Like Wise. A Story. Part 9.

That car belonged to Moses. There were red and blue lights filling the intersection ahead and he decided to avoid the roadblock by taking another street. 

The street was an alley but he figured it would still save him the delay. Which is funny, because he was going nowhere and there was no time he had to get to nowhere but, still, we never like delays. 

He eventually saw the body. It was soaked in blood and, at first, he assumed dead. 

Moses slowed down enough to see the U.S. ARMY shirt, the khaki jeans and the boots. He could see the short hair cut and he could see the clean-shaven face, where there wasn't blood. He could see the chest moving in and out. 

"God help us," he muttered, while trying to decide if he would help God. 

"God help him," he said, obviously deciding God could handle it. 

"And help our nation to see its depravity." 

Moses didn't know that his son had done the damage he was looking at. He didn't know that he himself had done much of the damage to his son. 

Would any of that had mattered? Maybe. Maybe not. 

Either way, Billy tried to moan something but he couldn't. 

He watched the car leave him behind and decided he only had a few more breaths to go. 

Until he heard "What the hell?" and they were some of the best words he had ever heard. Someone else had seen him. 

Like Wise. A Story. Part 8.

It didn't take long. 

It started with some words being thrown back and forth. It ended with fists being thrown back and forth. 

Billy, despite being able to think too clearly, tried to calm things down. Yes, he was a racist but he was also a racist that had been accustomed to following certain rules that helped him to keep a job he loved and to help him stay alive. His Uncle, however, was not as used to following those same rules. In fact, as is often the case with the people we hate the most, it was rare for him to actually see a black man, let alone have a chance to hurt one. 

He took advantage of his opportunity, unfortunately. 

It was a mess and there is no reason to go into all the details here but suffice it to say there were broken bones amidst the broken souls. 

By the end, Dwayne managed to escape, along with his friends. Barely. But not before unloading a heap of damage on a few people, including Billy. 

In fact, Billy, despite being the one who least wanted to fight, bore the brunt of everyone else's anger and rage and lust for violence. 

Billy's Uncle ran. As did most everyone else when the police showed up. 

Unfortunately, Billy could not run. Unfortunately, Billy was not in the bar anymore. Dwayne had taken Billy outside and unloaded on him. Billy had landed a few good punches but one-on-one there was no contest. 

Billy was dying. Alone. In a back alley by a dumpster. The police gave the alley a glance but they didn't seem him. There was too much going on in the bar with names and statements and paperwork. 

Billy doesn't remember much. He remembers more pain than he had ever felt. He remembers loneliness and betrayal by a family member he thought cared about him. 

He remembers believing there was nothing that would save him. His life was flashing before his eyes. The good moments and the bad. The painful and the joyful. Unfortunately, Billy's life was ending the way most of it had been, which made him feel only more pain.

Life had not been a good one. He was not angry but he wished it had been different. 

And then he remember a car. 

Like Wise. A Story. Part 7.

No one really remembers the time. Everyone would say it was late. 

It was the kind of late that your parents talk about when they say "nothing good happens after..." the time can change but the meaning doesn't. There is a time in the night when there is nothing good that will happen. It's got nothing to do with numbers on a clock but it's real and we all know it. 

Saul was in a hotel room with a woman. He needed a cigarette, a drink, and some fresh air. He didn't especially enjoy the city he was staying in but he left the room and started walking on the streets, anyway. It was something he wasn't supposed to do and something he liked to do anyway. There were not many chances to rebel anymore. 

Moses was in a car. He was never in a car at that kind of hour but he was struggling. He had just preached a sermon that had gone well, and he had just preached to his son, and that had not. It never did. He needed time. He was listening to talk radio and driving.... anywhere and nowhere. 

Wise had finished the phone conversation he had been waiting for and thrown away the cell phone that he had used to speak on. It was his last night on Earth, if everything went according to plan. As such, he could hardly sit in his bed and sleep. He too found himself walking aimlessly, not too aimlessly as though would draw attention and he didn't want any attention at that moment. Neither did Allah. 

