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I was never taught to see the favor of God as superceding the systems of men

From the time that I gave my life to God when I was 16 years-old, I've always felt different. I knew I was marked, I knew my life was branded forever, I knew I wasn't like the average person. I have often noticed that many Christians do not have the proper perspective on their rights and privileges as sons and co-heirs with Christ. It is interesting that "privilege" in this country is often assumed to be a negative thing. People scoff at those who've had the descriptor "privileged" bestowed on them. I've never quite understood why we've built up such an animosity for the "privileged". I spent most of my entire scholastic career amongst privileged individuals and even they began to despise their own privileged-ness. Most people in the United States of America are of the persuasion that certain people in this country are where they are today because of some nepotism, their race, their gender, their class, their educational background (which is usually dictated by class and race), and many other things. I can't say I disagree with that theory. What I will say is that I believe there is privilege in belonging to God that supercedes all other privileges and some.

Being that I am a black person, I can take this a step further and say that many black Christians have come to have more distrust in corrupt socially-generated systems than they have trust in the almighty God. Collectively as a people, we have turned to the government and other social institutions to meet many of our needs, and then turned around and placed blame on those very same institutions when they weren't doing what we thought they should do. Somehow the favor of God gets left out of all this. Speaking for all races, it seems we have come to be a nation of victims in many respects. We point our fingers in a number of different directions, blaming others for our present condition, or the choices and privileges we were denied. I am often bothered by Christians who spew this mythology of blame and dependence on "hand-outs" to rise to the proverbial top.

Every day I am becoming more aware of the always present reality that being a child of God has more rights, privileges, and responsibilities than anyone could ever imagine or keep track of. Not only do we not have to be subject to many of the corrupt schemes and systems that are holding so many back, we have power over them! We carry on our backs, a knapsack of favor and privilege everywhere we go. This knapsack we have isn't invisible; it's neon yellow, plain for the world to see. The favor of God on a person's life is perhaps the most beautiful thing. This knapsack isn't to be shown off or flaunted. It's to give God the glory and draw others to him.

Having this privilege as a child of God is definitely something we are accountable for. In fact, I think it's a travesty when we don't exercise our influence and keep that knapsack closed. I decided to take some time out to think about all the glorious privileges of God I've experienced in my life. In listing some of these out, I realize these are situations and certainties to which many others cannot lay claim. This is the essence of true privilege.

Continue reading "God Privilege: Recognizing & Utilizing the Neon-Colored Knapsack">>>

Posted in Life, Race | Permanent Link | Comments { 1 }

 

It's what I feel every single time I have to fill up my gas tank. Does ANYONE else think it is a horrible travesty to driving-kind that gas prices have sky-rocketed to the insane and gut-wrenching price at which they presently exist? Don't let me get started on gasoline. Everyone and their mother has their theory on why gas prices are so high, and you better believe they'll blame it on George W. Bush, his entire administration, and this "dang" war. I mean, doesn't everything trace back to that "evil wretch" of a president? Well, in fact no. Oh but wait, President Bush isn't really our president right? I rekon that even if we had a Democratic administration, Republicans would still be blamed for everything. We're a nation of victims I tell you. I have my theories around why I can feed a small village with the money I use to fill-up my tank. Most of my theories center somewhere around wicked people in low places, BET, Proctor & Gamble, Feed the Children, Bill Clinton, Al Roker, and the entire cast of Friends so let's just leave it at that. It's funny, I remember back in January when gas was around $1.65/gallon and I thought that was expensive. I vowed that if gas prices ever got to $2.00, I'd surrender my driving privileges indefinitely and take up public transportation (as crappy as it may be in Seattle). Well, gas is now about $2.05 here in Seattle and I can't say I've stopped driving much less. It's amazing how little we're willing to sacrifice for the things we say. Still, my wallet feels the agony.

More in the news of agony. Reporting to an employer. Call me rebellious, but I'm currently at the point where I am offended at the notion that even have to ask permission to go on vacation. Excuse me? Only two weeks you say? Pishawwww. This feeds right back into my plan of being in the financial position to retire (yes, I said retire) from working for another human being by this time next year. I am desperately in need of a challenge. This job is too dang easy and these people aren't paying me what my brain is worth.

