The Power of Pain

THE POWER OF PAIN

"Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world."

-C.S. Lewis

I just got done reading a chapter out of the ‘Voyage of the Dawn Treader’ in which Eustace encounters Aslan for the first time. Unfortunately for Eustace, and awesome for us, is that he is in the form of a dragon and must remove his scales in order to step into the well that Aslan has commanded him into.

He tries multiple times to painfully rip the scales from his body, and seemingly succeeds. Yet the dry, painful scales always return regardless of Eustace’s efforts. Aslan calmly informs Eustace that the job to remove the scales belongs to Him and Him alone. And O, how painful it is, but how pleasurable to see the transformation that is birthed form submitting to Aslan. (It always gives me the willies when Eustace compares this to the satisfying yet painful feeling of picking a scab.)

The pain Aslan unleashes upon this dragon leads to something magnificent: The rebirth of Eustace Scrubb. Our culture often will examine pain in any form and reject it as a contradiction to the will of our Father. But we need to have a bigger concept of God that includes pain as a weapon waiting to be used in God’s arsenal.

One option is to say that God has no hand in pain whatsoever, which believe it or not, happens to be a new up-and-rising theology that is gaining some serious momentum. Or we can resolve to know that God is sovereign and really does exert pain upon his children for glorious purposes.

Pain is a powerful tool that God wields with magnificent transformative abilities. It is pain that we need sometimes to finally tear the scales from our souls that we have acquired through our failures and mess-ups in life. Without pain, we would still remain dragons lumbering around in a lonely existence unable to progress as individuals into the image of God.

Thus we must always embrace the pain that we encounter in life, knowing that we can either waste the pain and stay the same, or grit our teeth and see trials to the end to discover that we have endured the lovingly, painful claws of Aslan and have arrived on the other end as a new boy indeed.

James 1:3-4 Consider it a great joy, my brothers, whenever you experience various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. But endurance must do its complete work, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking nothing.

The Opportunity of Youth

Youth is an awesome thing. It’s like the opening paragraph of a book- it will often determine how great the following pages will be. It gives us a foundation to build the rest of our lives upon. It is a blank page that we will undoubtedly mar and scuff throughout our journey, but the unmarked canvas of youth generates a hope that drives us into the arms of our Father.

I am referring to myself as well. I am blessed to still be a spring chicken. I have a lot of life to live (God willing), and I know that anyone that has been around will tell me that life will go by in the blink of an eye. I’m not talking about being blessed because of how much life I have to live, but because I feel as though I’m at a critical point in the journey that allows my actions and decisions to greatly shape how my life will look in the eyes of my God when I stand before Him in the end.

Lately at church we have been going in depth about living the life of a disciple and not just a believer. A disciple will gain eternal rewards in heaven, while someone who places his faith in Christ will certainly go to heaven, they will not inherit these rewards (1 Corinthians 3:15). The significance of pursuing the life of a disciple in my youth aids me in getting off on the proverbial right foot. To start trusting Him from the beginning that He will “make known to me the path of life.” (Psalm 16:11) The abundant life; the suffering life; the life of a disciple- so that I may know and love the path that my Lord has blazed as I age.

On this path however, there are multitudes of distractions: The World Series, NBA, Video Games, Nerdy Sci-Fi books, and the rest. Let alone the land mines that Satan has expertly set up along the way: lust, pride, anger, and Lord knows what else I’m in danger of.

Because life is so intensely surrounded by these pitfalls, we must fix our eyes on Christ… and it is here that we will be in His presence “where there is fullness of joy” (Psalm 16:11). A joy that we can cling to- to keep us from drifting into the distractions and minefields of sin that tear us from the abundant life, strategically organized by our enemy to prevent us from running the race set before us.

The path of the disciple enables us to deny the self, take up our cross, and follow Jesus… but it is not easy… the path that follows Jesus is the path that leads to Calvary. But it is the path saves us from a wasted life.

I want to live in such a way that those on earth will say I lived a worthless excuse of a life. I want them to say I was idiotic in how I threw my money away to help others, that I exhausted all of my resources to win a few to my ‘faith.’

