believe that God exists, that he created this universe and perhaps a million million more universes for his own purposes, almost all of which about which I have no understanding.

On planet Earth, the gem of our sun’s solar system, I have come to believe that one rule was given; one rule was broken. Unity between Creator and created was broken. From there, various seekers of truth were educated, called, anointed to lead other seekers of truth in becoming reunited with their Creator. A complex and impossibly difficult-to-follow Law was communicated for two reasons: one, to give people a way to God, things to do and sacrifice so that they felt they had a chance with him; and two, groundwork for something far more efficacious in the future.

At the right time, God found the circumstances and climate in which to appear as a man, as vulnerable

and powerless as he could be, in the form of a human baby. We call this Christmas now, but then, it was just a young couple marveling that shepherds were bowing in their infant son’s presence. Later, astronomers or kings or whoever they were from the East warned them their son was in danger. Still later, he grew up as a carpenter. For only three years, after beginning his life’s purpose, announcing that the kingdom of God was at hand, he spoke to people throughout the land of God’s love and forgiveness. He did not call people to change or obey, but to follow. Some did, and from the original handful, the whole of Christianity today has been born.

Jesus claimed to be God in the flesh. Therefore, he was eithe

r telling the truth or he was the biggest scam artist known to man. There is no room for a “good man” or a “good teacher” or even “a prophet of God.” His words are clear: follow me and love me as God incarnate, or forget me altogether. He did nothing to try and add to his numbers, unlike modern western churches that continually add new programs or build enormous buildings hoping to increase their numbers. If anything, Jesus made it difficult to be his follower. At times it seems he went out of his way to confuse his listeners.

You have to really, really want to follow to do so. And even then, you have to accept the fact that those who have taken the name of Christian have, historically, done and said things so contrary to Jesus’ own teachings that it boggles the mind.

I am a Christian. Raised in the church, I realized as a teenager that I was completely convinced that God exists, and that Jesus was God in the flesh, sent to die on the cross of Calvary (that was that groundwork I alluded to earlier, with the Law) as the final sacrifice for the sins of all mankind, once and for all. We’ve been forgiven. The way has been made clear. It only remains for us to each decide whether we believe it or not.

I’m not a good Christian, mind you. I do not reflect an accurate picture of Jesus’ perfection, or God’s transforming power and love. I’m not even particularly nice much of the time. I sin regularly and at an appalling rate. But I also believe that the shed blood of Jesus is more than enough to cover those sins, which leads me, every time I fall, to thank God for his grace, mercy, and forgiveness, and to pray for wisdom and strength to continue to grow as his child.

So the next time you hear about some whacko Christian saying God hates gays or liberals or Muslims or pushing some political agenda…I hope you’ll remember this one lone voice piping up at Christmas time saying, um, no. That’s not true. That’s not true at all. 

God loves his creation so much that he came to live among it, clothed with fallen, frail flesh but living without sin so that he could give his life as a pure sacrifice for all – at once satisfying God’s justice and mercy, all in one fell swoop.

You don’t have to believe in God. He believes in you. And he will do everything he can to convince you that he exists. And beyond that, that he loves you. The life we live on Earth, whether a hundred seconds or a hundred years, is the snap of the fingers compared to eternity - an eternity created for those wish to spend it with their Creator. Those who don't wish it, are not forced to be there. He leaves the choice to us.

Are there troubling issues? Absolutely. Things I don't like about God's ways? Sure. Things I despise about Church and Christians? Yeppers. I even wrote a book about it: Baaad Sheep - When God's People Let You Down (www.smashwords.com). But I am stuck - if God exists, why should I expect him to comply with my wishes, or my idea of him? He is GOD. It makes perfect sense to me that I wouldn't understand everything, or even like everything, he does. 

