watch my language?

i have to say, sometimes swearing is so ridiculous it's downright humorous. one is particularly aware of this as a Christian. countless times people have apologized to me for swearing in my presence, as though i'm so holy that i can't be in the presence of such talk or i'll melt. at the same time, this is usually a relief, because it's difficult to communicate when every other word contributes nothing to the conversation except to make me well aware that the person i'm talking to has a vocabulary less than that of a three-year-old.

then there's the other side of the coin - people who swear around me purposefully because i'm a Christian. somehow, one of the guys on my highschool bus in Northern Ontario learned that i had never used profanity, and promptly felt called to dedicate his life to causing me to curse. "just once, come on," he'd say. i could do nothing but smile. there was absolutely no reason that i could think of why i would want to do it merely because he told me to, and yet he kept at it as though he had some irrefutable case that one day i'd see the light and find freedom for my soul in letting the f-bomb soar.

then there's my friend Aaron, from highschool in Southern Ontario. knowing that I was a "churchie," he would string together the most creative combination of profanities I had ever heard, looking me straight in the face as he did. i've got to tell you, that was hilarious.

i find it fascinating that non-Christians will recognize profanity as something that is wrong, despite the fact that we Christians often can't entirely put our finger on why it's wrong even for us. there's the general principle of the matter, found in the Bible under such ideas as thinking about what's pure, lovely, etc., or Paul's exhortation to avoid coarse joking and vain words, and we know that using the Lord's name in vain is bad. however, where is the line drawn between profanity and legitimate word usage? this is a question that hits close to home for me, since i'm a specialized expert linguistic in using 'poop' in a creative variety of ways (e.g. poo, poop, poopoo) in order to get accross an insulting point, or 'crap' on occassion when something goes awry. is there really any difference between this and, well, other words that could be substituted?

the sweater song

i'm lying in bed listening to music through headphones. pretty much every cd of the approximately two hundred i own, except for coldplay and collective soul, is of a 'Christian band' (were there such a thing), because I'm a good Christian.

i'll admit, just now i skipped 'be thou my vision' in my playlist in order to hear illegally downloaded afi, whose poetically depressing lyrics are smoothly integrated into complex guitar compositions. but i deleted the one song that has the f-word (the only profanity, as far as i know), probably because i'm a good Christian.

today i was wearing my favourite black zip-up hoodie. it is good, except the bottom-front part kind of bunches up and makes me look like i have a beer belly, even though i have never had a sip of beer (because i'm a good Christian?).

also, the sleeves are a little short. were my hands to suddenly become legs, my hoodie would be high-water pants. a truly Good sweater wouldn't be like this. however, this is my favourite, probably because i've never had a perfect sweater - or seen one, in fact. i guess i'll have to settle for this one. but if i had a perfect sweater it would not bunch up and the sleeves would fit better (were there such thing as a perfect sweater), because it would be a truly Good sweater.

hypothetically, were i to come across the perfect sweater, i would no longer think my zip-up hoodie was so good. in fact, there would be only one favourite sweater for me. if that were the case, i should probably completely forget about this hoodie and do everything i can to get the perfect one (were there such a thing), because it would be a Good sweater.

but, for now, I'll listen to my good songs in my good sweater, and be content to be a good Christian (were there such a thing).

The Superkeith [Überkeit]

"Behold, I teach you the overman [Übermensch]. The overman is the meaning of the earth. Let your will say: the overman shall be the meaning of the earth! I beseech you, my brothers, remain faithful to the earth, and do not believe those who speak to you of otherworldly hopes! Poison-mixers are they, whether they know it or not. Despisers of life are they, decaying and poisoned themselves, of whom the earth is weary: so let them go."

-Friedrich Nietzsche in Thus Spoke Zarathustra

I'd like to think that if I were an atheist (assuming such a position were possible), I would live completely free of all moral restraints. Having no absolute Truth to guide me, I would be the most conniving, power-hungry villain to walk the planet. I'd be so good at being bad, in fact, that no one would know that I really didn't give a darn-tootin' diddley what they thought of my actions. I would be Superkeith, and there would be no stopping me.

Given my upbringing as a missionary and pastor's kid, I've learned the ins-and-outs of being 'such a good little boy.' My parents never forced me to act good; I just knew it was my lot in life. One of the things that most plagued my conscience growing up was when I sneaked small pieces off bacon slices before breakfast when my mom wasn't looking. The 'rebellious stage,' or, even worse, the 'rebellious pastor's kid' stage was something I never went through. Heck, I've never even frickin' cussed.

This veritable mastery of the art of looking good has placed me in a good position, I believe, to be potentially the worst person possible - one who acts perfectly on the outside, but whose innards are full of dead men's bones. I could be a white-washed tomb who revels in the darkness inside, an ethical egoist - Nietzche's overman - who is in complete mastery of his feelings, actions, and will, turning every situation into his advantage, attaining power in every area of life.