I want them to scoff at how I wept with pride when I sent a child to the dangers of the mission field, or how I starved myself to help feed the hungry around me, or how foolish I was to fast and pray for my master to change the hearts of those that so adamantly denied Him. I want it to look like I absolutely lost my life (Matthew 16:24-27)… So that when I stand before my king at the judgment seat I will have more to show him than a multi-million dollar corporation, or earthly mansions destined to crumble in the years to come, or a successful stock portfolio.

I want to live in such a way to show him that even from youth I murdered my version of life, took up my cross, multiplied my talents, was faithful with my minas, and was called a friend of Jesus.

That when I reach the Judgment Seat of Christ, I can look at the warmth in his face, without being ashamed of how I lived my life and joyfully listen as he says, “Well done my good and faithful servant.” And attain those pleasures that are at his right hand forevermore (Psalm 16:11)

God, may we have a life characterized by our path to Calvary. And may we start the path in our youth and remain there till the bitter end till we are with you in paradise. Let us waste our lives for you.

DRINK FREELY

DRINK FREELY

On his way to Galilee, Jesus had to stop in Samaria in a town called Sychar and took a breather at the well of Jacob because he was exhausted.

While he was kneeling over at the well and dusting himself off, a woman from the town came to draw water from the well.

Jesus asked, “Do you mind if I take a swig of your water?” Jesus’ disciples went to go get some food.

The Samaritan woman was stunned: “You are a Jew! Why are you asking me for a drink of water?” She said this because Jews and Samaritans DID NOT mix.

Jesus with a innocent smile on his face looked at her and said: “If you knew the gift of God, as well as knowing who I am, you would ask me for water, and I would give it to you if you are committed enough. If you deny yourself, take up your cross and follow me, I’ll give you water that wells up to eternal life.”

…………………………………

This is obviously not what Jesus says. Jesus says: “If you knew the gift of God, (Eternal Life) and who it is that is saying to you (The Messiah), you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water (Eternal Life).”

Eternal Life is a gift, and not something that can be earned.

Eternal Life is not something you prove you have by your works.

We are saved from hell by faith alone in Christ alone.

Jesus made his conditional statements such as the one before as a call to discipleship. A call to discipleship is not the same as being a believer. Eternal life requires one thing: faith (John 3:16).

Rejoice! The living water that God offers is offered freely and is completely independent of how you perform.

The Spirit and the Bride say, “Come.” And let the one who hears say, “Come.” And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.

(Revelation 22:17 ESV)

Joshua the Bum

Matthew 25: 31-40

I was guilt tripped into working with my fiancée at the soup kitchen today. She always has this compulsion to help those that are less fortunate. Which is totally a good thing, don’t get my wrong. I just feel like one less soup-scooper isn’t going to make that big of a difference.

“Babe, this is really important to me. I want us to impact the world together.”

I mean, how do you make statements like that? Change the world together? Why can’t we just go to work and enjoy our time watching a movie together? I have plenty of money to make this girl happy, but she always insists on doing something that is “productive.” I don’t see how one full stomach of awful soup is going to change the world. But, I’m marrying the girl for a reason. It’s just hard to turn down those blue eyes and killer smile. So I went to the soup kitchen. I did it all. Flower-crusted apron, plastic gloves, hair net… I went the whole nine yards.

My fiancée Sadie was ecstatic about each person that walked up to her for a bowl of soup. She made it her goal to let each one know how loved they were, even though they didn’t seem too interested. Her world revolved around these people that were beyond help.

“They just want soup hun, they’re not too interested in knowing that you love them unconditionally.”

Sadie was really into the bible and always talked about “shining her light,” and “loving on others.” It sounded pretty corny to me. And I was doing the same thing she was without buying into all of that ideological bull. Wasn’t I also looking after the widows and the orphans just as much as she was when she dragged me to these things? I’m doing all the right things, which makes me good in God’s book, so why worry about all this biblical nonsense? Sadie would say that it gives her a quality of life that she couldn’t have otherwise. She always talked about joy, and how I couldn’t only experience it after an encounter with her God.

And this joy was giving Sadie a smile that was starting to get to me. I didn’t see how she could be enjoying this. We were in a homeless shelter/soup kitchen. The smell of urine, and body odor was overpowering. The paint was chipping, the food was stale, and the profanity, and oppression were hovering in the room making it an absolute torturous experience to be a part of. But hey, I’m only here for 3 more hours, and it will give me major bonus points with the girl.

