Is Christianity a Killjoy?

One of the big reasons that people have a problem becoming a Christian is that they think being a Christian isn't any fun. You can't sleep in on Sunday, you have to practice self-control to the righteous degree, essentially, you have to stay on the narrow path. The party is over on the broad path, which as far as options go, seems a whole lot easier and a whole lot more exciting. But is it really?

On the broad path you can really just 'enjoy' life in the Hedonistic sense. Drinking as much as you want, when you want. Sex with no strings attached. You want to get high? Sure, just pick your poison. Someone crosses you the wrong way, hey, punch him in the face (he had it coming anyway). Foul language makes you cool. Who cares if you're lying, you're getting ahead right? Ladies, you wanna find that dream guy, wear next to nothing, that's sure to attract the right types. Feeling blue? Go buy something new, like a car, or clothes, or anything that makes you feel better about being you. Who cares if most of the people around the world are hungry. Of course I could just keep going on, but I think I made my point.

I have to tell you, I lived a life of sin that I'm sure made Satan proud (or at least sure of his ownership of my soul). My favourite sins were fighting, fornicating, boozing and drugging. I thought I would miss these sins and truth be told, sometimes I do (no sex before marriage as a 30 year old male is tough and as someone who liked to solve his problems by punching them, trying to remain peaceful is almost just as hard). As time goes on though I realize more and more that sin (including my favourites) weren't really fun, they only appeared to be, and the longer I go without them, the more convinced of this I become.

Here are a few reflections on my old favourite pass-times:

As a former doorman (bouncer) I wish I could forget how many people I have had to take out of the club holding their face together from having it slashed with a broken bottle, or how many ambulances I've called because some guy (minding his own business) got lit up in the alley, or brawls I have broken up that ended with one or more close to death. The club is nothing but a little mini war zone on a ceasefire that can really go off in a big way at any moment (especially cheap draft night). Try working at a bar and see in six months how you feel about the bar scene. 

There is also the red-light aspect of the club scene. Guys and girls all dressed up, showing what they got, trying to be a front-runner in that all night meat-market. Ladies, let me tell you now, you are not going to find the kind of guy you want to take home to your parents at a bar. Fellas; ditto. One of the scariest things that  women have to watch out for is the ridiculous amount of perverts who have no problem dropping something in your drink and then offering you a ride home. Scary stuff. Of course rape isn't the only horrible thing that can happen in the pursuit of lusts. Everyone likes attention, and after a few drinks lay waste to your inhibitions, that person at the end of the bar giving up the bedroom eyes starts to look pretty inviting. Next thing you know, the two of you are in bed together. Sure they make condoms, but let me tell you, enough drinks in you coupled with a little foreplay and suddenly not having a condom isn't such a big deal. With almost 54 million abortions and a populace with INSANE rates of STI's, I think this fact is pretty much undisputed. There is nothing like an STI to turn your world upside down.

So how about drugs? They're pretty fun right? I mean a little weed never hurt anyone did it? I concede there are worse things, but as someone who finally managed to give up smoking dope (for about 8 years almost everyday) I can tell you personally that I was wasting my life on the pot. It makes it OK to be bored and after years of abusing it, it will change you.

But pot is not the big one, see I don't believe that weed is even a gateway drug, I believe booze is the gateway drug (although these days people seem to be skipping right to the big leagues). Once you start clubbing it won't be before too long that you will run into someone who will want you to do some blow (cocaine) with them. I tried coke once (for four years). I went from recreational user, to full blown addict in a matter of months. I got into working for the guys who were dealing it, it got pretty ugly. But coke isn't even the worse of the bunch. The thing about hard drugs is that once you start doing them you always need to up your high, so you move onto things like crack or heroin or meth. I have lost count how many people I know who have lost their lives, both literally and figuratively because they took that next step. By the grace of God I never did take that step, and by no means do I look down on those who have. It breaks my heart to see someone going down that road, and it's a monster that most people never can shake. So sad, but they didn't start out as addicts and were normal once. Trying drugs is a lot like playing an extended game of Russian roulette, putting more bullets in the chamber with each spin.

