Boredom

A pastor once commented during his sermon that “sin is fun.” I can’t deny that some things which we take pleasure in might be considered sinful, but I don’t agree that sin is fun. I do admit that it seemed “fun” at times during my life to drink and party, to have sex, to buy bigger toys, to be concerned only with my wants and desires. Nobody wants to feel guilty about those things, and the only way to do that is to ignore (reject) God and the laws that He gave us for our own good. What the world, and Satan, would have us believe is that the opposite is also true - “being Holy is NOT fun.” Too many of us have that ingrained in our heads. This thinking also distorts our understanding of what it will be like in Heaven. I am reading Randy Alcorn’s book, “Heaven,” and it has helped me better understand what my eternal life might be like. I am excited, and so looking forward to that time. Until then, I need to rethink the idea of “fun,” and overcome the misconception that being Holy is NOT fun.


There may be a certain thrill in sinful acts, but the thrill does not last. There is also an associated guilt with those actions. You cannot avoid that feeling, because God has written His truth on your heart. You know right and wrong, regardless of whether you’ve read the Bible, memorized the Ten Commandments, or go to church. Don’t listen to the demons that tell you it’s okay, everybody does it, the world is right and there is no God. Don’t listen to the demons who tell you that it’s too late, you’ve already failed and you’re going to hell. Don’t listen to the demons that try and convince you that you’re too far gone, that God won’t forgive you, or that God doesn’t love you.

God does love you. He created you. He has given us a way, The Way, to eternal life with Him. Jesus has overcome the world, and He wants to see you and I survive this world so that we can experience a new heaven and new earth that is untarnished by sin and evil. I can’t wait to see that! If I had fun sledding down the simple hills of Dearborn, I will have a blast sledding down new mountains, knowing no fear. I will not get hurt in heaven. There will be no pain in heaven. What prevents us from having fun right now are exactly those fears, and more. We don’t want to get hurt, we don’t want to fall down, we don’t want to get bit, get lost, get hot, get cold, etc. etc. We have become so comfortable in this world, we have closed our eyes to a greater joy yet to come. I am afraid to have fun, because the devil would have me believe that I must be doing something wrong. It can’t be acceptable to God, because His rules don’t accommodate joy. How did I fall into this twisted notion? I have been pounded, and my faith has been weakened, but I will hold on. I believe. And, even with faith as small as a mustard seed, I will see heaven.

The lie that we need to recognize in the here and now, is that living a Holy life is not boring. If I go kayaking on a quiet river, I am having fun. I am not sinning. God has enabled me to have this moment of joy. He lets me glimpse a part of His creation that I may have never experienced without His grace. Through these moments, I can worship the God of creation and be in awe of all that His mighty hand has made. If I hug my wife, I have joy. I am not bored, and will not allow boredom to overcome my marriage. We share in fellowship, companionship, hardship, laughter and love. There is no sin in this. We may come under attack, but God brings us through the trials. It might not always be fun, but it certainly is not boring. I am a sinner, but I am saved. I still make mistakes, but I am forgiven. There may still be struggles ahead, even as I struggle today, but by God’s all sufficient grace I will endure.

It is a spiritual battle and a worldly battle that we must fight. If we ignore either one, we may fall into the trap. Peter writes in his gospel, “Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour” (I Peter 5:8). If we have come to accept that most fun can only be found in the way of the world, but in living a Christian life we will only find to boredom, then we have already fallen prey. I think boredom comes when we stop trying. Lord, when I fall, help me back up and help me to keep moving.

In heaven, I hope to fly, I hope to walk on the sun, I hope to explore the universe. In all those activities, I will be praising God because His presence will be evident in all that He has restored. He will take pleasure in the joy I will take in recognizing His gifts in a new heaven and new earth. I will work (yes we will) and have fun doing that because it will be doing what God made me to do. The newness of life in heaven will never wear out. This is difficult to grasp, because we are in a fallen state. Our attention span is short. What does it take to be stimulated? Even the longest lasting TV shows eventually die because of our boredom. We are tricked into believing that the happiness can be found in what we can touch and feel, but we have been blinded to what is beyond that. Faith. “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see,” Hebrews 11:1. If you don’t have it, ask God to give you that faith.

Someday I will party in heaven and enjoy a great feast. I hope to see you at the table too!

