On Love (Part 11): Love Always Protects

Okay. So... I have a tendency to be long winded. I freely admit this and half-heartedly apologize for it. Embarking on a ten page journey to explain how to further apply “love always protects” to our lives seems more excessive. But bear with me. I do hope this is instructive, but I am pretty sure it’s necessary. Partially because we have all completely misunderstood this verse for a very long time.

The NIV translates the first part of 1 Corinthians 13:7, “It always protects...”

“It” of course referring to love.

The Message translates the same section as, “Puts up with anything.”

The ESV translates it basically the same way as the ASV and the King James Version: “Love bears all things...”

To be perfectly honest, each of these are pretty wildly different from Paul’s original Greek. They’re similar, and each represents something we should all aspire to. But they’re not direct, literal translations of Paul’s words.

Why not? And more importantly, how is it possible to go on mistranslating something for hundreds of years, through countless revisions and translations?

Well, first, I’m sure you’ve played the telephone game. A bunch of children line up, and one is asked to come up with a story. The little boy or girl then leans in to the next person in line

and repeats the story. They follow suit and so does the next person, on and on until the last person in line is asked to repeat the story. We all know what has happened: the story has completely changed. The game is meant to teach children about the dangers of gossip, but it could also be used to teach children the dangers of continually retranslating and updating the same book.

It is true that every new translation of the Bible makes a concerted effort to go back to the root Hebrew and Greek. Unfortunately, there are 774, 746 words in the Bible. By contrast, a novel is defined as being 40,000 words (or more), and War and Peace (a five volume epic) contains only 560,000 words. When people are translating that many words, it would be understandable and easy to slack off a little bit.

I’m not suggesting that the writers of the NIV got tired, put away their copy of the original Greek, busted out a copy of the King James version, took out all the -eth’s at the end of words and called it a day. What I am suggesting is that they likely had a copy of the King James (or another English Translation) open next to their copy of the original Greek. After looking at the original Greek and looking up the meaning of each word, it would be easy to look at the KJV translation and say, “yeah...I think that seems like a good translation. Let’s go with that.”

And if the King James Version got it a little bit wrong in the first place, then we’re left with one slight mistranslation after another.

Sometimes, it’s necessary to throw out everything we know about the Bible and everything we’ve learned and are influenced by. We have to get rid of what we assume something means and try to understand it the way the writer was originally intending to write it. We have to imagine that we don’t know anything about Christ or God. We have to pretend we are from some other planet, studying the peculiarities of this Christian religion and it’s scriptures.

So how have we misinterpreted something so simple as: [love] always protects?

First, we glaze over it, assuming that it means what we want it to mean. Every man who’s repeating 1 Corinthians 13 as a part of his wedding ceremony instantly connects with this one. I am a man. I protect my wife. I protect my children. It’s generally assumed that this is every man’s (and especially every husband and father’s) primary function. Women and children get rescued first, right? I mean, they do in all the movies. And also on boats. So as a Christian man, it’s easy to get this one -- to react to it on a gut level. It seems to us that God is reaffirming that it is our duties to protect our families from harm, not only as a man, but as a follower of Christ.

We are drawn to this interpretation because protecting what you love is a natural, innate desire. But how often are our natural, innate desires Christlike? Jeremiah 17:9 says, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked.” Our natural, innate desires are things like lusting after a beautiful woman, or desperately seeking power, control, or comfort. Does our desire to protect our loved ones come from a selfless desire to sacrifice ourselves in the stead of another, or does it come from a desire to keep the things that we love? Is our natural inclination to protect our wife (or husband) and children the same natural inclination that leads us to put our iPhone in a protective case? Because we would be sad if something happened to them.

The thing is, it’s impossible to always be protecting someone. You cannot be physically present in your child’s life every single moment of every single day. And even if you could, you would never be able to anticipate every possible harmful scenario. Think of the Secret Service, who’s job it is to protect the President from danger. There are dozens of them dedicated to this singular task. And yet, several times throughout history, they have failed to be able to protect the president from harm. If someone wanted to assassinate the president, it would most certainly be difficult, but not impossible. And that is a large group of people with all the latest technology.

Would Paul ask us to do something impossible?

Love does not in fact always protect. That is a mistranslation.

The Message translates this section of the verse as: “[love] puts up with anything.”

The Contemporary English Version puts it: “[love] is always supportive.”

The New International Version says: “[love] always protects.”

and the King James Version says: “[love] beareth all things.”

There is a subtle, but very important, difference between “love protects all things” and “love always protects.” And there’s a huge difference between protecting everything and “puts up with anything” or “is always supportive.”

Paul’s original Greek writing of this section was only two words: Stego pas.

Stego translates:

1) deck, thatch, cover

a) to protect or keep by covering, to preserve

2) to cover with silence

a) to keep a secret

b) to hide, conceal

3) by covering to keep off something which threatens, to bear up against, to hold out against, and so endure, bear, forbear.

Pas simply translates as “everything.”

So it’s true -- the word “always” has literally nothing to do with Paul’s original intent.

But even the King James Version takes quite a bit of artistic license in changing a word that effectively means “to protect” in reference to covering or concealing to a word that means “protect” in reference to structurally supporting or enduring.

Paul suggests that love act like a covering -- like a protective shield. The way that your house protects you from the weather. Another excellent way to look at it is lamination on a sheet of paper. We are called, not to support, but to take the abuse in another’s place. (Which seems pretty Christlike, right?) A sheet of paper will become dingy, frayed, or easily torn apart eventually just by being handled repeatedly. Lamination makes that significantly more difficult.

An even better way of looking at it might be the way tupperware protects your food. Your food will stay fresh much longer if you place it in a protective container. It will dry out, become freezer burned, mold faster, or simply go bad. If we are to be loving, we are called to be like a tupperware container. And, if you recall, the role of preserving food once belonged to salt, which was also used to cover the food it was protecting. Which may evoke another bible verse...

