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.

On Love (Part 9): Love Always Trusts

Love always trusts. I’ve heard that this means you should always trust your significant other. This kinda makes me want to punch people...and their significant other, just for good measure.

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In Paul’s little list of “what love is and isn’t” there’s a few articles at the end that don’t make any sense. One is “love always trusts.” But what does love trust? A lot of Bibles translate this as “Love trusts God always.” But if Paul had meant that, why wouldn’t he have just said that? He leaves it so much broader than that. Am I supposed to trust everyone and everything? That seems...dangerous is probably the most accurate word.

Furthermore, “always” is a pretty strong word. It’s easy, for example, to trust your husband or wife not to murder you in your sleep. It’s a little harder to trust them not to cheat on you. It’s even a bit harder to trust them to not hurt you deeply. And then we start talking about people we don’t quite know as well as our husband or wife. Is it easy, women, to trust the man lurking in the alleyway who begins to follow you as you pass by? Is Paul asking us to trust in this way?

And it makes me wonder...where does sin begin? What is the root cause of sinful behavior? What causes a person to sin? I’ve heard it explained so many ways...among them, a lack of trust in God. God will take care of us, we know this, and yet, we behave as if it isn’t true. Because we cannot trust...at least not fully. Even with a husband or wife, it is phenomenally difficult. With an invisible deity that 16% of the world’s population believes is about as real as the tooth fairy, it becomes even harder.

I’m coming to the conclusion lately that trust and desire are closely tied together. I’ve already explained that I believe that it is wrong (sinful) to want what you do not have -- I believe (for now) that this is true in every single instance. If I want food but none is provided for me, I am wrong, and my next course of action -- if devoted to acquiring food -- will be a sin of commission. This goes on and on to anything I could want. I want privacy, but my roommate does not leave -- sin. I want sex but am not married -- sin. I want fame, but am not famous -- sin. And every attempt to get that which one does not possess and is not being provided is sinful. That is what I believe. Of course, this means I go on sinning at least three times per second and am possibly the greatest hypocrite you know...but I believe it all the same.

But why is coveting sinful? Why am I forbidden daydreaming about the things I believe will make me happy?

I have a few theories...none especially solid, but all interesting (at least to me):

The first is that the desire of something one does not have causes us to do harm to others. If I want something that does not belong to me, the implication is that it must belong to someone else and the only way to acquire it would be to take it, either by force or coercion. Either way, we hurt others in the process...except where the item becomes provided for us immediately after the wanting of it.

The second is that this mental attitude assumes that things can provide happiness -- that happiness is external and joy is brought about through the acquisition of goods. I can’t think of a more harmful attitude to have. The feeling only lasts a short time before it dissipates and we are left assuming that something else must be the thing that will bring us lasting happiness.

The third is that it displays a lack of trust. If I trust that God will take care of me, then I need nothing more than what is provided for me. If I trust all of humanity, then I have no need of items to protect myself and my possessions. I am left naked, possessionless and perfectly content to be that way -- it sounds a bit like the Garden of Eden, in fact.

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There’s this guy named William Roberts. You may not have heard of him before. He does research within an extremely narrow field that doesn’t really seem to apply to much of anything -- how animals perceive time. Furthermore, he’s frequently attacked on the basis that it’s extremely difficult to prove any of his hypotheses without stepping into the mind of an animal.

But to over simplify Robert’s years and years of research -- the answer to the question is: animals do not perceive time. They live in the present and have no concept of the past or the future. So you say, “but then how do dogs learn how to do tricks? That proves that they can remember.” Well, no, not really, because there are two types of memory: episodic memory and semantic memory. To explain: you remember how to walk, but I seriously doubt you remember the day you walked for the first time. You remember how to talk, but you can’t recall in vivid detail the day you spoke your first sentence. This is semantic memory at work. You remember how to do something, you remember the stimuli, but as such a young child, your episodic memory isn’t quite working yet.

Episodic memory allows me to remember what I had for breakfast. It allows me to recall a progression of events -- breakfast happened before lunch, both of which happened after I woke up this morning. The theory is that animals have no such ability. They exist in the now. They carpe the diem every single diem because they have no concept of saving anything until tomorrow and they have no concept of what happened yesterday.

Now, this research is pretty controversial, with tons of people pointing out alternative theories that Robert’s hasn’t taken into account. The biggest arguments are generally for animals like dogs, cats, dolphins...the smarter animals, and the ones with more “personality.” Robert’s counterpoint, of course, is that people merely anthropomorphize their pets, projecting human-like personalities and cognitive abilities onto their “friends.”

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It’s interesting to me that the first sin was the biting into the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Before we sinned, we had no concept of what sinning was. We had no concept of what it meant to defy God. We were naked, possessionless and blissfully ignorant.

It was the act of learning the difference between right and wrong that signified the leap into wickedness. And on top of that, it was Adam and Eve’s lack of trust in God to take the very best care of them.

People are starving in this world. Extremely conservative estimates suggest that the Earth can support a population of 16 billion people. The current population is 6.6 billion, and yet 13% of the world does not have enough food to eat. There is more than enough food for everyone...the problem is those of us who hoard food, to make sure we have enough to survive tomorrow, causes others in the world to not have enough today.