Then of course there is the booze. Like I said earlier, I think that booze is the real gateway drug into the hard stuff, with the way it lowers your good sense to the level of non-existent. Have you ever heard the old saying 'for one douchebag just add alcohol'? Guys I can't stress this enough, I have spoke to thousands of drunk people working the door, you are not funny, articulate, interesting or wise. You are annoying. At the start of the night everyone is great to be around, but once you get past 11 that's when Mr./ Mrs. Hyde comes out to play. Also, we can't forget about alcoholism. Sure you see extreme cases on TV shows like Intervention, and we all sit there shaking our heads. But it truly is the pot calling the kettle black, as most people have some mild functional form of alcoholism. Usually starts with going out once a weekend drinking, then Friday and Saturday, then of course maybe a Wednesday or a Thursdays gets thrown in there and before we know it we can't go to any kind of social function unless there is booze. Me, I was a drunk, and I don't miss it one bit.  

Someone might say that living dangerously is part of the fun and I think to a certain extent that's correct. We as humans crave excitement, but that excitement is short lived and really only prima facie. You have to constantly keep upping the anti and the only limit is consequence. Maybe these things pump your gas, they did for me for the longest time, then they too became boring, unsatisfying and ultimately detrimental. Most of the 'friends' I met became life long drinking buddies, but nothing more. The women came and went, no love, just lust and I have destroyed my nasal cavity from all the cocaine I did. I am physically scarred from being hit with beer bottles, mentally scarred from being brutally jumped by over thirty people (I had boot marks from my head to my feet) and have broken my hand so many times that I loath rainy days for the pains of arthritis. These things which seemed fun in my teens and twenties really came with some serious consequences when I got older. I don't think most would heed my warning. I think most have to go out and get a taste for themselves, like the prodigal son. But more times than we like to admit, the son never returns. That's the sad reality of life and whether we like it or not, it is reality.

Now that I've reflected on the demons of my past, how about the angels of my present?

Well, for one thing, I found a church that I honestly look forward to going to every Sunday. The music is awesome, the people are great and I leave feeling energized for the week ahead of me. I never thought I would say this, but I like church. They are not used to seeing a guy like me (big, tattooed and scared) so everyone wants to talk to me about how I became a Christian, I guess they find me interesting. I get invited to dinners and Bible studies (don't roll your eyes, these things are fun too). I have to be honest, I have never felt more accepted and loved and when I'm feeling down, people are really there for me, even just to lend an ear. I like that. 

I have also found that since I don't do the party thing any more that I have time to pursue my life's passions. I have time to read the books I want to read, I get to the gym regularly, my health has improved ten-fold, I have hobbies now. I have friends that aren't part-time, but full-time. They just like me for me and I am very grateful for this. My pastor calls me up to go for coffee's, my apologetics group meets up a couple of times a month and we stay in touch in between. There is also more women then men in church, so I'm pretty excited that I might be able to find a best friend and partner (sure beats the strippers I was dating before). It really is an exciting time in my life.

So is Christianity any fun? I think it is. It is a huge change in lifestyle, but once you make some big changes and look back, you can't help but conclude that it was for the best. The only time I have ever felt truly happy is when I have been walking the Christian path. You might think Christianity equals boring, but in all honesty it has been the most rewarding thing I have ever done in my 30 years on this planet. Give it a try, you might find it's not so bad too.

Priestly Rhymes

I saw this video on YouTube; a little bit of light in the darkness. I am enjoying the rash of spoken word poems for God: 

The NEW Argument From Fine-Tuning: Irrefutable

Arguments from fine-tuning are all the rage these days and I would like to give you my very own version of one of these arguments. It goes like this.