Billy was drunk. He says he doesn't remember much of the evening. There were lots of shots, lots of racist jokes and lots of stories of being in the Army. He does remember something very specifically. 

Three black men walked into the bar he was in. Instantly, everyone looked toward the men and instantly the men, one of whom happened to be the son of Moses, looked back toward them. Dwayne was already in a bad mood and the site of racists (instantly identified as such by their shirts) didn't help his bad mood. He was also a fighter. So were his friends. 

Nothing good happens at that hour. And nothing good was about to happen. 

Like. Wise. A Story. Part 6.

Wise found himself eating takeout in a hotel room. For security reasons he was not to leave. So he watched some bad television while he waited for a phone call. The phone call. He also studied a picture of his family and wondered how they were and how they would be. 

Saul found himself in a very nice restaurant with an attractive server whom he planned on sleeping with later in the night. He made that very clear as he ordered another bottle of wine. She seemed flattered and he didn't really notice. He did complain about the temperature of the vegetables. 

Billy found himself in a local bar. It was a favorite of his Uncle's. Billy wore a "US ARMY" shirt and he was treated as a celebrity. Many drinks were purchased and consumed by the all white crowd of men, while televisions blared some of the same bad television that Wise watched alone. 

Moses found himself in a local restaurant. Not as nice as the place Saul was, but expensive enough that it put him in a bad mood. Gluttony. His son, Dwayne, had recommended the place and so he had obliged. The conversation was awkward as it alway was but they were both used to that. And by the time Dwayne threw down his plate and stormed out of the restaurant, well, Moses had lasted about 30 seconds longer than the last meal they had shared together. But, as always, once sodomy and fornication and wrath were thrown around, Dwayne left, leaving Moses angry and upset at his son again. Another chance at restoration was over. 

Another was coming. 

Like Wise. A Story. Part 5.

Wise, Billy, Saul, and Moses were all in the same city. 

The city doesn't matter. What matters is why each of the men was there. 

Wise was there to plan a terrorist attack with an American cell. 

Billy was there to visit his Uncle Ray. Uncle Ray is a card-carrying white supremacist. 

Saul was there to celebrate the opening of a new gym and to get on the news to help get the word out about his foundation. 

Moses was there to speak at a local church and to try to renew some kind of relationship with his estranged son by meeting him at a restaurant afterward. 

Wise was there to destroy. 
Billy was there to get away. 
Saul was there to promote. 
Moses was there to restore. 

None of them knew their paths were about to cross. 

results not rules.

Here's a thought interrupting Like Wise. 

If you have a partner of any kind (boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, lover, friend) you want them to do the things you want them to do without having to ask them for it. 

No one wants someone to bring them flowers after they say "I really wish you would bring me flowers." That's alright, but we really want the person to bring the flowers because they already know we want flowers. We didn't need to ask. 

The flowers are a result of something.

A result of love. 

Flowers are not a rule to get love. 

Jesus, I think, pointed to the same kind of ideas with the law. 

Behavior is an effect, a result, an indicator of something else. 

It is not a way to get that thing. 

It's not about adultery. It's about seeing humans as humans. If you see humans as humans you won't commit adultery. If you don't commit adultery, you won't necessarily see humans as humans but you'll think you're doing everything right.

It's not about murder. It's about seeing your enemies as the same as you. If you see your enemies as the same as you, you won't murder. If you don't murder, you won't necessarily see your enemies as the same as you.  

Religion is backward. It starts with a rule and thinks it will get somewhere. The only place it gets is judgment, arrogance, and false pride. 

Jesus wanted to change that. I think that's why he said the entire law (all the rules) hinge on love. If you know you are loved, if you love others, you'll see some results and won't need to worry about rules. 

Like Wise. A Story. Part 4.

This is a story about my neighbor. Not Wise, but another neighbor. Not Billy, but another neighbor. Not Saul, but another neighbor. 

This is a story about Moses. Moses is not like Wise or Billy or Saul. 

