Don’t Try to be This Holy at Home

PRIME RIB! PRIME RIB! PRIME RIB!

Time to put the roast in the Showtime oven!!!!!

Another Miracle? Ho Hum.

How many times do I have to write a blog post that begins with me saying that God has freaked me out?

I guess I’ll never stop.

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, for the people who just want to read about tools, food, and politics), I can’t say much about the things that are freaking me out this week. They involve problems another person is having. I am working on a solution to some debilitating, life-ruining difficulties in another person’s life, and as he so often does, God is hammering me with one “coincidence” after another. And this time, my dad has a front-row seat. He can rationalize nearly any move of God away, but this one will be a special challenge. Man, I wish I could blog it.

My church is having a ten p.m. service tonight, and I would rather die than stay up past 9:30, but I’m going to go. I want to be there to show my gratitude for the things that are happening to me and around me.

I walked by faith back in ’84, when I lived on Kibbutz Geva. I never knew what I was doing as I made my way across Europe and to the kibbutz, but I found that as I continued putting one foot in front of the other, things simply worked out. When I returned to the US, that all stopped. I started to get it together about 20 years ago, but I abandoned ship because I got offended. Lately, I’ve been getting back on track. And once again, God seems to be right over my right shoulder, steering me around obstacles and opening doors. This is what life is supposed to be like, but it’s hard to make your mind up to live this way.

Yesterday a guy asked me if I wanted to write a book about his life. This happened as a result of the problems I mentioned above. I was in his office, trying to get help for someone else, and he dropped this question on me out of the blue. In front of my father! Incredible. I want to do it. I’m sure it’s a good project. I don’t know if there is any cash in it, but it’s exactly the kind of thing I want to do with my life from now on.

The person with the problems doesn’t know it, but a “perfect storm” of God’s contrivance has developed. Circumstances and timing are arranging themselves in such an extraordinary, odds-defying manner that this person will have no choice but to make a defining decision that will either end the problems or lead to perdition. Either way, the boil is coming to a head, and the collateral damage–the torment that has bled outward onto other people–is going to be cut off abruptly.

Day is going to break for me, and it will probably break for my father, because of the effect this spectacle will have on him. The only doubtful issue is whether it will break for the afflicted person. That depends on free will. God can be extremely persuasive, however, so I am not losing hope. God blinded Paul in order to wake him up. He has penetrated some very bony heads (mine included) and crushed many revolting egos. Defiance requires effort and strength, and God knows how to weaken people who need to be humbled. He put Lester Sumrall on a deathbed when he was in his teens. He has put many people on the floors of rehab facilities and jails. He has twisted a lot of arms in order to turn people around, and it often works. It’s a mistake to overestimate the impregnability of free will.

The other day I saw an Internet video where some guy was asking Kari Jobe questions, and she grinned and said God was “just wrecking” her life. I know what she meant. When God moves powerfully and quickly, it can be like an episode of Extreme Makeover, only without the ensuing foreclosure and divorce and arrests, because God does a better job than ABC.

If I will just listen, my life will be on rails from now on.

Dinner was fantastic. The pig was gorgeous. Everyone loved the flan. And Val’s aunt made ambrosia, which is…a COINCIDENCE…because Mike was asking me for a recipe yesterday. Maybe I can get her to spill the beans.

Talked to Val’s wife Maggie again about visiting church. I’m going to get them. And their little dog, too. Wait and see.

I have to poke Marv before I get in the truck. Merry Christmas Eve.

Entry Removed

I decided to take down the post I wrote last night because I have a long list of things of which I am repenting, and one of them is mocking people. If I keep cutting back on speech and writing that offends God, there may be little left for me to say or write, but I want to be serious about changing. Sorry your comments had to be dragged down with the entry.

I’m about to get in the car and help Val Prieto put together a pig roast. I’m also delivering two delicious coconut flans. No time to blog.

Pre-Christmas Gift

This is a beautiful day.

Yesterday I did something stupid. I slipped a little. This morning I was afraid it would interfere with my walk with God. Instead, I had a remarkable morning prayer session. I felt surges of new faith with regard to issues with which I needed help. I got mercy.

This makes sense. The Bible predicts this kind of thing. The 32nd psalm says, “Many sorrows shall be to the wicked, but he that trusteth in the Lord, mercy shall compass him about.” And there are other passages that make it clear that God will overlook missteps when you are earnestly and habitually seeking to do his will.

I worked on memorizing that psalm today, and this part turned out to be particularly significant: “Thou art my hiding place. Thou shalt preserve me from trouble.” God doesn’t speak idle words. He means everything he says. This verse is not just something he told us to make us feel good. It’s a contract more reliable than the US Constitution (especially under the Obama administration). I thought about this verse today while I was asking for God’s protection, and I felt waves of faith telling me that today, God is preserving me from trouble. I don’t know what’s up, but I know he is looking out for me, and that I’ll be protected.

This psalm is extremely instructive. When I first started working on memorizing it, I didn’t really understand it. It’s about protection and forgiveness, and that’s obvious, but what it’s really about is the necessity of admitting guilt. It says God may make you completely miserable while you pretend you have no sin, and that you will get relief and protection if you confess completely (without guile) and ask for forgiveness. It elaborates, saying God will teach you and guide you, but only if you allow yourself to be taught. Otherwise, “many sorrows.”

