I often check the upcoming movie listings online to see if there is anything suitable for family viewing coming to our local theater.
While I am not too interested in a great deal of what is being offered simply because it doesn't interest me, I am concerned about an alarming trend of movies that are created for the sole purpose of removing the light from our lives.
Celebrations of evil fill movie houses to the rapacious appetite of audiences which care nothing for goodness, but rather spend money to be shocked, horrified and offered a full plate of garbage from which they feast as if the offering were worthy.
Satan walks the earth arm in arm with the Holly-weird crowd and helps them along the pathway to destruction most willingly.
That they and others sell themselves so cheaply is so sad.
That they believe the pernicious lies that are presented as 'truth from a certain point of view' is nothing short of pitiful.
I don't want to take my family to see filth.
If we wanted to view garbage, all we need do is bring our chairs out and sit by the large rolling trash bin which is emptied by an automated lift each Wednesday morning.
It too is filled with sickening things, but I can guarantee that as unpleasant the aroma and as unpalatable the contents, the household garbage is better fare than what lights the marquees at many a theater in our communities.
While we can wash off the accidental filth of handling household waste, our minds are not so easily cleansed from disturbing and evil imagery sent out to titillate, entice and influence.
That is why advertising is SO effective.
The whole point is to sell something to a consumer.
Movies have become, not entertainment and diversion, but long play advertisements for the dirt, the smut and the filth that we would not have considered handling just a few short years ago.
Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he. (Old Testament Proverbs 29:18)
What kind of vision is being offered to us? Is it something that will help us keep the law, or does it discourage our view from anything that is good?
Society isn't so sick that it can't be healed, but too many feel there isn't any need to cure the disease that runs rampant.
The Great Healer must indeed be weeping. He holds the cure for the ills of the world, but His children run from it seeking only to do their own will and not that of the Father.
Happiness is not a subject for debate, yet the media has attached that name to things that defile, degrade and destroy. There isn't even a long span of temporary happiness in doing wicked.
Satan knows this, but it isn't in his nature to tell the truth or he would let us see him for who and what he REALLY is.
The funny thing about the irony of circumstance is that Jesus Christ and God the Father have never hidden who they are and what their mission is all about. They want to be there for us, with us and help us come home - if only WE be willing.
Satan wants to drive us like cattle, herd us like dumb animals and compel us to eat from the trough he wishes to feed us from and all the while, he knows - HE KNOWS - that what he offers is poison.
It isn't accidental.
The family is the biggest target simply because the loss of the family is the loss of everything.
When filth can be peddled to the family, they become people who just live together instead of people who love each other and do for one another in a selfless and open manner.
Satan wants us to believe that the Light is out of our reach.
Christ has a different message:
28 Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
(New Testament Matthew 11:28 - 30)
Jesus Christ invites ALL to come to Him. He didn't say that only a select few could come, but all.
I believe Him when he says I can bring my burdens to Him. I have done so on many ocassions. I will do so on many more.
The Light that fills me with understanding a love removes the darkness that Satan would have me believe is 'reality'.
The Light of Christ helps me see the other people in the world around me and understand that their needs are as important as mine and in some cases, should come first - even ahead of my own agenda.
What a blessing to have that Light and love!
When I look at the movie listings now, I am looking for movies that are about love the way Father in Heaven shows it. Love the way that Jesus Christ shows it. Love of family as ordained by God.
Without those elements, no amount of pre-release hype can make the movie worth any price.
I don't want my soul to bear a "For Sale sign". And certainly not for so cheap a price.
December 5, 2008
December 4, 2008
Rain, cold and Arthur
Rain, rain, go away
Come again some other day...
Rain didn't bother me when I was a kid. At best, it was a momentary joy to stomp in the puddles splashing less than pristine water on my sister's white socks and shiny Mary Jane's while my tongue lolled out of my mouth like a dogs to catch the rain drops in an attempt to gather them all.
At worst the rain meant that a planned outing was cancelled and that the traipsing in and out through the black screen door was halted to keep the muddy footprints from tainting the freshly mopped green and white flecked vinyl floor tiles that had so recently been mopped.