And because I recognize my own imperfections, even as I know that I sincerely believe in him and in Jesus Christ EVEN WHILE committing sin, I recognize that it is completely understandable that other sinful saints will say and do the most ridiculous,  horrible things. Embarrassing, but hardly surprising. We are all seeking truth. We haven't arrived. The worst of us think they have, think they have the corner on Truth, think they can fit Jesus into a nice little package or paranoia and ignorance, but he just won't be hemmed in. Imagine the audacity, the pride of that thought: Box the Creator of universes in? I think not.

(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013

My Idea, Released

Are you comfortable? This may take awhile. Of course, I used to write a new post for this every two
weeks, but that was a long time ago. I've been lucky to get out one a month, and I don't believe in luck. So there you go.

I have lost a lot of charms during my lifetime, the kind that hang on necklaces. I had a pretty silver circle with my initials on it. A gold one received in high school that may be around here somewhere - I gave it to my mother years ago, and then she gave it back, so it should be in a drawer but Lord only knows. Several from my sister, not because of any Freudian thing but because she has given me more gifts and therefore the odds were better that I would lose a certain percentage. I don't have a great track record with such things.

I could make excuses that we've moved around a lot and that my things have been rifled through in my absence, but the fact remains that I haven't taken good enough care of some things (and people) for which I honestly care deeply.

This week, there was a lot of turmoil and drama and I went outside to (1) get away from it and (2) pray about it in a quiet place. While I was sitting on a marble bench in the front yard, I had a revelation. My IDEA of what a happy family should be had crossed a line, maybe from the very beginning, but certainly at some point. There is a tired - but true- saying in Christianese that says "Jesus is either Lord of all or he isn't Lord AT all." In other words, whatever is number one in your life is God (or god, as the case may be).

I made having a happy family that looked and acted as I thought it should, for years I think, a god. Maybe not The God I Worshipped, but right up there. And that's wrong. We can have good ideas, great ideas, even GODLY ideas, but if we start holding them up above all else, if we let the ideas control us, turn us into people who try to rein everyone into the roles our Idea has cast them in, then we need a good talking to out on a bench at night in the rain.

Did I mention that it started raining while I was sitting outside?

Anyway, I cried over this incredible failure on my part to trust God (who has, repeatedly and consistently, proven himself completely trustworthy) with this vital part of my life. I was so busy wailing and gnashing my teeth over the failure of our family to be My Idea of A Happy Family that I'm sure I added to the unhappiness, to the problems, to the turmoil. I repented on the spot, asked God to forgive me, and then went that all-important step further: I released My Idea of A Happy Family to him, to do with as he will.

Jump to today, when I frantically looked for a charm that fell off my bracelet. (You didn't think I'd start with charms, if there was no connection to my point, did you?) I'd been wearing the charms on a charm holder around my neck instead of one at a time, but the charm holder was getting heavy. I got a bracelet and took it to Ye Olde Jeweler (that's not the real name, but it's the oldest jewelry store in town, where I got my ears pierced, where my mother bought the gold hoops she gave me on my wedding day. She worked at a jewelry store before she got married and knew a good one when she saw it) but they disappointed abysmally. I picked up the un-attached charms and the bracelet after a full month of inactivity, and decided to put them on myself.

Apparently my attachment skills are not perfect. I found one in the car this morning and purposed to fix it. When I laid out the bracelet to begin I saw, to my horror, than another one was missing, one of my very favorites. Most of the charms represent things from my childhood or motherhood but this one represented me now, represented my passion for writing. A tiny silver typewriter, center stage on the bracelet, gone. I crawled around the floor with a flashlight looking under things. I crawled around a long time. I made several trips to the driveway and to the car.

Finally I gave up, releasing the lost typewriter into the cosmos. Not that I was going to give it up entirely, of course, because I really liked it. I found its twin online and ordered a replacement, figuring that if I find the original, I will love having two typewriters hanging on my bracelet, but I'm certainly not going to do without one at all.