“When I kept silence, my bones waxed old through my roaring, all the day long. For day and night, thy hand was heavy upon me. My moisture is turned into the drought of summer.” That means a person who won’t admit fault before God will suffer and will not receive mercy.

“I acknowledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord, and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin. For this shall every one that is godly pray unto thee in a day when thou mayest be found. Surely in the floods of great waters they shall not come near unto him.” Confess and be forgiven, and God will stop afflicting you and begin protecting you.

It disturbs me when people I know tell me they haven’t sinned. What they say is that they haven’t sinned, but what I hear is, “God, punish and frustrate me until I want to die. Make me poor, let me be alone, take my house, and give me diseases. Give me neurosis, anxiety, depression, and conflict. Make me unable to enjoy the good things in my life; turn them into liabilities. And let me lose to people I should beat.”

I believe God deals with us the way caring people deal with addicts. We get a certain amount of slack, and if we don’t repent, God backs away and lets us fall. The 141st psalm says, “Let the righteous smite me; it shall be a kindness: and let him reprove me; it shall be an excellent oil, which shall not break my head.” Sometimes punishment is literally better than gold. In fact, material success can be the worst poison there is. It robs you of the incentive to change and confirms your self-destructive inclinations. Look at Elvis and Michael Jackson. If they had hit bottom instead of being inundated with money and power, they might be alive today. Look at Chris Farley and John Belushi.

It’s always tough to know how to deal with rebellious people. We’re supposed to intercede, and we’re not supposed to be like Jonah, who wanted bad people to be punished. But Paul turned a rebellious man over to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, and Elisha cursed his servant with leprosy for conniving to take money from a man Elisha healed. Sometimes standing between another person and punishment is actually evil.

I am grateful for many of the bad things that have happened to me. I’ve learned a lot from them. It won’t hurt others to go through similar things.

Mercy is wonderful, and I’m glad whenever I receive it. But a lot of people have been saved by a good dose of God’s belt.

Holiday Prayer

I just had a visit from Val Prieto. He was borrowing a cooler to marinate this year’s lechon for Noche Buena. His mom is having health problems, including a hernia. If you would like to offer a prayer, he would appreciate it.

Thanks in Advance

If any of you can direct me to good Christ-centered help with dealing with addicts, I would appreciate it. Books, websites, organizations…I want to learn all I can. Thank you.

How Charismatic Christianity Looks From Inside

Today I got a comment from a longtime reader who is considering looking for the baptism of the Holy Spirit. I thought I should write a few things, because I’m sure other people are curious.

There are a lot of people who claim the baptism and tongues are demonic. If that is the case, every believer in the New Testament who received the baptism was a demon-possessed heretic, because every Spirit-baptized believer in the New Testament spoke in tongues. Some spoke in earthly languages others recognized, for the purpose of glorifying God before potential converts, but others spoke words no one understood and which were never intended to be understood. This is clear from Paul’s writings.

If you don’t believe in charismatic Christianity but you read this blog and applaud the changes in my life, maybe you need to ask yourself why you’re enabling a heretic who may be on his way to hell. I have had the baptism for almost a quarter of a century, so if it’s a demon, he has had a long time to corrupt me and turn me into Satan’s tool. With that in mind, let me say this: BOO!

Prayer in tongues has been a big part of my life over the last couple of years. If you have been reading this blog for a long time, think about the difference between 2009 and 2005. Do I seem MORE evil now? Do I seem LESS free? Less happy? More tormented?

Please. If this is the devil’s doing, maybe he’s not such a bad guy. Surely you don’t believe that.

Back in the Eighties, I grew a lot in the Spirit. But I quit going to church, and I quit praying, both with my mind and in the Spirit. So I atrophied as a Christian. The result was a highly critical, angry person who wrote very funny but unproductive things. Over the last couple of years, I have spent more and more time praying in the Spirit, and I think the improvement in me is hard to miss. I did not do this myself. It offends me when people say I did, because whether they know it or not, they are tempting me to deny God. Christianity is not about changing yourself to make God happy. It’s about allowing God to change you. It’s 90% him and 10% you.

I don’t believe you will get a demon if you make a proper effort to get the Holy Ghost baptism. As I said in a comment, if Satan is powerful enough to do that to you, he is stronger than God. God requires us to do a lot of things, and he expects us to have a fair amount of knowledge, but every once in a while, you have to trust him and count on him to cut you a little slack. If you think he’s going to sit around and watch a demon jump into you while you beg in earnest for a gift that will help you serve him in humility and gratitude, I’m not sure why you think he would ever do anything good for you. What kind of God would he be, allowing himself to be tortured to death for us and then looking the other way as we filled ourselves with demons while begging for his help? Does that make sense to you?

You already have demons. Face it. If the Holy Spirit moves in, they will not get up and leave instantaneously. They will stay as long as they can and do whatever they can to hinder the Spirit. They may lead you to do stupid things while claiming the Holy Spirit is controlling you. This has happened to other Christians. It does not mean you got a demon at the moment of baptism.