And while we're on the subject of agony, let's talk about my impending wisdom teeth removal (a procedure I have put off about 4-5 years and for which I have still yet to make an appointment). All four of my wisdom teeth are in, visible and brushable. They are not impacted, they are not hurting me or anyone else, so let them be. I am certain God gave me them for a reason so stop trying to take them out!

Okay, enough about me and my problems. Funny thing happened today. It seems my website is the #2 search result (next to oprah.com) for any one of the combonations of "Marcus Dixon" "Kristie Brown" or "Rome, Georgia", referring to the widely publicized rape charges between those two parties and the recent release of Marcus Dixon from prison. This fact has left me with an inordinately high amount of first-time vistors who I'm sure were disappointed to find my ramblings on the state of education in our nation, birth control and Jesus Clothing. If you're here for that reason by the way, let me just be the first to welcome you and say you're truly welcome here today. I'd hug you if I could, but they haven't taken computers that far yet. Incidentally, I'm much nicer than I may sound on this website.

Posted in Life | Permanent Link

 

What is the weekend anyway? At one point in my life, I looked forward to these blissful two-days of sleeping in, pigging out, and doing absolutely nothing. Nowadays, I venture to say that my weekends are generally more busy than my weekdays. I sometimes have to get up on the weekends earlier than I do to go to work. This weekend was no different as it was packed with meetings, church and a host of other responsibilities. This didn't even account for the fact that mother's day was coming up.

(Caveat) I have a bone to pick with Hallmark, Shoebox, Dayspring and all the other greeting card manufacturers. CAN YOU GET ANY MORE GENERIC AND SAPPY? I had a doozy of a time locating a mother's day card that even fit my personality. I'm thinking of starting a greeting card company called "Sarcastic Greetings : for the person who just can't be serious". (By the way, that's intellectual property so don't you dare steal that idea). I'm all for sap but goll-y these greeting card writers are just horrendous. "Dearest Mother, for everything you've ever been to me, caring, sharing, throughout the years, I cherish you this day. Happy Mother's Day" Blah blah blah, excuse me while I go vomit. Then there's also the Christian or, excuse me shall I say "Religious and Inspirational" cards, which I swear aren't even written by real Christians. Someone picked a random Psalm or Proverb, slapped it on a greeting card, called it "Inspirational", and charged $4.99 for it. We've got work to do in the greeting card industry. (end Caveat)

As I was originally stating, this once again proved to be a busy weekend for me. Even though I had a Saturday morning meeting, I was looking forward to sleeping in until a comfortable time of 9:00 am. I'm certain you can imagine my excitement as I never get to sleep in this late. I was nestled under my very nice down comforter, enjoying that sweet, perfect, rest; we're talking good sleep, like in Jesus' bosom, like better than popsicles, never-wake-me-up rest. It was heavenly. So imagine my dismay when at 7:45 am on a Saturday morning, my phone rang. Surely I thought that someone in my family must be losing blood and on their way to the hospital for my phone to be ringing that early on a Saturday morning. Instead I hear,

"Hi this is Josh calling from the Fireman's Fund, how are you today?"

Anger. Rage. Fury. Irritation.

Me: I'm asleep
Josh: Oh really?
Me: It is SEVEN FORTY-FIVE on a Saturday morning, I'm ASLEEP Josh.
Josh: "Yeah I've gotten that a lot this morning."
Me: Maybe it's because you're calling people at the buttcrack of dawn on the weekend.
Josh: Oh well, I apologize for that, what I'm really calling you about today is...
Me: Save it. I'm not interested.
Josh: Well you don't even know what I'm going to ask you!

Me: Yes I do.
Josh: No you don't. Well then tell me?
(freeze frame) Now I know this monkey-fool is not trying to argue with a complete stranger who he JUST WOKE UP about what I do and do not know. (continue)
Me: (in a half-dazed slumber) You're going to ask me to give money. The answer is no. Good-bye
Josh: You don't want to support your local firemen?
Me: No Josh. I don't. Good-bye (click)
---------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Firemen's Fund:

Please inform your volunteer staff that if they desire any sane citizen to donate their hard-earned finances to your organization, it advisable that your staff not wake them up by calling early on a Saturday morning or any morning for that matter and proceed to heckle them about their giving. Most people won't be as nice. Neither will I next time.