What does my charm bracelet have to do with my idolatrous notions about family? I think it is that attachment to things and people we love is important. We need to take care of them. I know that I had taken care of my bracelet. Knowing I hadn't soldered the jump rings as a jeweler would (I assume) I was especially careful not to catch the bracelet on anything. All week long, since I attached the charms, I have been conscious of the fact that I must use care. And I STILL managed to unhook two, and lose one, presumably, altogether. A failure in bracelet protection.

I've been a failure at creating and maintaining My Idea of a Happy Family, too. There are the relatives who won't talk to me despite attempts to reconcile. There are the ones who hold grudges for things that were said or done long ago. There are those who no longer need me or particularly want me, at least a good bit of the time. There are those from whom I have needed to distance myself a bit, so that they can grow up. People have moved, and moved on, and that is as it should be. While I focused on lots of Good Things, I've neglected the Best, at times. Not all of the time, but here and there

I don't mean to paint a dismal picture - we had a lovely Thanksgiving dinner yesterday with many of the family sitting around the table, missing those who couldn't be there. We're a mess, perhaps, but a mess that loves each other. We're stumbling along, but we're helping one another, too. Many, many things, and people, and relationships, to celebrate! But as a unit, we don't look like My Idea of a Happy Family all of the time. Actually, not any of the time! And that's okay. It's not our job to look like YOUR idea of a happy family either! Maybe your idea is the white picket fence, Mom, Dad, two kids, a dog and a cat. That's not my idea, but whatever yours is or mine is, it's probably not the reality we live with every day.

This isn't about beating myself up or feeling guilty. There are too many variables involved where families are concerned. There have been times when I was doing all I knew to do and doing it right, and others were dropping the ball, so to speak. I'm not perfect - not a perfect daughter, wife, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, aunt, cousin, niece, mother, grandmother, you name it - but neither is anyone else perfect in their particular roles in my family. I own my mistakes. I don't own theirs. And we aren't unique...no one is perfect, anywhere, anybody.

My point...yes, there really is one...is that when we see an issue of pride (My Idea vs. God's plan at work in the universe) there needs to be release. We can frantically try to hold on, as I did while I crawled around the floor looking for my little lost typewriter, or we can come to point of release, as I did sitting on the bench. "Okay, this is what I've been doing wrong. I'm sorry. Please forgive me, please fix it." That doesn't mean we do without, however; it means we get a new start. I can approach the family I have with more grace than when I wanted them to fit into a space that wasn't really made for them (even if it was a really nice space).

I can order a new charm. I can extend grace to others who have their own flawed concepts of what our family should look like, what I should look like, people who don't always take the best care of the things and people they genuinely care for, just like me. And I can trust God to create order out of chaos, joy out of sadness, fulfillness out of emptiness, his plan as opposed to mine.

Maybe this is all too convoluted, too much thinking for a Friday night. But that's okay, too.



(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013

Why "Breaking Bad" Could Be Real, But "The Walking Dead" Could Not

The title sums up the subject matter pretty succinctly, I think. Breaking Bad, the ten-time Emmy AMC that just recently completed its five-year run with an outstanding, dare-I-say-perfect final episode, could actually happen. It made the Guinness Book of World Records for being the highest rated television series of all time, so obviously the writing and acting were top-notch. But it could also be true.
award-winning television show on

There are, as we all know, high school chemistry teachers. I don't know how many there are in the United States. In 2010 there were about 25,000 secondary schools and 33,000 private schools. Let's say half of those included high school grades, 16,500.

That's 41,500 high schools, most of which would have chemistry teachers. Or at the very least, science teachers. Out of those, it's completely believable that some would be diagnosed with cancer. And it is completely believable that out of those, there might be a few who would be tempted to go out with a bang, make some fast cash, leave their families a legacy. Possible that former students would convince them to cook meth, and possible that - given the right personality and ego constraints - the teachers would strive to make the Best Meth Ever.