A Spirit-filled believer is like Joshua and the Hebrews, just after they crossed into Israel. The land was full of heathen strongholds, just as a newly baptized believer has powerful spirits affecting his life. The Hebrews had to go forward, submitting to God and attacking the strongholds supernaturally as well as physically. You have to do the same thing. You are supposed to clear out every stronghold you can discern, leaving no room for a metaphorical Amalekite remnant to build back up, the way bacteria build back up in a wound that hasn’t been cleaned thoroughly. The more strongholds you break, the more you will resemble Jesus, both in power and in character. But you are going to make mistakes, and for some people, that means barking like a dog or even kicking another believer on stage and claiming God said it was okay.

As you progress, you will develop the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23). This means you will have positive traits like self-control, kindness, patience, and love. You will develop the miraculous gifts of the Spirit, such as the ability to heal others or the ability to give with supernatural generosity, or the ability to learn hidden facts directly from God (1 Corinthians 12). You won’t get all of this stuff at once, and you won’t be like Superman, wandering around working miracle after miracle and reading people’s minds. But these things will begin to become apparent in your life. You need these things in order to succeed. The fruit of the Spirit will make you a good person in all respects; you can’t do this just by trying. The gifts will give you power when you need it.

Jesus walked in the gifts and the fruit of the Spirit. He worked no great miracles before he received the baptism of the Spirit. Afterward, he was different. He knew things about people, with no natural explanation. He healed people instantly. He walked on water. He had supernatural bravery. I know of no evidence that he prayed in tongues, but since the purpose of that gift is to build you up, I don’t see why he would have needed it. He was perfect. The rest of us are fixer-uppers, so we have tongues as one of the tools that help us grow.

If you want to see an obvious manifestation of the fruit of the Spirit, consider my problems with overeating. They’re gone. They disappeared in one day, along with some other behavioral problems. I’m sorry I don’t have something more dramatic to give you, but to me, this gift is priceless. No man on earth could have given me this. Not for a billion dollars. No one…NO one…has ever solved the problem of compulsive overeating. We cut people’s stomachs up. We suck fat out of them. We give them amphetamines. We put them on regimes that fail when their willpower gives out. But nobody can do what God did for me. It’s a completely legitimate miracle. I know it would be more impressive had I followed up by putting up a Youtube of me break-dancing on the surface of the swimming pool, but I have what I have, so make the most of it.

Oprah Winfrey is a billionaire, and she’s promoting a false messiah named Tolle, and she knows every diet guru on earth, and if that’s the best help she ever gets, she’s going to die overweight, not to mention single, childless, and unsatisfied. When a demon leaves, it tries to return, and if there isn’t a bigger, tougher spirit waiting to drive it back out, it will succeed (Matthew 3:23-28; Matthew 12:43-45). This is what the secular world calls “the Yo-Yo Effect,” and it defeats Oprah about once a year. If man had the answer to compulsive overeating, wouldn’t she be free by now? If not, how many more dollars does she need to spend? Millions aren’t enough. Will a trillion do it? Of course not.

My freedom cost me nothing.

As for spiritual gifts, I have seen at least two spirits, and I saw one of them very clearly, and I got a good long look at it. That is “discerning of spirits.” God has explained incomprehensible scriptures to me as I’ve read them; that happens every day (Acts 8:30-34). And I know I’ve received wisdom when I’ve asked for it. I wish I thought to pray for it more often! Wisdom is one of the gifts. I believe I’ve seen five of the nine spiritual gifts in my life. And I’m nothing special. Jesus said we would surpass him in our miraculous works; do you realize that? Look at the Bible and see (John 14:12).

I think I should add one more thing. The Spirit will help you get answers to prayer. One of the gifts is supernatural faith, and faith gets prayers answered. On top of that, a clean, righteous life will help get prayers answered. You’ll be more likely to ask for the right things, and you will be giving the enemy less power to oppose you. The enemy is like a rat or a roach. He feeds on the garbage we leave in ourselves, and he gains power from it. Remember the man Paul turned over to Satan for the destruction of the flesh? That was the result of bad behavior. God expressly approved of Satan’s efforts to harm that man, because the man needed the pain in order to be corrected. A better life means weaker enemies and more protection. See what I wrote about Joshua, above.

A month or two ago, I was driving along, praying about something, and a wave of faith hit me, and it was so strong, I grabbed the truck’s center console and held on, to keep from being blown over. The same thing happened to me again, while I was lying in bed. I dug my fingers into the mattress and clung to it like a climber trying to keep from being knocked off a mountain. Call me a heretic if you want. I think that’s a wonderful gift.

I have explained charismatic (or “Pentecostal”) Christianity as well as I could. Maybe I can’t make you want it, but perhaps after reading this you will at least be willing to tolerate it. At worst, you could spend some time praying God will free me from my heretic, white-trash, holy-rolling demons. I’ll take prayer no matter how it comes.

He has Established my Goings

If I were to say I had had a weird couple of days, I would barely scratch the surface.

Let’s start.