So then, we are called to protect in a slightly different way than we might have originally thought. The type of Protection Paul is talking about is more akin to stepping in front of a bullet for someone than it is like keeping them in a good neighborhood where bullets are less likely to fly. But, who exactly are we supposed to protect?

Everything.

It is easy to think, “I’ve got it! I will totally protect my girlfriend. And boy does she need it! She’s so weak and frail! She needs protection from all the bad men out there who would rape or murder or steal from her. She needs protection from financial woes and worries. Heck, she needs protection from spiders.”

But we are not asked to protect merely our girlfriend. Love protects ALL things. Love protects the girlfriend and the spider.

How do you protect your girlfriend and protect the rapist?

Because Paul doesn’t say “always protect the people who deserve protection.” He says “protect all things.” Love doesn’t just protect the innocent. Love protects the guilty.

There’s a pretty famous quote from the movie “The People vs. Larry Flynt.” Edward Norton plays Alan Isaacman, Larry Flynt’s attorney. Larry Flynt, if you’re not familiar, is the creator of Hustler magazine. And there’s a reason the movie is called the people vs. Larry Flynt and not the people vs. Hugh Hefner. Playboy is generally considered to be somewhat refined and tasteful. Hustler does not have that reputation. Hustler is gross, dirty, and filthy. There’s an old joke that people subscribe to Playboy “for the articles.” Nobody claims to read Hustler for the articles. There’s no claiming to simply be appreciating the beauty of the female form. Hustler is lust and objectification in all it’s lack of glory. And Larry Flynt set out to build an empire of riches off of this filth.

In his defense, his attorney says this:

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard a lot today, and I’m not gonna go back over it, but you have to go into that room and make some decisions. But before you do, there’s something you need to know. I am not trying to suggest that you should like what Larry Flynt does. I don’t like what Larry Flynt does, but what I do like is the fact that I live in a country where I can pick up Hustler magazine and read it, or throw it in the garbage can if that’s where I think it belongs.”

Alan Isaacman, in the movie and in real life, defended Larry Flynt despite the fact that he thought it was despicable. He protected him despite the fact that he deserved no protection. That’s what love does. Because none of us really deserve protection do we? We are all awful. We are all rotten. We’ve all cheated on our God with dozens of idols. We’ve hurt each other. We are all Larry Flynt. But we still want to be protected.

Love protects everything.

Love protects the girlfriend and love protects the spider.

So then. What exactly are we supposed to be protecting Larry Flynt from?

We have to remember that God is love. And so, where all else fails, we must seek to protect the way that God protects. And God does not protect the way we assume that protection should look like.

Take for instance the story of Job. Not only does God fail to protect Job from harm, he actively takes a role in challenging the Devil to do more and more harm to Job. Further, in the story of Adam and Eve, God does not intervene when they are tempted to eat the fruit. God could have easily stepped in and exposed the serpent for what he was, or simply taken the fruit away. He did not.

What we can learn from this is something we should see very clearly in our own lives. God does not step into our lives and stop us from screwing up. There is no angel who shows up at the bar and convinces you not to cheat on your wife. God allows you to do damage to yourself and to others. Further, sometimes, bad things just happen, and God does not intervene to put a stop to those things either. Hurricanes and earthquakes and cancer and traffic kill people constantly, and while many prayers are answered, just as many are not. God doesn’t protect us the way we might assume He asks us to protect others. And if God is the perfect embodiment of love, then we have to assume that Paul is talking about something different.

The important distinction is that we are not called to shield someone. We are called to be the shield. God does not jump in and stop the tsunami, saving thousands of lives at no cost to Himself. He dies on a cross in our place saving billions of lives. Because real protection, real love, takes the beating for someone else. It accepts their punishment as our own. And it doesn’t do it for glory or for a thank you note. It does it because that is it’s job.

How often do you thank your shield? How often does your leftover hamburger helper thank the tupperware.

At the end of the Dark Knight, Harvey Dent, once Gotham’s shining beacon of hope, has nosedived into evil. He has gone on a murder spree and his actions will unravel all of the good that he, Batman, and Commissioner Gordon have done. So Batman does the Christlike thing. He takes Harvey’s punishment in order to save Gotham. He takes the blame, and the punishment, and despite the fact that he has only done good the entire movie (and for two entire movies) and has done more and been more sacrificial for the city than could ever be asked of him...and not killed a single person in the process, he allows himself to be hated and hunted.

The final lines of the movie are:

James Gordon Jr: Why’s he running, Dad?

Lt. James Gordon: Because we have to chase him.

James Gordon Jr: He didn’t do anything wrong.

Lt. James Gordon: Because he’s the hero Gotham deserves, but not the one they need right now. So we’ll hunt him because he can take it. Because he’s not our hero. He’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector. A dark knight.

Love doesn’t get to be a hero. Love doesn’t get to take credit or receive glory. If you don’t look stupid and insignificant, you’re probably not being loving enough. Love is the scapegoat.

Perhaps people would try harder to be more loving if Paul had written this as: “Love is like Batman.” But the truth is that this ending makes Batman into a very efficient Christ symbol. He takes the fall for our good. He allows himself to be persecuted and spit on and hated because that’s what it takes to do what is best for us.

So if you claim to love someone, you have to be willing to take the beating for them. You have to be willing to be the one who looks stupid.

I’m a filmmaker, and I am constantly in a position where I am asked to watch a friend’s film. Occasionally, these films are great. But more often, they’re severely lacking. Now, I’ve been in groups later where everyone has seen the film and knows that it sucks. So everyone is making fun of it. Now, I have to explain that this is a precarious position for me. As an artist, over half of your credibility is found in your taste. If I claim to like this film, or praise its successes rather than blasting it, I risk looking like a bad filmmaker myself. But however normal or smart it might be to protect my reputation as a filmmaker, it is not loving. Love is willing to be the stupid one and love will never fail to protect out of selfish desires -- even if those selfish desires are completely rational.