1. If E then A
2. If A then D
3. If D then G
4. If G then B
5. If B then E
6. If E, A, D, G, B, E, then ST (standard tuning)
7. Therefore, standard tuning.

Now I know that premises 1, 4 and 5 are controversial when it comes to the tuning of the constant. Everyone uses this tuning, you can't write any new stuff because it's all been written, blah, blah, blah (technical talk by the way). So please allow me to refine the argument:

1. If D then A
2. If A then D
3. If D then G
4. If G then A
5. If A then D
6. If D, A, D, G, A, D then DT (dadgad tuning)
7. Therefore, dadgad tuning.

Note how I revised premises 1, 4 and five by dropping a whole step and thus improving the overall soundness of the argument. I think that any true seeker of fine-tuning will agree with me that this is irrefutably the most sound fine-tuning and thus making this the most sound fine-tuning argument in all of history. You can thank me later.

In Christ

P.L.

An Experience With The Divine

          In my life I have had two experiences that completely changed my outlook on everything. Both of these two experiences started as dreams, and both (I am sure) would leave anyone who experienced them to either (in regards to the first experience) entertain the idea of destiny, or the notion of omniscience, and (in regards to the second experience) accept the reality of Jesus Christ as Lord of all.  It is the first of these two experiences that I wish to talk about in this post, and I will warn you that there is talk of drugs and sex, so if you have any issues with either of these topics being mentioned, please refrain from reading (although in accordance with human nature you probably won't be able to stop now).

           Everyone has dreams, OK, almost everyone dreams (I've heard people claim to never dream) and when I say dream, I mean dream as in images experienced during sleep, not hard to obtain goals or lofty ambitions. A lot of people I talk to tell me that upon waking up they often forget what they had dreamt, usually only managing to retain sparse images or, in the case of  nightmares: the most frightening ones. I'm no different. Sometimes I retain what I "saw", but for the most part it is gone only a few hours after having started my day. Then there are reoccurring dreams, which are just like regular dreams, except that they happen over and over again, The repetition makes it easier to recall the details, and even to recognise it as it is happening, that you had dreamt it previously. Maybe you have had reoccurring dreams in your life, maybe not, but I am sure you know someone who has. It is a reoccurring I had that this first experience is about.

           When I really think about it, I have some pretty vivid memories that reach back into the beginnings my childhood. I can remember when my sister was a baby (I would have been about three) and I would sneak out of my room and sit in the hallway so I could watch television because it was past my bedtime. I can remember kicking an oil drum in my backyard and the stink it expunged due to stagnant rainwater that had collected inside and I can even relive riding in the very first car my parents ever owned. Another memory I can recall from my childhood is this dream that I am about to share with you because, for as far back as I can remember, it has been there. Sometimes I dreamt it as often as a few times a month and sometimes only a few times a year, but I can always remember it being there. As it would turn out, my dream would go from being  something that I experienced as I slept, into something that I would experience in reality. My dream literally came true, and I wish I could take it back.

           The dream itself was very strange, appearing to not make any sense, more of a series of events lacking any kind of chronological sequence. It seemed to be skipping from one place and event to another and the reality of it all was very distorted which was terrifying. If you are having trouble understanding what I am talking about, here is an easier way to understand it: Have you ever watched a DVD that was scratched and it jumps from one scene to the next? So the movie, of course, would make no sense to you, just as my dream made no sense to me. No plot, no getting to know the characters, just a bunch of scenes that made no chronological sense just seeming to be aimlessly skipping around but it always ended the same, with me looking down at a face, and then I would wake up. Each time I had the dream it would seem a little clearer but I still couldn't make any sense of it and I had no idea who the person was that I was always looking down at. This happened up until I was eighteen. 

           I come from a broken home and had moved out when I was still in high school. By the time I was eighteen, I had left my small home town on the east coast and was living thousands of miles away in the Canadian Rocky Mountains. I was hurting and didn't know how to cope with the painful memories, both recent and past, so I did what most do; I tried to drink and drug them away. One night I was drinking with a group of friends when a guy I knew asked me if I wanted to drop some acid. I had never done it before and didn't want to look like a wuss so I said, "sure!" He had four hits, he took two and I took two. Bad idea.

