Oh, my God

God. That’s a big subject and a touchy one, too. I’m talking about big “G” God. Gods (little “g”) is (are?) also a big subject but not as touchy. Face it–we don’t know people who worship multiple gods and, if we do, we just sort of laugh them off as nuts. We who believe in such things as people rising from the grave and whatnot are much more rational.

I’ve been thinking about my idea of God. Regardless of your religion or particular domination, you have your own ideas about God. Naturally, you’ll do your best to keep these ideas consistent with your own religious views. Recently, I read something which asked what I thought God would look like when I met Him and what I would say to Him.

I’ll admit that I never gave much thought to either part of that question, expect the second part which I do think about when I watch James Lipton’s Inside the Actor’s Studio. “What will you say to God?” is, of course, one of the questions devised by the great Bernard Pivot. I mention this only to subtly point out that I am an erudite student of such things and you very likely are not.

The God of which I speak is my God. You may know Him by another name such as Yahweh, Jehovah, Elah, Allah or so other moniker. He’s the Creator, the Almighty, the Supreme Being.

So, what does God look like? I’ve read the Bible a couple of times and can’t recall any description of God’s appearance. That’s probably because no one sees him, expect maybe for Moses. Even Moses only saw a burning bush, and I just can’t make shrubbery my God.

I’m embarrassed to admit that I have a pretty juvenile image of God. My God has long white hair and big white beard. He sort of looks like Santa Claus, only he’s not fat. He also wears a long, flowing white robe. It might not even be a robe. Maybe it’s a dress of some kind. Honestly, it kind of looks like a Ku Klux Klan get-up without the hood. I can’t get the idea of the white robe/dress out of my head. That’s just God clothing.

Oh, and he doesn’t wear shoes. Why not? I don’t know.

I also don’t know why my God is so unkempt. I’ve known people with long hair and beards. Most men with big beards are also bald. I don’t know why. Perhaps they just want to grow hair anywhere they can. I can’t fault them for that. I can’t grow a beard. Maybe that’s why I think a beard is Godlike.

He’s white. And male. And American. That all makes sense.

Why does my God need a haircut? I’ve never thought of men with long hair as being particularly pious or even wise. In fact, most atheists I know have long hair. God certainly can’t be an atheist. I just can’t think of God with a crew cut or smart-looking businessman’s coif.

Most puzzling is why I think of Him as really old. I guess that’s because God has been around so long. He’d have to be really old, wouldn’t He? Then again, He would be ageless, wouldn’t He? Maybe I think of Him as wise and, thus, old. That makes no sense. Old people can be wise, but a lot of them aren’t. For example, if you are total dumb-ass at 40, there’s a really good chance that you’ll be an old dumb-ass at 75. Add to that the probability of advancing dementia, and you have a not-so-wise man. My Dad lived to be really old, but was a lot wiser at 50 than at 80. If God is like my Dad was at 80, praying is useless. He’ll just forget what we talked about, and I’ll have to repeat it the next day.

So, here’s a drawing of my God. Feel free to use this yourself:

I do not envision God to have misshapen feet and hands. He chose not to give me any artistic ability, resulting in a somewhat crude rendering of His likeness.

At this point, I should note that I know there are religions where it is offensive to draw or depict God or any sacred image. If you belong to one of those religions, please take no offense. You may assume that this drawing is not of your God.

So, what would I say to God? More correctly, what will I say to Him? It will depend on the circumstances. Should I die some particularly gruesome death, I’d probably start with “What was that all about?” I imagine God to have a very deep, booming voice, something like James Earl Jones. It would be nice if he sounds like Morgan Freeman. That would be comforting. Naturally, he speaks English.