Kindly Pissed-Off,
A Concerned Citizen

Posted in Life | Permanent Link

 

Oy vey. It's May 3rd and still no new weblog format and publishing platform. What in Sam Hill happened to the month of April? Is it just me or did that month barely take its coat off to stay awhile? No one ever tells you that life after high school is a downward spiral of time. For me, time is that carrot dangling in front of me on a string that I can never quite catch up with. I've actually started getting 5-year reunion notices in the mail (silly to come together after only five years before the kids, the marriages, the divorces, and the money) and it still freaks me out quite a bit. This adult stuff can be frightening at times to say the least. When I originally started this weblog, I wanted it to be a steroid injected version of my brain (which is very random and sometimes quite offensive), as well as a place for me to vent my daily discoveries of the reality of being a grown-up. Trust me when I say there are lots of discoveries I could write a rather humorous book about. There are the little things no one ever tells you like the perils of buying bed sheets. Whoever knew that there were 1,645 different kinds of sheets? There's flannel, jersey-knit, 200 thread count, 300 thread count, 600 thread count, Egyptian Cotton, satin, and even sateen. If you want to ruin a new adult's self-esteem, just send them to the store to buy sheets. It will singelhandedly send them crying home, begging for mercy. I don't know how men do this. I'm a woman, and I found it mentally taxing and rather expensive. Some semi-nice sheets will run you at least $50-100 easy (unless you're a savings sleuth like me). Part of me wonders how the Ku Klux Klan ever cut up all those perfectly good white sheets. Somewhere there was a mother who was not too happy with her white supremecist son. (This'll make for some interesting search engine boolean) I am now proud to report that I am a strict adherer to a sheet thread count of no less than 300. However, I had to sleep on sandpaper and wake up with rug burn on my face before I realized there was indeed a big difference.

Then there's this whole issue of co-habitation. My friends are starting to get married, and God help us all when they start having babies because that might be too much for me to handle. Last summer, I dropped a small fortune on wedding gifts and I'm not looking forward to doing the same again for the next 10 years of my life. Yes, I am coming to the realization that I'm getting old. I realize that I am young, and scoff if you will at my saying this, but I really am getting old. I say this with a great deal of pride and intrepidation. I'm never going to be one of those people who lies on their driver's license and hushes birthday well-wishers in an effort to conceal their age. In fact, I absolutely love birthdays and wear my age like a badge. This is mostly because many people think I am 12 years old and if I don't wear my age, they wouldn't let me register to vote. As every month passes by, it puts me even closer to the dreaded day when I shall turn 23; an evil prime number I've come to detest since my youth (I've always felt uneasy about the lack of wholesomeness in prime numbers). Call me crazy, but I'd rather be 24 than 23.

I'm living to learn that time doesn't just fly when you're having fun. It also flies when you're not having fun, when you're complacent, when you're bored, and when you're asleep. Time just flat out flies. I currently work for a great, reputable company run on some very sound and moral principles. I have a nice job with great benefits, 401(k), profit sharing, stock options, great stuff. To top it off, I work with a great team of people who more or less support my career goals (those they know of). More recently I've come from behind my desk and begun facilitating and training which is my true heart and passion and being the extroveret I am, I could do it all day every day, no complaints. But if you asked me what percentage of my skill, talent, and ability is in use at my current job, I'd say about 6%. In fact, most Americans would probably give a figure less than 30%. Now for me, 6% is just plain sad. That's 94% of me going to waste. Though by many people's standards, I have a great job, I just can't see being here 5 more years, let alone 35 years, climbing the nasty corporate ladder, all for a silly retirement package? Nice try. In my adult life there is one factor here that I don't like and never imagined: I work for someone else. That will all change soon. I had a big reality check when I met with my senior a few weeks ago about my yearly merit-increase. It seems in my class, I've topped out the pay. There's no more money for me to make in my current position. This is it. I've made it. The end of the line. You should have seen me in that meeting when she told me this.

Blink.
Blink. Blink.
"What?"

All I could do was blink. And leave the room. This is the American Dream? Very funny lady. I'm so out of here. That was enough of a kick in the butt for me to stop being so comfortable in my cushy job and make it happen for myself. Thank God I had this realization at 22 and not 43.