Would these few gain the notoriety of a Walter White/Heisenberg? Probably not, but it's possible. Would any one teacher team up with someone so dysfunctional and lovable as Jesse Pinkman? Again, possible. Possible to have a family member in the FBI. Possible to have a pregnant wife and disabled son. All possible. Possible to have the greed and easy money change the teacher to the point that he (I don't see it as probable for a female teacher. I apologize if this sounds sexist. Just my opinion.) changes in ways he never anticipated, becoming as violent as the violence provoked by the meth he cooks so skillfully.

All possible. Which made "Breaking Bad" so addictive. We watched, hoping that Walter White would stay true to himself and to his family but also hoping that he didn't get caught. By the time the series ended, we knew that justice had to prevail. The final episode expertly tempered justice with mercy - Walt died, but not from a long, painful final battle with cancer. He died, but saved Jesse's life. He died, but also provided for his family's future. Jesse escaped, to change into the good young man of which we came to believe him capable.

Hank and Mike and some others we would have liked to see survive didn't make it, but again, not only possible but extremely believable. You can't get mixed up in the crystal methamphetamine industry without some serious consequences. Skylar, Walter White's wife, was conflicted - also believable and possible - but she emerged virtually unscathed. Well, except for being a widow, losing a brother-in-law, knowing she condoned and connived right along with Walt, etc. etc. etc.

"The Walking Dead," however, as well-written and as well-acted as it has been and continues to be, is a fantasy.

"Could there be zombies?" my grandchildren ask.

"No," I answer. Aside from medical science, which is also on the side of my argument, the Bible says that it is appointed for men to die once, followed by judgement (Hebrews 9:27). If a person could die, but not really, this wouldn't be accurate. \

But, you say, there are a few instances in the Bible where people didn't die, they were just taken into heaven. What about them? There are, actually, two occurrences. Enoch "walked with God and was not, for God took him" (Genesis 5:24) and Elijah was taken up into a whirlwind on a chariot of fire (2 Kings 2:8). BUT many scholars believe that the two witnesses John prophesied about in the book of the Revelation (chapter 11) are Enoch and Elijah. They get killed. Their one time.

We live, we die, we face judgement. According to the Bible, those who trust in the saving sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, live forever. Given the choice between being in heaven where there is no pain or suffering, or returning to earth as a flesh-eating zombie, I doubt anyone would want to leave the golden gates. And those who are in hell, while I can see why they'd want to return to a better place (earth), maybe scare a few folks, etc., would they return in such numbers? And escape any heavenly plan to thwart them in the form of angels? Demons, or fallen angels, could certainly take the form of zombies - that's the best bet, in my book - but I think they would have more power than slowly trudging along in search of flesh. If the zombies had fire coming out of the nostrils, or had superhuman strength, sure, but television's walkers sort of schlep along. No demonic power in the lot.

Those who don't die in faith, theologically speaking, experience a sort of "forever death", eternal separation from God. The current pope, Pope Francis, has said that all good people will inherit eternal life, not just Catholics. I'm not a Catholic, so I'm hoping he's right. Not just for me, but for a lot of good people I know who haven't (yet) made a decision of their wills to believe in Jesus. They're still at the "he's a good teacher" stage of seeking truth, but I have hope.
so
At any rate, there are probably many more reasons why zombies are figments of the imagination and not scientifically or theologically possible. That's just the one I used with my grandkids. They make for a great story, but naaah. I don't think so.




(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013

DO SOMETHING. OR NOT.

September happened, but for various reasons I never got around to writing a blog. Not even one, when I'd like to do two a month. When I was a weekly newspaper columnist, I loved the feedback from raising hackles and pleasing readers (depending on the subject matter or the frame of mind) on a regular basis. My daily poetry blog (www.ellenpoems.blogspot.com) is a challenge and a joy, but that's no excuse for not being a better caretaker for this one.