           I remember when the acid really started to kick in, we were in a field and it was pitch black. I got the impression I was invincible like some sort of super hero, and I turned my shirt into a cape and started running around this field in the middle of the night. I was yelling out, "I feel great! I feel so alive!" and my run turned into a full sprint which then turned into a *WHACK*! I ran, full tilt, into a picnic-table. It didn't hurt much when it happened (I was too high for pain) but the next day I was one huge bruise.

           That first 30-40 minutes of ecstasy I felt at first, however, changed dramatically all in one moment. I can remember looking at this steam coming off of this hotel where I was living, like it always had, but when you are on acid everything seems to grab your attention that much more. As I was looking at this steam I noticed it had stopped, and when I became aware of this I started looking around and I thought the cars on the road had stopped moving too(looking back now I think it was just parked cars). I started panicking, and started thinking the worst thing anyone could ever think when they are on a heavy dose of hallucinogenics: I started to think that I died. I kept saying to myself, "I can't believe I died tripping out on acid" and "How could I go out like this." I was distraught, having a horrible trip and to make matter worse, I was getting higher by the second.

           I can remember doing things like trying to climb shadows thinking they were stairs and running around in the woods. I tried to keep the guy who I took the acid with around me because I thought he was the only person left, like he was some kind of a guardian helping to usher me around in the next life. Yup, acid folks, stay away from it. But things started to get better once we got around some people, I was still tripping hard, but I wavered from the "I think I died" to the "maybe I'm not dead" entering myself into an unsure phase. This however is where things got even more messed up.

           When I finally became as high as I could get, reality it seemed, was skipping in time (sound familiar). It was as if I would close my eyes and be somewhere else. I don't mean that it was like I would close my eyes and I was in Hawaii and then close my eyes again and I was Siberia, rather, what was happening was that I was blacking out, yet I was still conscious, moving around and interacting with various groups of people. Each time I would emerge from one of these "blackouts" I would be confused how I got there and was becoming more scared. I had lost my "usher of the afterlife" (the guy who I took the acid with) and was on my own at this point. Around this time was when I went from thinking that I might be dead, to thinking I was dreaming. 

            This was the point where I began to live the dream I had so many times before, but I didn't realise it at this point in the night. What I have come to conclude, is that the periods of time that I was missing in reality were the periods of time that I dreamt about and the periods of time that were missing in my dream, were the periods of time that I was cognizant for in reality. It is a dangerous thing to think you are dreaming when in reality you are not, and by the grace of God I survived this night. I can remember walking down the hallway of my apartment building having an "Alice in Wonderland" kind of experience. The hallway appeared to be getting smaller, and larger and the doors were all different shapes and sizes. I can remember sitting on my bed and my roommate was rolling joints and I started seeing ashes on my bed. I tried to wipe them off but they kept reappearing. I also tried to start a fight with one of my room mate's friends because I was paranoid that he was smiling at me. I remember lots of things from the night, but what I remember the most was how my acid trip came to an end.

             I was thousands of miles from where I had grown up, but there was a girl from my home town there who I had once taken to the movies. After our date she didn't want more anything to do with me and rightly so. I wasn't popular or overly athletic and she was a beautiful girl who could do a lot better than me. But in this town where we were both living at now, I had been here for a while and was popular and girls did like me. I will never forget as we stood outside my apartment door and I said to her, "I know what you want and you know what I want." She smiled and said playfully asked, "what's that?" as she walked into my apartment. Now understand this, I was NOT good at talking to girls, I'm still not, nor would I ever of had the guts to say this to her, but I was as high as a kite on acid and I thought I was dreaming! This is the only reason why I said what I said, suddenly I was Don Juan. I think it is also important to note that I was also a virgin. 