It occurs to me that Jesus’s parable about the man who stores up all his wealth in a barn is not just about hoarding vast amounts of wealth. It’s not just evil to swim through your money bin like Scrooge McDuck, it’s also evil to save a penny -- taking more than you need betrays a lack of trust. Perhaps I’m too much of a purist. Perhaps I’m irrational. My mother tells me it’s important to have a certain amount of money saved up in the case of an emergency. She wants the best for me, and she only tells me this to teach me to be responsible with money and to protect myself as best I can from danger. She loves me and doesn’t want to see me get hurt. But she is an American. She has lived too long in this country and has been, in my flawed, egotistical opinion, become sucked into the debauchery and the me-first attitude of commercialism.

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The funny thing about William Roberts’ research is that he did this little study with gorillas. When offered the choice of one banana or two bananas the gorillas chose two bananas. When offered two bananas or three bananas, they chose the larger number...up to a point.

When offered ten bananas or twenty bananas, the animals chose ten bananas. More would be beyond their needs. Without any comprehension of the past or the future, the gorillas have no need to save up bananas to eat later. And yet...in the wild, bananas are always provided for the gorillas.

You say, well, what if there’s a drought, and the bananas do not grow? If the apes were as smart as we humans, they could protect themselves from such things. Yeah, maybe...but you can’t protect yourself from everything. You will die eventually...and whatever way it happens, it will probably be painful and terrifying. The apes, unlike you, are not afraid to die.

And so, I wonder if it is, in fact, our human ability to mentally time travel that causes us to sin. We can comprehend the future, and it is this comprehension of the future that urges us to cheat, lie, and steal to get ahead. I wonder if the “knowledge of good and evil” that the fruit provided was simply the ability to form episodic memories.

Jesus says “For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?...So do not worry for tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry for itself.”

It’s beyond your control anyway. So why not just trust. I have a feeling we’d all be happier that way. And I’m pretty sure love is impossible without trust.

Only, I’m pretty sure it’s impossible for someone like me to always trust. Oh, curse that Paul and his impossible standards. I suppose if we want to actively love those around us, one of the things we should be striving for it an animalistic mentality...blissfully unaware of the pains and pleasures of our past and the worries of the future.

The Tao of Stitch

I'm lost.

There's this stupid Christian thing we do, where we admit to being lost one time and from then on we become "found." It's the act of admitting that we're lost that causes us to be found. It's the act of humility which gives us something to be proud of ourselves for.

I was listening to a Rob Bell sermon explaining that the beatitudes aren't something we're supposed to strive to achieve. When Jesus says "blessed are the poor in spirit," he isn't saying that we should all try to become poor in spirit. Poor in spirit means morally corrupt. It's not a good thing to be. And yet...they are blessed. Because God loves us and we're his family. Even if we're morally corrupt. Even if we're heroin addicts, child molesters, Klan members or Adolf Hitler...we are still blessed.

One of my favorite movies is Lilo and Stitch. It's a great little movie about a mad scientist who creates a monster that it purely evil and destructive. But the monster escapes and meets a little Hawaiian girl. He destroys everything in sight, but is lulled by the story of the ugly duckling. In the book, the duckling goes off alone and says, "I'm lost." Then, it's family shows up and the ugly duckling, as we all know, is shown to be a beautiful swan.

So, during the "All is Lost" section of the movie, the monster goes out alone into the middle of the woods and shouts, "I'm lost," out into the night. Waiting for his family to show up and reveal that he is wonderful after all.

And of course, it is after he screams out into the woods that he discovers that he isn't entirely wicked...that there is some goodness in him, and that he does have family. Lilo and her sister love him and they have become his family.

So this is how it works in Christianity. We tell our Christian friends that we are lost so that they will pat us on the head. We're even asked to walk down the aisle and make this statement in front of strangers in order to prove that we mean it. It seems to me like Lilo and Stitch is almost this phenomenal representation of Christianity. I'm this monster, created by a mad scientist for one purpose -- evil. I am designed to destroy, to tear down what is beautiful, to make all the girls cry and pillage and thump my chest with pride at what a good job I did watching the world burn. But I still want to be loved, even though I am a monster.

According to Rob Bell, Jesus stated that he loves me even though I am a monster, no matter how horrible and wicked of a monster I am. And that love is not dependent on anything. And yet, we feel the need to run out into the woods and announce that we're lost, as if that accomplishes anything. As if God loves us more for being humble. And as if he can't see through that false humility that's just designed to make him love us more. I can shout it out into the night. I can scream it out at the top of my lungs until my vocal chords bleed and it doesn't make me any more found.

And still I feel the need to say it.

I am lost. I have no answers. I have lived me life the opposite way I should. I have way more in common with Adolf Hitler or Sid Vicious than Jesus. I'm a monster. I am evil and I destroy everything that I touch. If you say otherwise, you are a liar, and you only tell me that I am wonderful so that you can believe that you are wonderful too.

But we are lost.

We are both lost.

I am lost.

I am sitting in the middle of the woods, holding "The Ugly Duckling" in my lap and crying. I scream at the top of my lungs that I am lost. But the only thing that happens is a mad scientist shows up and tells me that I was created for evil and that I am unlovable.