Snapshot of a Cat

This is going to be off the regular vein of this online journal, but I really feel I need to write about it.

My favorite childhood pet died on Monday morning. Her name was Catrina and she was the best cat anyone could ask for. She was born on (or around, we're not sure) March 1st, 1987 and died Monday morning, October 13, 2008. She was born on the day Ohio became a state and died on Columbus Day. Definitely a patriotic little lady. James Thurber would be so proud.

She wasn't really a cat. I mean, of course she was, but . . . she wasn't. There was always something special about her. Something in here that I've never seen in another animal. It wasn't her loyalty or her affability. It wasn't her personality. There was a sort of consciousness about her. She was a presence. A presence very much needed and very much a part of our family.

Of course, like most family pets she started out being an animal. I remember when I was little. All I really ever wanted was a cat. I was never into dogs. Dogs were just too much at once and smelled terrible. I never wanted a pet who needed me that much. To me, the perfect animal you could ever ask for was a white long hair cat. They were like the perfect animal. They were the size of a baby doll, covered in fur (including their tummies, which dogs are not), and made cute noises. Who could ask for more than a white long-hair cat? The kind like on the "Aristocats." I used to draw pictures of this fantasy--a fantasy b/c the landlord wouldn't allow them. I even knew what I would name her: Puffy--not too imaginative . . . but I was a little kid. Give me a break.

I begged and begged for this cat for years. Then, the fateful day came. Mom and Dad had somehow convinced the landlord to allow them to get me a cat. I remember being so excited as we drove to the farm where the kittens were. All I could think of the entire way was how happy I was about to be with my very own kitten. Of course, I would have to share her with the family, but . . . she would be mine.

I don't really remember the details, b/c I remember there was a lot of talking and a lot of . . . no cats. Where were the cats? I was told to just be patient as we waited. I remember seeing a lot of people but . . . no cats. Then, mom told me to look in this one cardboard box and pick out the one I wanted.

I was so excited as I neared the box. I could picture the kitty, all fuzzy and white and happy and cuddly and . . . black? Where was the snow-colored feline of my dreams? This had to be a mistake. I asked mom and she told me to just pick one. How do you just "pick one"? There were two perfectly identical black kittens in the box. They were both exactly the same. I thought I would at least have a choice of ten . . . maybe eight . . . is five cats asking too much? Why only two? How was I supposed to know which one to pick? They were both wrong. Where were the white cats? Everything was wrong. Not only were the cats the wrong color, but they were short-haired. This was supposed to be a specific process. There were too many details here that were not being fulfilled properly.

Pick one.

So I did. I don't remember any specifics about who picked it. I (or mom or dad, I can't really remember) reached into the box and lifted one out. Maybe Bekah picked. I don't remember. Luck of the draw. A brand new--and extremely small--fuzzy black kitten. She was cute. Maybe she could be the family cat after all.

On the way home, I remember my sister and I sitting with a big meowing cardboard box on our laps and seeing the tiny black paw, like a fat caterpillar, trying to work its way out of the box. My sister, Bekah, who was happy to have ANY animal in the house, seemed perfectly fine with the decision. I was happy too, yet . . . I felt like the trip had been counterproductive. Yes, I had a cat. But it wasn't the one I wanted.

We took her home and put her in her litter box, which--as my mom recalled later--resembled the Sahara in comparison to the little black fuzzball digging and running around in it. I named her "Catrina" after a toy cat I had seen somewhere and thought the name appropriate. (She was definitely NOT a "Puffy.") She was unarguably cute, but . . . it wasn't even the coal black hair that was the issue anymore. She seemed to like to hide, and since she was so small, and the house we lived in so big, she hid quite a lot.

That was only the first week or so. Soon she came to be quite a sociable creature. This is definitely to her credit since she had three (and then four) human children to put up with. It didn't matter who you were or what you'd done in your past. You were always welcome to pet her and let her sit on your lap. She was no respecter of laps. Of course she had laps that she particularly liked, but she was always big about it and let everyone have at least a few minutes of time. She was very gracious.

I think she was therapy for us. Some hospitals use cats to help their patients recuperate and I can definitely see why. If you are ever stressed out, pet a cat. Once it starts purring you feel so warm and appreciated, and yet . . . not covered in slobber. It's amazing.