How do 30 days pass without time or inclination to sit down at the computer and share thoughts that are not poetic (as in A Poem a Day) or the briefest of communication (as in a Facebook post or text)? In a word, they pass stressfully. Pull-the-rug-out-from-under-your-feet stress. Take-the-wind-out-of-your-sail stress. Feel-like-I'm-gonna-scream stress. Not all at once, but several Big Things during the month that slapped me squarely across the face, interspersed (of course) with many more quieter moments of peace and joy. 

It would be unfair, even dishonest of me to mention the Big Things, as unsettling as they were, without also mentioning the better things. Did I say the Big Things unsettled? Then the quieter moments of joy did the opposite, settling my spirit and my soul and even my breathing into a rhythm I could sustain and live with.

Now that we are more than halfway into October, some of the Big Things have yet to resolve and (as is my custom) I was becoming impatient and anxious. Perhaps I should set up a conference call. Write a letter. DO SOMETHING. That is the Protestant way, isn't it? The basis for our great work ethic? When all else fails, DO SOMETHING.

It always amazes me that with the hundreds, nay, thousands of Hallmark cards or plaques or posters or bumper stickers I've seen over a lifetime, the relative few that strike a chord and remain locked inside my picayune little brain. One perky little phrase I've seen numerous times and in numerous settings is one attributed to several different speakers: A ship is safe in the harbor, but that is not what ships are made for. The implication is that we need to step out of our comfort zones, take action, etc. etc. blahblahblah. DO SOMETHING.

Looking back at September, I'm thinking that the problem with such quotes, such sound bytes, such syrupy song lyrics, is that they don't take the almost limitless variables into consideration. Maybe the ship needs work. Maybe the crew is on shore leave. Maybe there's a freakin' category 5 hurricane brewing out in the ocean. Doing something doesn't necessarily guarantee doing the most helpful, wisest thing for the long term best of the situation or those involved.

But I was still caught up in DO SOMETHING mode and decided to try the ole' flip-through-the-Bible trick employed by countless new believers and also (if they will admit it) seasoned believers as well. It's done like this:

1. Get into a bit of a panic over some particular decision or circumstance.
2. Pray and ask God for wisdom.
3. When it doesn't come immediately, pray that he will lead you through the Bible. You're muddled, human, sinful, stoopid from time to time and often hard of hearing when it comes to spiritual matters, so you assume that he's talking and you just aren't getting it. Since handwriting on the wall seems to have been a one-time event in the book of Daniel (thank you, Jesus...I wouldn't want God's admonitions to ME written on the wall for everyone to see, would you?) the next best thing would seem to be (you reason) the Word.
4. Turn the Bible upside down, if you like, so you don't inadvertently flip to the verse you're really hoping to find that says "Smite them, O Lord!" Then read the direct word of wisdom that will either fit your needs exactly or will be so incredibly off-topic that you will throw the Bible down impatiently and fume.

By the way, when I was still in my 20s, a young mother of four on the mission field with my husband in India, I heard a wonderful sermon on the subject of having a "life verse." A lot of people seemed to know what their "life verse" was, but I was clueless. I prayed for God to show me, and I turned right to Deuteronomy 6:5:  Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.

Really?

No, I didn't say that. I was pleased, in fact. What's not to like about that? It's comfortably vague while being fierce in its implications.

But I digress. Today, I went the flip-through route before doing something I might regret. Doing something without thinking it through had been one of the problem variables in one situation, and I didn't want to make it worse. I prayed. I flipped....

...right to King David's psalm of thanks in 1 Chronicles 16 (New International Version):

8 Give praise to the Lord, proclaim his name;
    make known among the nations what he has done.
9 Sing to him, sing praise to him;
    tell of all his wonderful acts.
10 Glory in his holy name;
    let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice.
11 Look to the Lord and his strength;
    seek his face always.