              Now the whole night had been getting crazier and crazier, between the blackouts, thinking I had died, then to not being sure if I was dead or not, which lead to me thinking I was dreaming even though I still wasn't sure if I dead, I was a mess. After her and I went into my apartment I can remember it for the most part (I will spare you the details) but to make a long story, I wasn't a virgin any more. But it was during intercourse I looked down at her and when I looked down everything just clicked at once, and I realised who she was, and what I was experiencing and what I had experienced the entire night. I started to think (maybe out loud) "This is my dream! This is it!" I realised, this time, I wasn't dreaming and that I was in reality and with this I suddenly found myself snapped into a moment of clarity that I was alive and proud of it. Enthusiastically, and very  naked, I leaped to my feet and began to run around my apartment shouting,"I'm alive! I'm alive!" I woke up my room mate, yelling in his face as he was trying to sleep, "I'm alive!" There was a guy staying on our couch and I remember grabbing him by the face and yelling the same thing. He was so confused and probably a little scared having a 230 pound butt-naked dude, who was high as a kite on acid, screaming at him at four in the morning that he was alive. 

               The next morning I woke up and couldn't remember a thing, not one thing, until I asked the guy on my couch what had happened that he was a witness to. He was clearly upset (rightfully so) and started to tell me some of things I had done. I was embarrassed, but not nearly as embarrassed as when he said, "you should be apologising to that girl." In a flash everything that  I couldn't remember came back, and I don't think I had ever been more ashamed or disgusted with myself. I went down to see her and although we talked  I could only imagine the embarrassment she must of felt.  We hung out a few times after that, but once she left in the summer I only ever saw her once more and I was completely wasted at the time. I should of said I was sorry, but I was too young and too stupid to know what sorry was.  

                This has been a bit of confession time for me, and to be honest with you, it is the deepest I have ever reflected on this night and this experience. I had dreamt about this dozens of times before, from when I was a kid, until I was eighteen, having lived it only once and I never had this dream again. You might be saying to yourself that this some sort of detailed, drawn out, case of deja vu but I assure it was not. This was not some sense of having experienced it before, I DID experience it prior to this night, time and time again. I never recognised her as the person in my dream until it actually happened and now I can't get that image, her face, out of my head no matter how hard I try. Maybe you think it's some product of the brain and while I think my brain was obviously used to relay the message, the fact is I was in an altered state of mind. How could my brain put itself consistently in the future and under the effects of two hits of a strong hallucinogenic? It can't. Period. 

                 It was this experience that opened me up to the idea that there was some sort of plan, or that Something that knew every choice we were ever going to make and was showing me what I was going to do, long before I ever did it. I came to believe in destiny, even becoming a borderline determinist for a while. Through this experience I had come to believe that if this event in my life, which I experienced so many times previously came true, then that meant that all the people who were around me, their circumstances and choices also had to be true and had to happen. Because all their circumstances had to come true like mine had to, then why stop there? The whole world's choices and circumstances also had to happen. But as I thought about it I knew deep  in my heart that every choice I made up until then was of my own free will, even down to the very choice to take the acid. I can remember something in my heart screaming at me not to take it (my heart not my head) but in not wanting to look weak I did it anyway. I came to the conclusion that Whatever showed me what was going to happen in my life, wasn't the cause, It just knew.

                I wasn't searching for God at this point in my life, as a matter of fact I would tell people I didn't believe in Him. I wouldn't of called myself an atheist because I had no idea what an atheist was. I was, however lying, I felt there was a God, I just had a hate-on for Him because of the things that happened to me in my life. 

               This experience really set in motion a series of events that ended in me taking a knee for Jesus and admitting that He was my Lord and Master. It was a dream from my youth that became reality that started my eventual conversion to Christianity, and, strangely enough, it was another dream from my youth that became reality that would convince me that Jesus was exactly who He claimed to be, my Lord and my Saviour, but I'll wait before I get into that story.

In Christ

P.L.