We weren't always nice. She was great fun to joke with. We used to dress her up in baby clothes and put her in a baby carriage. Most cats would have struggled and not allowed it. Catrina, however, got the joke and simply submitted to the torture. She used this time to "sleep." (And by "sleep" i mean: "plotting a clever way to escape when the humans aren't looking.") However, we rarely stopped watching and she would oftentimes fall asleep unawares. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. At least you can catch up on sleep in the meantime. She was efficient like that.

I remember soon after we got her, mom and dad found a family that was getting rid of their long-haired white cat. My parents bought him and brought him home. I was so excited about him . . . for about three minutes. He was the one I named "Puffy" and that was the extent of my interest in him. For one thing, not only was he fully grown, but also he was HUGE. Also, he was a boy cat and boy cats aren't as good--everyone knows that. Furthermore, he was scared of everybody. Catrina never met a stranger. Puffy found even our family to be strangers. He NEVER allowed the smaller kids to touch him. He'd go and hide all day only to come out at night to sit with mom . . . or me, when I wasn't playing or moving around too much. That was not what a family pet was supposed to be.

Catrina was.

There were a few times when we almost lost Catrina, and by lost I mean she almost ran away. She was a fast little bugger too. One time I distinctly remember was when she got out and hid under the porch. Having three younger siblings, it was all mom and I could do to make them remember to shut the door behind them, so the cats wouldn't get out. Well one day, it happened. I remember panicking. Had I lost the best pet ever just b/c my little brother had forgotten to shut a door? I don't remember specifically how we found out that she was under the porch. Did she meow? Did someone think to look under there? I don't remember. All I remember was that we were all trying to chase her out from under without getting horribly dirty. That was when a very nice man in white pants came along and crawled under the porch and rescued her for us. I'm not sure who he rescued more that day: the cat or us, but his pants definitely needed rescuing after that.

Every time she got out, I panicked. What if I'd lost her forever? She was becoming less of the childhood fantasy and more of the childhood companion that you read about in books. She was very important to me. I used to pray and pray and pray that she would just stay in the house and live forever. Not . . . too much to ask, is it?

I remember another time she got out, we had been watching "Thomasina," a Disney movie about a cat who dies and then comes back to life. It made me cry ( . . . apparently I cried a lot as a kid) to think about animals dying or running away or whatever, and then . . . as though testing my last nerve, the inevitable question--"Where's Catrina?" A door had been left cracked open and she had gotten out and was hiding in the bushes. She never got far, just enough to give me a panic attack. Thanks, Cat. What a poetic moment to choose.

I was a bit melodramatic as a child--I mean, she only got out maybe five times in her life--but it scared me to tears whenever it happened. I would sit and hold her and cry and cry and tell her not to leave and that I loved her.

We have always had all our cats declawed in the front, and as inhumane as that may sound, we never let them out of the house, so it didn't ever hurt them. It's just that fleas are such a problem to take care of, and also cats tend to live longer when they are totally house cats. Apparently, it worked b/c Catrina was 21.

She was obedient . . . in her own way. The other cats we owned always jumped on the table--not actually to eat anything, but b/c for some reason, unbeknownst to them, they were not supposed to be there, and so therefore the table was the only place to be. At least Catrina had the decency to jump on the table after we went to bed.

She was really the only cat we had who even tried to pull her own weight. Of the three cats we've owned, she's the only one who ever caught and killed mice.

She loved Christmas. Christmas meant many things. First of all, all the tinsel you could eat. Secondly, catnip. Thirdly, the cooked guts of the turkey. Mmmmmm.

She was a famous pack-rat. I have few toys from my childhood save some Barbies and My Little Ponies. You would be hard-pressed to find any entire pairs or sets of shoes among them, however. We'd often find these little "stashes" years after their contents first went missing. What was she keeping them for? Did she need a pair of plastic red pumps for a night on the town? Only she knows the answer.

One day Puffy died. That was a scary day. I mean, I was sad that Puffy was gone, but . . . on the other hand, he was just a cat. What really scared me was if he had contracted something contagious. We were all sad that he was gone, but we were relieved that it hadn't been Catrina.