Moses is an African-American pastor who was born in Chicago, Illinois. He had a pretty rough childhood which he often talks about in his sermons. He was in gang and he did some terrible things to people but that was before he "found God". 

Everything changed when that happened. 

Moses is not like Wise. Moses' son is still alive - even if he doesn't have a relationship with him because he doesn't approve of his "hedonistic lifestyle". Moses is not like Billy, although both men did grow up without any kind of healthy father-figure and they both, when honest, admit that reality hurts them to this day. Even so, Moses would find Billy to be a reprobate because of his lifestyle and Billy would see Moses as barely human because of his skin color.  Moses is not like Saul. Saul tends to sleep around with as many women as his wealth and travel schedule allow. Moses' wife passed away about 10 years ago and the idea of ever remarrying, let alone sleeping with someone, is a terrible "sin" in his eyes. 

Moses like to preach. So does Wise, but in a different way. So does Billy and so does Saul. They all believe very strongly about what they preach and they all think very little of each other. And they preach that too. 

All of them are scared the world is going to hell in a hand basket but for very different reasons. 

Wise thinks people like Billy, Saul and Moses are the major problem. 
Billy thinks people like Wise, Saul, and Moses are the major problem. 
Saul thinks people like Wise and Moses are the major problem (and Billy - but he can't admit that publicly as it might hurt his image a bit). 
Moses thinks people like Wise, Saul and Billy are the major problem. Lord come quickly. 

This is a story about all of them. 

Like. Wise. A Story. Part 3.

This is a story about my neighbor. Not Wise, but another neighbor. Not Billy, but another neighbor. 

This is a story about Saul. Saul is not like Wise or Billy. 

Saul is very wealthy. I don't know how much money Saul has but I assume he has enough to spend as much as he wants on anything he wants at anytime. He doesn't worry about money. 

Wise and Billy do not have a lot of money. In fact, both of them work paycheck to paycheck. 

They say money doesn't make someone happy. I believe that. But I do think that having a private jet, a house in Nice, in Maui, in Los Angeles and in New York City would be nice. I also think that being able to see anyplace in the world whenever you want would be nice. 

But Saul isn't that nice, which I assume, means he's not that happy. Happy people are usually pretty nice people. He's rich, but he's not nice. 

Saul did start a foundation with his money about 12 years ago. The foundation was called Saul's Guns and it was dedicated to helping out our vets and active service men and women. Saul likes to work out. He's big and buff and handsome and, in addition to having lots of money, has all the things that people are supposed to be on the outside to measure success. 

So, he started a foundation that would provide free gym memberships for service personnel. He traveled around the world to tell people how much he cared for the troops - and to tell the troops themselves at different bases. He's seen a lot of the world. 

Saul is not like Wise. Both of his parents are still alive. Saul is not like Wise. He is not married and doesn't have kids. Saul is not like Billy. He's not racist. In fact, Saul is a Jew and Jews are some of the other people that Billy and his Uncle and his dad would not be too happy with. 

To recap where we are so far...

Wise is the enemy. Billy is the hero. Saul is a hero for supporting the heroes. 
Wise lost his son. Billy lost his childhood. Saul lost what it means to be happy. 

Like Wise. A Story. Part 2.

This is a story about my neighbor. Not Wise, but another neighbor. 

This is a story about Billy. Billy is not like Wise. 

Wise has a wife and a daughter. He is a devout Muslim. Wise lost a child at the age of 3 and says he also lost a piece of himself that day. 

Billy grew up in rural East Texas. Billy's father was, and is, a racist. Billy was too, although he's now more aware of the perceptions he grew up with and the caustic and destructive effects they have on himself and on others. 

But 12 years ago, Billy was not aware of them. He was aware of the alcoholism of his father and the way he would beat his mom on a semi-regular occurrence. Billy's father also regularly beat "niggers". 

I cringe every time Billy uses the word. I cringe typing it. I almost didn't. But it helps to describe Billy and Billy's father who use the word in a very offensive nature. It's meant to offend and it's meant as an attack. It's a missile meant to hurt. That's who Billy was. 

