Surly's Soap Box

I kind of feel sorry for the poor saps stuck working retail this time of year. Just think: With in the first hour of work you've heard all 12 Christmas songs over the P.A., and for the next seven you get to listen to them again. Over and over and over again. Then you get to come back and do it again tomorrow.

If they are 'fortunate' enough to have a radio station playing, they get to hear the twelve Christmas songs over and over again done by different artists. Joy!

I wonder if the amount of Christmas music one has to listen to (not wants to) is directly related to the holiday rise in suicides.

So the nest time you have to deal with the drone behind the counter or cash register, remember what they are subjected to daily for a month before the holiday.

Pamela Anderson, Kid Rock to divorce

1: Everyone passing me doing over 75 mph was yakking on a cell phone.

2: Everyone who, for no apparent reason, hit their breaks and swerved across two lanes of traffic to come to a dead stop along side the interstate was yakking on a cell phone.

3: Everyone whose cars made inexplicable little jerks, bobs, and weaves that caused everyone else on the highway to stand on their breaks and break out into a cold sweat was talking on a cell phone.

4: While cell phones have given us mobility and freedom, it is still okay to write a grocery list before going to the store.

5: While the new hands free, blue tooth(?) cell phone devices have given us mobility and freedom to use both hands while talking, it is not, nor will it every be, acceptable to keep talking will using a urinal. Really. There must be a line drawn somewhere.

Otherwise, turkey is still turkey, gravey is still gravey, and if you are ever in Lincoln, you must go to De Leon's for Mexican. They have a couple locations, but we went to the one on 27th just north of Vine. Open 24/7 and serving up some of the best Chili Rellenos to be found.

The Church I belong to has a tradition of having an open mic the Sunday before Thanksgiving to allow people to offer up praise reports, thanks givings and stuff like that. So I had a short message prepared to fill in for when you get those moments of uncomfortable silence.

When that time came, I shared a bit about a divine healing I about 10-12 years ago: First off, I have to let you know that I used to suffer from major depression. The kind of depression where you lay in bed for days and on occasion wonder just how many sleeping pills it would take.

Anyway, I was at a prayer meeting, and when the speaker invited people down to the alter for prayer, I went. Now, this guy had no idea that I had the trouble with depression that I did, but when he laid hands on me, he said that God was showing him that I had a congenital spine defect that was responsible for a life time of pain and depression and God wanted to heal me of it. I then felt the power of God flowing through my back. It was like a divine chiropractor. I walked out of that meeting a free man.

For about a year, I lived free from depression, but then it began to creep back into my life. I started having downer days. Nothing like what I had experienced before, but depression none the less. One thing I noticed is that it came on strong if I had sin in my life (as we all do, but sometimes we relish in it), or maybe a situation, a deja vu experience that would remind me of negative times from the past, or rejection or something like that.

A lot of times, the depression drove me to deeper intimacy with the Lord. Other times, I dug in deep into the Word. Sometimes, I would have to get honest and do some repenting.

But in this last battle with depression, none of the above worked. I prayed. I became incredibly introspective, turning over every rock. I read the Bible. I prayed some more, but nothing brought relief. I even went so far as to post on it.

Then, a couple things happened, by no means coincidence (coincidence is when God chooses to remain anonymous): I started paying more attention to the Armor of God (Eph 6:10-18), and I recieved a call from the Reverend Mother.

Both my study and her phone call placed emphasis on the ...sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. I realized that I needed to use the word of God as a weapon against the depression, and in particular, praise.

So I began deliberately praising God, proclaiming his greatness, awesomeness, power and strength. I declared who I was in Him. I sang, with purpose, hymns.

The depression lifted. And now I have another "arrow in my quiver" in battling the enemy. See, maybe "oppression" is the better word. There are times when I feel like I'm being suffocated or drowned, and that comes from the outside. It's like having a bird perched on your shoulder whispering "your worthless", "your stupid" all day long. That sounds like an attack from the enemy to me, and now I'm better prepared. I shared this with the church, and shared that this doesn't just apply to depression/oppression, but anxiety, lust, whatever someone may be suffering from. It's not a cure all, just another tool.

So...Blessings Everyone!

A few days ago I made a confession here on The Soap Box that I had been suffering from depression. I just wanted to make a quick post that I am doing much better, and want to thank all those who wrote, called, and prayed. I'd like to go into it more, but I don't have time this evening. But I will, because I think that what I learned the last few days will be an encouragement to others. At least I'm hoping so, because I'm preaching on it this Sunday.

Special thanks to the Stewart family.

The bummer, or paradox, or irony, or crappy thing about being a Christian and being a life long sufferer of depression is that as a Christian, I have access to the true source of Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness and Self-control, (Gal 5:22-23) and still finding myself going through a "long, dark tea time of the soul". Then to confound things, I get angry with myself for being depressed, which leads to more...depression.

I have been depressed for close to a month now. My creative juices have dried up(hence the sparse and unentertaining posting) and God seems miles away, even though I know that He is never more than an arms length away, and yet...

I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.

I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.

Lamentations 3:19-20

It goes on...

Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."

The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;

it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the LORD.