She always knew when you were having a bad day. Somehow, I don't know if it was a sixth sense or what, but if you were sad, and especially if you were crying, she would find you. It was probably just b/c she knew that with you crying, she was sure to get much love and attention. I used to shut my door when I was sad about something and cry very very quietly, and sure enough a few minutes later there would be a scuff scuff at my door. Somebody wanted in. And somebody was always welcome. Sometimes, I shut the door to test her. It always worked.

She was not just a cat. The cats in our family had to stay on the floor. The dogs too. Catrina however was allowed to sit on the dinner bench next to us during dinner. Even when she got too old to eat very much "people food" she was still welcome. This was among the various reasons her name was often changed to "Queena."

She was a very clean little monster. She gave herself regular baths and never felt the way some peoples' cats do--all "cat sticky." We rarely in her 21 years of life took her to the vet. I'm fairly sure we had taken her to the vet maybe once since she was declawed as a kitten till she was about 14 when we got a new cat, Alley. Alley (or "Alleybeans" as she is often referred to due to the beans rolling around in her head) is my littlest sister's cat and fuzzy as a bunny, cute as a button, but dumb as a rock. This came as a low blow to Queena. Was she not enough? Was she being phased out? She had already out-lived one cat and through the various annoyances of hamsters, gerbils, mice and interim dogs. Couldn't she just live out her golden years in peace? You may laugh, but . . . she actually became clinically depressed and stopped eating b/c of this. I remember telling people that she needed to go to the vet, but no one would take her until they finally realized something was up. She was becoming incredibly listless and wasn't getting better. The doctor affirmed my suspicions and put her on "Kitty Zoloft." That cleared up the problem (incidentally, I've never heard of anti-depressants being that successful in people). I think she just wanted to know that we still loved her. It's a hard thing to deal with when you feel you might be replaced.

There were of course the times when she was annoying. A sociable cat (and especially one fed from the table) is bound to feel entitled to your food more than you would like. Many times she would find herself locked in the bathroom during Sunday evening movie/snack time. She would just deal with these things, though. Her meow was never very annoying. It was always really cute. Mom may disagree b/c Catrina NEVER left her alone in the kitchen . . . however, Mom was the one who fed her "people food" more than the rest of us. There was a reason Queena was so demanding. ;o)

She loved when she knew you were busy with something. Her favorite times to jump into your lap were when you were (a) reading a book (she'd help you along by turning the pages . . . yes, I'm serious), (b) playing the keyboard, or (c) on the computer. These were opportune times, you see, b/c she knew that (a) you were going to be sitting for awhile, and (b) your hands needed to be put to better use. She was very much a love-junkie.

I was a really timid kid, but I had always loved acting and music. Fortunately, Catrina liked music too. She was quite an accomplished pianist and taught me many songs. I would play them for you, but . . . you may not appreciate them. I'm afraid they are quite ahead of their time.

She never got very big. My sister, Bekah, claims that she weighed "two pencils." She was, in violin terms, what you might call a "3/4" size cat. This made her sociability all the more endearing. You may be disinclined to have a huge mammoth-sized cat on your lap, but a little fuzzy one is just cute. Plus, she was always very petite. You had to be very careful with her, so she didn't get shooed away as much as other cats.

She loved to sleep with people. I think b/c she was always so small, she needed immense amounts of body heat that she herself could not provide. When I was younger, she'd sleep on my feet, but too much rolling around and she'd leave to find a better person to sleep with. I figured out a way to make her stay, though. If I let her sleep on top of the covers, but between my legs, she liked that better, b/c it was more of a walled-in heat bed. I would lay like that even to the point of "no longer comfortable" just b/c I wanted her to stay.

Later, she realized that she could get even warmer if she crawled under the covers with you. This was VERY annoying and was only good for those Sunday afternoon naps where Mom and Dad are making you lay down and so there is no way you are really going to sleep anyway. She would stick her head under the blankets and push them up with her head as she crawled under, and then a few minutes later crawl back out, only to crawl back under a few moments later. This was her way for a few years until she figured out how to get the best of both worlds: spoon against the person and lay your head on the pillow like the people do. This way you can be warm and still breathe. Efficiency, efficiency, efficiency. I'm sure the day she figured this out, she found a new respect for humans who had been performing this practice for millenia . . . but she never showed it.