As for love, I would exploit it to the max. Oh, yes, the ladies would do as I pleased, thinking all the time that I was just as weak and vulnerable as they in the servitude of affection. Indeed, I would be well aware that, "Sometimes it requires only a stronger pair of spectacles to cure the lover, and he who had the imagination to picture a face, a figure twenty years older would perhaps pass through life very undisturbed" (Nietzsche in Human, All Too Human). Sensual pleasures and adoring devotion would be mine, for as long as they suited my fancy, until I decided to move on. Then I would leave, those who loved me feeling only that they had somehow wronged me, and all too ready to make it up at a moment's notice.

Such is the lure of power, of mastery, of the overman; one who has conquered the weakness of humanity and has only power left within his soul, with no conscience remaining to curb the fulfillment craftily calculated desires.

It's impenetrable.

There is only one overlooked tragic flaw. There is one weakness, and this is its strength. For the ultimate perfection of strength is found in the strength to be weak. This is what Lucifer hadn't counted on when he fell like lightning from heaven. Closest to absolute power is that which embraces all abilities except that to relinquish itself. Closest, however, is not absolute, is not perfect, and is not complete. On its own, It has fallen short, and It will continue to fall for eternity. It is constantly becoming more nothing than It was before, and yet never nothing enough to be free from the horror of plummeting from being more than It presently is.

Perfect love is found only in giving all. Perfect freedom is exercising the freedom to commit absolutely. Perfect peace is only discovered in the face of strife. Perfect knowledge is faith. Being seated at the right hand of God is in complete only in kenosis, in the Absolute emptying Himself and making Himself nothing.
 

Christ is the only Overman. Only He is perfectly God and perfectly man, and it is impossible to take His place, for He is the One and the Complete, and anyone who would go to the Father must go through Him. Only He has perfected power in weakness and love in vulnerability. I know no Superkeith is possible on my own, but through Christ I am beginning to understand with a knowledge that comes through faith, to choose freely to be His servant, and to love others with a love so strong that it is broken and weak, a love that embraces so closely that the beloved is free to go, and a love that would go through death that another might live.

"Love is all, it gives all, and it takes all" - Soren Kierkegaard

here held, close caught

to faithful be, perhaps to see God’s perfect plan - my destiny within this frail, distorted jar of clumpy clay, a treasure far beyond the weakness that I know, beyond the darkness far below into the blinding light I go, to seek a king of grace to show my heart’s desire beyond the shade, a once-lost love, back from the grave this is my cry, my call, my dream: to sing, to bring, praise offering; a matchless prize, forgotten jewel; I long to strive to thrive - a fool! caught in his trap of boundless grace a sinner saved, by sight of face to haste this faith, my hope embrace an endless peace, a life to taste, richer than wine, to dine mine thine, thy kindly find mine mind and shine sweet light, to thank thy might, not quite my height to fight this plight not trite lost lest love lift low life long-lain, not sight-sought sweetness do I claim but by thy wind my wing-tips fly, found freely flowing fountains I within thy streams, beneath thy grace, a fearfully suspended place here held, close caught; thine thought truth taught choice cherished child, here - heaven’s home bows blessed before beloved’s throne

soul-spring

the clouds are moving quickly today. the sky is restless, as though in trembling anticipation of some great event. i, along with the darting wind and quivering trees, am not sure whether this change is for the better or worse. today is a great battle of Spring and Autumn, with Winter still clinging to a remnant of earth with her slowly-loosening grip. Spring is new on the scene, calling for Summer to break through the darkened sky in all her glory and melt the last icy fragments of winter. Autumn refuses to concede that her work has come to naught, and her leaves flurry furiously in the air, rustling amongst themselves, having been disturbed from a deep sleep as their thick blanket has dissolved, baring them to the still-chilled breath of Spring. it is through this breath she strives to inspire life in the frigid ground, shaking mother earth from her slumber. the birds are the first to foresee the approaching reign of Summer, heralding their approval with sweet chirps and heightened activity, preparing for her triumphant return.

change is fearsome. even though i see now the blue sky peering out from her cloudy cell, i am not entirely confident of her release. if it is i who must defend her, then i fear she shall remain imprisoned forever. i know myself too well. unless the King of Heaven himself comes to our aid, i know i cannot see the sun of the kingdom. in this moment of anticipatory darkness, though, i feel an awakening of hope, of faith that something greater will come through the temporary unsettling of this change.

i see the clouds breaking apart, indeed growing brighter as i write, loosing their chains on the light from above. the birds are charged with more vigour than ever before. their sight of a kingdom unseen is contagious. with the Prince's defense, the King of Heaven will come to my aid. despite blunders of past mistakes, i know that my Redeemer lives, and it is he that makes everything beautiful in its time. though winter may last for the night, a new day approaches, and joy will come in the morning. weary trepidation has turned to the thrill of a glory seen from afar, instilling a confidence to take each new step knowing that the dawn of soul's summer is immanent.