Mostly Just Random Rambling

At that time I will search Jerusalem with lamps, and I will punish the men who are complacent, those who say in their hearts, The LORD will not do good, nor will he do ill. -- Zephaniah 1:12

It is very common to hear people say they believe in God, but ....  For such people, God is neither friend nor foe.  He is around, someone they might pray to if they get in trouble, but not one they depend upon or interact with on a regular basis.  This is true even of church-goers, many of whom act as though God were more present in the church house than in the outhouse. 

The complacent will run up against the wall they have created around their lives.  That's the problem with walling God out.  We wall ourselves in.  I have been guilty of isolating myself.  I mostly work from home any more.  I have contact with people over the phone.  I work to help the members of my team and our clients.  Still, there's something different about having conversations via email, text, and IM or even over phone lines and Lync.  Those communications are more controlled and predictable.  They are timed and bound as opposed to the more fluid and less structured interactions that take place in person.

We had the big snowstorm coupled with temperature that never got above freezing for a week.  I was out once to the post office and that was it.  When I got out again, I was running low on food for my cats and dog, so I went to one of nearest stores, which happens to be a Dollar Store.  I had a hundred dollar bill along with a five or two and a few ones.  Two bags of pet food and some jerky for the bear was going to require breaking the hundred.  I got up to the checkout and was behind a plump, nicely-dressed lady with Farah Fawcett-hair and her two pre-teen daughters.  They had a truckload of stuff.  I'm holding thirty or forty pounds, not a big deal.  I'm a patient man. 

To a point.

The chubby lady finally got all her items run across the scanner and into bags as she argued with her daughters about various choices.  Then it was time to pay.  The first run was off her EBT card, which reached its limit with over half the bill unpaid.  I was thinking that her last hair-do (do women still say that?) cost about that same amount. She then ran a debit card across, coming up $20.60 short.  "Girls, we're going to have to put some of this back," she said.

I know some people are really not gifted with simple arithmetic skills, but my analytical brain was suggesting that surely she has run this scam before.  I didn't care.  My supply of meekness, patience and understanding was nearing exhaustion, and I feared the rupture.  I dropped the hundred with two quarters and dime on the black surface of the conveyor and said, "I have to break this anyway.  I'll make up the difference."  I did not do it out of the goodness of my heart.  I didn't do it because it was what Jesus would do.  I didn't even do it because the little fat lady reminded me of my daughter or I felt sorry for her kids or remembered what it was like to be financially embarrassed.  I did it because it was worth twenty bucks to get her out of the way. 

I'm thinking that one probably won't get me much of a reward in heaven.  I was not a cheerful giver.  Nevertheless, I have to admit that I was probably where I was at that time for that reason.  I don't think she deserved the help.  I think she could have easily avoided the entire situation with a little forethought and planning.  I'm still cynical enough to think she did it hoping for just such an outcome.  She and her daughters did thank me.  One of the girls said something about people being kind and good.  The lady asked for my number so she could pay me back.  I answered with a short, emphatic, "No!"  I bit it off to keep from asking if she really thought I was that stupid. 

The better interaction was last night when my wife and I went out to a western store to purchase cowboy boots for the grandkids.  The boys' were easy to find and not terribly expensive.  The girls are both older and wear adult sizes, which can be ridiculous in price.  The salespeople in this particular store are annoyingly helpful, especially in the women's boot section, where the staff is composed mostly of young ladies.  I try to avoid them as much as possible.  I was doing a good job, but one girl was quite persistent.  I managed to send her off in search of the elusive boot snipe while I located my wife and suggested that we move on as the girls' boots would be out of proportion to what we were spending on the boys.  She agreed but wanted to shop some more herself, so I wandered over to look at the men's boots.  I don't need any more boots, especially dress boots, but the caimans do tempt me, and I've never had a pair of Luccheses — Noconas, Tony Lamas, and Justins, but never Luccheses or Dan Post.  It's just not right.

After a while, I wandered back in search of my wife whom I found engaged in an intense conversation with the persistent little salesgirl.  It turns out that she lives even further out that we do, in the area where I grew up, and I know her husband's family.  She and my wife were talking church.  The salesgirl won't go to the one where she's a member because the pastor is a registered sex offender, no longer allowed to live with his wife and children.  I have run into some bad pastors in my time, but this could be one of the worst.  Apparently, the man's father is some big shot in that particular denominational abomination.  He pushed for his son to be allowed back into active ministry — as a pastor.  The local church had the final say and voted to accept him.  Because we all make mistakes and deserve forgiveness. 

No. 

How does this guy even legally get inside a building with children?  How can a man who was married and had small children yet seduced and molested an underage girl (I suppose) serve as a shepherd and leader?  What kind of example is this for the members of that church who are tempted to far less heinous sins?  Consequences should be commensurate with actions.  Why is he not swinging from a post oak?  Forgive him, sure.  Then hang him. 

This is what Zephaniah means.  We don't really take God's presence or His view of things one way or the other seriously.  It's mistakes and foibles and eccentricities and who are we to judge.  I'm not anybody to judge.  They do say, however, it takes one to know one.  Perhaps that's why I know evil and wickedness when I see it.  The church is not doing this man any favors by, in effect, condoning what he has done.  Remember poor little Moe that I told you about a few weeks ago?  That's where this guy is headed, to a rendezvous with the exhaust pipe in his garage, a rope over a rafter, or a shotgun under his chin.    

As we have been saying lately, the Lord is here whether we know it or not.  Even the most reluctant and cynical among us can be His messengers, angels doing His work in unlikely corners.  At the same time, no one fools God, and nobody is going to get away with anything in the long run.