Unemployment Extension

Wow, almost a week of silence here. Not doing very good in my journaling. Doesn’t bode well if I am truly called to write. I have been distracted by everything. There is always something else to do. As I sit here typing, I see a lot of clutter on my computer table which I need to clean up. My house is for sale, and I need to keep every room presentable. The other day I cleaned the wood floors, but I still have to replace a board by the front door. My replacement front window arrived, and I still need to find someone to do the work. I would really like to have that done by someone who knows what they’re doing. I spend a large part of the day looking for jobs, writing cover letters, and applying on line. For six months, I wake up, put the cell phone in my pocket, and hope that I get that call offering me employment.

Yesterday, I was surprised by my unemployment check that was $200 less than usual. They don’t warn you when your initial period is up. I had to go down to the unemployment office and file for an extension. You wait in one line, and then another, trying to stay patient because the sign says bad behavior will not be tolerated (and an on-duty police officer with a gun is there to ensure that), and you look at all the others who are out of work, and pray that you find a job before you have to come back and do this again.


Afterwards, I stopped at a local health care/rehab center to fill out an application for a job posting that came through on one of my many on-line trackers. After filling out a book-length application, I found out that the position I was applying for had been filled two months earlier. I did feel a little foolish, but the time did allow me to question whether or not I could work in that type of environment. Am I losing my ability to be compassionate as I get older? If so, Lord change my heart and make it new.

White or What?

As you know, I am currently unemployed. I have gotten pretty good at filling out on line applications and writing cover letters. However, the racial questions always throw me. This is the typical multiple-choice list (copied directly from a company application):


- American Indian or Alaska Native (Not Hispanic or Latino)
- Hispanic or Latino
- Asian (Not Hispanic or Latino)
- Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander (Not Hispanic or Latino)
- Black or African American (Not Hispanic or Latino)
- White (Not Hispanic or Latino)
- Two or more races (Not Hispanic or Latino)

My father’s genealogy includes English, Irish, and Scottish lineage. My mother is 100% Mexican. So, I am half “white” and half “Hispanic.” Now, based on the descriptions above, which do I check? And why does it make the Hispanic or Latino appear in such a negative light? Four times, the word “Not” is associated with this heritage. To me, technically speaking, I can not check any of these categories. I am not 100% Hispanic, so I should not check that one.. I am White AND Hispanic, so I can’t check that one. And, I am two or more races, but one IS Hispanic, so I can’t check that one!

Or...do I fall into the category of "American Indian"? Does that cover all the Americas? Mexican is really a nationality rather than a race. Would the Incas and Aztecas fall under the "American Indian" heading? Since I am a Christian, my true roots should be traced to Noah. Therefore, I would be of Jewish descent. That would make me "White" by the racial definitions. Wait a minute. That would mean that we are all white!

So, no matter what country we are from, what color we are, or what language we speak, we should check the "White" category on these applications. What is a mutt to do?

4/16/10 - Friday

I think that I applied for half a dozen jobs today. It seems like such a waste of time. I’m not sure when the unemployment runs out? I’ve been out of work for six months now. I feel that this is an opportunity that I’m not taking full advantage of. I could take some classes, but that costs money. I still have a few things to work on around the house before we sell it. I’m just afraid that if or when it sells, I won’t know where to go. Carol has a job, so it would make sense to stay here. But, if I am offered a good position somewhere out of state, Carol wants to go with me. It was no fun working out of state in 2008 and leaving Carol behind. She missed her man! We are best friends, and have been together for 30 years now. We’ll celebrate our 29th wedding anniversary in August. Life is good, and I won’t complain. God has something in store, and when it’s time, the next door will open. Will it be door number one, door number two, or door number three? You probably need to be as old as me to understand that.

Next month is my mother’s birthday. She turns 80! We’re all getting together at our house. Even my brother and his girlfriend are coming. We haven’t seen him since Christmas 08. He never takes a day off from work. I was listening to some Dylan classics today while I was cutting the grass. I think it would be cool to learn “Forever Young” and play it for mom as a birthday song. Guess I should look for the guitar tabs on the internet while I’m thinking about it.

Tax Day!

Thankfully, my taxes were completed a while back, with help, and the returns are already in the bank. Hopefully the IRS won’t come after me this year. Last year they tried to disallow all my charitable deductions, and make me pay more than I had, plus penalties. I am so for the Fair Tax movement. I love the idea that all consumers, such as criminals and illegal’s, will pay taxes just like everyone else. I also love the millions or billions that would be saved by doing away with the total IRS bureaucracy. And lastly, I love the idea that those in power won’t be able to influence business with tax breaks or increases. The invisible hand rules!