I have a bad habit of volunteering for things at church. I now have conflicts. That’s how bad it’s gotten. My dad and I have been trying to help my sister with her problems now that she has cancer, and a few days back, I actually got cross with him, because I had to do something for the church, and he wanted me to drop it and do something for her. I said, “I made a commitment to my church. It’s not a joke.” I’m sorry about that now, but it’s important to the story.

A couple of weeks back, I volunteered to help drive people to services. The guy who was to be in charge of this ministry is named Danny. I didn’t know him very well, and I didn’t know what kind of people we were going to be driving, but the church was very serious about it. They’re even willing to buy me a hack license. Unfortunately, I also joined a Saturday morning prayer group, and I volunteered to cook food for the cast of the Christmas play.

On Saturday, I spent a good part of the morning at a Denny’s in Hallandale, with my prayer group. I made some real connections. We met for two hours. Then I called Danny, intending to cancel because I was so busy. He was very nice about it, but I felt awful. I called the associate pastor who was directing the play and asked what I should do, and he advised me to go with Danny and to let cooking go for this week. I called Danny again and got back on track. Then I realized I would still be able to cook, if I made cookies instead of something difficult. I had two cookie recipes in my cookbook. One was so simple, it was in the super-basic chapter called “Five Greasy Pieces.” I went and got ingredients, and I made over three dozen oatmeal-raisin cookies.

When the cookies were finished, I drove to church and met Danny. We got in one of the church’s smelly, scary old vans and headed to Broward County, to the Broward Outreach Center. This is a shelter for the homeless, domestic violence victims, and convicted criminals released under supervision. Danny is one of their case workers.

I don’t know what I should tell you about Danny, because I don’t know what he makes public, but I can tell you that he works with a lot of addicts. And I discussed addiction with him.

He said addicts have to hit bottom and resolve to change. No big surprise there. But he also made a disturbing comment about the three main ways addicts hit bottom. The three ways are institutionalization, jail, and death. He did not name a fourth.

He gave me a tour of the center. I was surprised. It’s extremely clean. The dining hall still had water on the floor from the last mopping, and the smell of bleach was in the air. The floors all through the place shined. The bunks were made, and the bedclothes were so clean, the air near them smelled like clean laundry.

They have a five-step program, starting with the intake phase and ending (I think) with job placement. They give people remedial classes. They help people get GEDs. They teach them how to market their skills over the Internet; some have never used email before.

They have to memorize eight principles, which I can’t recall right now. I guess I’d fail their program. They have to complete a lot of requirements. There are little graduations along the way, and they get certificates, and their relatives show up and cry with joy.

He said the vast majority of them score below the 9th-grade level on tests, which may explain how many of them ended up where they are.

While he talked, I knew I was walking by faith. It was just like being in Israel in 1984. In those days, God dragged me around and brought me people to show me things and guide me. For no intelligent reason, I volunteered to help Danny, and we ended up at the shelter, and he started pouring out their story, and I knew it was as if God himself was talking to me, because he wanted me to be there, and he wanted Danny to show me the center and tell me these things. I can’t tell you why, because I don’t have that information yet.

We got the residents (“clients”) in the vans, and I drove my bunch down I-95, and I could not help but overhear them. It was moving. They didn’t tell filthy jokes or fight or cuss. They talked about their progress. They coached each other and gave each other tips. I can’t tell you how impressed I was.

Touring that place full of humble belongings, dedicated to humble yet vital and lifesaving achievements, I thought of people I know who have had much greater opportunities, yet whose attitudes can’t compare to those of the BOC clients I met. If you’ve been to college or have a skill, and you have a little money in the bank and no criminal record and no disabilities or diseases, you are so far ahead of these folks, you might as well be from another planet. But does your attitude reflect an appreciation of the depth of your blessings? Think where you could be, instead of where you are. Tomorrow, you could be having your next class on coping with HIV, or you could be studying eighth-grade history in order to get a high school diploma.

It may be a week before I have the nerve to complain about anything again. I’ll miss it.

We got these people to church, and they enjoyed the Christmas play, and then something like two-thirds of them went to the altar call. I got to sit in the front row last night, so I was able to get up and pray with them. Two hardcore gang kids accepted Jesus and stood holding each other and weeping. Danny was floored by the way his busing project paid off.

Now we have to figure out what to do when they want to attend regularly.

I got home at about 9:15 p.m., and I made over four dozen chocolate chip cookies for the play cast. I got to bed at 11, and I got up at six. Off I went, to work with the “armorbearers,” or the male volunteers who keep the church going during services. They put me and Danny in the kids’ ministry, helping people drop off and pick up their children. There are so many well-behaved kids at that church, it’s hard to believe it’s located in Miami.

At one point, I went to the men’s room, and I heard a tiny voice yelling, “I want to wash my hands! I want to wash my hands!” A kid about nine inches tall was jamming himself against the counter, but he couldn’t reach the knobs to turn on the sink. I couldn’t believe it! How many grown men wash their hands after using the bathroom? Maybe one in five? Some parent or pair of parents did something right with this boy. I helped him out, and then I went back to my post.

This was supposed to be a special day, because my sister was scheduled to come in and be baptized with the Spirit. Her cranial irradiation starts tomorrow, and she has been very scared, so she developed a sudden and urgent desire to get the baptism.