She did a lot of things that most cats never even try. For one thing, she had her own version of fetch. Mom used to save the rings off the top of gallons of milk and Catrina would play with these for hours. Either by herself, or if she could convince a human to stop what they were doing for a few minutes, she's play fetch up and down the stairs. The game stopped when she said it stopped, though.

A great game for when we were littler was to get a very long string and just start tearing through the house like mad. Like magic, this would ALWAYS get her to come out of hiding. A running string is simply irresistible. Also, the sound of the can-opener, even in the midst of a deep sleep. Sometimes, even the refrigerator.

In her later years, she figured out a way to call people to come play with her by making this terrible moaning-like-she-was-dying sound. As she was a very ancient cat, this always scared the life out of us. Was she really dying? No. This sound only meant that she had her mouth full with a milk ring. I told you she was efficient. It definitely got our attentions.

People want to say that dogs are so loyal or playful or whatever, but I never needed a dog. Catrina was all the pet I needed. She would come when I called her. She'd follow me all over the house. Sometimes she was a little hard to convince--she was a cat after all--but in the end, she knew she'd rather be sitting on my lap than on a cold kitchen table chair. Even when she lost her hearing a year ago, she would still respond to "kitty sign language." She was jumping up into laps until her dying day. Sleeping. It was one of her favorite pastimes. We used to say that even though she was so old, she was actually only a kitten of three-years if you counted the time she'd actually spent awake. Hey, sleeping is a precious time. She knew what it was about.

She was very important in the formative years as well my early adult years. I worked a year after high school to pay for college and it was a really hard time for me. She was there through it all. During college, my parents went through a divorce and she was right there. After college, I had to come home to work again which was REALLY hard b/c I had been on my own at that point and was coming home. Once again, she was there. Every time I came home, she remembered who I was.

It's so weird to grieve over a cat. I mean . . . after all, it's just a cat, right. It's not like it's human. You find yourself talking to very few people about it, b/c you are sad but you also feel silly. Yes, Catrina was not human. But you know what? She filled a void that a human could never fill. I learned many things from her: confidence, unconditional love, sarcasm, how to survive a messy break up, and that black cats do NOT mean bad luck. If only I'd listened when she was teaching about the evils of sleep deprivation. I really think she was onto something there.

It seems strange to say this, but her passing happened at probably at the best time for me that could have been. My younger sister, Bekah, got married this past summer and I, living and working in Korea, will not be able to make it home for Christmas this year. That means we were all home under one roof for her last Christmas. This blog wasn't necessarily about God at all . . . but you can definitely see His hand at work on that one. Not only in that area, but also . . . sometimes I wonder, 'What if I had chosen the other cat in the box?' How different my life would have been.

I know now that I didn't need the white fluffy cat of my dreams. I needed a friend.

Goodbye, Baby. I'm crying yet again and I wish you were here.

The Bible: Chauvinist Propaganda? Pt. 4

1. God is referred to as "He."

Sounds logical, doesn't it? He is God the Father. There is no God the Mother...So God must hate women. Are women being slighted? No, this is not God trying to keep women under His very holy thumb.

This is something that I had to think about when I started listening to music by artists like Tori Amos. From her earliest albums, she has proclaimed this "Anti-Male-God of the Bible" stance. Look up the lyrics to her song "God" from "Under the Pink." This is a song from a very imbittered, searching-yet-rejecting young woman. I wish that she and people who think like her would just realize once and for all that it's the concept of a "male" God that they have a problem with, and that the Biblical God is not actually like that at all. Unfortunately, people confuse the Real God with this "made-up" god, and therefore reject the Real One. There is a reason God is referred to in masculine terms, and it's not b/c He hates women. I hope to point it out in this blog.

First of all, we need to keep in mind one important point. It may make sense that even though animals and people on this planet are male and female, God must be male or female or both. However, God is not any of those. The Bible refers to God as "He"; however, God is not actually a "He." The Bible says that God is a Spirit (John 4:24). ....However, this verse goes on further to explain God as "He"...so am I making a contradictory point? I hope not. Please let me explain.

First of all let me point out one even greater point: God CREATED male and female. (Gen. 1:27, Mt. 19:4) This means that He's not actually either one. He's not both. He's not a yin or a yang. He's just God. God is God. "I Am." WE were created with genders, b/c:
1.) Marriage is a picture of Christ and the church (first verses of Rev. 19).
2.) He wants us to reproduce (Gen 1:28).
3.) For companionship (Gen 2:18).