Anyway–what would I say? I’d probably say something awkward like “Hey, how are you?” He’s God. Of course, He’s doing well. Then, I’d be really embarrassed. He’s probably real good with people and would put me at ease. Once I lightened up, I’d ask him some questions:

Is it safe to assume I’m clear on the Hell thing?
Is any of my family around here?
Faith healers–a bunch of lying bastards, right?
Why did you quit smiting people? There are so many people who deserve it.
Did you really see everything I was doing? If so, I’d like to apologize for quite a few things.
Do you ever get really pissed off at the televangelists?
Assuming I get to be in Heaven, do I have to be around everyone else in Heaven or can I choose to be around only those people I really liked? Don’t get me wrong–I’ll follow the rules. I’m just curious.
I took your name in vain quite a few times–I guess you know that. It wasn’t anything personal. It’s not like I really wanted you to condemn someone or thing. I had a bit of a temper, and–let’s face it–I was just as you made me, so I’m not completely at fault. Does that make sense?
Back when I was alive, I wrote a blog post about what you look like. That didn’t offend you, did it?

I’m sure I’d think of a bunch of other questions. Then again, I’d probably be pretty nervous. Maybe he’d have a bunch of stuff to tell me and kind of carry the conversation.

I fully expect someone to be offended by this and call me names. Perhaps I’ll be lucky enough to get a religious lecture like I did when I posted about Jesus. Save your breath. My God also has a sense of humor.

©www.thetrivialtroll.wordpress.com 2014

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Jesus: All-Round Good Guy

I’m not a theologian. I’ve read the Bible, but much like Karl in Sling Blade, I understand parts of it but not all of it. Nevertheless, I enjoy reading the Bible. It is full of sex, violence and scandal–and that’s just the Old Testament. The New Testament is the cornerstone, of course, of Christianity. It’s not nearly as saucy as the Old Testament. It does, however, tell the story of Jesus, the key figure in the Christian world.

Most folks know the story of Jesus. He was born to a virgin in a manger. He is the son of the one, true Living God. He was sent to Earth to die for our sins. He did just that, being crucified, of all things. His sacrifice bore all the sins of mankind. Three days after he died (wink, wink), he arose from the dead, thereby fulfilling the promise that he would not die. That’s pretty close to accurate.

Before reading further, you should know a couple of things. One, you’re not going to see a bunch citations to scripture. This ain’t Sunday School. Plus, I don’t research much for this silly blog. This is no pedantic discourse on historical Jesus. I’m going from memory, which may be inaccurate, but I’m sure you’ve heard just as reckless preaching from the pulpit. Second, I’m not a fan of “oral histories” when it comes to religion. There’s too much room for mistakes and outright lies. I don’t believe the oral history of my own life. So, all you’ll see here is stuff I remember from the Bible and my own rank speculation.

I’m not so much interested in Jesus as God or even a god. That’s a religious thing. If you believe that, you have taken it on faith, like all religions. You don’t need to be sold on it. If you don’t believe, no amount of persuasion on my part will affect you, especially since I would probably make little sense and only end up arguing with myself about it.

My interest is more in Jesus the man. After all, he was a man, in addition to be the son of God and God himself. From this point forward, I shall try to avoid discussion of The Holy Trinity, as it only confuses me. But, what of Jesus the man? What kind of guy was he?

First off, it’s unlikely that he wa 6′ 2″ with flowing sandy blonde hair and a perfectly shaped nose. He was a Jewish man. He probably wasn’t a foot taller than everyone else or look like Barry Gibb. According to science, he probably looked like this:

Since the Bible doesn’t describe his appearance, he can look like anything we want, but we should try to be a slightly realistic.

Back then, I guess, people didn’t have last names, but we call him Jesus Christ or, sometimes Jesus H. Christ. I’m pretty sure Christ wasn’t his last name. No one called his step-dad “Joseph Christ.” Of course, Judas was Judas Iscariot. I can’t really reach a conclusion on this one.

Jesus’s monogram has caused centuries of debate about what the “H” stands for.

REGULAR GUY

We don’t know much about Jesus the child. The sketchy narrative breaks when he’s a preteen and picks up when he’s in his 30’s. What did he do during that time? He could have been a slacker for all I know. If he was, you can be sure he told someone not to write that part down.