Then something great happened! We ran out of soup. There was nothing more to serve; therefore we get to leave an hour and a half earlier… false. Sadie casually walked up to me with that sweet innocent smile on her face.

“Bryan, Let’s go hang out with these people, and let them know that they’re just as good as we are.”

Everything within me wanted to do the absolute opposite. I cocked an eyebrow towards Sadie and let her know what I was thinking.

“Babe, I understand that these people are human, but they’re not as good as us. I make 75 grand a year, pay taxes and vote. They just don’t really have much to live for. I’m pretty sure anything we have to say to them isn’t going to make a difference.”

Bad move.

“Bryan, sometimes I just don’t understand how you can be so cold. You think because you live in a nice house and drive a BMW that you are a higher-level species than these people? That’s really disappointing.”

She gave me the misty eyed stare of death and sat in the middle of a clump of filthy stinky, starving women that didn’t quite know how to react to her. What was I supposed to do? It had to all be a façade. I can understand her feeling obligate out of misplaced sense of religious duty to be with these wretches, but the fact that her faith compelled her, and even allowed her to take pleasure in such a thing had to have been some sort of psychological disorder. No one in there right mind could enjoy this. It was like running on the treadmill… no one likes it, but when your done you get the sense of accomplishment that you did the right thing. I told the man in charge of the soup kitchen that I was leaving, that I had some errand to go on for work. Which was a total lie.

I remember angrily driving away from the broken-down shelter and feeling Sadie’s words burn into my mind. I knew the mental arguing was about to get started; sometimes Sadie could make me feel so frustrated. “I am a better type of person! I give to charities, and buy lunches for my friends and keep in touch with my family. How can she see those bums as equivalent to her future husband?” To be honest I was feeling jealousy. I kept playing the scene in my head over and over until I noticed the needle on my gas gage was well passed the “E.” Before I was outside of the poorer part of the city I had pulled up to a broken down gas station with bars on the windows. As I stepped outside and started filling up my car, I realized how unsafe I felt. I looked all around the neighborhood and realized that I was still in the midst on an inhuman civilization. Kids were running around with clothes too big or too small. Men were on the corners suspiciously talking while nervously glancing over their shoulders, I heard women in apartments screaming, sirens blaring, and babies crying. I was the one out of place. My sleek car, and designer jeans were certainly drawing some attention. Ok, I won’t fill up; I’ll just get enough gas to get me out of here I thought. I couldn’t get out of the smoggy worthless community fast enough.

I quickly rushed into the gas station passing a bum that was sitting at the entrance. He gave me a big toothless grin, and I noticed that his left eye was milky white. He probably got in a fight I thought. My mind immediately played out a scene with this man arguing with a drug dealer, the toothless man was out of money because his drug addiction got him fired, and now he couldn’t pay up for the “goods” and as a result he got a blow to the face with some gangster weapon that destroyed his vision. And if that didn’t happen it was probably something worse.

As I got closer, his stench was suffocating me. There was no form or charm he had to attract anyone. No beauty to win anyone’s heart. He was a man at the end of his rope with no one to comfort or love him. I had to get by him as soon as possible before he asked me for money.

I casually slipped by without making eye contact. And nearly sprinted to the counter and whipped out my credit card to pay for my gas. The man at the counter eyed me suspiciously looking at my jeans, loafers, and button down shirt. He somehow was able to hold his cigarette in his mouth by barely clinging on the end with just his bottom lip. He swiped the card without taking his eyes off me.

“BEEP.” Went the register.

The man finally released his icy stare and looked down at the machine. He swiped the card again.

“BEEP.”

“Boy is this some kinda joke?” The man took the cigarette out with his hand in between his index finer and thumb, and stuck out his chin.

“What do you mean? There should be tons of money in my account.”

“Well it ain’t workin’. And you need to figure out a way to get $12.63 into this cash register or we’re going to have some problems.”

I rifled through my wallet knowing full well there wouldn’t be a penny in it. What in the world am I going to do? This guy means business and I have no way of paying.

“Let me call someone real qui…”

“Boy you better pay now. I’ve been conned out of too much money to let some rich white boy go Scott free because he thinks he’s better than me.”

My jaw dropped open, I had no clue what to do or say. Just then the toothless, white-eyed-man walked in. His shirt was patchy to the point that you could see his ashy black skin through his clothes, his boots were barely wearable and his white hair was a tattered mess, let alone the chaos of his unkempt facial hair.