Now, rain comes and brings both an addition to the level of the water table and an addition to the level of pain.
I have to exercise because I made a pledge to myself to do so. I even promised the smiling countenance of Denise Austin, who doesn't even know me, that I would do 'just one more' of whatever unnatural position she is encouraging my beat up body to assume.
And, I have to exercise because, for whatever reason, my best friend Beth tells me that it's a good thing to do. I agree. It IS a good thing to do. On the days I am not dreaming of a big whopping smoothie made of Demerol and morphine…
But, then on the days that everything hurts and I'm spending my time with Arthur Itis and his aches and pains, I'm not too convinced that it is so much 'good for me' as it is a way to help my dog Gyspy inherit my earthly wealth. Won't she be surprised when the read the will only to discover it is actually a forgotten grocery list written on the back of the last direct mail envelope that I received last February!
Today was a rainy, cold day that made me question just why it was that Christmas is celebrated in the winter and why on earth we hadn't made better plans to live near the Equator.
I sympathize wholeheartedly with those who suffer the pains of life. And I empathize with those who require a steady diet of pain pills to get to sleep without moaning.
The sad realization came to me one day when I discovered that I hurt when I do my exercises and I hurt when I DON'T do my exercises. Who knew?
There could be new lyrics in there somewhere, but I'm not sure which country singer would sound better singing about Icy-Hot, Ben-Gay and ThermaCare wraps. I'll have to ponder that.
I think a shower that simply sprays a fine mist of pain relieving emollients would be nice. And a full time masseuse to make everything feel better or at least make the screaming stop...oh wait, that screaming was ME!
In the event that I become one of the Publisher's Clearinghouse winners, I pledge here and now to spend the money on a personal trainer and massage therapist. I'll keep them on retainer.
Right now, it's time to take my chilled body and find a blanket to slip under. At this point, I'd be willing to slip under the influence of a pain pill as well. So far, my will conscious dog Gypsy hasn't brought me anything for the aches and pains. I've been willing to overlook that shortcoming until now.
If she expects me to be lucid enough to create an acutal will naming her as the rightful heir to all of my dog treats, bones and liversnaps, then Gypsy needs to be more cooperative when I am praying that the tub will be filled with Icy-Hot so I can just marinate in it...
It wouldn't hurt her to bring around a few pain pills in a little barrel around her neck, or maybe use those cunning teeth to open up a few hundred tubes of Ben-Gay?
Instead, she is curled up in a tight ball oblivious to my battered body - unless the batter we are referring to has 11 herbs and spices. Then she is all mine with her undivided brown-eyed, dinner seeking attention.
Time to get a blanket. Arthur is making me ache.
Come again some other day...
Rain didn't bother me when I was a kid. At best, it was a momentary joy to stomp in the puddles splashing less than pristine water on my sister's white socks and shiny Mary Jane's while my tongue lolled out of my mouth like a dogs to catch the rain drops in an attempt to gather them all.
At worst the rain meant that a planned outing was cancelled and that the traipsing in and out through the black screen door was halted to keep the muddy footprints from tainting the freshly mopped green and white flecked vinyl floor tiles that had so recently been mopped.
Now, rain comes and brings both an addition to the level of the water table and an addition to the level of pain.
I have to exercise because I made a pledge to myself to do so. I even promised the smiling countenance of Denise Austin, who doesn't even know me, that I would do 'just one more' of whatever unnatural position she is encouraging my beat up body to assume.
And, I have to exercise because, for whatever reason, my best friend Beth tells me that it's a good thing to do. I agree. It IS a good thing to do. On the days I am not dreaming of a big whopping smoothie made of Demerol and morphine…
But, then on the days that everything hurts and I'm spending my time with Arthur Itis and his aches and pains, I'm not too convinced that it is so much 'good for me' as it is a way to help my dog Gyspy inherit my earthly wealth. Won't she be surprised when the read the will only to discover it is actually a forgotten grocery list written on the back of the last direct mail envelope that I received last February!