He seems like a regular guy. He was a carpenter, which is a regular guy job. There aren’t any details about what kind of carpentry he did, but it was probably the normal stuff for the times–barns, mangers (how ironic), yokes, maybe houses. Who knows? He may have even made crosses for crucifixions.

30 years old was probably pretty old in those days. Whether it was because of poor health care or more accurate record keeping, we were no longer in the times of people living to be 900 years old. I’m guessing that Jesus was middle aged.

When the story picks back up, he’s ready for business. The Sermon on the Mount is some of the best preaching you’ll ever hear. I picture it as being quite the scene, with the turnout being mostly the sick and demon-possessed. The sick people probably had leprosy and wore those big leper bells around their necks to warn people when they were approaching. The possessed were just plain insane. Jesus didn’t care. He hung out with them anyway. He even healed them. Good guy.

People were probably leery of Jesus at first. First, the son of God thing was probably off-putting. Imagine if the guy who built your house went around claiming to be the Messiah. Second, even those who believed he was the son of God were probably a little rattled. Up until that point, God was a vengeful cuss who destroyed entire countries, turned people into salt, slew children and even wiped out mankind–all because he had a Byzantine set of rules no one could follow. His son might be a bit edgy. Can’t you just see someone meeting him for the first time?:

Son of God. No foolin’? I’m sure you know about that pork chop I ate last week. I don’t know what I was thinking. Haha. Anyway, could you see your way clear to pass on the smiting just this once?

Imagine the surprise when Jesus said it was no big deal.

TEACHER

It didn’t take him long to collect followers, the so-called Disciples. They were a motley crew and seemed to bitch and moan a lot. Jesus had to be a patient dude to keep from blowing up at them. The first time someone doubted that I could walk on water, he would be walking–right out of the inner circle. “Oh, you can’t feed all these people with a loaf bread and fish.” “Oh, really? Who’s the son of God, you moron?” Jesus did none of that. Nor did he ever rub their noses in it like I would have. I would have been all: “Looks like everyone else is eating, what are you gonna do now, smart ass?” Even after he came back to life, he dealt with this stuff: “Hey, Doubting Thomas, what do these look like–callouses?” Not Jesus. He was a patient man. Good guy.

Even if you don’t believe Jesus was real, he was still a good guy, even as a literary figure. Consider the things he said:

Love your enemies. Any tool can love his friends.
If someone asks you for something, give it to him. Then, give him more of your stuff.
If someone slaps your face, tell him to do it again. This isn’t to prove that you’re a badass. It’s just to let him do it.
Don’t worry about the splinter in your friend’s eye when you’ve got a plank in yours. In other words, stay on your side of the street and deal with your own crap.
Quit bitching about the government. Give them what they want, and give God what he wants.
Don’t judge anyone. Ever. End of discussion.
The humble, the meek, the pacifists, the downtrodden–these are my kind of people.

This is just a small sampling of the man’s wisdom. The funny thing is that even though he’s had billions of followers, I’ve never met even one who does any of what he suggests.

Just as impressive as what he said is what he didn’t say. Here is some of that:

It’s okay to hate people, especially if they look different from you or don’t believe I’m the son of God.
Go forth and kill people in my name.
I really hope the folks who preach this gospel all get rich.
Give me money to show that you believe in me.
Arrogant, self-righteous jackasses are really cool.
C’mon boys! Let’s go protest a funeral.
Some day there will be a land called America. It will be my favorite place on Earth.
You know what I like? War.
If people are poor or starving it’s because they deserve it. They’re probably lazy.
I hate foreigners.
When you pray, be sure to ask for things. Money is always good. Oh, and ball games–I’m a big sports fan.

Jesus was a positive, upbeat guy, even in the face of what he had to know was going to be a bad, bad ending for him. If it had been me, I’d probably have said: “Look. After they crucify me, you dudes kill every last one of those bastards. I’ll be back in three days, and I expect to see some carnage.” Not Jesus. He tried to stay positive. Good guy.