“What seems to be the problem here boys?” Came his raspy voice accompanied by that deformed grin.

“This boy is about to get what’s coming to him… stay out of this old man.”

All I could do was look around in bewilderment.

“How much does he owe?”

“More than you got.”

“How much?” The smile was fading from the bum’s face. He was starting to get serious.

After a pause, the cashier mouthed off, “$12.63.”

The homeless man was carrying a trash bag slung over his shoulder, and he laid it on the ground and started foraging through the mess. The clanking was absolutely embarrassing. The cashier and I could only watch as the man made a fool of himself in front of us both. The clanking suddenly stopped, and the huge smile was once again plastered over his face. He walked over to the cashier and me and slammed a beautiful gold ring on the counter.

“That should do it!” The homeless man exploded in the most contagious laughter. He clapped me on the back and walked straight out of the gas station. The cashier eagerly snagged the ring and motioned for me to get out. Sprinting out of the store, I realized I had to speak with the toothless man who just saved my skin. He was sitting in the same place with the same smile.

“Hello.” I said to him.

“Hey there boy. Did you get enough gas to get home?”

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t call me sir, son. I’m a friend now. What’s your name?”

“Bryan.”

“Bryan! Good strong name!” He started laughing as he said it.

Sadie’s words started to resonate with me again. This is a perfect opportunity for me to make this man feel human. “Sir can I give you a ride anywhere?”

“Sure son. Sounds great.”

We started walking towards my car, and to be honest I wanted to lay down towels before he got it, but I figured he might take offense.

We got inside my BMW, and I had to hold my breath because of the smell. I started the car and slowly pulled out of the God-forsaken gas station. “Where do you want to go?”

“Wherever you feel like we should go, I’ve got no place to lay my head down, so it doesn’t matter much to me.” This was of course followed by his explosive belly laughs.

“I need some direction.”

“You sure do.”

“What does that mean.”

“It means you need to figure our what you’re doing.” The laugh returned.

“Are we talking about this ride?”

“Son we are talking about life.”

“I know where I am going! I’m flying up the ladder at a successful business, and my portfolio is…”

“Boy that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean what you are doing.”

I wasn’t in the mood to play stupid riddle games with a homeless man that thought he was some type of philosopher just because he had nothing to do but think on the side of the road all day. So I decided to pressure him to see what the real answer was that he was getting at. “What are you doing then?”

“I’m enjoying my life, and trying to show others what life is really all about.”

“That’s a big job, but I think I got it figured out.” I was racking my brain trying to give him some philosophical answer. The pale moonlight was making the milky white-eye glow, and I could feel Joshua’s growing anticipation to hear what I thought was the meaning of my life. “Happiness.” Came my sloppy reply.

“That’s a good one son. But happiness only gets you so far.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there are happy people that live useless lives.”

“So what do you think the answer is?”

“A man needs meaning and purpose.” Joshua suddenly became very serious.

“And how do you get meaning and purpose O Mighty Joshua?” My sarcasm didn’t faze him at all. He stared me down without saying a word. His eyes pierced through me, it felt like marrow and bones were being separated under his power. “Pull-over” he calmly stated with solemnity that could not be defied. So I did. Once I was on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere I started to get a little fearful. There was nothing around but dark trees and the moonlight, we were halfway between the country and the city.

“To get meaning and purpose, you need an encounter with something that is greater that yourself. But you seem to be in a state where you think of yourself as the greatest thing there is.”

I pursed my lips in frustration, but let’s face it… he had a point.

Without even asking my permission, he raised a shaky hand towards me and I felt his warm sweaty palm graze my cheek.

I immediately was convulsing under the mysterious power of this man who could not be human. I could feel the warmth of his smile over me as my vision began to warp and change. The man sitting in the passenger seat of my car was transformed into a gorgeous man that was glowing in beauty that cannot be explained. It wasn’t a reflection of light from the moon or anything else, he was illuminating all that was around him. His hair had now become white as snow, and his eyes were burning like fire. I could barely withstand looking upon his face that shone brighter than the sun. My senses were on absolute overload, I smelt the most breathtaking scents: flowers, sweets, honey, apples, and other fruits, my ears were as if I was hearing a majestic symphony that had never been written, and my skin was in a state of pleasure that was nearly painful. The bliss of being in the presence of this mysterious power couldn’t end! And if it did I would spend my life achieving this state again. He began to speak and each syllable was filled with peals of thunder that violently shook my car. “Drink deeply of this feeling Bryan. You won’t ever want anything else to satisfy your thirst if you do. Drink as much as you can, and all the time, and you will experience a level of living that you only thought could be reached in your dreams.”