God does not have a gender. He is complete as He is...And even saying "complete" is not probably accurate. God has no needs, and if He had, He has already met them. So...why do we call God a "Him?" This is b/c He is our Father...and as a general rule, fathers are "he's," right?

"But isn't that circular reasoning?" you ask, "To call God our Father, you would also have to already assume that He is a 'He.' Besides that, why can't God be our Mother? Or...why not avoid gender at all and be an 'It'?"

First things first. Why is God not "The Supreme 'It'"? Simply this: God seeks to have a personal relationship with us the way a father has with his children. Think about it. Do you feel a particular personal closeness to electricity? What about gravity? Do you sit and chat with inertia? Um...No. If God were an "It" we would probably think of Him as a force of nature rather than Someone we can know on a personal level and furthermore talk to. That's the way we humans think. I mean...we have a hard enough time understanding the Holy Spirit as a "He." In our minds, a being is never an "it" unless you are talking about Science Fiction.

(Sub point: It wouldn't work if He switched genders (i.e. Zeus), b/c He must be constant--Someone we can trust at all times. Zeus was not trustworthy. People were warned against trusting him, in fact.)

So now we come to the ever nagging question: Why not "She?" Now, there may be many reasons. One that I've heard is that women sinned first and since God is all-knowing, He knew women would do it, so as punishment, He picked man. I hope that you can see by now that this is not backed up by Scripture, and if you can back it up with Scripture please do. Maybe I haven't read it all very well.

Another reason I've heard is that women are weak. In some ways, yes I would totally agree. However, in other ways, women are far stronger than men. That's not enough proof.

Another reason I've heard is that men are more logical and reasoning............yeah...........I will refrain for the purpose of, as a friend of mine puts it, "preserving the peace."

And the list goes on. Let me tell you the main reason I believe that a God--who is NOT actually a "He"--has revealed Himself as "He."

Okay...remember when I discussed the differences between the strengths of men and women? (see: http://andnarrowistheway.blogspot.com/2008/04/bible-chauvenist-propoganda-pt-1.html ) We are going to have to go back in time now to a few months ago, b/c . . . I've been dragging my feet with this "series" and so if you forget what I'm talking about, it's my fault for taking so long. Sorry for the delay.

Basically, I pointed out that men tend to be more straightforward and physically strong. Women tend to be more subtle and aesthetically beautiful. Both of these can be for good. Both of them can be for evil. However, they are for good in completely different ways and evil in completely different ways. So, with the understanding of men's and women's strengths, let's figure back into the equation why God would present Himself as a Father and not a Mother.

I find the answer simple. We can see why He didn't choose "She" already. Think of every goddess you know...Think of any of them that don't have to do with sex in some way. This is because when venerated to divine status, women become all-powerful sex-objects. In order to be close to a goddess, some sort of sexual rite or aspect must be performed or explored. Now, is God simply not "Mother" b/c He hates sex? Absolutely not. He created it, remember? But He wants a personal relationship with us, not a sexual one. He wants "Agape" not "Eros." Therefore He chooses to describe Himself as the gender that most fits that desire.

Let me explain. This is what Paul is referring to when he says that man was created in the image of God but woman was created in the glory of man. Men are easier for humans to venerate to positions of strength and authority--our little minds can wrap around a "Great Protector" as someone who wants our trust, that's the desire of God. Women are created in the glory of man, which means she is the desire of man. Sex isn't a ritual God wants from us. He doesn't require sex, b/c He created it specifically for a husband and wife. It's a special gift to us. (Incidentally, look what we do with it. Like everything nice we get from God, we abuse it in every way possible.)

This doesn't mean that women are more base or more sinners or whatever. It just means that in order to reproduce, God wanted us to be attracted to each other. This is probably why men are more attracted to what they see--b/c women are aesthetically beautiful and graceful, and women are attracted to what they hear--sweet words from a strong confident man (Oooohh...chills just now....but I digress...).

Now let's bring up the counter argument. First off, what about great rulers in the past who were women? Think of Elizabeth I. She was an exemplary national leader, right? Yes. She was also nicknamed "The Virgin Queen."....Think about it.