HOLY MAN

Two stories demonstrate that Jesus, Godliness notwithstanding, was a good guy. Remember Lazarus? He was a good friend of Jesus’s. Maybe Lazarus bought a yoke or something from Jesus. Lazarus died, and his family asked Jesus to resurrect him. Now, you could tell Jesus didn’t want to do it, and I can understand. He performed miracles to make a point, not just to do it. He might have thought this would set a bad precedent. Anyway, he got nagged into it. Lazarus had been dead awhile and was pretty rank. I’m sure Jesus thought: “Man, what have I gotten myself into? Damn, he’s funky.” He did it anyway. Boom! Welcome back, Lazarus. Jesus just did it to be nice.

The other was in the Garden of Gethsemane. Jesus knew that some bad crap was coming down, so–like a lot of us would–he went off to pray. The gist of his prayer was: “Okay. I know I’m supposed to do this. I get it. But, IF by any chance you’d like to get me out of this, I’m cool with that, too. Of course, you’re the boss. If this is what you want, I’m all in. Just think about it.” What could be more human than that? He would do what he was supposed to do but was fine with getting out of it. What else would a good guy do?

Even his crucifixion shows what a good guy he was. He could have unleashed all manner of wrath. Remember–he’s God’s son, the same God that wreaked vengeful havoc throughout the Old Testament. Instead, he forgave his tormentors.

FAMILY MAN

Like any regular guy, Jesus had a family. Yes, he was the son of God, but Joseph was his step-dad. Joseph taught him carpentry. They probably argued about stuff like any family.

His brother James probably had it tough. At this point, some of you will get hair-lipped and scream: “THAT’S A LIE! JESUS DID NOT HAVE A BROTHER!” I say he did. Why? Because the Bible calls him James, brother of Jesus. That’s good enough for me. So, calm down.

My older brother was an excellent student and good kid. That can be tough to follow. Imagine poor James. Even when he was spreading the gospel, he probably heard about it:

MAN: What’s your name, friend?

JAMES: James…uh…James Christ.

MAN: Are you related to….?

JAMES: Yeah, he’s my brother.

MAN: Wow. He was, I mean is, a great guy.

JAMES: Yeah. We’re fond of him.

MAN: Look, we’re having a little get together later. You’re welcome to come by. Do you think….?

JAMES: Thanks. I’ll see what I can do, but He doesn’t just appear. But I’ll check.

No matter what a good job James did preaching, he was never going to measure up.

Mary was a typical mom, except for the virgin birth thing. Why did Jesus turn the water into wine? Because his mom told him to do it. Haven’t we all been there? My son is an excellent, self-taught piano player. His mother always wants him to play for her friends. He rarely does. It’s embarrassing. Jesus reacted the same way. He hadn’t even started performing miracles yet, but she was his mother. So, he did it. “Okay, Mom. Are you satisfied now?” Good guy and a good son, too.

LADIES MAN

Jesus hung out with women, too. I suspect women weren’t treated too well in ancient Judea. Jesus didn’t care. Mary Magdalene was right by his side until the end–and the beginning. He didn’t care. Now, I know a lot of you say Mary Magdalene was a prostitute. Maybe so, but the Bible doesn’t say that. If she was, it wasn’t important enough to write down. If you feel better thinking she was a whore, good for you. I know this much: Jesus wouldn’t have cared. He liked the downtrodden. They were his peeps. He made no judgments. Good guy.

I don’t know if Jesus dated or had a wife. If he did, the Bible doesn’t talk about it. Then again, it doesn’t talk about any of the Disciples having wives (Okay, maybe it does, and I just don’t remember). Let’s face it. The Bible isn’t very kind to women, so they probably wouldn’t have included that anyway. It wouldn’t have been weird if he had a girlfriend or wife. In fact, it would have been weird if he hadn’t. I’d like to think he did. He was human, too.

