On Being Born Again

I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be born again.

For many people, Christians and non-Christians included, born-again seems like it has become a term nearly synonymous with evangelical. That is, to say that yourself or someone else is a "born-again Christian" describes a certain set of beliefs that they have, or the type of Christian they are.

Christians should be especially careful not to use the term that way. When Jesus introduces the term in the Gospel of John, his point is that being born again is NOT about having a certain set of beliefs. A man named Nicodemus comes to him telling him that he believes Jesus is from God, and that it is evident from all the miracles he has performed. But Jesus doesn't accept this "confession of faith" from Nicodemus. Why? Jesus responds by saying, "I tell you truth, unless a person is born again, he cannot see the Kingdom of God."

Jesus said this to show that being a part of his Kingdom is something radically different and more than having certain beliefs. Belief is essential, but it is not the whole. Something must happen so deep and so real that Jesus likens it to being born a second time. Total surrender. To be born again, your life must be essentially replaced by the one Jesus offers.

Friends X: Lance Dunn

This is Lance Dunn. He's a limosine-ridin', jet-flyin', wheelin'-dealin', kiss-stealin' son-of-a-gun! Okay, so he doesn't really do all those things, but he could easily pull it off if he let how cool he is go to his head. And that's one of the best ways I can describe this man. He's comparable to a Ric Flair, or a Jack Bauer, or some A-list celebrity, but without the arrogance.

Lance has become one of my best friends this semester. One of the primary ways our friendship has taken off is that we've watched wrestling in his room nearly every Monday night this semester. That's bonding right there. And I can't wait for January 22nd, when we will have the ultimate bonding experience: attending Monday Night Raw LIVE at the Cajun Dome!! Woooooooo!

To summarize, a megastar personality, a blue-collar ethic, and a love for pro wrestling equal to my own--what more could I ask for?

Me, Me, Me

I don't have any kind of cohesive thing to write right now, so I'll just try something slightly random. Here's some things you may or may not know about me:

I have a fear of choking due to some childhood experiences. To this day, if a situation arises in which I really need to take a pill, I crush it up and mix it up with some water. Yes, the taste is horrendous, but it's better than slowly dying from an inability to take in oxygen.

I used to go to bed early and wake up early. Now I go to bed a little later and I still wake up early. (I gotta work of fixing that).

A discouragingly (if that's a word) large portion of my disposable income goes towards fast food (especially McDonald's) and coffee.

Even though I like to think I don't really care much about my physical appearance, style, etc., I surprise myself with how sensitive I become when people make comments about it.

I think curse words are often hilarious, and it sometimes takes all of my will power to not use them when the opportunity presents itself.

Well, that's all you need to know for now. Maybe for my next post I'll stop this recent trend of writing about myself. Peace.

PMS in Men

That title might throw you for a loop and have you guessing, but don't adjust your monitor. That's exactly what this blog is about. I'm thinking about doing some research on the topic because I don't how to explain some of things I experience otherwise.

I'm not trying to discount the discoveries of the biological sciences or anything. I just know that every once in a while (not once a month; maybe 3 or 4 times a year) I get pretty emotional for a few days. And for no apparent reason. Little things will make me cry (sad or happy, either way).

Just the other day, I went from feeling pretty down (which is not a frequent occurrence for me) to inexplicably exuberant in a matter of minutes (seconds maybe).

I hate my PMS days. And I really want to know why they happen. Any other men out there experience this? Or is it just me? (Please don't let it be just me, or this post will turn out to be quite embarrassing).

The Dark Side of Me

You may be asking yourself who this scary-looking guy is. There's a number of possible answers to that question. I could say he's a professional wrestler known as "The Undertaker." However, for the purpose of this blog, a more appropriate answer would be that he's one of my childhood heroes.

A conversation that I had with Amanda J and Jacob D'Avy recently got me thinking about this. I was explaining to them that I used to be sorta obsessed with him. Most people who know me know I'm a huge pro wrestling fan, and The Undertaker has always been my favorite wrestler. I had posters in my room, videos that I would watch all the time, etc. As I was thinking about this conversation, I started to reflect a little bit, and I asked myself why this was so. What is it about me that drew me to such a mysterious, ghoulish figure?

Despite how it might appear in this picture, The Undertaker was actually one of the "good guys" of wrestling for the majority of his career, especially during the time that I started to become a fan. He was often referred to as "the conscience of the WWF." I think that was one of the main things that drew my admiration. But I think it was more than that. There were plenty of other "good guys" in wrestling, so why him?

Well, not only was he a moral figure, but he had his own way of going about it. He did morality with his own style, and for his own reasons. He had a personal vendetta with evil, and he battled it by himself. He answered to no one. Essentially, he was his own master. His own God.

So in answering why I was drawn to the Undertaker, I think it reveals two desires in me: one for morality, and another for autonomy. While the former is perfectly good and noble, the latter is essentially evil. Now that I'm a Christian, I've had to learn that morality is not "mine." It belongs to God. It was his idea from the beginning. For me to have a morality like the Undertaker's, which I did, only glorified myself. A Christian morality is supposed to glorify God.

It's such a huge change! All of my righteous acts that I was so proud of as a young man, I now consider rubbish. God doesn't look at the acts, he looks at my heart. And the truth is, my Undertaker-righteousness was really not righteousness at all because it was usually done in my own self-interests. As a Christian, I now have to deal with the fact that true morality begins with a fear of God and submission to his will.

Wow. Writing this has really helped me understand a lot about myself. Thanks for reading.

Thoughts on Being a Jerk

A speaker I heard recently helped me realize that I'm a jerk. I found out a few years ago that I'm a sinner, but some how a full knowledge of my jerkhood didn't come with the package.

One might want to say that jerk and sinner are synonymous, but how can they be if one helped me understand something that the other didn't? And it's not that jerk can replace sinner; it just relieves it of some of the weight that it carries, so that it doesn't have to do all the work on its own. Sinner has religion attached to it. Jerk strips that off and helps you realize that you are, plainly and simply, a selfish human being.

For the unbeliever, sinner sounds so foreign. For the believer, it's almost too familiar, and it's impact is softened from hearing years of sermons on mercy and forgiveness. Jerk helps out in both of these areas.

And for the unbeliever, that's the first step to Jesus. If you grow up without religion, realizing you're a sinner can't be the first step because you don't know what sin is yet. (Actually, I think everyone knows what sin is, essentially. It's just the word that throws people off). But if you realize you're a jerk, Jesus can work with that until you understand the full depth and consequences of your jerkiness, which is what sin means.

Sin means that your jerkitude has some serious consequences, among them that it's gotten you into major debt with your creator. That's why Jesus died. Not to make us better people, but to literally save us from those consequences. He paid the debt with his own life.

The Brilliant Shades of Morality

When people talk about moral choices, they often describe things as being a "black or white" issue, (basically meaning something is clearly right or clearly wrong), or they talk about "grey areas," where there's no clear right and no clear wrong.

As useful as these terms are, I think they can, excuse the pun, color our view of morality. Black, white, and grey are precisely the colors that characterize the view we often have of morality: drab. Bland. Boring. Etc.

To me, morality can potentially be so much more, and should be so much more, especially when you introduce Jesus into the picture. When the light of Jesus's teachings illuminate that picture of morality, I find it full of the most brilliant colors. Morality can then be all sorts of different shades of green and blue and red and orange and purple and yellow and everything in between.

What I'm saying is, morality need not be dull. It only seems that way because we force it into rules, lessons, tracts, and 3-point sermons, and we hardly see it played out in real circumstances. Ask William Wallace if fighting for the freedom of his people was boring. Ask Martin Luther King if he was bored when he was battling racial injustice. Ask Mother Theresa if dedicating her life to the poor and oppressed was dull.

If morality conjures up bland, grey images in our minds, it's only because we don't understand it's true power.