Posted in Life | Permanent Link

 

Things That Bother Me

1. People who don't know how to yield on the sidewalk
   
2. Macrome anything
   
3. Parents who engage in dialogue with their 2-year-old in the grocery store aisle about potential discipline, "Now, Aaron, I'm going to need you to stop knocking the cans of the shelves please. Mommy's going to count to five or else you're going to have a time-out" This is not the Dr. Phil show so please, stop with the psychology.
   
4. Trendy Books (A Purpose-Driven Life, Fast Food Nation, you get the jist)
   
5. People who stand in the same place and relentlessly pass out flyers to their latest "Poetry Jam", which is usually an excuse for a bunch of pseudo-deep people to wrap cloth around their heads and get together in a dark room, under the haze of incense and scent of patchouli, and stroke eachother's artistic egos, snap their fingers and complain about opression.
   
6. Metermaids = evil spawn of satan
   
7. People who talk on their cell phones in restaurants
   
8. People who eat cottage cheese and pineapples (gross!)
   
9. Internet shorthand (So, R U gonna go 2 the store 2day? OK, I'll brb. LOL)
   
10. NAACP

11. When Halatosis Jim tries to invade my personal space by talking to me within 2 milimeters of my face
    
12. 38-year-old women who shop in the Junior's department
    
13. Booger Eaters
    
14. Public wedgie-pickers
    
15. People who don't know the difference between merge and yield
    
16. People who read the nutritional facts of the very good meal I'm about to enjoy out loud to me, "Did you know this has 300 grams of fat and 100 mg's of salt!? Ohmygoodness and the calories!" Shuddup already and let me be. I have a good metabolism okay.
    
17. Belligerent Bikeriders

Posted in Life | Permanent Link

 

Should Jesus' name be on clothing? Well, in light of recent discussion on the ever-popular, "Jesus is My Homeboy" t-shirts, I thought an interesting issue has been broached. Now let's take our minds off those particular t-shirts for just a moment. Let's also take our minds off of Jesus slingshots (though I've never seen them), and any other repulsive or disgusting things that Urban Outfitters is currently selling, plans on selling, or has sold in the past. By the way, they are not the only ones who sell the shirts, but we're not thinking about the shirts anyway so...moving on. There is a greater issue I'd like to discuss. I know it's hard, but please just try. I know it is difficult for many people to take off the stuffy fundamentalist/traditionalist hat too, but I need you to try to do that too. Just for a moment. I took off mine a year or so ago and boy did it feel good. I had "hat hair" but hey, it went away in a couple of weeks.

Many people have taken issue with things of the shall we say "Christian" nature being marketed. I used to hang around a group of people who scoffed at things like Jesus movies, pencils, erasers, books, calendars, and the like. I'm with you, a lot of that stuff is just plain tacky. This is usually because it's poorly designed. My problem here is less with the fact that Jesus' name is being marketed and more with the fact that it's being done in a crappy way. Whatever happened to the spirit of excellence folks? Ahem, remember Daniel, ring any bells? Anyway. (I hope the producers of Left Behind and the Omega Code are reading this). I too can be numbered among the scoffers. This is where we become "Christian elitists" (myself included). Some people take issue with people profiting off of anything around, near, or pertaining to Jesus. We cry "sac-relig!" and wave our hands in disgust. To you I shall wave adieu from the other end of the thought spectrum. I myself figure that since I do not intend on putting my hands to do anything that doesn't incorporate Jesus, I would be one broke son-of-a-gun if I don't make some money by lifting up the name of Jesus in all that I do. (Yes, I do realize there's room for argument there, and probably some major conceptual holes, but this is my blog dangit so I'm just gonna say it how I think it).