Or what about when your boyfriend or girlfriend makes a stupid joke and no one laughs. Do you laugh? Is making sure everyone knows that you don’t have a lame sense of humor more important than the hurt your significant other will feel in being ostracized for a moment?

Love is willing to look stupid, clumsy, desperate, pathetic, weak, or childish if it means keeping someone else from looking that way.

Love is willing to lose. Love is willing to be a loser.

Over and over and over.

Because that’s what Batman would do.

And more importantly, that’s what Jesus would do.

Even for Larry Flynt.

Time Travel

I spend a lot of time thinking about time travel. I wonder if other people do.

I'm working on this idea for a screenplay -- I haven't started writing it yet, I've just been kicking around ideas for it. Pre-writing, I call it. Structuring, contemplating, figuring out what the characters are like and how to show that. This one screenplay in particular centers around a man who's moving backwards in time rather than forward. When you and I go to bed each night, we'll wake up on tomorrow, and in Groundhog's Day, Bill Murry goes to bed each night and wakes up on today...the main character of my screenplay goes to bed each night and wakes up yesterday.

So, I was kicking around ideas for this particular script today, and I'm thinking, one of the inherent problems with a script like this is that we don't care about the problems of any of the characters except the main character. As the audience, we're following him, so we move through time with him. So how do I make this man's wife like-able? Generally speaking, if you want the audience to relate to a character, you give them an obstacle and let them overcome it. But the wife of my main character can't do that. She's aging in reverse. All of her problems are already solved.

So then, in my head, I wrote out this scene. Where the wife comes home with this huge problem. I'm not sure what it is, but she's upset by it and she doesn't know what to do about it. So she vents to her husband -- a man who is not only literally from the future, but has gone through this exact scenario once already. He was there the first time she came home crying about it. He was there to share her pain and help her make a decision on how to react to it. He was there to see the outcome of her response firsthand. And he was there to see the person she grew into as a result of all of it.

The way this scene plays out in my head -- she comes home upset and he listens for a while before finally saying, "Look! I don't care! I've been through this. Do you want to know what you do? You do this. The response is this! Go do it. I know you're upset now, but you get through this. I've seen it. I was there." Now, of course, I'm writing a screenplay here, so the husband can't be perfect and wonderful...he has to be a little insensitive at first, so that he has room to grow by the end of the film. But...it got me thinking. About the nature of God.

In High School, the only novel I was required to read outside of an English class was called Flatland by Edwin A. Abbott. It was for Geometry. But to be honest, I think the only reason our teach had us read it is because she was a Christian and she could pretend like the tiny amount of geometry contained in the book was an excuse for us to read a thinly veiled metaphor for humanity's failure to grasp God.

The book follows the life of a circle and explains the 2 dimensional world he lives in, how things work and what it's like to live in a world of only two dimensions. Basically, he sees things only as lines and is unable to fathom the possibility of a third dimension. Until one day he is transported to a 1 dimensional world. Here, he is only able to see things as dots...or rather, one dot on either side of him. Imagine if you lived on a line...what would you see? A dot. This is the one dimensional world. Imagine if you lived on a sheet of paper and could not see above or below the paper -- only towards the contents of the paper. You would see everything as lines of various lengths that would change as you got closer to or further away from them. This is the two dimensional world. Toward the end of the book, the circle is transported to our world and is able to see in three dimensions for the first time and is utterly amazed. Of course he goes home and tells all of his friends about this and they simply believe that he is crazy...as the inhabitants of the 1 dimensional world felt about his world of 2 dimensions.

Like I said...it's a thinly veiled metaphor for our inability to comprehend God.

Many people believe that time is the fourth dimension, as we are only able to travel it in one direction and we have no ability to perceive it or control it. I am inclined to think this is the case, but I'm certainly no expert.

I've heard oh so many sermons and Sunday school lessons on the nature of time and how God exists outside of time. Of course, people are just hypothesizing, but it makes sense. God knows how things were, how they are, and how they will be. Either he can predict the future or He simply exists outside of time. There are so many implications for this, but one that just clicked for me today is this:

If God exists outside of time or knows the future, then holy crap, we must sound so stupid when we get worried about ANYTHING.

Imagine this for a second. You're a time traveller...and not just any time traveller, but one who has already been traveling for quite a long time. You've been through your whole life once already and now you're going back through it again for fun. You've been to the end of your life and you've been to the beginning of it. You've been to the end of your spouse's life and the beginning of it. You've even observed them and walked with them from childhood, just to get to know them a little better. You know the end of their story and your own as well as your mutual story. And you've been through your children's lives and their children (your grandchildren) and on and on for generations. You've seen the end of the world. You've seen all the new technologies rise up and then be replaced. You've seen the future. And now you're back here in the present. And your spouse comes home one day and is freaking out about what to do over some dilemma. Let's say it's even a pretty major dilemma -- their mother has just died and as a result, in order to settle the debt she was in at the time of her death (which was substantial), they are going to take away your home. So you're spouse, with good reason, is kind of freaking out. Now, if you've already seen how this thing plays out, doesn't that seem trivial? For them, it's a question of what's going to happen. Will my life continue? Will I lose everything? For you...it's just part of the story.

You know how on House or Grey's Anatomy or every other medical show ever invented, the patients have these bizarro, crazy illnesses? Or something ridiculously bad happens to them -- the kinds of things that never happen in real life? They do that because they want it to feel dramatic for you. And if something is realistic on television, it will never compare to the drama felt in your own life. Because we've watched enough TV and movies to know...it all works out in the end. Always. Even if it's a "sad ending" it's always tied up in a neat little bow. Unless it's the Coen Brothers. And we've gotten used to that, and the only way to trick us into thinking otherwise is to raise those stakes to ridiculous levels.

When you know the end of the story already, the middle never seems as scary or dramatic. No horror flick is as scary the second time you watch it.