Friends IX

Hello Blog of Fire faithful. Welcome to the 9th installment of my Friends series. The subject today is (though I unfortunately don't have access to any pictures of him) one of my bestest friends, Ryan Theriot. Now, since a good majority of my readers are people who know me from UL, I guess a lot of you don't know who Ryan Theriot is. Well let me introduce him to you:

Ryan and I's friendship stretches back over 15 years! We became friends in the 4th grade at Berwick Elementary school, and we've been best of buds ever since. To this day, Ryan is the friend that I always make an effort to see every time I go home.

There's so many memories, I couldn't possibly touch the surface of them here. I remember just staying up all night playing basketball. Or staying up all night playing video games. Or staying up all night watching TV and movies. Or staying up all night playing Magic: the Gathering. As you can see, whatever we did, it usually involved staying up all night.

Now Ryan is married to a cool young lady named Christina, and they even have a little one on the way. I still hang out with them whenever I go home, though we're unfortunately too old to stay up all night anymore. : ( But we still love to play games and/or watch movies. And that, in a nutshell, is my friendship with Ryan Theriot.

~Ken, Born of Fire

A Sneak Peek

I want to give you guys a little bit of a teaser for future blogs. I've got another round of Friends posts coming up really soon. I'll just go ahead and announce the subjects now. Ryan Theriot, Lance Dunn, and Josh Manning will be the respective subjects of Friends IX, X, and XI. Also, I might be changing the format for those a little bit. Instead of sharing a specific memory, I may try more of a "profile" kind of style. We'll see how that works.

I think I figured out a good explanation for why this life can't be taken too seriously. The statement that "life is short" has become cliche, but it is no less true than the day it was first uttered. Some might say that that's a sad fact, and while it is in a way, it's also what makes life so darn funny sometimes.

Have you ever seen the effect when an playwrite take some classic Greek or Shakespearean tragedy and shortens it? The result is that it becomes funny. All the plot events stay the same, but somehow if they are all condensed into a single act, presented at hyper-speed, they become comic. Well, in light of eternity, the life that we are given here on Earth is comparable to a one-act, super-fast play. Terrible things happen, but overall it's just too quick and too temporal to be truly tragic. Real tragedy is only possible in eternity, where eternal souls are destined for one fate or another. Everything else is relatively comic.

~Ken, Born of Fire

50th Post!

Welcome to the 50th post of the Blog of Fire!

Wow. This is such a milestone. When I first started doing this thing, I didn't think I'd actually keep up with it. It's a good feeling to start doing something and to see yourself remain committed to it.

The Fall semester here at the University of Louisiana is officially back in full gear. I'm teaching two sections of English 101 this semester, as well as taking 3 classes. What this probably means is that I'll be learning things that I want to share with you on this blog. Just today in my Medieval Literature class I learned something quite fascinating that I would like to share with you now. Have you ever noticed that we have different words for the animals that we eat, depending on if we are referring to them as animals or as food:

chicken - poultry
cow - beef
calf - veal
pig - pork
sheep - mutton

Have you ever wondered why this is? I found out today. Before I tell you though, you need to know just a little bit about the history of England. (If you know all this already, I apologize for insulting your intelligence).

A long time ago there was a people group living in France called the Normans. They were originally of Scandinavian descent, but after settling in France they were pretty much assimilated into French culture. In the year 1066, these Normans, led by William the Conqueror, invaded England and conquered it. So for a number of centuries, England was essentially ruled by the French.

Thus, the French language became the language of the nobility, the upper classes, politics, academics, etc. Now, going back to that list of words above, all the animal words on the left come from Old English, while the food words on the right come from French. This is because at that time, only the upper classes ever got to eat meat. The lower classes would be lucky to eat meat once a year. Thus, the words that the French-speaking nobles used for those meats were the ones that stuck.

Pretty interesting, huh? I think so.

~Ken, Born of Fire

The Hardness of God

C. S. Lewis, fairly soon after his conversion to Christianity, stated that "the hardness of God is kinder than the softness of men, and his compulsion is our liberation."

I had to meditate on that for awhile before I was finally able to grasp it. But I have found it to be so true in my own life. The same God who pursues us relentlessly nevertheless refuses to force us to himself.

Sometimes I find that his pursuit of me is so relentless, that I question how free my will truly is. Other times, his call to me is so gentle that I am almost scared by the freedom that I really do have to say "no." It seems like because of my rebellious nature, the mere fact of choice can often in and of itself turn into temptation.

Am I making sense? I'm finding these ideas hard to express because the only real sense I have of them is from personal experience. When I find better words, I'll post them. For now I'll just say this: I'm sure that God is not a tyrant in any sense of that word, nor does he just "let me be." In this regard, it's easy to describe what he doesn't do. As far as what he does do, I haven't quite found the words for it yet.

~Ken, Born of Fire

Friends, Part VIII

Welcome to Friends, Part VIII:. The subject today is the young lady in the middle of this picture, Sally D'Avy, younger sister to Kelly and Molly, the subjects of those last two blogs.

Sally is a good bit younger than Kelly and Molly. She's not in college yet, thus I don't really have the opportunity to see her very often, except for when she comes to Lafayette to visit her siblings. Despite the infrequency of our meetings, I feel a unique kinship with Sally. I often find myself unusually excited to see her and inexplicably exuberant in her presence. I think I can pinpoint the precise moment when this began, in a memory labeled "I'm SERIOUS!"

I forget exactly what the occasion was, but a bunch of us were eating dinner at some restaurant in Lafayette. Sally was in town, so she joined us. And at the time, I had lately been in the habit of doing this thing where I would be pretending to laugh at something, and then I would suddenly sober my expression, rip my glasses from my face, and say "I'm SERIOUS!" People would usually laugh a good bit, so I would jump at the chance to do it around anyone who hadn't seen it yet. Sally hadn't seen it yet, so I did it to her. She began laughing so much that tears began rolling down her face!

I would later learn that Sally's laugh-tears weren't an infrequent occurrence for her. Regardless, in that moment, it felt quite special for someone to laugh so much at my antics. The bond was forged.

Of course, I don't think that's the whole reason of why I've come to like Sally so much, but that was certainly the beginning of it.

Friends, Part VII

Welcome to Friends, Part VII, (I figured I've done enough of these now to warrant using Roman numerals). The young lady you see on the right (surrounded by all of her adoring admirers, or should I say "holla-ers") is Molly D'Avy, the subject of today's blog.

I remember the first time I met Molly, at a Freshmen Jumpstart, I knew immediately that she was a pretty cool person. First of all, she was a D'Avy, so that always counts for something. But I soon discovered that she was quite the talker, but in the fun way, rather than the annoying way. Over the past few years, Molly's penchant for verbage has led to some very memorable lines, including many almost random outbursts that come seemingly out of nowhere. I'll share two of favorites from Molly's "Random Outbursts" file.

One was when Molly, Kelly, and I were studying at Guillory. Of course you recall from the last blog that Kelly and Molly are sisters, and it's often very funny to watch them interact. They make each other laugh a lot, and you can't help but laugh with them. In this particular instance, they were going back and forth about something (I don't even remember what), then there was a brief silence, until Molly suddenly exlaimed to her sister, "WHY DON'T YOU GO SUCK ON A CHOCOLATE TOOTSIE POP!"

Another good one is from an incident at Cafe XA, where Molly and I are the Dynamic Duo of baristas. Molly was closing up the coffee bar and I was sitting on one of the couches, reading or something. I guess she was sweeping and there was an area of the floor that was wet and it was hard to sweep, or something like that. I could be way off. That's not important though. All I remember is, I'm reading my book, and all of a sudden Molly bursts out with, "Darn . . . cohesive . . . properties of water!" Yeah, that was definitely the first time I had heard anyone curse the bonding tendencies of H20.

Oh, and one more thing you should know about Molly. There's never a moment in her life in which she's not looking good. If you don't believe me, just ask her.