I had been hoping and praying for this for a long time. The baptism is the biggest difference between the Old Testament and the New Testament. Afterward, God lives inside you and changes you day by day. You receive some of his power and much of his character. It grows inside you and crowds out everything else. This is what prayer in tongues is all about. It builds the Spirit’s works in you. If you don’t pray in tongues regularly, it’s like not watering a plant.

If you’re Spirit-filled, and you have a relationship with someone who hasn’t had the baptism, it is likely to be turbulent. And the baptism makes it easier for you to confront and overcome your problems and failings.

I wanted to be present when my sister showed up, because I figured if she didn’t get the baptism today, it might be months before she gave it another shot.

Unfortunately, there was an obstacle. When I left the house this morning, I was having strange and unpleasant sensations. I couldn’t figure out what they were, but because this was a big day, I ignored them and got in the truck. After a couple of hours of work, however, things started to get worse quickly, and I realized what was going on.

I had a kidney stone.

I could not believe it. These things only hit on weekends, when treatment costs ten times as much. And why did it have to be this weekend, when I needed to be there for my sister?

I told everyone I had to leave, and I got back in the truck. I figured I’d go home and ask my dad to drive me to the hospital. Hopefully, the pain would not be full-blown by that time. I would have to leave my sister in the hands of the folks at the church.

In the parking lot, I prayed for healing, and I did the whole rebuking routine. And as I started driving toward the exit, I felt a couple of very unpleasant sensations. My best guess was that they meant I was getting worse.

A little farther down the road, I realized I felt somewhat better. Maybe the pain wouldn’t be too bad when I got home.

By the time I had gone maybe two miles, there was no pain. And I realized I had been freed from a very general feeling of sickness. It’s hard to describe, but when you have a kidney stone, there is an oppressive feeling that fills your entire body, as well as your mind. I know this now, because I know how I felt when it left. The bad things I had felt in the parking lot were probably caused by the stone dislodging and moving on.

As I got close to home, I saw a bunch if birds on some power lines. White ibises. I had never seen an ibis on a wire. I hadn’t realized they were given to sitting on wires. For some reason, I decided to count them. Seven. The number of the Holy Spirit. The Bible says there are seven Spirits of God, and the menorah in the Holy of Holies (which represented the Holy Spirit) had seven branches and seven lamps.

I went home, drank a lot of water, confirmed to my satisfaction that I was okay, and drove back to church! I was fine!

I went back to work with Danny, and after my sister showed up, one of the guys in my prayer group relieved me. At the end of the service, a bunch of us went into the green room behind the stage with my sister and the pastor. In a smaller room beside it, we prayed for her healing, and then we prayed for the baptism in the Holy Spirit. We didn’t get a result. The pastor asked all of us except my sister to go out into the green room. We waited while he and she prayed. I was outside the door, praying as hard as I could. I didn’t know if unresolved problems in her life could prevent the baptism, and I was afraid she would be rejected, somehow.

I can’t go into the details, but he tried a new approach that came to him while they were praying. And when they came out, he said they had gotten the victory. I was overwhelmed. How long had I waited to hear that? Years.

I’m home now. I got myself some magnesium pills on the way. Years back, a reader recommended them to prevent kidney stones, but I had quit using them. I’m going back on them. I don’t think magnesium was the problem. I think my sister and I are the objects of a very special hatred, and the kidney stone was an effort to keep me home so I would miss this wonderful event. It’s like the first time we went to church together. While I was getting ready, I fell down the stairs.

I will give Pastor Rich Wilkerson credit. He did not give up on my sister, and he cared enough to try something new and to stick with it until it worked for her. And when he told everyone in the green room how it had gone, he said, “This is real. This is NO JOKE.”

Naturally, I thought of what I had said to my father. Pastor Rich didn’t know.

Now I feel completely drained, and I intend to hang out with Maynard and Marvin and do absolutely nothing.

I can’t tell you how happy I am that I’m not in the emergency room, zonked out on Dilaudid again. I enjoy Dilaudid a great deal, but this is considerably better. And like so many of God’s great gifts, it’s free.

Last time I had Dilaudid, they charged me six grand!

Being healed of a kidney stone is a tremendous thing. It would have ruined my week. I am unable to describe my gratitude adequately.

I better go talk to the birds. It’s a wonder they still remember me.

Ammo Stacks Make Nice Furniture for Profiteers

Outdoor Marksman has Federal 9mm ammunition for $11.95, if you buy a scant 20 boxes. Not too bad. To me, ten bucks a box is reasonable. We are getting closer to that point. Sellier & Bellot is down to $13 per box at Natchez Shooters Supplies.

It seems like commodities prices aren’t the problem. Copper is getting more expensive, in spite of the bad worldwide economy, but ammunition prices keep dropping. That leads me to suspect that profiteering is the big problem. Obama created an artificial ammunition market by threatening our Constitutional rights, and the people who make and sell ammunition may have been cheating us since it began.

I know there has been a lot of profiteering, because only a fool would believe there was any market justification for a $30 box of FMJ 9mm rounds or a $50 box of primers. But can it really be that greed is responsible for most of the price increases? People are basically evil, but ordinarily, they exhibit some restraint, especially when bad behavior offends their customers.