So when I whine or complain or struggle to understand what the heck is going on in my life, I just look like an idiot...because I'm whining and complaining and worrying to someone who's not only seen this movie already, He's capable of fathoming the results of every single possibility I could possibly try out. It's not just like having already read the book. The book is a choose your own adventure and he's read up on every single possibility.

My life seems pretty small right now. And I hope I continue to feel that way. I'm stupid most of the time. And narcissistic and petty and shallow. I want success. I want it now. And I'm frustrated that I haven't found it yet.

Jesus said to observe the birds of the air and the lilies of the field and to be like them. Because they don't worry about the future. He said to let tomorrow worry about itself.

The Sunscreen Song says: "Don't worry. Or know that worrying is about as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum."

There's no use worrying. Tomorrow might not even happen. There's only one person that does know for sure. And I for one am going to do my best to stop looking like quite such an epic idiot when I talk to Him.

Back to the Future

Terry Rouche once told me that being a writer means that you have permission to steal anything from anyone at any time. Someone says something witty -- you are perfectly within your rights to put that into a script you're working on. Or perhaps you are privy to the particularly nasty falling apart of a couple who was once deeply in love. That story is now yours. You may write about it. It may be as factual or fictitious as you like. Doesn't matter. It's yours now. Whatever. Anything anytime, anywhere. Because all the bests artists know that being a great artist simply means that you are the best at stealing. You can steal so well that people thought you had an original idea at some point.

So when I watch movies, sometimes I like to imagine how I might remake them. How I might steal some particular element from this movie and turn it into something unrecognizable. Or, how I might take the entire plot and make one little change -- enabling all new possibilities for themes and messages and totally altering the tone of the original.

This is what was happening when I was watching Back to the Future the other day. Now, Back to the Future, is a great movie -- one that I've seen probably dozens of times. And who could blame me? It's a classic. Honestly, I think of it as being sort of a live-action Pixar movie. Everything is there. Picture perfect casting. Mastery of nearly every single shot. Tension in every single scene. A lovable main character, who discovers a fairly obvious moral that everyone in the audience already believes -- and several goofy, larger than life supporting characters. No seriously, it's a Pixar movie. And like Pixar movies, it's absolutely flawlessly made. It tells the story it sets about to tell perfectly -- in a way that could never be topped.

Which is why it's such a problem that I suddenly want to remake it.

I'm gonna back up and tell you a bit about my family life now. My mother was a junior (I believe) in college when she met my dad in a bar. I don't know exactly how they started dating, but I imagine he bought her a drink or something and asked her out...the usual. They were married fairly quickly I guess. Actually, I'm gonna be honest and say I'm not really sure when my parents met or how long they dated. I know that she was married her junior year of college. And pregnant within a year of being married. My mom was my dad's second wife. I am told that he married his first wife because she got pregnant, but later miscarried. I don't know how long they were married, just that his family loved her, and were slightly less keen on my mother.

My brother is a year and a half younger than me, and my parents were fully divorced not long after he was born. I'm under the impression they were already separated when my mother was giving birth to him. Not long after that, my mom moved back home to Sumter. I know of one half brother, Tyler, who was born less than a month after Trevor (my full brother) and I am told that there was another illegitimate child born during the approximately three year marriage between my mother and father. That is...in three years, my father managed to cheat so much (with multiple women) that he fathered two illegitimate children.

My mother and father hate each other. My mother has become a hardened, bitter, independent woman. She never remarried, and I feel like she would probably consider that to be weak. She spits venom every time my dad is mentioned and used to get in a foul mood for days if my brother and I would return from visiting him having actually had fun. My father equally hates my mother, though he doesn't make it as obvious. He is currently on his fifth divorce. I have watched him over the years, and I am starting to believe that he truly doesn't understand what's going on. He believes he is picking awful women and can't believe his dumb luck. Every once in a while, I will catch glimpses of my father that make me feel pity for him in his situation with women. But most of the time I just think he's a womanizer.

My father's life since then has spiraled out of control. And the marriage to my father caused my mother to harden herself against the outside world -- never to allow herself to be hurt like that again.

And as I was watching Back to the Future a few weeks ago -- though I've watched it dozens of times -- this was the very first time I thought "What would I do in that situation."

Marty's family is far from ideal (at the beginning of the movie) but they are all together. They more or less love each other. There was no adultery or divorce or abuse or jail time or child molestation. And that makes for a better little story -- a more Pixar, family friendly story. But I don't think that's a representation of America anymore. And what about those of us who grew up around terrible things, or saw our parents terribly damaged over the events of a failed (or continuing) marriage. What would we do in Marty's shoes.

It's easy enough to leave it all alone -- just let what is going to happen happen. But Marty accidentally throws things out of whack. By pushing his father out of the way of an oncoming car, he causes his mother to fall for him instead of his father. So he has to FIX their relationship in order to make sure he is born. Later in the movie, he has not yet successfully fixed their relationship, and he actually begins disappearing.

So, to those of you with awful home lives -- those of you who's parents hurt each other in ways that seem unfixable. What would you do in Marty's shoes. Do you play matchmaker to two people who you know with absolute certainty will never work out? Or do you die? Not even die -- cease to exist. Do you do it? Because what Marty has to go through to get his parents together is a lot of hard work. He does it without hesitation because he must if he is to survive. I think some of us might hesitate. I would. Ultimately, I don't know what I would choose to do. But I like to think I would quietly disappear knowing that there was some slight possibility that I'd saved my parents that pain and that perhaps they might have a chance to be happier this way.

But, honestly, I don't know. And the likelihood of my hopping into a Delorian and time traveling back to the day my parents met is probably pretty slim. But this is what was on my mind today, so I thought I'd share.