~Ken, Born of Fire

Friends, Part 6

I hope I don't overload anyone by posting 2 blogs in 1 day. I'm just in a blogging mood I guess. Anywho, you are now reading Part 6 of my Friends series. Parts 7 and 8 will soon follow. The subjects of these 3 blogs will be the 3 young ladies you see on your right, known to many as the D'Avy Sisters.

I'll start with Kelly. She is the oldest of the 3, the one of the left in the picture. As I was rummaging through the old memory vault, I found a file labeled "HAVE A GOOD NIGHT!" Ah, yes, that'll be a good one to share. It's one of my favorites.

Kelly and I became good friends primarily by studying together. We discovered that we were among the more studious students in Chi Alpha, so we were great study partners. On many days, we would be studying till after dark, so I would often walk her back to her apartment.

Well, on one particular night, it was already well after dark when we started, and Kelly had the great idea of going to CC's and getting a Mochassippi beforehand. Let's just say that Kelly + late night + caffeine = CRAZY! The funniest thing was when I was walking her home that night, we passed up a random guy that neither of us knew, and as we passed him up, Kelly suddenly turned and blurted out, "HAVE A GOOD NIGHT!" I laughed until we got to her apartment, and then I laughed some more until I got back to my room. That was awesome.

Well, stay tuned to the Blog of Fire. Next will be Friends, Part 7: Molly D'Avy.

~Ken, Born of Fire

I Love This Poem

A while back, I was at a Half-Price Books in Texas, and I bought a book called A Treasury of Christian Poetry. I want to share with you one of my favorite poems that I've read so far in the book. It's by Stewart Henderson.

Pentecost is Every Day

I share and share and share again
sometimes with a new language
which, if you are so open
will take you behind the sky
and award you cartwheels across the sun
I give and give and give again
not restricted by the church calendar nor concocted ritual
for I have no need of anniversaries
for I have always been
I speak and speak and speak again
with the sting of purity
that can only be Me
causing joyous earthquakes in the mourning soul of man
I am and am and am again

Where's God?

Let's play a game. Consider it a literary version of "Where's Waldo?," but this version is called "Where's God?" I'll give you a sequence of events, and you tell me where you see God in these situations:

I realized recently that I completely forgot to fill out a housing application for the Fall semester, and that the only applications being taken for men at the time are for a waiting list.

I go fill out an application to get on the waiting list, and when I go to make the pre-payment, my debit card is declined. This is odd because it's been a full 24 hours since I deposited my paycheck.

At this time, I also find out that the tuition waiver that I thought I had for the summer didn't come. I later find out that it's because I only had 3 hours, and I'm supposed to have 6 to qualify. Whoops. I owe the university some money.

So now, not only are my chances slim of getting into the dorms, but even if a room opens up, it's looking like I won't have the money to do pay for it.

On this same day, only hours later, I find out about a few other alternatives that I may have to staying in the dorms.

So the question is, again, where's God in this whole situation? Is it likely that he's directing all of this, and wants me to live somewhere besides the dorms for some reason? It doesn't seem likely at all that he would cause me to forget to fill out my housing application, but it does seem more than coincidental that all of these things happened like this. Did he cause my debit card to decline?

I'm asking all this because I usually use a lot of caution in saying "God did this" or "God did that." I think Christians say that all too quickly sometimes. Sometimes. Other times, I think God really is working for some specific purpose, and I'm wondering if this is one of those times, or if it is all a simple result of my forgetfulness and ignorance. Any thoughts?

I just got through with a fun evening of grading! Now I just feel like writing as a way of relaxing. Yes, in a very weird way, writing is relaxing for me. The only way I can explain it is that when I get my thoughts on paper, they aren't in my head quite as much.

I kinda wanted to write something thought-provoking again, but I think I'm not mentally capable of that at the moment. So, this blog is going to take a "Random Thoughts" format:

I don't think anyone makes me laugh as much as Jacob. Except maybe for Clint. But it's in two very different ways. Comparing Jacob and Clint is like comparing apples and anything not remotely like apples.

Clint loves Skittles. You should buy him some.

I don't see Amanda J enough anymore since she moved out of the house.

I need a new journal.

People whose recent (though only temporary) departure from Lafayette makes it not quite as enjoyable here as it could be: Stacey, Kelly, Molly, and Alyce.

Civilian losses in Lebanon are very sad, but I can't say that I blame Israel. If it's indeed true that Hezbollah is firing missiles from Lebanese villages, then it's pretty much Hezbollah's fault.

It greatly boosts my self-esteem when Ciji laughs at every little attempt I make to be funny.

What?

The complex narrative elements of a good wrestling match is something few people understand.

Pandora.com is pretty much the most awesome music-related technology since the iPod.

Okay, that's enough for now I guess. It feels good to get those thoughts out of my head and into my blog. Oh, and be on the lookout for more Friends installments. I have so many more I want to do. I like spacing them out though, rather than doing them back to back. And per the request of Molly, I'll try some more thought-provoking posts this week, too. Peace.

Thinking About Arguments

First of all, I would just like to thank Molly for providing a thoughtful and substantial response to the question I posed in my previous post. As for the rest of you: what are you waiting for? Get on the ball!

I have a new observation to make today, which is also about arguments, but not gender this time. Something I've noticed and been thinking about lately is that in my classes and just in general, people seem to be scared to voice their opinions about things, especially important world issues. My professor asked us in class recently why that is, and I couldn't think of an answer at the time. However, now that I've given it more thought, I've come up with a theory.

First of all, I think the question is actually misleading. To say that people are scared to voice their opinion would assume that people even have an opinion in the first place, and I don't think that's a safe assumption to make. It seems like a lot of people are apathetic or confused or ambivalent about many of the issues, and they don't formulate an opinion one way or another. So the question then becomes, instead of why are they scared to voice their opinion, why do they not have an opinion?

I think it's partly due to the failure of our education system, but moreso than that, I think the media gets a big chunk of the blame for this one, mainly in the way argument is presented on talk shows, news shows, etc. If you flip through the channels every now and then, you're bound to see people yelling at each other and really "fighting" with their words. They get emotional and upset, and often even resort to name-calling and insults. Let me ask this: have you ever met someone who talks a lot, and very loudly and assertively, and you rarely say anything to them because you simply don't feel like raising your voice to talk over them. I think this is what a lot of my generation is like. Everyone we see on TV has their snotty, stinky, loud opinion, and they're yelling it at us, and we just don't feel like thinking over the noise, so we turn our backs instead. It's not that we truly don't care what's going on in the world, it's just that the forum in which people express their opinions about those things is like nails on a chalkboard to our ears.

I don't know, what do you think? I'm mainly thinking about this for myself, trying to figure out why I've been so apathetic about politics and global issues for the majority of my life. And I'm not trying to fix all the blame onto something else. I blame myself, too. But I'm thinking that maybe the reason why I struggle to form opinions about such things is partly that I've rarely had a good way to do it modeled to me. Maybe.

~Ken, Born of Fire

An Observation

It starts at a fairly young age: we start noticing differences between ourselves and members of the opposite sex. It continues throughout the rest of our lives. Here's one I've noticed recently.

There's a big difference between the way men and women have discussions/arguments/debates. Men appear to be much more aggressive or assertive or blunt or something like that. I'm not exactly sure what it is. I've simply noticed that when I'm arguing something with another man, women often misinterpret the spirit of it. They think we are angry or upset or that something is wrong, when that's usually not the case.

I can explain it in terms of wrestling. Guys wrestle not to hurt each other or because they're mad, but for the sport of it. When we're wrestling, we're not "fighting." In the same way, when we're debating, we're not "arguing," per se, though it may appear that way on the surface. In the end, we're not mad, nor are our feelings hurt.

I'm not exactly sure what women do when they disagree about something, but I know it's fairly different from what guys do. I think this is a major cause of the "gender gap." When a man and a woman disagree with each other, it's harder to come to terms on the content of the disagreement because even the form of the disagreement is so different. In fact, I believe that it is frequently the case that the form is in reality the only disagreement, and prevents the two parties from seeing that they don't actually disagree. Of course, there is often real disagreement, but perhaps not as much as we think. That's just my theory.