The folks who tried to corner the market seem to be starting to bleed. I see GP11 480-round battle packs selling on Gunbroker for $259. That’s only $30 above the market price. And a search of completed auctions shows GP11 is not selling. Great. I’m all about capitalism, but cheating people in a time of national upheaval is wrong.

Let’s see what else I can learn.

Hornady 17 HMR V-Max is failing to sell, at $10/50. That’s good news. That would have been an okay price before the Obama crisis.

I’m checking 9mm prices. The prices are a shock to the conscience, and I haven’t found one lot that has sold.

I’m checking 7.62x54mm 7N1, and apart from some sucker paying $285 for a case, it’s not selling.

Maybe the vultures are finally getting caught with excess inventory, as they deserve. Who on earth would pay $15 for Sellier & Bellot? This stuff is one step above throwing rocks. I’ve never had any problems with it, but it’s among the cheapest factory ammo around.

Gunbroker is such a ripoff. It’s virtually useless.

In other news, I had an interesting thought this week. I was thinking about the strange freedom God has given me from overeating, and about my church’s request that I get involved in making food for their cafe.

Back when I was working on my cookbook, I had extraordinary luck with recipes. It seemed like one dish after another was a startling success. I made some stupid things that didn’t work, but I had bizarre victories. For example, I made my coconut flan recipe up in one try, with very little experience to go on. I don’t like baked beans all that much, but I put together a recipe so good, I couldn’t quit eating them.

I got fat, especially after I got pizza under control. I could not stop making and eating delicious food. I couldn’t take the weight off.

Then God took away the compulsion to overeat, and the weight started coming off by itself. I can even resist pizza. And suddenly, my church needed help with their kitchen.

We always want God to give us stuff, and I’m sure he wants to do it. But would he be a good god if he gave us things that hurt us? Of course not. If I had been asked to work in the cafe before I got power over what I ate, it would have been a real problem. There is no way I would have been able to resist stuffing myself. But now I can go in there and cook anything they want, and I know I won’t get fat.

I got the blessing, and I was spared the danger inherent in getting what you wish for. That’s a big deal.

It makes me think about other things I’ve wanted, as well as things other people have wanted. I look at these things and see how they could cause harm if they were suddenly dumped on us.

I strongly suspect that God changes people, through the Holy Spirit and miracles as well as through work and scripture, so that when they get what they want, it will only bless them. I think God is cleaning me up so the good things I want can come my way, without making me rebellious or proud or ungrateful or fat.

We are told that he will give us the desires of our heart (Psalm 34), and that he only gives good gifts (Matthew).

I suppose, then, that if you want a thing, you have to want the power to avoid being harmed by it. If you want money or possessions, you have to want to be freed from greed and covetousness and selfishness. If you want power, you have to want compassion and generosity and gentleness. And if you want to cook for God, you have to want the ability to eat moderately. God doesn’t want to give us new idols or new masters. Doesn’t that sound plausible?

I’ve noticed that the less things control me, the more I enjoy them. I enjoy food a lot more, now that I’m not shoveling it down at every opportunity. I enjoy the things I own, now that they aren’t as exciting as they once were. I wonder what’s next.

The more you surrender, the more you win. That’s how it seems to work.

Maybe this is why many people who give to ministries and charities have little money. They overspend, they default on debts, they borrow at outrageous interest, and then they expect God to give them cash because they max out their credit cards to support missionaries and charities. How can God possibly repay them in kind, before he makes them fit vessels? Would you pour water into a reservoir with holes in it? And besides, what if these people gave money God never asked them to give, because they didn’t ask for his guidance? And if you give to a ministry while you cheat a creditor, whose money did you give? Not yours; that’s for sure. You stole from another person in order to give to God. Is he supposed to encourage that?

I think the charismatic “word of faith” crowd needs to think about these things. I don’t doubt that God wants to do stuff for us, but you shouldn’t ask him to be an enabler.

So once again, I have more to be grateful for than I realized. That’s the bottom line. If you can’t be grateful for discipline and instruction, you are utterly lost.

Can Prince be Far Behind?

My church gives out a daily devotional booklet every three months. Some of us actually read it, which goes to show you how gung-ho charismatics are. We may be wrong, but we will be on time for judgment, and we will bring food.

Today’s entry was kind of sad. It contained the bit about the Corinthian church (1 Corinthians 1):

26 For ye see your calling, brethren, how that not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called: 27 But God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty; 28 And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: 29 That no flesh should glory in his presence.

Some people think the part about “not many might, not many noble” and so on applies to the church as a whole. That is a terrible thing to consider. Think about all the smart, accomplished people you know. Can it really be true that a higher proportion of them are headed for hell, or at least for very lowly entrances into heaven?

It probably does. Let’s face it. Who turns to God and gives up home rule? People who are on top of the world? Not usually. It’s criminals. People with dysfunctional families. Cripples. Addicts. Like the 400 men who banded together with David in the cave of Adullam. People who do well tend to think they do it in their own strength and that they don’t need God. If you can give yourself up to God when things are going perfectly, you are way ahead of many of your brothers. Some have to get cancer or cry on the floor of a federal prison before they find the base of the altar. Some hit rock bottom, taking as much punishment as God is willing to inflict in order to wake them up, and still refuse to admit they’re wrong.