I am a Totalitarian Part 1: Democracy Sucks

You know, I’ve heard people say, “In a perfect world, Communism would be a great form of government, but the fact of the matter is...it’s not a perfect world. So Communism doesn’t work.” It’s funny that people say this who live in a so called Democracy. And let me tell you something about Democracy: “In a perfect world, Democracy would be a great form of government, but the fact of the matter is...it’s not a perfect world. So Democracy doesn’t work.”

Democracy is probably the stupidest, most inefficient government available.

Look at it this way. Let’s take an imaginary guy who works at an imaginary job. I think we’ll call him Mark. So Mark works in his boring cubicle, and he’s 100% certain that there are better ways to run this company. It’s so inefficient and wasteful and all the employees hate their job. Furthermore, his boss is an idiot. (Or so says Mark...who knows...maybe his boss is an idiot, maybe not). Next door to Mark’s cubicle is Chris. And Chris is an idiot (at least in Mark’s opinion) and has no business working at McDonalds, much less this workplace. On Mark’s other side is Bennie. Now Bennie’s not an idiot, but he is incredibly lazy, and Mark is constantly having to pick up the slack for him. Then there’s Kathy, she’s a vindictive bitch who wants everybody to be just as miserable as he is. Sure, there’s a couple cool people at the office, but for every intelligent, hardworking employee, there’s about 5 total goons.

Let’s say Mark’s boss oversees 40 people. So let’s switch up their workplace and call it a democracy. Suddenly, all the employees get to vote once per year to decide who their boss is. And that boss must put all major issues to a vote. How much do you think anyone there would accomplish? How likely do you think it is that the right person would be chosen to be the boss? Sure, Mark’s a discerning, intelligent guy...but most of his coworkers...not so much. Furthermore, don’t you think the sales department will vote to give everyone in the sales department a raise (to the detriment of some other part of the company?) but luckily...the sales department won’t win because the accounting department is actually the largest department...so they pretty much run the show -- giving themselves raises and almost always picking the new boss from their own ranks. I’m pretty sure this would descend into insanity until eventually someone came out on top and declared themselves the new, permanent boss. It could happen in many different ways:

Perhaps the sales department doesn’t like what the accounting department is doing, teams up with the human resources department and votes in a new boss, who then creates a motion to make himself the permanent boss, which is promptly voted into existence by the sales/HR union.

Perhaps the smartest folks in the office (from many different departments) realize that they have the best ideas and start meeting together to discuss these ideas. They eventually form a committee...and the boss takes notice of their ideas and commitment and starts favoring their opinions over the opinions of the masses. Soon, all the new bosses are chosen from the ranks of the committee until eventually it’s decided that one member of the community is the smartest with the best ideas, and is elected permanent boss.

Or conversely, people realize that the committee should just be in charge without a boss.

Another option is in a year following having a great boss, a turd is elected. Uh oh...what do we do? We’re stuck with this guy for a year! Well...not if we stage a coup and reinstate the last boss.

It would happen. It would happen because on the large scale democracy doesn’t work. It’s too flawed because humanity is too flawed. Allowing people to govern themselves would not work.

People have said over and over that democracy only lasts as long as it takes for one group of people to realize that they can vote themselves all the money and power. That happened hundreds of years ago in America. The best example of democracy that anyone has seen in the last decade is a little show called “Survivor.” Each week, they chose one person to eliminate from the group. One person that is either holding the others back or becoming too powerful. One by one, they are all eliminated until all the power and all the money goes to one person. And how much do they get on that show? A million bucks? And what are there, thirty contestants? A million dollars split thirty ways is still a heckuvalot of cash. Is it totally implausible that all thirty of them get together and say, hey guys...let’s decide on an order to vote each other out and then the guy (or girl) we chose to win just splits all the money with all of us evenly.

I bet you just thought “that would never happen.” And you’re very very right.

How is that not happening right now in America? The conservatives vote to decrease taxes on the rich -- flatten out the tax bracket so that everyone carries a similar share of the weight. It makes sense, we all live here. We’re all enjoying the same freedoms. Why not everybody pay the same amount? But then the liberals (representing the poor) say “wait wait wait! They have WAY more money than us! You should tax them more because they can afford it and we can’t. You’d be breaking our backs and they would barely notice! And hey, that makes sense too...so cough it up rich guys. But the rich guys say, “Woah, woah, woah! We worked hard for this money! The reason we have more money is because we busted our ass while those poor guys were goofing off!” Something like the story of the ants and the grasshopper if I remember my childhood correctly. And the poor counter with, “No! You’re able to make more money because you had more opportunities in your life. Either you got lucky or your rich parents helped to ensure you would follow in their rich footsteps.”

Gah! Holy crap! I don’t know which way to think anymore, do you?

Historically, democracies are pretty new. America was the first official democracy, starting in 1776. Other nations have followed our brilliant example and the world is becoming a far better place as a result.

Oh, wait? We weren’t the first democracy? Greece and Rome were democracies? Huh...well how’d that turn out for them?

The Greeks were conquered and the Romans democracy...well, some guy just kinda declared himself Caesar and that was the end of that.

People are just too greedy and selfish to rule themselves. People need to BE ruled in order to stay in line. People will always try to make a mad-grab for power. ALWAYS. If power is distributed perfectly evenly, it will take people a millisecond to start grouping themselves into larger and larger cliques so that they have more power and influence. Likely, those groups will continue and continue conglomerating until you’re left with two opposing factions. Within each of those factions, many people will be clamoring to rise to the top and become the more influential person within that faction. The leaders of both groups will concurrently be attempting to reduce their opponent’s ability to take part in decision making and reduce the likelihood of their own party members of ever switching sides.

Does that sound familiar? Yup, you guessed it...I was talking about “Survivor.”

Thank God we don’t live in a democracy.

On Love (Part 10): Loves does not boast

Love does not boast, or in the Message translation “Love does not strut.”

I’ve been worrying about doing this one for a long time.