Anywho, just some insight for the ladies. When you see us men disagree, just know that we're not "arguing," (in the negative sense of that term), and just let men be men.

What do you think?

Friends, Part 5 (For Real This Time)

Welcome to the long-delayed return of the Friends series. The person you see in that picture with me is my good friend Kevin Guillory. Yep, Kevin's my token black friend. ; ) Just kidding. I'm looking in the memory vault, and . . . ah yes, here's a good one: a file labeled "Late Night Rants."

Even though Kevin and I were roomates for a year back in 2004-2005, I never got to know him as well as have during this most recent school year. We both went through our fair share of drama, and whenever we needed to just talk to each other about any of it, I would often get a phone call that usually went something like this:

Kevin: "Hey, whatcha doin'?"
Me: "Not much, just readin'."
Kevin: "You about to go to bed?"
Me: "Yeah, but you can come up if you want."
Kevin: "Alright, I'll be there in a minute."

We'd end up talking fairly late, but I never regretted it. He definitely helped me out by lending his ear, and I was always glad to be an ear for him when he needed one.

Kevin graduated this past May and is getting ready to do a Chi Alpha internship at Sam Houston University! If there's one thing I'll miss about Kevin more than anything else, it's definitely "Late Night Rants." I do have a cell phone now though, so I guess we can still have the occassional Rant.

Friends, Part 5

I'm bringing back the Friends series either later today or tomorrow, but first I want to tell y'all a funny story. I went to CC's last night at about 9:30 or something like that, and since it was fairly late, I didn't want any caffeine. But I wanted an iced latte, so I figured I'd just get decaf. When I ordered, I forgot to say decaf and didn't even realize what I had done till the drink was halfway gone. Needless to say, I woke up this morning feeling like I had been working on a really tough math problem in my sleep all night. Don't worry though. Another couple of shots of espresso this morning and I'm doing fine for now. Though I'm expecting that after lunch, I'm pretty much gonna collapse like a Jenga game. What? I said I'm pretty much gonna crash like a meteorite. What? I said I'm pretty much gonna fall like Reggie Miller taking a foul. Later.

~Ken, Born of Fire

Checkin' In

I know I haven't posted anything in a while. The thing is, I've been writing a sermon, and usually, after I've been working on it for a while, I'm not really in the mood to write much more. Anywho, I finished the sermon yesterday, and I'll be presenting it Thursday, so after this week, you should see me start to post more again. I'm planning to do a few more installments of the Friends series, so be on the lookout for that.

~Ken, Born of Fire

What color should my blog be?

I took some of those online quizzes today. One of them said my blog should be green! I guess I made a good choice. Another one said I act like I'm 25 years old, which is pretty close to my actual age (23, 24 in September). Another one guessed that among my brothers and sisters I was born 4th. I was actually 3rd. Close enough I guess. That's pretty cool that a computer program can do something like that.

For the class that I've been taking this summer, I'm currently reading a novel called The Infernal Desire Machines of Doctor Hoffman. It's interesting to say the least. I wouldn't recommend it, primarily because of the vulgarity of it. However, if you really just want to experience the absurdity of reading a single story that contains both vampires and pirates, not to mention circus freaks, automata, phantasms, centaurs, pimps, and African tribesmen, be my guest, but remember that I warned you. And if that's not enough, the book also waxes philosophic on time-space, religion, gender psychology, and reality perception. Like I said, interesting to say the least.

Death Was Yesterday

I breathed in death
yesterday

as I gamboled
right past the area
where I knew
there was a decomposing corpse
of a squirrel.

I had passed it a week earlier.
"Surely they've cleaned it up by now."

Nope.

So I breathed in death
yesterday.

Yesterday
that was
yesterday
I don't intend
to do it again, that was
yesterday.

Today I'll go a different way
because I breathed in death
yesterday
and that was
yesterday
and I don't intend
to do it again today.

Death was
yesterday
and I don't intend
to breathe it in
again today.

Ignorance and No Despair

When I walk through darkness
I yearn for the light of others.

At the same time,
God's hand moves me.

Thus
by these two processes,
these two
phenomena
these two
miracles,

I see unlit signs.
I walk straight
on invisible roads.

Great Way to Spend a Day (In 29 Easy Steps)

For all of my readers that live here in Lafayette, I would like to recommend to you a wonderful way to use a day off. I will take you through the whole process, step-by-step:

1. The day before your day off, make sure you have $1.50 in quarters, (that's 6 of 'em), and pack a book or two that you're reading.
2. When you go to bed that evening, set your alarm for 9:00 AM. (That may seem somewhat early to wake up on a day off, but trust me, it'll be worth it.
3. Go to bed, wake up when your alarm goes off, spend some time with God, eat breakfast, get ready for the day.
4. Plan to arrive at the Taco Bell on Johnston and St. Mary at about 10:15.
5. Wait for the Lafayette City Bus to arrive.
6. Get on the bus, put 3 of your 6 quarters in the designated slot, and find a seat.
7. Enjoy the ride.
8. Find the little string hanging above the window next to your seat.
9. After the bus turns from Johnston onto the street leading to the Acadiana mall, pull the string.
10. The bus will stop between Family Christian Bookstore and Barnes & Noble. Get off the bus.
11. Making sure to look both ways, cross the street and head to Barnes & Noble.
12. Browse.
13. Go to the cafe area and buy your favorite coffee or non-coffee beverage and a desert.
14. Sit down in the cafe and eat your desert.
15. Leave the cafe area, with your drink in hand, and find a comfortable chair in the store.
16. Sit down and read, while drinking your beverage, slowly.
17. After finishing your drink, find a good stopping point in your book and head over to the mall.
18. Enter through the Sears entrance, go through Sears and into the mall, and keep right until you find the food court.
19. Eat lunch at your favorite food court restaurant. (I recommend the Chinese food, Combination 1, Chicken Teriyaki w/ fried rice, and a medium drink. You'll be tempted to get the large b/c it's only an extra .09. Don't. It's too much, especially after the Starbuck's beverage you just consumed earlier.)
20. Browse the mall and do whatever shopping you might like.
21. Head back to Barnes & Noble.
22. Browse some more, read some more, and, if you like, between 2:00 and 3:00, get another beverage.
23. Spend some time just sitting in your chair, relaxing, pondering life, communing w/ God, and drifting off into space/sleep. Write in your journal if you keep one.
24. Keep track of the time. At about 5:30, or no later than 5:35, head back to the Sears entrance of the mall.
25. Stand by the entrance and wait for the bus.
26. Repeat steps 5-8.
27. Wait until you pass up Lewis street, then pull the string.
28. The bus will stop a little bit before St. Mary. Get off the bus.
29. Walk back to your home or your car.

If you need to, feel free to print out this blog. Follow all these steps and I assure you, you won't regret it. You'll be refreshed, relaxed, and ready for your next day.

Proverbs 3:6

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make your paths straight." (Prov. 3:5-6)

I put the word all in bold because that's what I'm focusing on as I reflect on this proverb.

We are to acknowledge him in all we do. I so frequently forget.

What got me thinking about this was Zeke and Lane's wedding Friday night. At the reception everyone was celebrating and dancing and just enjoying each other's company, and I couldn't help but think how much the Lord was being glorified at that time. He must have been rejoicing at the sight of his sons and daughters laughing together and loving each other.

And don't think that the Lord himself was not joining with us in our celebration. I felt his presence there just as much, if not more, than I normally do in church. I believe that he, just as he prompts us to do in his word, rejoices with those who rejoice.

God can be found anywhere, and we deny ourselves so much when we only look for him in church and our prayer closets.

~Ken, Born of Fire

A Man Story

I had only held a shotgun once before in my life, and that was 10 minutes prior, shooting at a piece of cardboard. For that shot, I wasn't holding the gun quite right, and the butt of it kicked me like a mule. I could feel the bruise forming, so I was taking special care this time to press it firmly against my shoulder. I was being told that if I did that, it would feel like a push instead of a punch.