Billy's father was put in jail once for almost killing a black man but that was just the time he was caught and the local sheriff felt like he had to do something about it. Billy and his father used every racial slur on the planet that you can imagine, and I won't continue to be as offensive as they are and repeat them here. But you know the ones. 

I suppose Wise has bit of racist tendencies as well, although they would be pretty close to the opposite of Billy's. Wise tended to think people like Billy were the devil and Billy tended to think people like Wise - along with many others - were the devil. 

Regardless, Billy is not like Wise. Wise would have been considered by most to be a terrorist 12 years ago. 

Billy, on the other hand, would have been considered, by most, to be a hero. Billy flew the Apache AH-64 helicopter for the U.S. Army and he flew numerous missions in Iraq, where he launched numerous missiles and bombs into the "towel-heads". Those were the literal missiles, more deadly perhaps than the verbal and definitely more accepted. 

It was one such missile, not from Billy, that killed the son of Wise when he was 3 years old. Wise still carries a picture of that boy everywhere he goes so that he won't ever forget his son who would be almost 17 now. 

But 12 years ago, Wise carried it for a slightly different reason. He carried it to remember his single mission in life: revenge. 

Like Wise. A Story. Part 1.

This is a new little section of the blog. A story. Told over multiple parts. Enjoy. 

--

This is a story about my neighbor.

Well, he's not literally my neighbor - that would be Scott. Scott was shot by his kid, accidentally, while on a hunting trip and still has loads of spherical pellets lodged in his back from the shotgun his son used. It's a story but this story is not that story. 

This is about my other neighbor. 

Well, my other literal neighbor is Dane. Dane grew up in Catholic Schools and was beat by Nuns (its unoriginality doesn't make it less painful) so often and told that he sucked so frequently that I don't think Dane will ever step foot in a church, cathedral, temple, or holy building again. He's one of the nicest guys you will ever meet but he's not a church guy. I'm not sure that's a problem. I take that back - Dane did step foot into a church for the funeral of my other neighbor who died of breast cancer. Dane and his wife were at her house constantly leading up to her death, maybe the only people taking care of her. That's a story too, but this story is not that story either. 

This is a story about Wise. I don't think his name is really Wise but that's what he has gone by ever since I met him. Wise was born in Fallujah. The first time I met him he had just arrived to America as a refugee from Iraq. This was not his first time in America, but we'll get to that. 

It was his first time in America that he was not coming to America to attempt to destroy some of the people who live here. But we'll get there as well. 

For now, know this. Wise is my friend. Now. And Wise has a story. 

It starts about 12 years ago when al-Qaeda was the enemy and no one had heard of ISIS. I doubt you had heard of Jama'at al-Tawhid wal-Jihad either. I know I hadn't. But that's the group that Wise was doing "work" for. 

10.

I was recently with someone who was nervous that they were too young and knew too much. At first, this could sound arrogant and conceited (I'm sure there was some immaturity there) but I don't think it was. 

It was a scarce worldview. There isn't that much blow-your-mind-information-especially-about-God out there and what if I know most of it already? What then?

We just discovered the Universe has 10 times more galaxies than we thought. We're now estimating 2 trillion galaxies. 

1 million seconds is about 11.5 days,
1 billion seconds is about 32 years
1 trillion seconds is equal to 32,000 years.

If you spent 1 million dollars every day since the day Jesus was born you still wouldn't have spent 1 trillion dollars. 

There are 2 trillion galaxies. If you could explore a galaxy every second it would take 64,000 years. We live in a Solar System that we've only just begun to explore. Barely. 

There is no room for scarcity in this universe, except for the realization that we can scarcely know anything at all. 

tests.

It seems like mosts artists don't like school. There are probably all kinds of reasons but artists are generally creative and school is generally tests and tests are not creative. 

Tests are memorization. They are predictable, certain, standardized, and judgmental by their very nature. They produce hierarchy and obedience.   

Creating is not and does not.  

If you want to be an artist, you don't have to take the tests anymore, but it's like we become addicted to them. 

a match.