How exactly is this is different statement than “Love is not proud?” They seem, if not the same, at least similar...to the point that I don’t know what new ground can be covered here that I wouldn’t already tread in talking about love not being proud...but recent events in my life have caused me to come back to this one, and I think I see a few differences.

Recently, my buddy Canada has gotten onto a few online dating sites and has somewhat encouraged me to do the same thing. But the idea is so repulsive to me. It seems like a sign of desperation. “I can’t get girls on my own, so I’m going to go online.” and of course, I want everybody to know that I CAN get girls on my own! I, of course, am horrifically proud.

So, I will describe the process:

Step 1: Canada wants me to see some girl he’s been talking to, so he allows me to peruse his own profile, logged in as him. There’s all these cool questions you answer. And you can look to see what other people’s responses to the same question was. And hey, some of the people who answered these questions are pretty cute.

Step 2: I wanna answer those questions. It’s almost like a quiz. It’ll be fun.

Step 3: I can’t use certain functions of the site without putting up things like a picture and a profile...so...fine, I’ll do that.

Step 4: Oh my gosh. It is so fun to look through different girl’s pictures and see what they’re like and stuff...like a fly on the wall.

The End. I’m not dating anybody on the site, I have no intention of ever dating anybody on the site. I say this as a disclaimer because I am horrified of the idea of looking like some lame-o who goes online looking for girls.

So...to continue the story, I’ll switch topics for a moment.

I went with my friend Esther to a club a couple of weeks ago. If you’ve never been to a club, allow me to describe it to you -- women wearing revealing clothes and men all over them. Clubs exist to be a place where men and women can meet. You don’t go to a club to dance. I mean, I suppose SOME people do. The majority go either to find a mate or to find somebody to sleep with -- which is basically the same thing, right? Finding a “mate” is just finding somebody you’re gonna sleep with for the rest of your life.

We treat it like it’s the more honorable objective, and it is the lesser of two evils. But, as always, the lesser of two evils is still evil. One doesn’t go to a club looking for a friend. One doesn’t go to a club looking for someone to be there for and comfort and give a neck rub even when you’re tired of giving neck rubs. One doesn’t go to a club looking for someone to do the dishes for or buy food for when they’re hungry.

When a secular guy walks into a room of 15 people and is immediately only aware of the 3 most attractive girls and ignores everyone else so that he can attempt to flirt with those three girls and try to sleep with them, we call that objectifying women.

When a Christian guy walks into a room of 15 people and is immediately only aware of the 3 most attractive girls and ignores everyone else so that he can try to discover whether or not one of those three girls might be compatible enough to be his wife...we somehow call this honorable. How is it any different? In my opinion, he has objectified those women. They are objects to him. Objects that are only as valuable to him as their ability to improve his life.

And when some other guy walks into that same room and ignores the same three attractive girls because he knows that there are a few people in that room that can help him to further his career, is he not also objectifying? And don’t we all do this every single day? Every single time we walk into a room? We instantly identify (or quickly try to pinpoint) the people in the room that are the most likely to improve our lives. We objectify everyone around us.

I am the center of my own universe and every single other person’s value is dependent upon what they can bring to the table.

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I do think that this is all tied to boasting. And I’ll get to the point soon enough.

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The concept of God being disgusted by sin and unable to look upon it has always been so foreign to me. It’s almost like that old expression: “If God is all powerful, can he make a sandwich that’s so big even He can’t eat it?” How can an all powerful God require us to cleanse ourselves of sin before we can be in His presence? It’s a nice idea and all, but how can it really be true?

I’ve heard the analogy before that a man has a very nice house and it’s very clean. His children go outside to play and it’s been raining. He tells them to be careful and not play in the mud. But of course, they’re children...so they play in the mud (duh). But his house is very clean. And if he lets them in muddy, then they’re going to get the whole house muddy, and that would be gross, now wouldn’t it? So he requires each of them to wash off the mud before they come inside.

I like this illustration because it makes me picture Jesus and a big fat guy standing outside with a hose (and probably a cigar in his mouth). And it’s a nice illustration. It clears up a few questions, but it does not clear up God’s inability to stomach the presence of sin. I mean...if it’s like mud, then, well...it’s just mud. What’s the big deal?

A new guy walks into that same room of 15 people. This time, the guy is me. A fat girl walks up to talk to me -- she’s younger than me, and also unattractive, so I’m uninterested right off the bat. She doesn’t really have anything to offer me in the way of finding a mate or improving my standing in the film industry. As she starts talking, I find her to be a bit annoying, so I wander away from the conversation. There is nothing abnormal about this exchange, and I’m certain that no onlooker would think I was a bad person for walking away from the conversation. But God, knowing my heart and knowing my mind would almost certainly be disgusted. I guarantee you that had this girl been attractive, I would have put up with her annoying conversation a while longer. And it’s because I’ve objectified this girl -- she has nothing to offer me. She is an object, and this particular object has absolutely no value.

God loves me because I am his son and I am special and unique and wonderful. He also loves this girl because she is his daughter and she is special and unique and wonderful. God knows my heart. He knows all the subconscious workings of my mind and he knows that I have just deemed one of his most precious creations as being utterly worthless.

We are so totally disgusting. I kind of feel disgusting. As always, I say all this only knowing that I do this. Maybe you are better people than me, but something tells me every single person does this every single day.

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Now that we’re all on the same page, I’ll get back to boasting.

I know that I’ve said that I wanted to try to stay away from dating relationships and marriages in doing this whole “On Love” thing, because it’s so much more than that...but I think for boasting, the process of finding a mate gives the best and clearest example.

What are you looking for in a mate?

That special man or women you’ve been dreaming about your whole life -- what sorts of qualities do they have?

I would argue that everything you just thought of is bullshit. You’re looking for someone who will make you look good.