I closed my left eye and lined my sight straight down the length of the barrell.

Safety off.

Finger on trigger.

"Pull!"

A second later and I see it, almost hovering out there. Watching someone else do it, you think you have to react instantly. I felt like I had all the time I needed and more. I took aim, turned a few inches to my left, and the next thing I saw was a fireworks display of shattering orange fragments. And no pain in my shoulder.

Whether I was a natural at shooting skeet or had a simple case of beginner's luck I was content not to discover. I quit with a perfect record. I hope to come out of retirement soon though. Should it be offered, another shot at glory will be hard to refuse.

Screwtape Proverb

Live life for life itself. In living you find life. In living, you find true life. In life, you find true living. Life is life is life is life, and living is life and life is living. Live for life because life will not live. Live for life because life is all. Life is all that one can live for. To have life is to live, and to live is to have life. There is nothing more to say about this.

My Language Spiel

I've been resisting this for a while now, but I finally would like to blog a little spiel about my perspective on language and grammmar.

If I think edible is a ridiculously illogical word because almost every other -able or -ible word just attaches the -able or -ible to the end of the word and I prefer to keep with the simpler system and say eatable because I don't see any good reason in the world that eat should be so special as to warrant it being treated differently than the rest of the words in the English language, then it's quite unfortunate that if I say eatable I'm perceived as being less intelligent than someone who says edible even if they are merely saying what they've been taught to say and did not actually put any thoughtful consideration into their choice of words at all.

These are the conjugations of the English verb "be": am, is, are, was, were. Now, look at their respective contractions:

were + not = weren't
was + not = wasn't
are + not = aren't
is + not = isn't
am + not = ?

It's unfortunate that that question mark is there because ain't would be incredibly useful in filling that gap. Yet, if I use "ain't" I'm considered unintelligent by many who, if asked, wouldn't even be able to tell you why it's bad. It's bad because over a century ago Joe Shmoe Grammarian wrote a book and said it was and everybody believed him. (Fyi, there are certain dialects of English spoken among upper-class British in which "ain't" is a perfectly normal, acceptable word.)

I find it strange that in a country often so proudly referred to as a "melting pot" because of its rich cultural heritage, in a country obsessively enamored with diversity in ethnicity, culture, religion, art, etc., we believe that everyone should speak the same way and have very little choice in how they express themselves and that people with different accents, dialects, and grammars are somehow less intelligent.

I find it strange that in a country where relativism and pluralism have permeated our lives, we think there is only one "correct" way to speak.

When people talk about "freedom of speech," they should actually say "freedom of content of speech" because the form of our speech is certainly anything but free. It is shackled.

And perhaps most unfortunately of all, many are not aware that language is one of the last bastions of discrimination and racism in our country. It is no longer acceptable to judge anyone based on race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, etc., but it is still very much acceptable to judge someone based on their accent, dialect, grammar, etc. If you associate a southern accent with being dumb or uneducated, no one will condemn you for it. If you associate African-American dialects with ignorance, you certainly won't stir up any controversy.

For most, there's nothing wrong with the fact that the European-Americans have dictated the "right" way to speak to the other ethnic groups. Well, I'm saying that it is wrong. Simply put, people should be able to choose how they speak. I would love to say how people might react if the shoe were on the other foot. What if we woke up tomorrow and everyone had to speak African-American Vernacular, and if you didn't, you were stigmatized as, at best, uneducated, at worst, a thug or a criminal? Hmmm . . .

Again, as simply as I can put it, people should be able to choose how they speak.

~Ken, Born of Fire

Just a second ago,
I saw his shoes,
briefly,
and they stung me.

I saw his tennis shoes,
and how the contours comforted him.
I saw his flip-flops,
and how they convenienced him.
I saw his dress shoes,
and their inconvenience.
I saw his boots,
and how they calloused.

Before I could actually try them on and walk in them,
they were invisible to me again,
but the mere glimpse of them stung me hard.

It hurt so bad.

I feel fine now,
but the scar's still there.

I want more scars like these.
I'm not sure I can bear the pain,
but I'm not sure I can return to numbness.

Friends, Pt. 4

This here's Ryan Bourque, and you are reading Part 4 in my ongoing Friends series.

Oh man, what can I say about Ryan? So many memories, but there is one that would perhaps be most interesting to anyone who has seen Ryan and I interact. Yes, the file labeled "Yo Mama" sticks out right about now.

Zeke D'Avy and I led a small group Bible study in the Conference Center back in 2002-2003. We had three guys who were really faithful in attending every week, and one of them was a Freshman named Ryan Bourque. In the course of that year, I recall the exact moment when I felt Ryan and I had really made a connection for the first time.

One day, Zeke, as he often so kindly does when he notices the mop on my head getting out of control, offered to give me a haircut. I never pass up a free haircut. So there we are in the halls of the CC, when Ryan walks up and starts chatting with us. I don't remember who struck first (though it was probably me), but before you know it, Ryan and I were engaging in a friendly exchange of Yo Mama jokes. Our respective mama's got serioiusly torn down that night. And I remember just laughing and laughing, both at Ryan's jokes and his reactions to my jokes.

From that day on, Ryan and I definitely had a closer friendship that would only continue to grow in the years to come. And now you know a little more about my friendship with Ryan, as well as the awesome bond-building power of Yo Mama jokes.

Ken, Born of Fire

My Future

As you can probably tell by the title, I'm taking a little break from the Friends series today. If you remember, I said in a previous blog that I would soon blog about some of my dreams/ideas for my future besides being a college professor. This is that blog.

Of course, college professor seems to be my most likely career path right now, but I'm not 100% committed to it just yet. Another possibility that really tugs at me sometimes is working with Wycliffe. If you don't know, Wycliffe is an awesome missions organization dedicated to translating Bibles into the languages of people groups that do not yet have them. If I were to ever go into ministry or missions of any sort, this is definitely what I would want to do. It's a really scary thought though. I was just now looking at the Wycliffe website, and as I was reading and thinking about working with them, I felt great excitement and tremendous fear at the same time.

I also have a few other ideas, though they seem to be much less noble. I think owning a coffee shop would be thoroughly awesome. I love being a barista; I love making, tasting, smelling, and consuming coffee. What else can I say? Owning a coffee shop would simply be following my love.

If I were to truly follow one of my loves though, I would, of course, be a professional wrestler. Of all my ideas, I definitely consider this one the most far-fetched/unlikely/silly/impossible. I don't have much motivation for exercise, and a lifetime of being on the road and beating myself up isn't all that appealing. But man, I sure do think about it a lot. I often visualize myself in matches in my daydreams. Sometimes I just can't stop imagining myself give someone an RKO, or a superkick, or a second-rope to top-rope springboard moonsault.

Those are the long-term dreams. As far as the immediate future goes, I'm pretty sure I want to, after getting my Master's degree, spend a year in Honduras teaching English at a Christian school. It was founded by one of the missionaries that I met at a missions summit back in December, and as he was talking it up, I really felt like it would be a great opportunity for me to experience something like that on a short-term basis. I went to Mexico a few years ago, but that was only for a couple of weeks. I think an entire year in another country would really be helpful in this whole decision-making/calling-finding process.

Anywho, those are my dreams. Now you know them. Though I don't really know exactly what I want to do yet, I'm not too worried. I wholeheartedly believe in the Scripture that asserts that though a man has plans in his heart, it is God who determines his steps (Prov. 16:9). Also, I was just astounded this morning when reading what God asked Cain when his face was downcast:

"Then the LORD said to Cain, "Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted?" (Gen. 4:6-7a)

God offers Cain here such a simple way out of his problem, and I think he makes the same wonderfully simple offer to us. That's not to say that when we do right, life is just easy and peachy all the time. It simply means that if we do right, and we don't let sin and selfishness misdirect us, then we don't have to worry about our lives. God will take care of us.