Today was a rainy, cold day that made me question just why it was that Christmas is celebrated in the winter and why on earth we hadn't made better plans to live near the Equator.
I sympathize wholeheartedly with those who suffer the pains of life. And I empathize with those who require a steady diet of pain pills to get to sleep without moaning.
The sad realization came to me one day when I discovered that I hurt when I do my exercises and I hurt when I DON'T do my exercises. Who knew?
There could be new lyrics in there somewhere, but I'm not sure which country singer would sound better singing about Icy-Hot, Ben-Gay and ThermaCare wraps. I'll have to ponder that.
I think a shower that simply sprays a fine mist of pain relieving emollients would be nice. And a full time masseuse to make everything feel better or at least make the screaming stop...oh wait, that screaming was ME!
In the event that I become one of the Publisher's Clearinghouse winners, I pledge here and now to spend the money on a personal trainer and massage therapist. I'll keep them on retainer.
Right now, it's time to take my chilled body and find a blanket to slip under. At this point, I'd be willing to slip under the influence of a pain pill as well. So far, my will conscious dog Gypsy hasn't brought me anything for the aches and pains. I've been willing to overlook that shortcoming until now.
If she expects me to be lucid enough to create an acutal will naming her as the rightful heir to all of my dog treats, bones and liversnaps, then Gypsy needs to be more cooperative when I am praying that the tub will be filled with Icy-Hot so I can just marinate in it...
It wouldn't hurt her to bring around a few pain pills in a little barrel around her neck, or maybe use those cunning teeth to open up a few hundred tubes of Ben-Gay?
Instead, she is curled up in a tight ball oblivious to my battered body - unless the batter we are referring to has 11 herbs and spices. Then she is all mine with her undivided brown-eyed, dinner seeking attention.
Time to get a blanket. Arthur is making me ache.
November 30, 2008
The Thirtieth Day
When I was in elementary school, they taught us this little ditty to help us remember the various months' and the number of days:
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November:
All the rest have thirty-one,
excepting February - a month alone,
to which we twenty-eight assign,
'til leap year gives it twenty-nine.
Why this particular little verse comes to mind is that we have just completed, as of today, the last of the 30-day months.
I don't know why the various months were assigned the particular number of days though I have heard all manner of theories from the well-educated and the not-so-well-educated as to how the decisions on subdivision occured.
One thing I do know is that reaching the 30th of November always fills me with a sense of completion. Within the month of December is an expectation that the shortened days and the crisply cinnamon scented air will be heralding the time when people are suppose to remember that they have fellow man inhabiting the planet with them.
Sometimes, that understanding is no more than a pious hope.
Witness the violence at several stores as people literally trampled and killed someone just to be 'first' to save a couple of bucks on something they were going to buy. No bargain is worth the life of another human being in the name of the almighty dollar!
What were these people thinking?
Obviously, they were not thinking much of anything because the 'herd mentality' had overshadowed all else.
Lemmings.
It reminds me of a disturbing movie I saw as a gradeschooler of the march of the lemmings toward their own demise. No one stopped to ask 'why are we doing this?' or 'where are we going?'.
Nope.
They just plunged off the cliff to their death like the hundreds before them who didn't manage to have a separate thought about personal responsibility and safety.
People are supposed to be different.
Why do we need to murder someone to save $5 on a sweater that Aunt Marge will NEVER wear?
Why do we need to literally tear the doors off of their hinges in order to pick up savings on a video game that means nothing when the power has been cut off because we didn't manage to pay the light bill?
I can't answer these questions.
But I know the end of November this year seems to herald the beginning of a most uncivil shopping season that will only end badly for all concerned if we don't turn our hearts back to what our days and nights are supposed to be filled with and concerned over.
I cannot imagine the humble followers of Christ trampling one another to get to the manger. Likewise, I can't see the end of the month coming and the wise men killing their camels in a mad jockey race for which one gets to be first to slop down a gift before the baby who means nothing more than a finish line to their ego.
It just doesn't seem right.
So today, I take this last day of the month to think about things ending and thing beginning.
I'd like to put an end to my personal selfishness.