I wonder how well I fit into my church’s demographic. I know a lot of the people there are barely getting by. Many are not educated. I haven’t met any other lawyers (surprise). But I’ve met a cardiologist and a successful real estate broker.

It’s funny, but the gifts you have in the flesh, while useful to God, don’t correlate very well with your power as a Christian. I thought about this the other day while I was listening to Fred Stone. I enjoy him tremendously. He’s a simple guy. I don’t think he went to college. He’s as country as can be; he would be nearly interchangeable with any of my relatives from my grandfather’s generation. But when he gets a question about his walk, he has the answer, just about every time. Right on the money. If I knew him personally, I would be thrilled to have the chance to ask his advice about nearly anything. But I know a lot of professionals who don’t have enough sense to get out of bed.

The Holy Spirit gives people wisdom. There is no doubt about it. He may not give you a genius IQ, but he will tell you what you need to know, and he will tell you what other people need to know, too.

The hard thing to remember about earthly blessings like good looks, brilliance, talent, and wealth is that once you’re dead, they vanish. I don’t mean that you won’t be good-looking or smart in the afterlife. But other people will be just as gifted. People who aren’t much in this life will have everything you have now, and more. I try to keep that in mind when I deal with people who seem ordinary. I have a few remarkable gifts, but in the long term, they are no better than beads and trinkets. And people who have gifts I don’t have are in the same boat. So who will the beautiful people be in heaven? Must be those who had faith and obeyed in this life. Isn’t this necessarily part of what “the last shall be first” means?

I believe the afterlife will be like a high school reunion. The jocks will be pumping gas, the cheerleaders will be cashiers at KMart, and the nerds will be millionaires. Metaphorically.

I haven’t had any trouble fitting in at the church. I think God shapes his troops so they work together well. Also, the things we talk about don’t have much to do with education or worldly experience. We talk about things we’ve learned in our walks. We discuss God’s promises. We recommend books to each other. I can learn as much from a cab driver as I can from a biochemist. That is literally true. We’re not discussing quantum mechanics. Some of the best people to learn from are blue-collar workers.

If it’s true that a lot of upper- and upper-middle-class people will be left out, then I am even luckier than I already knew. I was smart enough to realize that my problems were really blessings, but in view of my background, it’s considerably more obvious. Had I come from a perfect family and had a perfect life, I would have seen no reason to involve God, and I would have entered the next life as a very confused and surprised beggar. And let’s not even discuss the blessings I would have missed in this life. What percentage of people get to have a close relationship with God and experience the supernatural on a daily basis? How many people know what it’s like to have God’s presence drop on them and surround them like a fog?

The world is full of people who run around claiming no one has seen proof God exists. What huge lie! I’ve seen proof, and so have a lot of other people. There aren’t many such people in relative terms, but in absolute terms, there are probably tens or hundreds of millions. God has given all sorts of signs. The problem is that people reject them because they don’t want to give up the illusion of control over their lives.

I think I just squeaked by. I think I dodged a bullet. Thank God I don’t have the guts or determination a successful unbeliever needs.

Attack!

I am really sorry for not posting this yesterday. I got caught up in cooking for the church, and I have had to work on family business, and it just got away from me.

You may recognize my name – “Kyle” from comments on your blog.

My sister in law Jade had a stroke this past Friday night. 33 years old.

It’s a freak thing caused by not cholesterol or blood clots or anything like that, but an odd flaw in a blood vessel. The vessel had multiple layers at one point just feeding into the jugular, so it was trapping blood and built up pressure until it burst. A fragment of the vessel was driven up the jugular into her brain.

She is in ICU and they are testing her respiration tonight to see if she is able to breathe on her own.

Also, the swelling is basically at its peak, and they are going to be taking her off sedatives to test her responses as thoroughly as possible to get a diagnosis as to where we stand.

Her left lobe was affected, so the right side of her body has been minimally responsive, although we’ve seen some decent movement a few times over the past two-three days.

Let’s show this illness what God can do in response to prayer.

God Freaks me Out Again

I was supposed to have dinner with my dad and my sister tonight, but it did not work out, and I had no backup plan. I decided to make myself a small pizza. I was worried, because back in August, I experienced a miraculous delivery from the compulsion to overeat, and pizza is something I have never been able to eat in moderation.

I ate three pieces and threw the rest out. Didn’t feel a thing.

Don’t ever try to tell me God is not real or that he does not deliver people from their problems. This is incredible.

In other news, I am losing my touch. Less salt and oregano, next time. And Costco cheese. This Gordon Food Supply cheese is very good, but Costco mozzarella is pure magic.

Chow Delivered

I just dumped a bunch of desserts off at church. I didn’t get to try a single one! All I got was a couple of tablespoons of batter and such. I hope the food is okay.

I don’t know if it was smart to make chocolate flan. I like it, but not everyone is crazy about the combination of chocolate and burned sugar, and in any case, it will look sad among the cheesecake, brownies, and coconut flan, which are all bona fide blockbusters.