Ken, Born of Fire

Friends, Pt. 3

Welcome to the third part of my friends series, where I share memories of some of my bestest friends. The young lady you see in the picture to your right is the subject of today's blog. Her name is April Hermanson, and she is the (soon to be no longer, *sad face*) director of Cafe XA, where I am a "Special Events Barista." The file that I'm pulling from the vault for today is labeled "Coffee Bar Mornings."

This one is actually not so much a specific memory as it is a collection of memories. I guess it's a category of memories. Back when I first started working at the coffee bar on a regular basis, I was an opener, but I didn't have a key, so April would have to come open the building for me and put in the security code and whatnot. Thankfully though, she wouldn't just open it for me and then leave and go back to bed or anything like that (it was 6:30 in the morning, and she lived right across the street. If I was in her situation, I probably would have done that). But no, she would stay in there with me, and we would pretend to try to study, but really, it was too early to study, so we would just talk and constantly interrupt each other's "studying."

Those were good times, especially the ones where we had some kind of trouble with the espresso machine. It was a very fickle machine, and it often decided that it didn't feel like working so early in the morning. Or other times it would decide that the floor needed a mopping, so it would leak water all over. It was one of these times that led to one of my favorite quotes of all time. I forget exactly what happened, but something was going terribly wrong with the coffee bar, and April, clearly frustrated, but doing her best to remain calm, said, "I'm trying not to be a girl about it." I love that quote. I'm going to go put it on my "Favorite Quotes" on Facebook now.

Ken, Born of Fire

Friends, Pt. 2

This is the one and only Jacob D'Avy. And this blog is part two in my ongoing "Friends" series. Jacob is one of my best friends, and we were roomates for a year, so I definitely have plenty of memories with Jacob. When I reached for my Jacob files in the old memory vault, the first one that I pulled was one labeled "Avril Lavigne." Yes, I remember it like it was yesterday.

As I said, Jacob and I roomed together for a year, back in 2003-2004. There was this one night when I came back to the room kinda late, and Jacob was already in bed on his top bunk. So I got ready for bed myself, and, as I was and am accustomed to doing, I got into to bed to read for a little while before actually going to sleep. So I read whatever book it was that I was reading at the time. Then once I started to get sleepy, I was about to go turn out the light. As I turn to get out of bed, I look up to see nothing less than a giant image of pop singer Avril Lavigne staring me right in the face! I was quite startled, and yelled "What the heck!" as I jumped out of bed. I then hear Jacob, who I thought was sleeping, laughing from his top bunk.

He got me good. Jacob is a frequent frequenter of Good Will stores, and he later explained to me that on his last visit he had happened to find a huge poster of Avril Lavigne and thought it'd be a fun prank to tape it above my bed.

That poster ended up being the source of many more fun memories throughout the semester; if you want to know about them, just ask either one of us. I'm sure you'll get a good laugh. Anywho, that's Jacob for ya.

Ken, Born of Fire

Friends, Pt. 1

I got an idea for a series of blogs I can do. I got the idea as me, April Hermanson, Amanda Meadows, and Jacob D'Avy were sitting around at CC's, drinking coffee and whatnot. We were searching for our names on Google's blog search to see if anyone was blogging about us. It was pretty fun. You should try it. Anywho, Amanda found her name in one of my blogs, but then when she read it, she was a little disappointed that she was only briefly mentioned. (I guess she was expecting some kind of exuberant lauding of her many skills, talents, and personality traits, or something like that. To that, I would just sing an updated version of that classic song:

You're so vain,
I bet you think this blog is about you.

(I wish you could do footnotes on blogs, but since you can't, I have to settle for long parenthetical comments like this one)). Well, as I was saying, I then got the idea to do a series of blogs where I tell stories/memories of various friends. So here's part 1, and guess who it's gonna be about . . . you guessed it: Amanda J!



So, as I reached into my memory vault for files marked "Amanda J," I found one with the subtitle, "Drunk Amanda." Ah yes, I remember that. It's one of the funnest Amanda memories I have:

Our friend Christina was having a birthday party at her apartment one night. We ate burritos and cookies and drank sodas and had a good time. As it got later and later, Amanda was having an especially good time. In fact, she was reaching a state of delirium that she often reaches when she's tired and it's late. Now I know that it's a fairly normal occurrence for Amanda, but this just so happened to be my first time witnessing it. She was just laughing uncontrollably at every little thing. But what really made the night unforgettable was that she happened to have had a big glass bottle of Perrier (carbonated mineral water) in her hand, which she was drinking between giggles. As I looked over at her laughing and drinking, I realized that she had become a dead ringer for a drunkard. Her face was red, she was incoherent, and she appeared to be clumsily slingin' back at 40. It was hilarious.

And she was a Chi Alpha intern, so the image of her drunk was especially incongruent with my perception of her. Funny. Just funny.

So that's Amanda. And so ends Friends, Pt. 1 Stay tuned for Pt. 2, and 3, and 4, and 5, and 25.

Ken, Born of Fire

The Verdict Is In.

The Blog of Fire is back for another installment!

So, as you probably are fully aware of, I just recently completed my first semester of teaching. And as you are probably equally aware of, teaching is what I want to pursue as a career. So, as you are probably equally capable of discerning as you are aware of those two things, this was an extremely important semester for me. I did, for the first time, what I intend to do for the next 40 or so years of my life. If I liked it, it would be a good sign that I should continue going in the direction that I am. If I hated it, it would perhaps be a sign that I should reconsider the whole course of my life! So which was it, you ask?

I loved it! There's just something so exhilarating about seeing someone really learn something for the first time. And it's more than just seeing them learn something about whatever the subject of the course happens to be (in my case, writing). When you teach someone something, you're really teaching them how to think. This is especially true when teaching writing. It's not like I can just spit out a bunch of facts, and then they memorize them and spit them back at me on a test. I'm teaching them how to organize, support, clarify, evaluate, and revise their thoughts and beliefs, and when they realize that that's what they're doing, it's an incredible sight to behold.

And of course, it doesn't hurt that my students actually seem to have liked me. A group of about 5 or 6 of them all gave me a thank you card at the end of the semester. That just put it all over the top.

So, for anyone wondering what my future is looking like, being a college professor is still looking pretty likely. I have other ideas too, but I'll save those thoughts for a future blog.

Ken, Born of Fire

P.S. I read yo mama's blog today. She said she was feeling a little lupine and that she was thinking about going out with the pack tonight.

Yo Mama

For those of you biting at the chomp for a new blog: C'mon, gimme a break, it's freakin' finals week coming up!

I do have a great yo mama joke that I'd like to share with you though.

Yo mama's so fat, when taking a bath, she uses considerably more soap and water than an average person, and she takes longer to dry herself off, partly because of her greater skin area, partly because of the difficulty in manipulating a towel around her immense girth, but also partly because she actively avoids looking at herself in the mirror, because even though, deep down, she knows she's fat, she can't handle the visual confirmation of her obesity.

~Ken, Born of Fire

Interpreting Roosters.

The little man with the frown,
he comes to town every now and then.
But I never let him stay long,
lest he forget he is meant to pitch tents.

There is a sadness,
so beautiful in it's time.
But "Cock-a-doodle-doo,"
translated to English means,
"The hour of joy is upon us,"
and a blazing sphere plays peek-a-boo
to make us laugh like little ones.

Lungs and Hearts Don't Have Arms

Have you ever noticed
how your lungs
don't have arms
or hands?

Thus
they can't really
reach out
and grab the air
that they need.

And they don't need to.
They just open up, and
ahh . . . there it is.

And have you ever noticed
how your heart
doesn't have arms
or hands?

So
it can't really
reach out
and grab the God
that it needs.

And it doesn't need to.
Just open it up, and
ahh . . . there He is.

Life With Coffee

I'll just say this: caffeine's a heck of a drug!