I'd like to end my desires to do evil.
I'd like to be able to stop on the last day of this month and have the feeling that all of my pet vices will not have any control over me anymore.
And then, I'd like to start seeing my fellowman the way Father does.
I don't know them all personally, but He does. And He sees all of His children as the radiant points of light they CAN be and weeps over those who have willingly chosen to dim or extinguish their own heaven sent brilliance for the siren call of the world who will neither honor nor remember them when that poor choice is made.
I'd like to start the first day of December truly being the kind of person that has charity all year long instead of just while the Tabernacle Choir sings of love and brotherhood during the season of lights and presents and the infant Jesus.
Why is it so easy to get to the end of our days remembering the baby but not the Man?
Jesus didn't stay in the cradle.
I don't think we were intended to do that either - physically or emotionally. Most certainly, our spiritual growth should outstrip the confines of the manger and reach out to all men.
just thinking while the orchestra plays this Sabbath morning as I am home with a sick boy.
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November:
All the rest have thirty-one,
excepting February - a month alone,
to which we twenty-eight assign,
'til leap year gives it twenty-nine.
Why this particular little verse comes to mind is that we have just completed, as of today, the last of the 30-day months.
I don't know why the various months were assigned the particular number of days though I have heard all manner of theories from the well-educated and the not-so-well-educated as to how the decisions on subdivision occured.
One thing I do know is that reaching the 30th of November always fills me with a sense of completion. Within the month of December is an expectation that the shortened days and the crisply cinnamon scented air will be heralding the time when people are suppose to remember that they have fellow man inhabiting the planet with them.
Sometimes, that understanding is no more than a pious hope.
Witness the violence at several stores as people literally trampled and killed someone just to be 'first' to save a couple of bucks on something they were going to buy. No bargain is worth the life of another human being in the name of the almighty dollar!
What were these people thinking?
Obviously, they were not thinking much of anything because the 'herd mentality' had overshadowed all else.
Lemmings.
It reminds me of a disturbing movie I saw as a gradeschooler of the march of the lemmings toward their own demise. No one stopped to ask 'why are we doing this?' or 'where are we going?'.
Nope.
They just plunged off the cliff to their death like the hundreds before them who didn't manage to have a separate thought about personal responsibility and safety.
People are supposed to be different.
Why do we need to murder someone to save $5 on a sweater that Aunt Marge will NEVER wear?
Why do we need to literally tear the doors off of their hinges in order to pick up savings on a video game that means nothing when the power has been cut off because we didn't manage to pay the light bill?
I can't answer these questions.
But I know the end of November this year seems to herald the beginning of a most uncivil shopping season that will only end badly for all concerned if we don't turn our hearts back to what our days and nights are supposed to be filled with and concerned over.
I cannot imagine the humble followers of Christ trampling one another to get to the manger. Likewise, I can't see the end of the month coming and the wise men killing their camels in a mad jockey race for which one gets to be first to slop down a gift before the baby who means nothing more than a finish line to their ego.
It just doesn't seem right.
So today, I take this last day of the month to think about things ending and thing beginning.
I'd like to put an end to my personal selfishness.
I'd like to end my desires to do evil.
I'd like to be able to stop on the last day of this month and have the feeling that all of my pet vices will not have any control over me anymore.
And then, I'd like to start seeing my fellowman the way Father does.
I don't know them all personally, but He does. And He sees all of His children as the radiant points of light they CAN be and weeps over those who have willingly chosen to dim or extinguish their own heaven sent brilliance for the siren call of the world who will neither honor nor remember them when that poor choice is made.
I'd like to start the first day of December truly being the kind of person that has charity all year long instead of just while the Tabernacle Choir sings of love and brotherhood during the season of lights and presents and the infant Jesus.
Why is it so easy to get to the end of our days remembering the baby but not the Man?
Jesus didn't stay in the cradle.
I don't think we were intended to do that either - physically or emotionally. Most certainly, our spiritual growth should outstrip the confines of the manger and reach out to all men.
just thinking while the orchestra plays this Sabbath morning as I am home with a sick boy.
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