SUMMARY

Even if you are a committed atheist, you must admit that Jesus was a fine fellow. If not atheist, maybe you’re just not a Christian. No one ever turned from Christianity because Jesus was a bad guy. Hey, the Koran mentions Jesus frequently, maybe even more than it does Mohammed.

Jesus said that he’ll come back one of these days. Maybe he’s your plumber. It’s doubtful that he’s preaching on TV. He’s probably just a regular guy–good guy but regular. If he does come back, though, I’m pretty sure we’ll all try to kill him again.

So, there you have you it. Jesus the man. Good guy. Now, some of you may be poised over your keyboard ready to set me straight and accuse me of heresy and blasphemy. Before you do, ask yourself this: What would Jesus do? Good guy, that Jesus. He’d just like this post and move on.

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Cheerleader God

Ray Lewis shows God His Lombardi Trophy

I’m a big sports fan. Huge, actually. I’ve ruined substantial chunks of my life grieving over sporting events in which I had no stake other than as a fan. None of the players or coaches knew me nor did they care one way or the other about how their pitiable performances affected me. Nevertheless, though, I grieved.

You know who else is a big sports fan? God. That’s right. Capital “G” God. The Big Guy. The Alpha and Omega. The Big I AM. How do I know that about the unknowable? Athletes have told me. Repeatedly.

Ray Lewis says so. God glorified him (or vice versa–sometimes it’s hard to follow Ray) with a Super Bowl win. After the Ravens’ win, Ray said “It’s simple: When God is for you, who can be against you?” That is pretty simple. God is all-powerful, all-knowing and omnipotent. If He’s for you, who CAN be against you? Well, a lot of people, really. The other team, for instance. Their fans. Maybe people who just generally hate your team or you personally. Atheists, too.

Ray’s simple observation begs many questions, of course:

Was God against Colin Kaepernick?
Was God for John, but not Jim, Harbaugh? If so, why?
What did God think of Beyonce?
How about the guy in the suit that John Harbaugh screamed at? What sin did he commit?
What was God’s deal with the Harbaugh parents? For or against?
Why didn’t God see that holding call on Crabtree? Or did He see it but smite the officials with blindness, because he was for Ray?
Is possible that God was on the side of Michael Oher, the guy from the movie The Blind Side, and Ray just benefited from it?
Why did God turn out the lights in the second half?
What kind of God would allow Destiny’s Child to reunite?

If it were just Ray, it wouldn’t be that big a deal. Other athletes are just as bad–or maybe it’s good. Boxers praise God–right after they beat the holy crap out of someone. “Thank you, God, for giving me the strength to inflict permanent brain damage on this other child of yours.” Basketball players do it. Baseball players. Everyone who wins has God on his or her side. Some invoke Jesus, which is really the same thing except with a decidedly Christian take.

That’s right. God picks sides. He’s picked the World Series, Super Bowls, NCAA Championships, fights–you name it. There isn’t enough hard drive in the Cloud to list all the athletes that have credited God for their wins. God plays favorites. No doubt. God is definitely a Calvinist when it comes to sports.

The uncomfortable flip side of this is that God clearly dislikes certain teams and athletes, too, not to mention their fans (like me). This is rarely acknowledged, with one notable exception. Former University of Kentucky football player Stevie Johnson is now a star wide receiver for the Buffalo Bills. A couple of years ago, he dropped a potential game-winning touchdown pass. Just dropped it. Stevie saw the hand of God in it.

Stevie Johnson’s ill-tempered tweet reflected a lot of fans’ thoughts.

Predictably, Stevie took a lot of heat for this. But, if you are a sports fan, haven’t you at least thought this before? Sure you have. Of course, I remember Stevie catching a touchdown pass to beat the University of Louisville. An act of God, for sure.