You know what though? It's really not about the caffeine. It's about the coffee. The taste. The aroma. The flavorful, fragrant dance with my senses that I experience when the first sip hits my tongue. The relaxation I experience when I sit down and do absolutely nothing but enjoy life and pleasure and God and my surroundings. That's the really special part. I don't -need- caffeine, and I proved it for 40 days.

The caffeine is just lagniappe. It's like buying Axe Body Wash and getting a free trial size stick of Axe deodorant with it. It's the icing on the cake. The cherry on the sundae. The walnuts in the brownies. I'm really hungry.

Basically, it's the little extra thing on the main big thing.

But still: caffeine's a heck of a drug!

And that's the word.

~Ken, Born of Fire

P.S. You wanna hear a joke? What do you tell someone who's nervous and constipated? You tell them to take a relaxative.

Fleeing Earth

Though she's not actually there,
I can't look at a globe and not see America,
Her great states stretching out beyond their size.
(Alaska and Hawaii seem to be there
just to assure me
that borders were never quite her cup of tea).

What will happen when she's really gone?
I'm referring not to the time when she's no longer represented
visually on some atlas,
but to the time when the land mass she onced called home
picks up its roots and runs!
My world, my earth and my heaven,
Fled, dead and unpresent.

Will I survive
the haunting sight
of my great protector's
moment of cowardice?

I think so.

There's so much in my mind
And it's hard
to find
the time
to sort it
and give some order to it.

So I'm planning to let it pile
and not tend to it for a while
And let stacks of sticky notes
build houses
with motes
and floors
and ceiling tiles.


I think I'll add more to this later.

~Ken, Born of Fire

Homesickness

It's funny how things change sometimes. When I first came to college, I used to go home every weekend. Staying all the way in Lafayette, a whole hour and a half away from good ol' Morgan City and my family, wasn't even a consideration.

Then I started making friends, mainly through Chi Alpha. Once I did, there was some appeal to staying over the weekend. I could actually do something besides watch TV in my lonely little room with my creepily silent roomate. I started staying. Just a few times a semester at first. Nothing major. Gradually, slowly, I began to stay a little bit more frequently. Within a few years, I transitioned from going more than staying to staying more than going.

Fast forward to this semester, 5 years after that first bold adventure of staying the weekend. I haven't been home all semester. This is most certainly the longest amount of time I've ever been away from home. And I don't know if I've ever said this before, but I'm actually homesick. I've been feeling pretty bad lately, and for awhile I couldn't figure out why. But I guess I just figured it out today:

I miss my family. I miss my Mom. I miss my Dad. I miss my brother and his wife (who's pregnant, btw). I miss my sisters and brother-in-law and my 2 little nieces. And gosh how I hate, hate, hate seeing that my nieces have grown a LOT since the last time I've seen them and knowing that I missed out on so much. I miss my grandparents. I miss the 2 friends whom I always make a point to see everytime I go home. All this missing has just been eating away at me.

Don't worry about me though. This isn't meant to be a sob story. First of all, now that I've figured all that out, I feel a lot better. AND, guess what? I get to go home THIS WEEKEND! And not just for a weekend, but for 10 whole stinkin' days! I'm so excited!

So you see, this story does have a happy ending. : )

BTW: I can drink coffee again! I'll talk about that next time.

~Ken, Born of Fire

A List

I came up with 10 things you can do to feel like a really important/awesome person when you're walking around on campus:

10. Always have your cell phone out. If you're not actually talking to anyone, pretend. And act like you're really chewing them out about something.

9. Puff up your shoulders, stick out your chest, and flex your arms as you walk. Do this just enough to look buff, but not so much that you draw attention to yourself.

8. One word: scowl.

7. Walk at a steady, fairly quick pace, and look frustrated when having to walk around people or slow down, or . . .

6. Walk at a cool, relaxed pace. Take the time to stop and smell the occasional flower.

*Whether you do 6 or 7 just depends on what kind of mood you're in: 7 is, "I have really important stuff to do, so get out of my way you buncha slow-poke slackers." 8 is more along the lines of, "I'm so important that it doesn't matter if I'm late because no one will dare hold me accountable for it, so I take my time, fool."

5. Smile and wave at random people that you don't know. It might even help if you say, "Hey, [insert random name here]." Then the people behind you will think you must be really important and awesome because you know everybody.

*Now, you might be thinking that this will make you look really dumb if the person stops and says, "Hey, that's not my name. Do I know you?" But trust me, that never happens.

4. When crossing the street at a crosswalk, pay attention to the street light. Time your walk so that you start crossing just before the light turns, to where your foot makes contact with the street at the exact second that the crosswalk says walk and the beeping sound starts.

3. God forbid, but if you happen to drop something, DON'T pick it up. If someone picks it up for you, act like you didn't notice, casually take it back, and keep walking.

2. If you pass by someone who happens to be smoking a cigarette, pull it out of their mouth and throw it on the ground. Don't stop to do this. Keep a steady pass and do it quickly as you pass them by. If you do it correctly, that may not even notice who did it.

1. Finally, the number one way to feel really awesome and important when walking around on campus: hum one of two tunes inaudibly to yourself: either The Imperial March from Star Wars or Eye of the Tiger. If you do this, you'll feel like you own the freakin' campus, and the other 9 things will just come naturally to you.

~Ken, Born of Fire

The Insufficiency of Rhetoric in Resisting Temptation

One thing I love about having a blog now is that it gives me one more reason to procrastinate doing school work. : ) I love it. If there's one thing I really need in my life, it's more motivation for procrastination.

So recently I've been thinking about the ways in which I resist sin. And regarding that, I thought of something that I phrase the insufficiency of rhetoric. Now, I shall blog about it:


Rhetoric: "The art of using language so as to persuade or influence others; the body of rules to be observed by a speaker or writer in order that he may express himself with eloquence" (OED).


"When I came to you, brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God . . . My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit's power, so that your faith might not rest on men's wisdom, but on God's power." (1 Corinthains 2:1, 4-5)


In this passage of Scripture, Paul is talking about preaching the Gospel. However, I believe that the principle he is putting forth here is one that can be applied to other areas as well. Just as rhetoric (or eloquent/wise/persuasive speech) is insufficient for causing someone to believe the message of Jesus, it is also insufficient for causing a believer to resist any given temptation to sin.

When I am being tempted with some kind of sin, my first resort is to argue with the temptation. The temptation says "Do it," and I reply, "No, it's not worth it." Temptation says, "It won't hurt anyone," and I reply, "It will hurt the heart of God." Temptation says, "He'll forgive you," and I reply, "I don't want him to have to."

And the conversation goes on in this way. What's happening is that I'm basically trying to persuade myself against the arguments of the temptation. And if I rely solely on my own persuasive power in order to resist, I usually fall short. I sin. The rhetoric is not sufficient.

Don't get me wrong though; it's not like the rhetoric isn't helpful. Going back to the passage of Scripture, look at who wrote it: the Apostle Paul. When you read his letters, you see very quickly that Paul was a master rhetorician. And look at Acts 17. Paul could argue persuasively with the top philosophers in all of Athens. He definitely knew the value of persuasive speech, but he also knew that that's not where the true power lies. The true power of the Gospel is found only in the Spirit of God.

It is that very same Spirit whom Paul refers to here, the Spirit on whom the faith of every believer rests, who will also strengthen us to resist sin, so that our holiness might not rest on our own rhetoric, but on God's power. As long as a believer continues to rely on his own strength, and the power of his own mind, to resist sin, he will continue to fail and fail again. The only solution is to ask God for his Holy Spirit and the power that he provides, and to receive it with an open heart. All other methods are hopeless.

Going Chuck Norris on the Disobedience Monster

Only 13 more days till I can drink coffee again! Part of me wants to that life without coffee isn't so bad. Really. I don't think about it all that much. But man, when I do think about it, it's usually because I could really use some.

And it's not like I can just not think about because the stuff is EVERYWHERE. McDonald's is advertising new "bolder, richer coffee" with big banners over their stores. Ryan Bourque is coming over every Tuesday and Thursday morning for a fresh cup. I walk into Cafe XA, there's coffee. I go to my office in Griffin, there's coffee. I eat upstairs in the Student Union, there's coffee. I walk around campus, every freakin' body is drinkin' coffee!