Why do men value physical beauty so highly? It seems that’s the only important criteria in looking for “Mrs. Right” (or do you say Miss Right?...I’m actually not sure). When I was at that club, the men seriously outnumbered the women, yet all the ugly and average looking girls were all along. But the attractive women had 2 or 3 guys glued to them. Why? Honestly, I think the answer is simply that this is what society tells men is important. Men want to appear powerful, and you look powerful by landing a hot babe. Now, if you’re a Christian or a moral person, that manifests itself in landing a hot wife. If you’re some wild child bachelor stud...you’re going to sleep with a long string of hot girls...proving over and over that you’re more powerful than those silly moral people by being able to “get” more than one hot girl.

And for that sort of guy, it seems that the ultimate victory is to have a threesome. Why? What is so appealing about that? I really think it’s just because it’s so hard to convince women to do it (this is an assumption, I’ve never actually tried). Only a really awesome, really powerful guy could convince two girls to have sex with him at the same time. THAT is the appeal -- it’s an ego stroke. And the guy knows that he’ll be able to boast about it.

And for those Christians with hot wives...? They’re not boasting, right? I’d argue that their wife allows them to boast without verbalizing it (and therefore coming off boastful). Men think that way. We see their hot wife, and we think, “Wow! She’s hot! Good for him!” We’re impressed, and he wants us to be. Few guys think, “Wow! She’s a phenomenal artist! He’s so lucky!” And I think that is why looks are so important to men... it’s all for the purpose of looking powerful: boasting.

For women, it’s different, but the same. Women seem to be attracted to powerful men -- whether that manifests itself in money, talent, charm and charisma, or political power depends on the woman. Now, some would argue with me (and have) that this is more of a primal factor -- it’s leftover psyche stuff from back in the days when women needed a powerful protector for their child. And it’s a valid idea, but I think it’s bogus. I think it’s all about what other women are impressed by. If your friends all think guitarists are SOOO hot...just listen to that beautiful music he’s creating! Chances are, you’re going to want to date a musician. Because that’s what’s harder to get. That’s what makes you awesome. If your friends all talk about a guy who will really take care of them and dream of living in a nice big house and having 2.5 kids and a nice car and a dog, and maybe live on the lake, chances are you’ll end up wanting those things too...to impress your friends, and you’ll look for the kind of guy that can provide you with those sorts of things.

You see, I think we’re all just objects to each other. Your mate (at least during the choosing process) is just a means to an end. You want to impress your friends, or show off some aspect of how awesome your life is to prove those jerks from high school wrong. Right? It’s just your sinful nature...it’s not something you think about often, but I bet it’s that creepy voice in the back of your head that’s shouting at you “No! Not him! (or her) You can do better!”

If I believe myself to be a 9 on a scale from 1 to 10, I’m going to want to date a 9 or, ideally a 10...because getting a 10 proves that I’m actually a 10. I will not date a 1-6

and the chances of me dating a 7 are pretty slim too. 8’s are the people that I’m kind of attracted to, but really...I feel like I can do better. It doesn’t matter where I ACTUALLY fall on this scale (as if there were really a scale). What matters is that I believe that I’m a 9...and I will therefore date (or court if you’re a Joshua Harris fan) accordingly.

I think this is why breakups hurt so badly. If two people are not compatible, in an ideal world, they would realize this, acknowledge it, and move on, happy to have helped each other get a slightly better indication of what they are looking for in a spouse. But the reality is, I’m pretty sure no one ever breaks up for such noble reasons. People break up because they think they can do better. They have finally realized that they’re girlfriend or boyfriend rates below them on the scale, and it’s making them look bad.* And we instinctively know it, don’t we? When someone breaks up with us, it makes us feel worthless. We feel like we’ve been objectified and determined to be an object without value. Sadly, it’s likely true. But I suppose there’s comfort to be taken in the fact that “It’s not you, it’s me” really is true -- it’s the one doing the breaking that is shallow enough to think such thoughts.

And this is why I’m embarrassed to admit that I signed up for a stupid dating site. I don’t think I could ever bring myself to actually date a girl from a dating site. I instantly think, “people WILL ask how we met, and I’ll either have to lie or admit that we met on an online dating site and they’ll immediately assume that I was desperate and couldn’t get girls.” I’d much rather them look at my wife and go “wow! dude!” and then give me a high five. That would stroke my ego a bit more.

Who we date and who we marry says a lot about us. And for the most part, I think is says that we human beings are awful, shallow, petty, boastful creatures. Again, I come to the conclusion that we are unable to truly love one another, no matter how desperately we may try.

You do not love an object.

And the harsher reality is that boasting influences far more of our lives than just who we mate with. When I wake up in the morning, I eat breakfast because I am hungry. Then I shower. Do I shower in order to be sanitary? Or do I shower so that people will know that I am not gross? And why is not showering gross? In most of Europe, people shower once a week. Weekly showers are all that’s really necessary...but in America, we shower daily because of shampoo ads. Decades ago, shampoo companies started marketing campaigns suggesting that people shower more so that they could sell more shampoo. You can have better looking hair when it’s clean, you see.

Next I put on my clothes. Now, why on earth would I need more than a few pairs of clothing? Sure, I need different clothes for different occasions, and I need something to wear while other clothes are being cleaned...but I imagine I wouldn’t look very cool if I wore the same one t-shirt every day. And looking cool is awfully important to me. And there are people who buy more and more clothing of increasing value in order to look more and more posh. That way, they don’t have to SAY, “I have great taste.” They can SHOW you that they have really great taste. They are wordlessly boasting.

Boasting informs far more of your decisions that I think you realize. I know it informs almost every single decision I make. We are prideful beings. And furthermore, we are fearful creatures. We’re scared that people will discover how wretched we really are. Boasting hides that. Boasting, as it turns out, isn’t rooted in pride nearly as much as it’s rooted in fear.

And how sad is it that you initially chose (or will choose) who to spend the rest of your life with in part because you were trying to boast?