As the sensations were ending I was left in a pool of sobs. I looked over to see Joshua once more in hope of experiencing the bliss that was too good to accurately describe. He was gone. Nowhere to be found. The door had never opened or shut, he had vanished from my car.

I had realized that day that I thought I could change the life of those beneath me. But when I actually stepped beyond what I was comfortable with, I had an encounter with a homeless man that augmented me with meaning and purpose. The affection, love, and power I felt that day is something I want to experience everyday for the rest of my life, and include everyone on earth into that feeling of love. To live without it isn’t living at all.

Barnes and Noble

Barnes and Noble

by: Scott Heaton

All Rights Reserved 2009©

“Hey Jude, Don’t make it bad, take a sad song, and make it better…”

This song is on everywhere I go… why today? To be named Jude is my curse. My mom called me her little Jude-bug until I was 26. Why did this song have to be on in this Barnes and Noble, on this day? I always thought of it as a lame song… Who “na-nas” for 8 minutes after the song is over?

I hope mom would be proud of her little Jude-bug… or at least for my intentions. I never ever thought I would do something like this. I hope I make it out. St. Jude was martyred on October 28^th. Maybe if I don’t make it out of here I’ll gain some nobility like he did in death.

There aren’t any more than 30 people here. It helps a little that they all look miserable. Magazines are no way to waste time. Dr. Phil says the images of all the gorgeous people make you feel like crap. I agree. I decided on a bookstore because the smell of paper always calms me down. Barnes and Nobles always smells like fresh paper and coffee. Such a soothing smell, and today is no different. I love the sound of coffee grinders too. If you are going to do something heroic you might as well enjoy the setting you are in, am I right? I can always snag Dr. Phil’s book off the shelf if I need to. The next best thing would be to have the man himself as my accomplice. Unfortunately my restraining order is still in effect.

Dr. Phil said in his new book, Make up your Mind!, That I need to… well… make up my mind. And I finally have. I’m not sure that it is anything at all that Dr. Phil would come up with. “Do what you have to do,” the man says. I wonder what Dr. Phil thinks about “doing” things that are against the law to make sure my mom has the medicine she needs to survive. But I have less money in my bank account than Dr. Phil has hair on his head. I bet he has never had the problem that I have.

I’ve always hated the feeling of a gun in my hand. When I was little my dad would get so pissed at me because I didn’t like playing with the NERF guns he bought me. “Dang it boy! You ain’t going to hurt anyone! Now shoot your mother!” He would say. There was one time in the 7^th grade during football practice that I had a chance to sack the quarterback right in his back. Knowing how fragile the human spine was I vividly remember slowing my sprint and shouting, “Look out Pete!” Pete was the name of the quarterback. I saved that kid’s neck. You think he would cut me some slack… It was later that day that I found out what an atomic wedgie was from Pete the quarterback. In North Texas, if you don’t kill a man when you are supposed to, you aren’t a man at all.

Well Ma, Your little Jude-bug is going to make everything all right.

“THIS IS A STICK UP!”

“Hey Jude, Don’t be afraid, you were made to go out and get her…”

Mom says people like Batman don’t exist. “Billy, no one is brave enough to do something like that.” “Not yet!” I always tell her. I bet you I’m going to be just like Bruce Wayne when I get older. I don’t need any super powers, just awesome fighting skills and a detective’s mind. That’s all Batman ever needs. Take this comic for example, Detective Comics #876: Batman kicks the butt of all of the guys trying to steal the nuclear warhead from Gotham’s power plant, then he figures out that the Penguin has set the atomic bomb he planted years before on a timer! Batman calmly disables the bomb like it was as easy as making a ham sandwich. I love ham sandwiches, but only if mom makes them… and the crust is cut off… and it’s cut into triangles… and if there are no spots on the ham.