Who Am I?

I have been out of work for six months. It has not been stressful, because I am blessed. God has provided all things, and God has provided for the drought. Carol and I have grain in the warehouse.


But I have struggled with my identity. As with many working adults, especially after 29 years in one profession, I identified with my work more than anything else. I am slowly coming to accept a lesson that God is teaching me through this, that I am not defined by my job, but rather by the person that He has helped me grow to become. It is the journey with God that brings maturity, wisdom, and knowledge. The Biblical heroes had many job titles: slave, shepherd, judge, tentmaker, fisherman, but it was their faith journeys that established the character of who they were.

I am not what earns me money, I am what earns me eternity. I thank my God for that, and I thank my God for being with me in whatever tomorrow brings.

Cruz Grandpa

My mother is Mexican, but I am a white boy. My mother didn’t grow up in a barrio-type neighborhood. My mother’s dad worked his way out of that. There is probably a story there that will never be known. I never learned Spanish, other than the classes I took in high school. It was the language that my mother and her sisters could speak, without us children knowing what they were talking about. I think that during that part of American history, people were glad to be part of the melting pot that made them Americans, and the language of the land was English.


Cruz Grandpa was born in 1899. I think he and my grandma worked their way out of Mexico, up through Texas and the southern states picking crops. They made their way to Michigan and purchased two lots of land in Taylor, and his brother-in-law bought two lots next to him. They built their own houses, including garages, chicken coups and even outhouses. I vaguely remember there still being an outhouse at my grandma’s when I was very young. I do remember the sink in my grandma’s kitchen having an old-style hand pump to pump water from the ground. They also had a hand pump in the yard for watering the garden, and probably the animals. I think the animals were gone, or maybe a couple of chickens were left when I was little. Yes, they definitely had chickens because I do remember my grandma collecting some eggs in her apron to make breakfast. I was grossed out when some of the eggs were already starting to develop chicks. My mom also tells stories about the outhouse. Her baby sister, Fina, would catch stray cats and throw them in. Fina always did have a way with animals.

My grandfather built a large house, but even at three stories, the nine children had to share rooms and beds. Grandma and Grandpa’s bedroom was on the first floor. The children slept on the second floor. I remember four rooms. You had to go through one room to get to the smallest bedroom. There were no doors. Curtains were hung in the doorways to divide the rooms. You could also walk out on the roof through the largest bedroom at the front of the upstairs. It wasn’t a balcony, just a flat roof over an enclosed area that was like a sun room. Grandma would have plants growing all over the house, but the sun room was packed with them. She definitely had a green thumb, and loved working out in the yard.

The third floor was never finished. It was used as attic space. When I would visit, I would love to explore the attic. It contained a history of their lives, with clothes and antique treasures that I loved to discover.

The house was heated by a potbelly stove in the living room. The smell of fire still reminds me of nights that I stayed at grandma and grandpa’s house. There was also a wood stove in the kitchen. It seemed that there was always an iron frying pan on the stove, and my grandpa would be cooking corn kernels, or peanuts. I used to love the peanuts hot off the stove. I think that they were fresh from his garden.

Grandpa Cruz was an educated man. He could read and write, and speak English and Spanish. I believe that he worked hard to pull his family out of poverty, and bring them to a place where they could experience the opportunities that America had to offer. He was a builder and a farmer (and with nine kids, I guess a lover too). He worked hard for survival. I don’t think that life was very easy in those days, even for the whites. I can only imagine the difficulties for Mexicans living on their own. My mother remembers Christmas as a child, when the Shiners’ would come and bring the children shoes and a toy. Eventually, Cruz Grandpa landed a job with the railroad.

Grandpa worked hard, and he also played hard. He was a musician, playing guitar, mandolin, and fiddle. His friends would come around on weekends to play music and drink beer. Beer drinking may definitely be a hereditary thing in our family. It has been one of my vices for many years. After a long night of music and drinking, my grandma would have to help grandpa into bed. His brother-in-law later died in a car accident from drinking and driving.

Somewhere, one of my aunts has an old tape recording of my Grandfather playing his guitar. He tried to teach me the mandolin, and I learned to play a song. I remember the tune, but I don’t know the name of it. Since I showed interest and talent, my parents started me in guitar lessons at the age of seven.

When I was still pretty young, my grandfather had a stroke. It was pretty bad, and he lost his ability to understand and speak English. He wasn’t the same anymore. Cruz Grandpa died in 1970.