12 Remember the wonders he has done,
    his miracles, and the judgments he pronounced,
13 you his servants, the descendants of Israel,
    his chosen ones, the children of Jacob.
14 He is the Lord our God;
    his judgments are in all the earth.

15 He remembers[a] his covenant forever,
    the promise he made, for a thousand generations,
16 the covenant he made with Abraham,
    the oath he swore to Isaac.
17 He confirmed it to Jacob as a decree,
    to Israel as an everlasting covenant:
18 “To you I will give the land of Canaan
    as the portion you will inherit.”

19 When they were but few in number,
    few indeed, and strangers in it,
20 they[b] wandered from nation to nation,
    from one kingdom to another.
21 He allowed no one to oppress them;
    for their sake he rebuked kings:
22 “Do not touch my anointed ones;
    do my prophets no harm.”

23 Sing to the Lord, all the earth;
    proclaim his salvation day after day.
24 Declare his glory among the nations,
    his marvelous deeds among all peoples.

25 For great is the Lord and most worthy of praise;
    he is to be feared above all gods.
26 For all the gods of the nations are idols,
    but the Lord made the heavens.
27 Splendor and majesty are before him;
    strength and joy are in his dwelling place.

28 Ascribe to the Lord, all you families of nations,
    ascribe to the Lord glory and strength.
29 Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name;
    bring an offering and come before him.
Worship the Lord in the splendor of his[c] holiness.
30     Tremble before him, all the earth!
    The world is firmly established; it cannot be moved.

31 Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad;
    let them say among the nations, “The Lord reigns!”
32 Let the sea resound, and all that is in it;
    let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them!
33 Let the trees of the forest sing,
    let them sing for joy before the Lord,
    for he comes to judge the earth.

34 Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;
    his love endures forever.
35 Cry out, “Save us, God our Savior;
    gather us and deliver us from the nations,
that we may give thanks to your holy name,
    and glory in your praise.”
36 Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,
    from everlasting to everlasting.

Then all the people said “Amen” and “Praise the Lord.”

You are forgiven if you respond to this with a scratch of the head and a nasal "Huh?" What does that have to do with the wisdom I was seeking? Which I need? I submit to you that it has EVERYTHING to do with it.

Forget the problems, the variables, the ornery people who simply refuse to do what we what and when we want. Forget all that. Remember God. Remember what he has done. Consider what he has promised to do. And beyond that, give thanks. For the problems, the variables, the ornery people who simply refuse to do what we what and when we want. Give thanks because God is God, and he is worthy of our thanks, regardless of everything else.

I love that David ends with a heart cry for help - even kings need help; maybe especially, kings need help - but he's laid the groundwork for almost two pages of praise, piling it on, reminding God of his own greatness. By comparison nothing we fume over is beyond minuscule and yet God is concerned with even those tiny things with trouble his children.

There was no rumble of thunder, no shout of "Eureka!" I didn't even shout, with all the people of Israel "Amen" and "Praise the Lord." 

I didn't do anything. And that was the whole point.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013 

You Have Something To Say

You don't become a blogger because you think you have nothing to say, but that's how I feel fairly often. It's all been said, anyway, and by better writers than I will ever be. Why would anyone care what I think? Who am I to think that I have a unique thought in my head, anyway?

A big red flag should pop up on my life's screen at that point. Robot should start waving his arms: "Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!" Because each of us has something to say (even if we are prone to begin a sentence with conjunctions). Our lives mean something, not just to our families and closest friends. There's no accurate way to gauge it, so you'll just have to take my word for it that you affect people far beyond what you might consider your circle of influence.

Just this week I had cause to request a meeting with an administrator at my grandson's school. He lives with us and didn't want to go to school. That's not uncommon for ten-year-old boys, but when I dug a little deeper, there was an actual reason in the guise of an unhappy classmate who'd decided to take out his unhappiness on my grandson.