Lamentations 3:21-26

I know that there is nothing of this world that will truly fill the void. Booze? Nope. Drugs? Nope. Sex? Nope. Buying myself stuff? For awhile, but then I get my credit card bill and I'm depressed again. No, my hope is in Him, so I choose to wait upon His salvation. I'm not very good at the quiet part: I beg God for His deliverance, I cry out for His hand of Mercy to heal me. I stomp and throw fits. I demand. But where else am I going to go but to the Lord? He has never failed to save me, so I will trust Him.

That's right, the 'stache is back. Foolishly I trimmed it last summer to satisfy some catering customers, and after months of preening (actually, none what so ever), I've got "a hirsute appendage of the upper lip, with graspable extremities".

One thing about moustaches such as this: You've got to wear them with a smile. When you frown, the handlebar hangs above your lip like on of those cheesy, fake costume ones. But when you smile, it comes to life, drawing everything together, like it is fully a part of your face. Handlebars just say happy!

Now that I have a job that has me traveling all over 'The Cities', I've met a lot of guys with some really cool 'staches. It's kind of an instant brotherhood. I'm thinking it might be time to start a Handlebar Moustache Club of Minnesota. I could make up some business card, have monthly meetings, contests, and so on.

After all, it's not like my life isn't busy enough!

Well, Sweeter Half just reminded me that I ought to be focusing on next week's sermon instead of gloating.

A gal I know, whose Marine son just returned from Iraq, shared an interesting point of view on the war: We have been spending too much time trying to win the hearts and minds of the Iraqi's when we should be teaching them to fear us.

If they feared us, they would get serious about cracking down on the terrorist and policing themselves, but they don't even really respect us because every time something bad happens, we're out there kissing everyone's butts trying to apologize.
And now with the Dem's in charge, we'll become even a great embarrassment by abandoning them once again, just like Bush I.

We'll be fighting them in our own alleys before long.

I blame Enron for...no real reason at all.

Well, the Republicans had it handed to 'em. But hey, this stuff goes in cycles. We probably need a couple years of high taxes, loosing the war in Iraq, terrorist attacks here in the U.S. (it's coming, it's coming), approval of prartial-birth abortions and 'harvesting' embryos for junk science. All in the names of 'progress'. Tax the rich to feed the poor until there are no rich no more (as the song goes).

I blame Walmart. Ya got some of the richest people in the world who won't cough up for decent health insurance for their employees.

Do I want Congress to pass laws forcing them to cough up? Hell no. I want them to see the error and hypocracy of their ways on their own.

Okay, maybe Walmart isn't to blame. But something is wrong with the conservative movement in the U.S., particularly here in Minnesota when the Republican Gov can win but the Republican Senatorial candidate looses by 20 points.

People more connected than I will make those observations, but I will be reading what they are saying.

Not a blog. Not an event. The hyper intelligent Four year old.

Four years old. She makes me feel young and old at the same time. I think about the things I've seen in her in such a short time: The day she realized her foot was connected to her body, not just some random object that came into view on occasion. Her first belly laugh. Learning to talk as quickly as we could teach her sign language. Walking at 9 months.

Four years old. Old enough for a booster seat instead of a car seat. Preschool. Legally, she can ride on the back of a motorcycle now! (Sweeter Half? Do ya hear me?)

There are a lot of those development mile stones, but the spiritual ones leave even a deeper impact on me. There was a time not so long ago when she explained to me that Jesus lived in her heart because she believed in him and prayed to him. This isn't because we are indoctrinating her, as we seldom talk to her about salvation type issues. She just listens and takes it in. Then there is her praying when she hears an ambulance or a fire engine. Someone might be in trouble or hurt, you know. And then there is the way she beseeches God for a baby brother. "Lord, please, please, please!"

Yup, she has definitely been a blessing to me. So, instead of sitting in front of the computer all evening, we are going out to dinner. Granted, we're going to Perkins where kids eat free on Tuesdays, but she doesn't know her old man is a cheapskate.

Here is my current favorite picture of her, taken this week end while raking leaves.

Mohamed, Buddha, Krishna, and a slew of other false gods, along with Satan, decided that they where going to attack the Bride of Christ while she was dancing in a field of lilies. They grabbed their clubs, black jacks, brass knuckles, and torches, then proceeded in angry mob fashion over the hill to the field. When they got to the top of the hill, they dropped the implements of roguery because they didn't need to use them: The Christians where already there, pummeling her.

Yup, the Bride O' Christ took another gut punch, at the hands of the one of the faithful. It's bad enough that we've got people like Fred Phelps and The Politician Jesse Jackson who are constantly running up behind her and slapping her across the back of the head, but when people who get themselves out there in the limelight pull stunts like getting back rubs and buying meth from a homosexual masseuse, come one! Buddy, the more the light shines on ya, the darker the shadow!

Look, people are people. We are a fallen people and none are above sin. Thank God for His awesome grace and mercy! In the church of 12,000 that Ted Haggard was pastoring, there where undoubtedly practicing homosexuals, unmarrieds living together, thieves, prideful individuals, lawyers...It's the fallen nature of man. That doesn't make it alright. But when you put yourself in a public position, you better make sure that you are walking the walk. The press isn't going to care about Joe Shmoe, but they do care about Teddy Haggard. When Joe stumbles, it creates a minor ripple, affecting those around him. Still bad news. When Ted stumbles, well, it's like a gut punch to the Bride. Not because he was somebody special, but becuase it gives the Enemy another chance to drag the name of Christ through the mud.

I came close though: Someone from Minnesota won it, and I had a ticket. That's pretty darn close, if you ask me.