I have to read my comics at Barnes and Noble; I like bookstores, especially this one. The colors remind me of the colors of the coffee shop mom always goes too. Mom says that people that go into comic book stores are middle-aged child stalkers that play Dungeons and Dragons all day… whatever that is. So I have to do my comic reading here. I tell her I don’t like it, because I just can’t see Batman liking coffee shops or bookstores.

I’m a natural born detective. I won a problem solving skills contest last year at the school fair. I was only 7, and I beat a 13 year old!

“THIS IS A STICK UP!”

Holy cow! That guy has a gun! I have got to get out of here! Oh my gosh, Oh my gosh, Oh my gosh! Where is mom? She has got to be in the parenting section.

“Nobody move!”

What in the world am I supposed to do?

Billy get a hold of yourself, you are a detective. Detectives don’t cry. OK, I can hide behind that bookshelf, until I work out my plan; Batman always has a plan before he acts. Why am I so afraid? I’m a green belt in Tai Kwon Do. I made Reggie Young’s nose bleed after I sparred with him. He is the biggest kid in the 3^rd Grade… I bet he could take out this bad guy, and if he could, that means I could kick his butt too!

I have to stop this villain or all of Barnes and Noble will be in danger!

“Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better…”

“THIS IS A STICK UP!”

What a beautiful way to die… murdered in a stick up… so poetic… maybe I could try and save a child. But of course I can’t be expected to do anything. Nora Roberts says that: “most romance heroes, or heroes in fiction of any kind, are generally superior to real men. Same goes for heroines and real women.” How can I do anything? Maybe my husband will rush through the doors and storm up to this passionate man holding the gun, and force him to the floor, and declare his undying love for me.

What does this crook have in his hands? Is that Dr. Phil? A killer of romance if you ask me. He just wants to resolve everything. No passion, no yelling, no friction, nothing. How can love exist without passion? Without yelling? Without friction? This isn’t the 1950’s. I wouldn’t be surprised if the man supported arranged marriages.

I yelled at my husband this morning…

It might have been the last thing I ever said to him… “You care more about your stupid books than you do me…” I was trying to be clever like Nora is, and I said to him, “see if you can read into what happens to our marriage if you keep spending more time reading than developing your relationship with your wife.”

At least it was poetic. I can die with that being the last thing I said to the person I love most… right? I wanted to start reading the novels he was reading. Maybe I could understand what was so different about them from me. All of these thrillers… were they giving him the excitement that I couldn’t?

Maybe If I did more dangerous things with him… driving fast, cursing every once in awhile to give me an edge. My mother raised me Southern Baptist, we didn’t cuss, dance, or really have much fun at all. At least that’s what I got from church. Maybe that’s why Nora is such an inspiration to me. And not just her, but other romance novels… you can curse, dance, have pre-marital sex: which I grew up thinking was the end of the world. Every time I read over a curse word in novels I still translate it in my brain as the F-word, or S-word, or sometimes spell it out A.S.S. Maybe it was this that was frustrating my husband.

Surely he knows I love him…

Surely…

Maybe if I am shot in the thriller section he will know I was trying to say something to him… a declaration of my undying love. If only he were here, I can see him sitting Indian style with his head up against that bookshelf with all of his favorites. Stephen King, and Dean Koontz. He would chew his nails in anticipation of each page. He would always lick his fingertips, too in order to turn the page. I told him that I hated both of those habits, but it was endearing to me. Will I ever be able to tell him to stop chewing his nails again, or that licking his fingertips does nothing?

I’m terrified right now… I feel ridiculous crawling to the suspense/thriller section… You would think I had enough suspense at the moment. But to be honest the crook looks more fearful than all of us… except for the man in the philosophy section…praying… ironic.

I love my husband so much… I wish we had kids. I would have loved more before I died… Nora would have liked it that way. I would have liked it that way. I would know a hole would be left after I was gone. I guess that seems a little morbid. But think how sad it would be if your death didn’t matter. Life isn’t about happiness, or even love, it’s about meaning. I might have a chance to accomplish that tonight – a meaningful death in the thriller section.

What’s the trekkie doing?

No way, He’s not actually going to talk to this guy?

What the!? Did he just give him the “Nanoo Nanoo/ live long and prosper” sign?

And… You have got to be kidding me… The thief is thumbing through Dr. Phil’s book, and pointing his gun at Jean-Luc… I can’t watch someone get killed. If this guy isn’t even stable enough to do a stick up without the help of his rent-a-therapist… we’re going to need a hero.