I’ll confess that I’ve prayed to God about sports. “Oh, mighty God, PLEASE let this free throw drop!!!” Of course, this type of prayer is fruitless, but I’ve done it. My life as a sports fan has proven and disproven the existence of God many times:

Jim O’Brien hits a last-minute field goal. Colts beat the Cowboys in the Super Bowl. No God.
Roger Staubach hits Drew Pearson with the original “Hail Mary” pass in the 1975 NFC Playoffs. God lives!
UCLA beats Kentucky for the 1975 NCAA Basketball Championship. No God.
Six months later, the Reds rally from 3 down to win the 7th game of the World Series. Big God!
Jackie Smith drops a touchdown pass against the Steelers. Cowboys lose the Super Bowl. No God.
Kentucky wins the 1978, 1996, 1998 and 2012 NCAA basketball championships. Big, big, big, big GOD!!
Christian Laettner hits a three to beat Kentucky at the buzzer in the 1992 NCAA Regional Finals. There is a God, and He hates me.
Billy Gillispie is hired as Kentucky’s basketball coach. God hates Kentucky.
John Calipari is hired as Kentucky’s basketball coach. God actually loves Kentucky but has a twisted sense humor (see Gillispie, Billy).
University of Kentucky Football: No God or at least not one that will let us be great at two sports.

I, for one, refuse to blame God for this.

For brevity’s sake, I won’t list the other 200-300 examples. One can readily see that I have struggled to see God’s handiwork in my life as a fan. For others, look no further than this year’s NCAA Football Championship. Notre Dame has Touchdown Jesus, but Alabama whipped them like Samson breaking bad on a bunch of Philistines.

The problem is that for each instance in which I have been crushed by a sporting event, others have felt an equal and opposite reaction. Call it Newton’s Law of God In Sports. He loves one team and hates the other. Okay, maybe He doesn’t hate them. Only if you’re a member of the Westboro Baptist Church do you embrace the hating God. But, at the very least, He’s cruelly indifferent to the other team and its fans.

How does this happen? Do the other fans pray better? Are the players better people? If so, what can I do to help my team? If more of our fans pray will that tip the scales? Or is the quality of the prayers, rather than the quantity, that matters most? It’s hard to say, really.

What about Tim Tebow? By all accounts, he’s a fine young man, sincere in his faith and an all around good guy. He played quarterback for the Denver Broncos in 2011 and won a bunch of games. Now, truth be told, he didn’t play particularly well, completing less than 50% of his passes. Yet, he won or, more accurately, his team won. Many folks attributed this to God. Tebow is a Christian, and God wins games for him. Many of my devoutly Christian friends manically cheered for him, as though he was the first Christian to ever play in the NFL (I don’t think he is, by the way). Then Tebow got traded to the Jets, because the Broncos preferred Peyton Manning at quarterback. Tebow barely played for the Jets and did nothing to help them win–to the extent the Jets did win. Did God turn his back on Tebow? Doubtful. Tebow just ended up on a team that didn’t want to play him. Like Tebow, Danny Wuerffel was also a Heisman Trophy winning quarterback from the University of Florida and a devout Christian. He had no success in the NFL. Why? Because that’s sports, not God.

Now, you’re thinking: “What’s your point?” Here it is: God isn’t picking games. If he did, the parochial schools would never lose, and Bob Knight would have never won a game. God is God, which is a good thing, but one can only hope that He is occupied with more important things than Ray Lewis’s retirement and my desire to see a teenaged college student make a free throw.

I won’t even belabor the obvious such as the horrific injuries–and even death–suffered by athletes. If you’re a sports fan, you can think of an almost endless list of vile humans who have excelled in sports. What about cities like Chicago and Cleveland? What are they–the Sodom and Gomorrah of sports? If God is picking sides, surely he could cut them a break.

So, the next time you think God has picked your team or favorite player, remember that just means He’s back handing someone else. Eventually, He’ll show you the hands, too. Now, don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with praising God. Some believe that He demands it. It’s just that suggesting He won a game makes as much sense as crediting the military for it. After all, we should be thankful for our soldiers, too, but let’s be reasonable.

Okay, now God, UCLA has 11 NCAA basketball titles, and Kentucky has 8. Do you think you could see your way clear to…..never mind.

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