As a substitute teacher, I see unhappy teenagers, unhappy tots. And the unhappy tots will eventually turn INTO unhappy teens if no one intervenes. Thus, my compulsion to sit down with an administrator to discuss a solution.

When the gentleman approached to shake my hand and introduced himself, there was a flash of recognition. Don't I know you...? And then he told me his name. He went to school with my sister; instant rapport. Out of all the hundreds of fellow students, I had remembered this man. My sister had always spoken highly and fondly of him, and it was clear that his character had only improved with time.

I bring this up because I hadn't known this man personally. Had never met him, unless he perhaps came to the house for a brief school-related reason. My sister's chance comments, however, had made a lasting impression. And before that, this (then) young man's character had made a lasting impression on her. Interaction with my sister some forty years ago affected interaction with me this week. Because I knew of him a long time ago, liked the outline of his life story enough to tuck it away in my mental filing cabinet, and when the time came, was able to pull out the outline, flesh it out a bit, start filling in details. Not many, but a few. There was a foundation laid, long before we knew we would have reason to appreciate it.

When we moved to Florida, I came across several letters/clippings from a former editor of mine. For some reason we had maintained contact, sometimes interrupted by years and years of silence, and yet there was something about the friendship - and truly, it was a stretch to even use the word - that endured. We have collaborated on a few writing projects, exchanged truly awful jokes, and I consider this once-employer-nothing-more to be one of my closest friends. Why? Because we knew each other a long time ago, liked the outline of each other's life story enough to tuck it away in our mental filing cabinets, and when the time came, were able to pull out those outlines, flesh them out a bit, start filling in details. What had, at one time, seemed major differences paled in comparison to newly discovered similarities and common interests.

Earlier this year, I received a phone call from a younger woman who read my book on the hurts we Because we knew each other a long time ago, liked the outline of each other's life story enough to tuck it away in our mental filing cabinets, and when the time came, were able to pull out those outlines, flesh them out a bit, start filling in details. A trust had been built long before, that time had not eroded.
may receive inside church walls. I hadn't seen her for years, had known her primarily as a child. She had questions,which I tried to answer as best I could. I asked a few questions of my own. She opened up about incredibly hurtful circumstances in her past, things she had never told another living soul. Why?

When I substitute for an age group that can understand the concept, I encourage them to pay attention to the details. The spelling, the punctuation, the tenses. "Your story is important! People need to hear what you have to say, and if you don't communicate it clearly, they may not get what you're telling them."

I suppose I should have been listening to those words, too. And I think I know why I sometimes feel like sounding the retreat, curling into a little ball and refusing to come out and play: the epidemic disinterest in others that I encounter more and more as I get older. People love to talk about themselves, but often show an abysmal lack of interest in anyone else. Strike up a conversation with someone seated next to you on the plane, or at a meeting, and nine times out of ten, you will hear more than you really expected, followed by awkward silence. People have forgotten how to keep a conversation going, they've lost the empathy or common courtesy to end their own answer with a question: "What about you? What brings you all the way to..."

I'll close with the antithesis to that type of self-absorbed Memememememe. I don't remember who sat down first, whether I sat down by Tom at the mayor's breakfast, or I sat down by him. We exchanged pleasantries. That I was intrigued by him was a no-brainer: he'd sailed to Florida from Michigan and rode around town on a bicycle, despite being at an age when most folks might be saving up stories about their latest ailments and appointments to share over dinner. What was not to like?

What caught my attention was that he seemed to be genuinely interested in me.

Tom Lee (and the Sock Monkey)
with grandson Adam

Before his return to Michigan, Tom treated my grandson and I and his friend to a tour of his boat and a boatyard, answered questions, brought flowers to a show I was in - in short, he became an instant, lasting friend because he is one of those people who never loses sight of the fact that his own story is worth sharing, and who simultaneously communicates that my story is worth hearing  as well (or yours, or whomever's he is around).




That's a gift, and it's one that more of us should work on cultivating. Myself, included.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013