Remember last week, when I told you about the Conscience Monster? Well, now the Disobedience Monster is messing with me:

"C'mon, Ken. You don't really have to do this."

"I know I don't, Disobedience Monster. I wanted to do it."

"No you didn't. You were just giving in to the peer pressure of the Conscience Monster."

"Well, yeah, sort of, but I wanted to give in to him."

"But 40 days is such a looong time."

"Not really."

"You could just have a little. No one would know about it."

"I would know about it, and that's enough. Now, shut your fat, stupid face before I roundhouse kick it, Chuck Norris-style."

"You wouldn't do that, would . . . " WHAM!

"Don't ever doubt me again, fool."

And that's how I deal with the Disobedience Monster. A little roundhouse action sends him running back home to his momma. And yeah, he usually goes back, works out, beefs up a little bit, and tries to come back looking all bad and strong. That's why I just keep eating my cereal. Nothing keeps you prepared for an attack from Disobedience like a healthy bowl of Frosted Flakes. That fool ain't got nothin' on the power of those sweet, crispy, whole grain flakes drowned in a giant bowl with pure, white, lipidy whole milk. That's right. Believe that.

~Ken, Born of Fire

Coffee, Lent, and the Conscience Monster

I gave up coffee for Lent.

Can you believe that? Perhaps I should say it again:

I gave up coffee for Lent.

"Why?" you ask? Well, I'm not 100% sure. I'm not Catholic, so it's not like I'm supposed to give up something for Lent. But I have done it in the past. The first time I did it I simply wasn't aware that it was a Catholic tradition. I had just become a Christian, and I thought it was something all Christians did. The year after that, I knew that it was a Catholic tradition, but I thought it was pretty cool so I did it anyway. Then for the next few years I didn't do it at all, and I wasn't exactly planning to this year either. This is how it happened:

I was in the Chi Alpha house with Amanda J Meadows and April Hermanson. I was eating at the kitchen table and they were chatting in the living room when I heard April say, "So I'm thinking about giving up coffee for Lent."

"Hmm, that's quite admirable of her," I thought to myself.

Then as soon as I thought that, the Conscience Monster whispered in my ear, "If it's so admirable, why don't you do it?"

"No, Conscience Monster," I immediately retorted. "You're just trying to make me do something 'religious' so I can feel good about myself and impress people. Well, I'm not gonna fall for it."

"That's not it at all," he argued. "Can't you just do something good for the sake of doing something good, and for your own benefit?"

"Well . . . yeah . . . I guess . . . But I really like coffee."

"Exactly."

"And what about Ryan? We drink coffee together every Tuesday and Thursday morning. He would be so disappointed."

"He can still come over and drink coffee, and y'all can still talk. It's the talking that's the important thing, right? Not the coffee?"

"Yeah, yeah, I guess you're right. Okay, well, I'll do it."

At this point April walks back into the room after having gone to McDonald's.

"Hey, April, guess what . . . I think I'm gonna give up coffee for Lent, too."

"Really? That's awesome," she exclaimed.

Now going back inside my head:

"Oh no. What have I just done? I told someone. That means I have to stay committed to it."

"Yep, it sure does."

"No one asked for your input, Conscience Monster."

"Hey, look at the bright side. You'll save a lot of money."

"Yeah, whatever."

The lesson to be learned here is that the Conscience Monster is a ruthless beast, who will stop at nothing to make you do what he wants. He normally hides out under your bed, and he looks like a giant meatball.

In my next post, I'll tell you all about life without coffee and what it's like.

My eyes!

My eyes are burninating right now. Mainly because I'm tired, and I've been staring at a computer screen for awhile. I should go to bed, but I'm waiting for something, so I can't. Anywho, I'm kinda doing this just to pass some time. It'll probably be the most boring blog ever because I don't actually have any real motivation for writing it, but I don't think anybody reads this anyway. At least not as far as I know. Anybody out there? Hello? Just checking. I've haven't told anybody about it because I don't update it regularly. Pretty much only when I feel like it. I guess it's more for me than anyone else. Just to post stuff, and give my fingers something to type when they haven't had a paper due for an English class in a while. They need to stay in shape, and since I don't have much time to play video games when I'm school, this really helps.

I wish I would sleep more. I usually get at least 7 hrs. a night, but wouldn't it be awesome to get 8? All it would require is a little discipline to say no to things, and little more hard work during the day to make sure I get all my hw done. Yeah, that would be the sweet life. I'm sure most people don't get 8 hrs. Can you imagine how much different the world would be if we did? I'm sure it would be a lot better. People would be sharper, happier, less grumpy, more motivated, and have faster reflexes. As it stands now, most of us walk around at least somewhat tired most of the team, which is not cool. Anywho, I guess that's all I'll say for now. Later.

Sin Deeper Than Skin

There is a sin
That goes deeper than skin.

It goes deeper than bone
And into the zone
Where you alone
Cannot get it out.

And for now, even the Spirit,
Though He descend like a dove,
Cannot or will not
Make us pure love.

So we groan for the day,
When Christ will say
"Rise!"
And we finally put away
This old, dusty frame
With its ancient shame
And leave it to rot where it lies.

And whether poetry or prose,
I dare not suppose
That I could even begin
To describe our new clothes.

But what I can pen
Is the end of sin,
Even the one that goes deeper than skin.

Empty Fullness vs. Satisfaction

"The righteous eat to their hearts' content,
but the stomach of the wicked goes hungry." (Prov. 13:25)

It's hard to be righteous and resist temptation. It always seems like there's some great satisfaction waiting for us on the other side of sin, but when I think about how I feel when I sin, I wouldn't call it satisfaction at all. It's comparable to eating bad cafeteria food. The food may look delicious at first sight, and it may even taste good going down if you're really hungry. But once you've finished eating it, even though you're full, you're not satisfied. It's sort of an empty fullness, a fullness that leaves you wanting. Then suppose right after you finish, some truly good food was set in front of you. You would want to eat it because you're not satisfied with what you already ate, but you can't because you're full. You can't eat the good food because you're too full of the bad food.

On the other hand, righteousness is comparable to the truly good food. Once you eat it, you're not only full but also satisfied. Not only do you not need any more food, you don't want it either. You can't want what you already have.

To summarize, being full on sin makes it very difficult to hunger for righteousness, and being full on righteousness makes it very difficult to hunger for sin.

So here's something that I thought of a few days ago. Actually, I'm not sure if I thought of it myself, or it was a word from God. Regardless, when it entered my mind it really touched me. I was thinking about prayer, and the thought came to me that when we fail to pray on a regular basis, it's NOT like we're refusing to pick up the phone and call God. I mean, that is one analogy one could give, but I think it's a lot more like the phone is ringing already, and God is on the other line, and we're refusing to pick it up.

I'm sharing this not to make people feel guilty about not praying, but to convey the idea of just how persistently God is trying to communicate with us, and the fact that he ALWAYS takes the initiative. He is always the one making the call. Jesus said that no man can come to him unless the Father draws him. We cannot be the initiators. Was it AT&T who had the slogan "Reach out and touch someone"? The thing is, it is impossible for us to "reach out and touch" God. But then again, we don't need to because the phone is constantly ringing. All we have to do is pick it up.

Mas

So I've still been reading that book, A Short Method of Prayer, but the rest of it isn't nearly as good as those first few pages. So in short, don't buy the book. Just find it in the bookstore, stand up and read the first few pages, then try to do what it says.

Now it's back to school time, which for me means no more luxury reading. Nope. I can only read school stuff and the Bible. That's all I'll have time for. And maybe one book that I can read on weekends, but that's definitely it.

I taught my first class today. It went pretty smoothly. I'm still really nervous, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to love it.

Well, I'll keep you updated on how it goes. Later.

~Ken, Born of Fire