Continue reading "On Behalf of the Jesus Clothing Donners">>>

Posted in Culture, Life, Theocracy | Permanent Link

 

It always amazes me what things people can get away with writing on the internet. Last year or so, I became a semi-frequent visitor and poster at an interesting, relevant although sometimes questionably Christian messageboard. I can't tell you how many times I thought to myself, "I'm entirely way too cool for this". But I kept posting nonetheless and when I'd had my last share of circular discussions on whether or not Christians should drink, smoke, swear, vote Democrat, vote Republican or have pre-marital sex, all conversations which I find utterly ridiculous, I left. I definitely met some cool peeps, but my patience ran thin and liberty of thought and profundity became the exception and not the rule (in my opinion). Then I got hip to the blogging trend and I started reading and posting comments on other peoples' blogs. Whoever is responsible for allowing the masses to so easily become pundits should be shot. If you are like me, and take most all you read on the internet with a grain of salt, then you can remain unaffected by the peons who spout bogus untruths via their weblogs. However, for the poor souls whose life is swayed by most all the internet has to offer, I feel obligated to tell them that there are idiots on the internet too. Myself included at times.

The internet is a powerful medium whereby anyone, with just a lick of common sense can publish just about anything they so desire, barring any direct threats towards the President or a trickling indication that you might want to blow up stuff. I have come to the decision that internet, while being a great place for peeps like me to express their thoughts to the masses, is also a place where the cowardly trolls come to dwell. You know, the people who, behind the cloak of anonymity leave rude and annoying comments on people's blogs; write spiteful emails or hateful and ill-informed op-ed's on the New York Times, or tout bad theology on messageboards and poorly-designed websites. Reveal yourself oh silent rogues, oh wretched miscreants!

It reminds me of that scene in the Wizard of Oz where "The Wizard" is finally revealed to be a tiny man talking into a microphone. That is the reality of so many that dwell on the internet. Even revealing one's true name is not real indentification. I challenge that a good percentage of bloggers/internet writers wouldn't say a lot of what they've written in a public setting, or even to another person's face for that matter. Now me? Call me crazy, but I feel quite certain that I would feel comfortable reading my blog verbatim to a group of ultra-radical, liberal, Ph.D, homosexual, Jesse Jackson-loving, Britney Spears-listening atheists from San Francisco with loaded guns and fresh tomatoes in hand. That could also just be my personality.

Don't get me wrong, I think it is valuable that much of what is on the web, may not have been otherwise spoken by timid individuals who've found a voice behind some html code. But the other part of me wonders if there's not something wrong with the fact that many people will never be able to put some flesh to their words. This post-modern generation is a lot more hesitant to connect their bodies with their values and beliefs. People think these little wimpy protests, marches and hunger strikes these days are really powerful. In my opinion, they don't compare to the major sacrifice many in the world have endured for the sake of what they believe (no matter how silly they were). However, I challenge that when the rubber meets to road, few people would be willing to die for what they believe or the controversy of what they write.

Posted in Culture, Life | Permanent Link

 

My name is Ambra (crowd responds, "Hi Ambra!") and I am a procrastinator. I've had this problem since birth. My mother was in the delivery room for many many hours simply because I was intent on waiting until the absolute last minute to come down the birth canal. I am certain I had good reason as I do for all my occasions of procrastination. Maybe the amniotic fluid was warmer than usual that day and I wanted to stay in just a little bit longer. I still came out right on time! Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those people that does a half-"Biblical word for donkey" job on everything. I am an absolute perfectionist with a procrastination problem. The result of that combonation is a horrendously insane and pyschotic person who self-imposes temporary spurts of miserableness, adreneline rushes, and dictatorship to get things done.

In high school I mastered the art of the one-hour term paper. That is, the 2000-word essay that even if it may seem as though I put in some good hard work, was only written about 30 minutes ago, proofread, spell-checked and on your desk as promised. I wasn't the only one who possessed this talent. By Spring of my senior year, my entire graduating class could whip out an expository essay on The Great Gatsby with one hand on the steering wheel, driving to school. I probably would've written my valediction speech the night before graduation if it weren't for the fact that I had to have it approved a week earlier by an advisor (who by the way, probably just wanted to make sure I wasn't planning on preaching hellfire and brimstone during commencement). In high school, procrastination was sweet. It was a carefree life with little to no consequences.