Also, Cleopatra was an Egyptian queen famous for her political dealings with Rome. . .and even more famous for her affairs with the leaders of Rome.

Secondly, What about Mary the mother of God? To some (not all) Roman Catholics Mary is "Co-Redemptrix" and almost equal with God the Father. Some would rather pray to her than to the Father or to Jesus, b/c she is "less threatening" and "more gentle." And, I suppose you could argue that to ALL Roman Catholics, Mary is not an object of lust . . . However, how did Mary even become important in the first place? Her reproductive system. I don't mean to be disrespectful. She was a very honorable person, but her importance in history comes from her distinctly female ability to reproduce.

There is some talk of Mary Magdalene as venerated (which really only happens in gnostic circles), but also with her: she receives this status b/c of having some supposed kind of "more than disciple, a la Da Vinci Code" relationship with Christ. Surely no one intelligent is still using the Da Vinci Code to discount the Bible anymore, are they?

Thirdly,...I know I know...there's some obscure goddess out there that you read about in college that wasn't sensual. Whatever. She was obscure. God doesn't want to be obscure either. God wants to be huge in our lives.

Of course, women can make good leaders and not have sex involved. Look at Judges 4 with the story of Deborah. Here was a married woman who was leading a very sinful nation of Israel. She was a prophetess and was instructed by God to tell Barak to go into battle against Sisera. Barak would only go if she went with him and as a result, Deborah prophesied that God would not deliver Sisera into Barak's hands, but into the hands of a woman. That woman was Jael who invited a tired, battle-weary Sisera into her tent and after he'd fallen asleep, drove a tent peg through his head....Something interesting to note: Would Sisera have fallen for the trap if the invite had been from a man? I guess we will never know. . .however, even if it wasn't a sexual invite (which there is no reason to think it was), it seems to make sense that a woman's invitation would be significantly less threatening, and therefore the the ONLY reason the ploy worked was because of Jael's feminity.

Even nowadays, sex isn't necessarily associated with female leaders. Madeleine Albright, Hillary Clinton, Margaret Thatcher, etc.--Even if you don't agree with them politically, you must at least give them credit for being strong leaders. However, I'm not just talking about strong female leaders, I'm mostly talking about venerated women. When women are queen of a world leading empire or higher (as in goddess) their sexuality is always an issue. God is even more than that, hopefully we can begin to see why He chooses to represent Himself in masculine terms?

This doesn't mean that male gods aren't perceived as sexual, though. Many cults and sects and mythologies out there believe such (i.e. Zeus and Shiva...however they both changed genders whenever they felt like it...). It's just that, for female deities, sex is a major--if not main power. Think of the greatest human love you can experience...This is typically observed as the love between a man and a woman (if it's not, then why is Hollywood making so much money off it?). That closeness is great and wonderful, but that's not how we are to view God. If He made sex for us, He requires something else for Him, and so that means picking a relationship we can most define as: "not sex related." Father has much more the connotations to describe His character and how we are to view Him and honor Him.
Something important to notice: as God portrays Himself in masculine terms, He also portrays Himself in "un-masculine" terms as well. For instance, He is called "Wonderful Counsellor;" also, His protection is like that of a mother hen's; He sometimes talks in a still, small voice; He clothes the lilies; His eye is on the sparrow; "Prince of Peace"; "Lamb of God"; and the list goes on. He is not "being feminine" with these attributes, but likewise He is not a "male" Father. He just is. And we are to understand that we are to have a deep relationship, devoid of sex, with Him.

That's basically what it comes down to. Man was created in the glory of God. God's love for mankind is agape. Woman was created in the glory of man. The love between a man and a woman is eros. God doesn't want eros with us. He wants agape.



Okay, I want to clear up a seeming contradiction before I go on. It seems I am saying two different things. First, I'm saying that the Bible is not chauvinist--but at the same time, I'm admitting that women were viewed as second class citizens by early humanity. I'm actually not contradicting. The fact that humans messed it up since the beginning of time, just happens to be recorded in the Bible--but that wasn't God's plan. That is exactly what I'm trying to figure out...WHERE did society get the idea that men were better than women? ...Read on.

Last installment: 5. The hint of the prophesied Messiah.