They have decided to close the church’s cafe until January, because people will be out of town, and the place is dead. So I won’t have to cook on Monday. I have time to plot.

I still have to fix stuff this weekend. The cast of the Christmas play will need food again. Last week I made macaroni and cheese and chili. I’m not sure what to make this time. Maybe people familiar with my cookbook could recommend something. I was thinking maybe doro wat and rotis.

Rotis are kind of a pain to make. You have to roll them out on a dining table or something. You need a lot of room.

People are buying the book this month. As a Christmas gift, it’s a natural. Everyone knows some fat guy who cooks. I guess it will sell at Christmas time for the rest of my life, or until it becomes dated.

I’m pooped. Try making two flans and two batches of brownies in one day, while making goop and putting berries on top of a big cheesecake. I don’t plan to cook at home any more. It’s just too much aggravation. And of course, I left my pans at church again. I hope they don’t walk off.

People steal at church. If there is a faster ticket to hell, it’s hard to think of what it might be. If you think there is no God to punish you for stealing, why are you in the building?

I’m wiped out. This is what happens when you do work that doesn’t feel like work. You’re too caught up in enjoying it to realize you’re tired.

I have half a mind to make a pizza.

Hey, it’s for the glory of God.

Desserts

Busy morning today.

I have to finish the strawberry cheesecake I started making yesterday. The danged thing cracked on top, as always. I have no idea why that happens. I cooled it slowly, and I was careful not to overmix it. Doesn’t really matter; after one bite, no one cares what it looks like. They want to marry it.

I have to make two flans and some brownies. I may do two trays of brownies. That would be pretty easy.

Let’s see. Twenty-eight servings of flan and cheesecake. Forty-eight servings of brownies. That makes 76. There will be 125 guests. So 39 people (at least) will get nothing. More, if the women charge the table and grab multiple servings.

Oh well. We need a loaves-and-fishes moment, and supplying those is above my pay grade. Perhaps someone can pray to Obama and he can redistribute someone else’s desserts to us.

I think I may make lasagne for Monday. It’s easy and good. Not the best thing I make, but still, beyond reproach. It’s hard to make bad lasagne.

Calculating ingredient amounts will be hard. Okay, it will be impossible. I can probably come close, however.

Power is Already Rotting my Brain

I ran down to church to see what kind of help they needed in the cafe. The upshot is this: I will have dominion over a small arsenal of commercial cooking equipment every Monday from now on. Now no one is safe!

They have one other volunteer who can cook. The rest are grunts. I will break them and indoctrinate them and mold them into mindless culinary shock troops. You got to make de food first. Den when you get de food, you get de power. Den when you get de power, den you get de womengs. Oops, I’m channeling Scarface.

Okay, I take back “grunts.” I mean the rest are not ready to bring in recipes, plan meals, and cook stuff from start to finish. But they are nice people who want to do what they can to help, and I am lucky they are offering. And they will give me someone to blame if I screw up.

I had to look up “shock troops” just now. I realized I had no idea what it meant. It just sounded good.

If I understand the picture, it works like this: they have a certain number of items they can throw in the fryer and slap onto a plate without much effort. But they need a daily special and a couple of sides. About forty servings. I can handle that. I usually make twenty when I’m cooking just for myself. More or less.

They’re having some kind of function on Thursday, with 125 people in attendance. I had to demur on that. I’m sufficiently intimidated by a six-day lead and forty servings. I don’t need to deal with a giant crowd on two days’ notice. I would rather fail on a small scale.

They’re thinking of getting a pizza oven. They’re in real trouble if they do that. I am totally ready to be a pizza warlord. They want to get one of those jobs with a conveyor belt, which is fine by me. They seem to work great, with very limited attention.

I stopped by Gordon Food Supply on the way home and looked over the merchandise. They have boneless picnic hams for $1.55 a pound. That has potential. Big time. I can turn them into caja-china-style pork very easily, and I can crank out yuca and moros on the side. But I have to find out if the quality is there.

I could not resist getting some pizza sauce and cheese at GFS. I think I’ll donate it to the church and wangle an opportunity to make a couple of pies. If they go as planned, they will cement my position as chief principality and power of the kitchen. I could also make a calzone or two. Maybe a pan con lechon calzone. Man, those things are good. I wish I hadn’t thought of it.

I hit a normal store and picked up some stuff for cheesecake, brownies, and flan. I plan to bombard the Thursday function with desserts, since I can’t cover the main dishes. Coconut flan, brownies, chocolate flan, and strawberry cheesecake. I guess there won’t be enough for everyone. We’ll see how well their holiness holds up when they have to play musical cheesecake. This will be a test that would have humbled Job. The goats will feed, and the sheep will have to wait for their reward in heaven.

Here’s a thought. God delivered me from overeating in August. Now suddenly I have been asked to help run a restaurant. Could I have survived this a year ago? No way. It would have killed me. But now maybe it will work.

Coincidence? Another one of those remarkable coincidences that seem to happen EVERY SINGLE DAY when you’re a Christian?

Must be.

If I can have pizza stuff in the house without going Jabba in a week, I can do anything.