We’re incapable of loving, because we’re incapable of making even the most important decisions without asking that demon called Boasting what his opinion on the matter is. How does one even stop doing that? Certainly not by writing a blog on the subject -- I’ll let you in on a secret. Posting a blog on anything is a big, loud, obnoxious, bragging yell out into an endless sea of faceless people you’d like to impress.

Maybe go hang out with someone you’re not trying to impress. Start praying in closets, and don’t tell anyone that you’re doing it. Stop showering. Stop buying clothes. And when people ask you why you smell bad and dress poorly, just shrug and say “sorry.” Although, if you do that, you’ll be doing it alone, cause I don’t want anybody to think I’m some kind of weirdo living out in the wilderness eating locusts and honey.

I suppose you could always just enter into an arranged marriage...but honestly, I think that too would only be entered into (in “civilized” Western culture) as a way to boast about how virtuous and unshallow** you are.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, eh?

And of course, I don’t suggest that you go off and marry the fat, ugly, annoying girl from the illustration. Just...know that love doesn’t boast. Love is patient and kind and all of those other things. Love listens to God. And yeah...I do think there’s at least one person in all of human history who chose his wife for non-boastful reasons. Hosea. And, sadly, I’m pretty sure the last thing any of us want is to end up like that guy.

*I realize that there are other possible reasons for breaking up, but this is a pretty major one, and it suits the point I’m trying to make best.

** Yes, I know unshallow isn’t a word, but it gets the point across better than “deep” does.

Two Friends (Part 3): Mad Mix again

I am a shitty guardian angel.

A friend of mine died today. We can argue all day about responsibility and whether or not there was anything I could do to have stopped this. I've forgotten what fake name I made up for him last time, so I'll just use his real name...he wouldn't have objected. Brandon, as I think I said before, was addicted to pills. He was also horribly depressed. I still haven't heard whether they think it was accidental or a suicide, but he overdosed this morning.

Canada -- I wouldn't expect this entry to be edited. I also wouldn't expect it to be very focused.

About seven or eight months ago, I was introduced to a woman. She'd had a hard life and had been treated badly by her former husband. I reached out, with mixed innocence. I helped her. I talked to her about God, Jesus, the church -- all these things she already knew about, but had slipped her mind as things got worse and worse around her. And I loved her...not in the romantic way, but in the agape way -- granted, in such a miniscule variation that only a heretic could call it Jesus-like. I listened. I talked her through a few difficult situations, and I like to think that I was a blessing for a while there. And then, I screwed it all up. My own desires (desires for her...or if you want to talk philosophically -- some sort of screwed up, sinful desire to fill some sort of void in myself with Hollywood-ized romance) got in the way of actually loving another human being in a self-sacrificial way. Love became want, and wanting ends in hurt. I unravelled her.

Less than a week after the implosion, Brandon called me -- out of the blue. We prayed on the phone together for almost an hour. I admitted to him the kind of screwed up, out-of-whack, adulterer I had become and suddenly a bond formed that had never been there in all the years we'd known each other and talked about movies, work at Olive Garden, and whether or not the movie K-Pax sucks.

This man, older and more accomplished than I am, looked up to me. We started praying together often. He would tell me about his troubles and I would pray for him. I would pray for him.

I prayed for him.

I prayed blessings on him. I prayed that things would get better. I prayed that God would help him with his addictions. I prayed that his money issues would get better. I prayed that his work situation would improve. I prayed that his love life would improve. And I prayed that even if none of those things changed, his outlook would.

I prayed those things. I prayed them every day. And so, so fervently. So why is he dead now? How could he have overdosed? Don't my prayers accomplish anything?

My friend Canada says that he's stopped praying "that God's will be done." Because he thinks it's stupid. He prays for specific things and crosses his fingers that that also happens to be what God wants. I don't remember whether I prayed that God's will be done in Brandon's life. If I didn't, should I have? And if I did, was that stupid and I should have prayed for a long healthy, happy life for my friend?

My friend is dead. I feel like writing that sentence over and over down the page so that the weight of it will be clear, but the fact of the matter is -- whenever I hear that someone has died who I didn't really know that well, or care that much for, I simply pause for effect and say something to the extent of, "wow...that's really horrible." I then wish to move on to another subject, but I know I should wait long enough to pay the proper respect and not come off like some unfeeling sociopath. You don't know him, so all my words fail to convey the proper weight. I'd do better to write a screenplay about a wonderful, charming, funny character and then kill them off midway through the finale -- right when it seems like they're getting better. At least then it would be a character you've grown to love and care about.

But at least you could rewind the movie.

I could have done something about this.

"There's nothing you could have done, Austin. This wasn't your fault," you say.

But there was. Brandon thought of me as his mentor. He thought of me as his guardian angel in a lot of ways. I was helping him. And I hurt right now.

Brandon was my second chance. And maybe that's selfish of me to be thinking that right now, but it's what I'm thinking. After the girl...I was introduced to someone else whom I could help. This time, it was a guy, so romanticy feelings couldn't get in the way. But I still got distracted. I got busy, and I lost touch slowly over the last few weeks.

A few weeks ago I went over and recorded a few acting bits his newest album. He wanted me to play his psychiatrist...lecturing him mildly for his abuse of pills, and trying to help him clean up. I was really excited to help. I really loved that guy. Or do you say love -- in the present tense -- even after someone is gone?

I honestly don't know what to say. The writer in me is frustrated that this doesn't all tie up neatly to make an interesting point or provide some poignant reflection on something stupid. "How my life has improved and I have become wiser following the death of a screw up."

I'm mad at myself for spending so much time talking about myself instead of making the story about him. I'm also mad at myself for forcing myself not to make this a list of Brandon's 1001 amazing qualities because I feel like that would be cliche.

Brandon was a better man than a large percentage of the people I know. He was a better Christian than 90% of the Christians I know. He's literally one of the best rappers I've ever had the privilege to hear. He's one of the most honest people I've ever met.

And I feel like I could have prevented this, and didn't...even though I know that's a cliche thing to say.