“Na Na Na Nanana Na!”

I hate the term ‘Trekkie,’ everyone knows that ‘Trekkers’ is the correct name for Star Trek fans. And I am a classic trekker that avidly watches the original series! Each convention that I have gone to, I haven’t wimped out and thrown on a solid colored shirt with a star trek emblem and said that I was Captain Kirk, or “Bones” McCoy, but each year I do my ears and hair and transform myself into Spock! Like a true trekker!

When I was 24 I tried to get plastic surgery for my eyes and eyebrows to naturally look like Spock’s. Little did I know that such a minor surgery still costs thousands of dollars… I was only a couple of thousand shy after saving up my winnings from the “magic the gathering” competitions I participated in for 3 years. My best card: ‘Slagworm the Invincible’ really played off!

“This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of the U.S.S. enterprise…”

Phone is ringing… I love that ringer.

“Hello… Ya mom I’ll be home at about 11…. WHAT… Mom, I’m 32 I shouldn’t have a curfew! … I have a job … I make more money than I did at Chili’s! You guys were fine with that! … Mom I can’t stay for the convention for only an hour! … you’re not listeni… MOM … I don’t want to tell you what I’m reading right now… No! What I do at Barnes and Noble Is my business! … No! ... No! … No! …

…

…

…

Ok! Dungeons and Dragons! You got me Ma! Are you happy? You still aren’t being fair, listen: Patrick Stewart and William Shatner are going to be there! My friends will think I’m a loser if I don’t go!

…

I have friends!

… We’ll talk at 11! Bye!

Holy crap I’m toast.

“THIS IS A STICK UP!”

Now I’m really toast. There is no way I’m dying today. What would happen to all of my action figures… My brother would probably take them out of the casing. That just can’t happen. My mom would throw away all of my Star Trek comics… And probably… My Spock ears! I am going to get the heck out of here!

Wait! He’s wearing a Star Wars shirt! First of all… idiot… but maybe I could talk some sense into him, from one sci-fi fan to another.

I can’t believe this, I’m actually standing straight up and walking towards an armed man with an agenda. Leonard Nemoy would be proud. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed how beautiful a bookstore can be. The colors calm me down, even though my palms got sweatier the closer I got to the gun and the Darth Vader shirt. So many people are cowering, but not me. Check out this woman in the suspense/thriller fiction section. She is clutching on to a Nora Roberts book and crying like she’ll never see her family again… Oh… maybe she won’t… She’s looking into her wallet and the tears just keep coming, but she isn’t making a sound… honorable citizen. She is beautiful too… what a shame to see that mascara flow like that. If we were on the Voyager right now, I would be made 1^st lieutenant for my bravery. Each passing section I was getting more and more terrified.

Religion.

Philosophy.

Travel.

Journals.

New Age.

Romance… More Nora Roberts books… I hope that woman sees her family.

And of course he is standing in the Sci-fi section, great… I can look at my heroes as I confront the enemy in front of me. May the force be with me… This one time. If I get through this I won’t be such a jerk to Star Wars fans anymore… God, what the hell am I doing, I’m 32 years old and I dress up in Star Trek uniforms.

It’s time to boldly go where no man has gone before. I’m going to talk to the man with the gun… Beam me up Scotty.

“And anytime you feel the pain, Hey Jude refrain. Don’t carry the world upon your shoulders. For well you know that it’s a fool who plays in cool, By making his world a little colder…”

God is dead.

-Nietzsche 1882

He was too right. I just had a conversation with a man in the religion section, trying to prove God’s existence to me through science. That’s a new one to me. The churches must be trying to brain wash its congregants to thinking their worst enemy, well that and logic, is now actually one of their best weapons. This echo of the phantasm of God is what is destroying our world. Think of everything that has been destroyed in the name of religion… the crusades, the inquisition, 9/11, the KKK… So many people think they are correctly representing the ultimate. Every time I walk into this Barnes and Noble I quickly brush past the history section and wince at all the books I see…

On war…

On the crusades…

On the Inquisition…

On 9/11…

And I just can’t bring myself to find the good of the books in the religion section that still support the same kind of mentality that these tragedies were birthed from. “My religion is right!” “Your religion is wrong!” “Change or suffer the consequences!” I like sipping my organic coffee and looking at the names of some of these books. Tell me they don’t scare you too: “God’s Army,” “Spiritual Warfare,” “The Reign of Christianity,” and my personal favorite “He is all that matters.” Forget about your family or friends… I guess you have to hate them. Religions preach love, but don’t show it. Nietzsche was right… humans will always try to overcome religion. In The Gay Science, Nietzsche said:

“After Buddha was dead people showed his shadow for centuries afterwards in a cave, —an immense frightful shadow. God is dead: but as the human race is constituted, there will perhaps be caves for millenniums yet, in which people will show his shadow. —And we—we have still to overcome his shadow!”