Heaven . . . Is Not a Place on Earth

Last night, my friends and I were approached by a Korean business man who ostensibly was wanting to practice his English while at the same time wanting to discuss the flaws of Christianity. He just kind of wanted to talk and not listen . . . although, who am I to say, maybe He was listening. He was killing two birds with one stone, so we can at least applaud him for efficiency.

He just seemed to ask questions that he thought would stump us, and when we'd actually answer his questions, he'd ignore the answers and start asking new ones.

I can't get all "high and mighty" about his behavior. He was just acting normally. How often when we feel we are right about something do we actually stop and listen to what is being said on the other side? So we can't really blame him for acting this way. Not if we are honest with ourselves, at least. It's the old nature not wanting to accept that there just might be another perspective that we didn't think of initially.

Least ways, it made me think of something.

He brought up the old argument that if you are a good person, you will have a good afterlife. I brought up the old counter argument that if you had a glass of water and someone added three drops of poison in it, would you still drink it even though MOST of the water was pure? Then he told me that I was using an analogy that didn't relate to the issue at hand. That made me think about something.

While the water analogy is arguably not relatable to this issue, I think it still . . . holds water . . . not b/c water and holiness are the same, but b/c holiness and unpoisoned water both have to do with purity.

Let me explain without analogy for a second. Think of the word heaven. Do you think of:
(a) a perfect place,
(b) a place just like here where there are good things that happen and bad things that happen, or
(c) a bad place?

Chances are you would rule out "C" right away, b/c we have another word for a place like that: hell. Now, the next pass over "A" and "B" should give us the answer "A" b/c the word heaven has been integrated into our minds and even every day vocabulary as something way better than we can know now. A place of divine ecstasy. Somewhere where happiness abounds evergreen. A place of zero sadness.

However, although most people would choose "A" as the correct no-brainer answer, quite a sizable group of naysayers would say that in order to get to such a place, one merely needs to be "mostly good." While critical thinking is a necessary skill, sometimes people regard nay-saying as the same thing--which it isn't in this case. Being "mostly good" doesn't make any sense. How can anything but perfection dwell in a perfect society? The second someone or something flawed enters a perfect society, the society ceases to be perfect. Think of a diamond. A perfect diamond is almost priceless; however, just one tiny speck--not even distinguishable by the layman's eye--and the diamond is decreased considerably in value (and would actually be worthless except for "the man" wanting to take your money). You can't have imperfection in perfect or perfect would not exist. Saying that imperfection can dwell in perfection is not "deep thinking." It's the Emperor's New Clothes.

Now . . . let's assume that you immediately saw through the "A, B, C" ploy and instead of answering "A" like a naive child, you were a highly educated intellectual and answered "B." Answering "B" actually becomes a much harder problem for you, and not just b/c of what I've already discussed (imperfect does not = perfect). If you answer "B" that heaven is actually just a place much like here, then you need to explain why the word heaven has such a good, Utopian, fantastic connotation. I suppose you could explain it away like Freud does for terms like guilt. (He says it only comes from the fact that we ultimately desire power, and so when we kill those in power we actually suffer from not having protection anymore...but that doesn't actually explain why we feel guilty--we just feel bad. But it's more of a selfish "I shouldn't have done that, b/c I now need protection" bad, not a "I shouldn't have done that b/c it was wrong and I know I am to blame" bad. In other words . . . he actually doesn't answer the question of guilt at all.)

Heaven is a much harder conundrum than guilt even and here's why. If we currently live in a society of good and bad and if everything happened b/c of natural causes . . . then why would we ever expect anything to be better than it is now? How would we ever have known that anything COULD be better? How would we ever long for heaven? . . . Or intellectually: How would we ever know that heaven was something we could overcome by explaining away? This is something my mother calls the "Eden Syndrome." We all have a hidden memory of Eden and how perfect it was and how we all messed it up, and this is the reason we are all unhappy and discontent.

Anyways . . . why does heaven have such a positive connotation? Well, you have to explain that if you are going to choose "B." Are you up to it?

Personally, I'm going to stick with "A."

Fortunately, the work has been done for us. Just believe and trust in Jesus. He did everything necessary for you to get to heaven. It's really the only way. Just think about it. Get all the information you can and think about it (Proverbs 4:7).