stories of a failed holy man


on anger

I didn’t intend for this to be an angry blog. Inspiring…hopefully. Challenging…yes. Humorous…at least to me. Filled with fart jokes and Sarah Palin references…you betcha. Angry…not my intent.

In real life, I am a passionate person whose passion often boils over and burns the person next to me through anger and unkind words and passive/aggressive behaviour.

But in my writing, I have historically tried to wear the ‘diplomat‘ label, trying to make everyone happy. No matter how unreasonable I find your thought process, I will generally try to hear you out and respond with respect. But behind closed doors, I dream of slashing your tires and cutting your full grown Chia Pet down to size.

I’m just finding it more and more difficult to not be angry. I left this blog for a year. Not because I had nothing to say. But because saying it in a kind, respectful way is so exhausting. I feel like I’ve lost the energy to be nice. You call it lazy. I call it living up to the jerkwad I truly am.

I trust it’s a phase, that I’ll move past this anger. It’s tough with stories like this floating around that make you want to go Nic Cage on Christendom. By that, I mean crazy.

There’s so much to be angry about, it’s hard to know where to start. The Jesus follower in me is screaming to turn the other cheek. But the devil inside of me is telling the sermon on the mount to get bent.

The angry voice is louder when I’m weary, so for now I’ll sleep, hopefully dreaming of Nicolas Cage drop kicking The Gospel Coalition in the teeth. Metaphorically and with the love of Jesus, of course. Maybe that will bring peace in the morning.



on diplomacy
March 26, 2014, 3:47 am
Filed under: Stuff | Tags: , , , , , , , ,

I was called a diplomat the other week. I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or insult. I know it was intended as an insult. It was clear from the yelling and general disgust the person had with my state of manliness. more specifically, my lack thereof.

I was in the process of asking someone to leave. Someone who had helped in lots of ways, but created problems in too many others. To the point where they needed to be removed from the situation. I tried to stay calm. I tried to respect the good things they had done and appreciate them for their contribution. But kind words sound like a punch in the junk when you’re handing over bad news.

So I was called a diplomat. It was meant as an insult. I had never heard it used as an expletive. But it stuck with me. Because even though I was tempted to roll my eyes like a teeny bopper whose mommy asked them to turn down the music, I smiled and tried to lessen the inevitable blow with sweet talk and deniability.

Is being a diplomat a good thing? Or terrible? Maybe both?

The positive lies in your willingness to talk with anyone. To engage before striking blows. You see both sides and listen first. You let bygones be bygones and deal with the present.

The negative lies in the fact it sucks. I believe that’s the technical term. It’s really terrible. It feels awful to be kind when you want to throw fisticuffs. To listen when you want to shout. To have a meeting when you want to start a war. George Bush and I at least have this in common.

I’m tired of being a diplomat. I’m tired of playing referee in arguments. I’m tired of arguments mostly because I’m tired of listening to what I think are terrible excuses.

I don’t know if being a diplomat is good or bad. I do know my attempts at diplomacy feel as if they are about to explode in a rage of screams and ALL CAPS LOCK BLOG POSTS! (the worst kind of anger for sure). Maybe I’m doomed to diplomacy and should go work for the UN. Or maybe I should buy a gun and join the NRA. It could go either way at this point.

This is all very vague. Maybe you’re wondering if this is about an interaction I had with you. Here’s the test. Come to my house. If I let you in, we’ll share a slice of pie. If I punch your throat, yep.