The day is coming, when the noon sun will rise on civilization, and every man will realize the absence of shadow, and the truth of nothingness. Eternal Return… it is bound to happen. We as humans will repeat the same mindless things over and over, with no eternal value at all… I am on a quest to simply find satisfaction in life that functions within truth. And I don’t plan on fabricating it within the shelter of a shadow. And I have the rest of my life to figure it out too… 50, maybe 60 or 70 years.

“THIS IS A STICK UP!”

Or not…

What the hell am I going to do? What if I die today? I wish I had a shadow to hide in… The guy legitimately has a gun. Probably a crazed religious wacko… Oh my God… did he look at me… He’s looking at me.

Dear God, get me out of this one… Amen.

Did I just pray? I did… I just prayed

“But God is dead!”

Just then that horrid Christian man crawled up to me with tears in his eyes, his enormous mustache made him look ridiculous, and the lack of shame… a grown man crawling on his hands and knees. Probably just to tell me to repent before I go to hell today. But instead of even saying a single word… he handed me a card… I’ll never forget what he wrote on it:

Nietzsche is dead…

-God 1900

Touché pastor. Is he… he is… he’s praying, face down on the floor.

Why the hell not? If I keep praying, its not like I’m being disloyal to Nietzsche. And it certainly couldn’t hurt anything. I wasn’t killing anyone in the name of God or religion. The books around are glowing with the philosophers that would frown upon me. Sartre, Heidegger, Nietzsche, Kant, Camus… But if I am going to die, why not try something new?

“God… help me.”

“If you are real… please help me.”

“Amen.”

Well there it is… and obviously nothing is happening.

BOOM!

You have got to be kidding me! A little kid with a tablecloth tied around his neck just leapt onto the crook through the ceiling and tackled him to the ground! He’s punching him in the nose! How in the world did he get up to the ceiling? Everyone around him is helping out, including some guy that looks like captain Kirk! We’re going to be fine. Thanks to the heroics of some little kid with a plaid cape!

“Hey Jude, Don’t make it bad, take a sad song, and make it better…”

Ma, your little Jude-Bug failed you. But I’m one of the first people ever to leave a Barnes and Noble in handcuffs. Not only that, but I was stopped by a little kid with a cape dropping from the ceiling and his Trekkie sidekick. Right now the kid referring to himself as “Batchild” is living it up. He is holding a book over the top part of his face in order to conceal his identity, while answering the police officer’s questions. And his Trekkie sidekick is taking off his shirt… and he is throwing it in the trash. The guy actually told me to “live life and prosper.”

Barnes and Noble looks different when you have a knee in your back, blood in your eyes, and your face on the ground. It isn’t near as soothing as it used to be. Dr. Phil is a phony. Let’s see how he would react to ‘Batchild,’ or if his mother can’t even afford to buy a simple antibiotic. I’m done with him.

On the way out I got to soak up everything… All the emotion and satisfaction of those I would never hurt. I saw one woman in the Suspense/Thriller section on the phone… the same one that rushed to Batchild’s side shouting “I’ll save you!” once he made that ridiculous leap from the ceiling. After that she flopped on him and covered him with her whole body, like I was in any position to hurt him, after that dumb 8-year-old messed me up. She just kept saying “I love you honey, I love you honey, like she was about to get shot between the eyes. A little over dramatic if you ask me. And another man was in the Religion section reading God for Dummies with The Gay Science tucked under his arm… ironic.

Crap, I had no effect on anyone, anything, not even mom… that’s the way things are for me. Jude’s song is always a sad song. I wonder if the cops will cut me some slack once they find out the gun wasn’t even loaded. Because like I said before… I just don’t have it in me to hurt a soul… never will.

“Na Na Na Nanana Na!”