First there is a strike. 
Then there is friction.
Then there is heat.
There is conversion. 
There is decomposition. 

It takes a lot to liberate oxygen and bring light to darkness. 

go to the grocery store.

For the 18th straight month, restaurant sales were more than grocery store sales in the U.S., despite the success of cooking shows of just about every kind. 

Probably about way more than food. We often like to watch others or live through them as they work. 

My favorite analogy of the Bible is that it's a menu... you aren't supposed to memorize the menu you are supposed to read it and order the food to taste for yourself. 

I now think the analogy should change a little. The Bible is a recipe. It tells you what ingredients to go into the world to look for, how to find them, and how to mix them together for something that will satisfy not only basic needs of hunger but of finer tastes of goodness and life. 

Of course this takes work, time, effort, mystery, risk, vulnerability, and humility... 

to sum it up.

Someone once summed up Buddhism this way. 

Everything changes.
Anything can happen anytime.
I’m not exempt.

Think about how much of the energy we spend to

Prevent change.
Make sure things don't happen.
To me. 

Who's winning? 

tri.

Malcom Gladwell was recently talking about triathletes and the line they have to walk. They can't specialize too much in one event at the risk of costing themselves in another event. They have to be "good enough" in multiple endeavors. 

There are cyclists and swimmers and there are runners and basketball players... in creativity and business too. 

If you're trying to be a decathlete don't become discouraged that you aren't the best runner in the world. If you want to be the best runner in the world, don't put time into learning to throw the javelin. 

Art. Writing. Leadership.

You can't have it all - at least know what race you want to compete in. 

prayer is not that.

I was sitting in a restaurant last week right next to a man and a woman. I was by myself (without my phone) so I had lots of time to observe. 

When I first sat down, I felt awkward. It was obvious, within seconds, that the two people were not speaking. At all. I was so close I felt like I should say something. Are you guys alright? I honestly wondered whether one them had just disclosed the fact they had an affair. That was the energy. Looking away from each other, staring off into space, waiting... It was unsettling. 

This lasted for 5, 10 minutes. I could barely take it. 

Then the food came. The man mumbled something and they both bowed their heads to pray. 

I don't pretend to know their story, or them, or what they were going through. Maybe they wanted some time for silence and space. I don't know. 

I do know the view I had served as a great illustration. 

Prayer is not something you say to the air as though God wasn't hanging out until you bowed your head and closed your eyes.

Prayer is happening when you are sitting at the table.
What are the words spoken to the God in the woman across the table/the man across the table? 
Prayer is happening when the food hits your tongue. 
What do you say to God as you taste, ingest, and satisfy your desire for food? 
Prayer is happening when you get up and leave. 
What remnant of your spirit/energy is left behind when you leave? 

politics.

The political waters are rough right now and the wake of the most recent Presidential Debate (is that what that was?) is in my face. 

Accusations are flying from every direction. 
Fear is in the air and the anger is thick. 
My feeds are full as people make their opinions known. 

With 4 weeks to go, I figured I would write a list of things that I value, to keep my own sanity and remind myself there are better ways to impact the world than a vote every 4 years. 

1. Compassion over security. 
2. Inclusion over tribal fear. 
3. Care over violence. 
4. Enabling the poor over enabling the wealthy. 
5. Trust over suspicion. 
6. Knives over guns. 
7. Equality over profit.
8. Redemption over justice. 
9. Freedom over certainty. 
10. Life over death. 

the creator risks.

For the Almighty, therefore, to create is no small matter: it is no picnic, but an adventure, a risk, a battle, to which he commits himself unreservedly.

Teilhard de Chardin

Risk is a requirement. 

leal.

Have you ever heard of John Leal? He's basically why we have clean drinking water. He, almost single-handedly eradicated typhoid fever and waterborne sickness in the U.S. 

Even better, he started with a major risk: he didn't tell any authorities and, in almost complete secrecy, started experimenting with chlorine in water supplies. It easily could have ruined him. 

The risk of being ruined is how we often defeat the resistance to change.