I soon found out that I could carry my procrastination over to college. In fact, in college it was even more rewarding. The "one-hour term paper" became the night-before-it's-due 90-page research thesis. My peak time was Midnight to 4am the day before it was due. That's when I wrote every last one of my papers in college. It became a game to me. I had my strategy down. Caffeine, a little prayer, some music, and my laptop was all I needed. There was a rush about staying up all night to write a paper and then crashing the next morning. In all honesty, I can say that was when I pushed out some of my best work. I suprisingly had about 80% less grammatical errors when I wrote in a half sleep-deprived haze. Procrastination became my drug. I needed more. Give something, please, anything on which to procrastinate. Another assignment due in two months you say? Sure! That'll give me plenty of time to re-decorate my room. How about buying my plane ticket home for winter break, why not wait until the last minute and use priceline.com? Maybe you'll get a first class seat Ambra. Or better yet, maybe you'll get a flight with 23 connections on Southwest Airlines. Plus, it'll be fun to see how nervous you can make your parents when you tell them you don't have a plane ticket yet. So I must have my housing deposit in by the 10th of the month at noon you say? Well, "University Housing", you will be glad to know that I am currently training for a triatholan so I will be waiting until 11:45am on the 10th in order to leave myself enough time sprint across campus, run 11 flights of stairs and turn in my deposit. I actually needed the excercise anyway.

Then I became an adult, and procrastination wasn't humorous anymore. Oh how the tax man cometh. Filling out a 1040 form is not like writing a term paper. Funny how I am reminded of this reality on April 15, Tax Day of all days. It was only three days ago that I phoned my accountant to do my taxes. I filed on April 12th this year and that's a vast improvement from last year.

Posted in Life | Permanent Link

 

When a company looks at its sucess I assume there's a number of things they use to measure productivity. I doubt companies are tracking the number of their employees who are smokers. If I owned a company, I sure would. Many of the "smokers" in my company spend approximatey 20% of their work day outside of the building, on the loading dock, smoking like chimneys. Do keep in mind that this is above and beyond their normal breaks. One would think an employee who's stepping away from their desk every 45 minutes is not the most productive -- especially if their job is not analyitcal, but more systematic. I don't doubt they're good people and good workers, but they sure do cost the company a lot of money while they're outside feeding their addictions.

When I was in college I worked as a waitress (a job that singlehandedly beat the crap out of me and made me a more compassionate person), and EVERYONE on staff was a chain smoker. Keep in mind, this was actually a somewhat good thing since they had all once been alcoholics and drug addicts (it's one addiction for another I guess). I know it sounds odd, but understand, the restaurant manager was a former alcoholic and invited most of her AA meeting buddies to come on staff. When I noticed that I was being shafted in my break time because I didn't smoke, I started demanding "clean-air breaks". I'd go outside and just breathe. This of course, bothered my co-workers, but they took the hint. Employees and their "issues" can most certainly have an impact on the bottom-line. Like for example, the number of employees who have personal weblogs. Now that could really affect productivity.

Posted in Life | Permanent Link

 

I spent most of last week conducting some training in Dallas, Texas. I've got about 10 posts stored up as I missed out on some juicy news. Texas was probably on my list for the top 5 places I'd never want to live (along with Idaho, North Dakota, Iowa, and Utah). I am certain there are places in Texas that could very well be on that list; like Fort Worth or some of the other cities where the bottom-dwelling hicks live. But Dallas, Texas has now become one of my favorite places and this is why:

1. They have a Chapel in the airport

2. The presence of two fast food chains: Chik-fil-A and Whataburger (who sells biscuits with chicken strips by the way. Biscuits!!!)
   
3. White people who know how to barbeque and eat grits
   
4. Peach cobbler and collard greens sold in the airport restaurants
   
5. Being repeatedly called "Ma'am" by most everyone in a business establishment, including the gas station clerk.
   
6. the presence of Christian bookstores within a 5 mile radius
   
7. Four bedroom, 3 bathroom, 2500 square ft. homes for sale at the sickeningly low price of $175,000 (you'd be lucky to buy a 350 sq ft condo in Seattle for that price)
   
8. The surprising number of "I Love Texas" bumper stickers I noticed let me know there's a bit of state pride goin' on. I dig that.
   
9. Not nearly as many women with gaudy jewelry and big hair as I expected.
   
10. No tree-huggers. This is mostly because there are no trees to hug, but their absence was appreciated nonetheless.
    
11. Primetime starts at 7:00 pm (it took me half of my trip to figure out why I kept missing the Cosby Show)

Posted in Life | Permanent Link