The Mental Conveyor

I heard a wonderful sermon. And what was better still, it was all written in a book. So I got a copy of the book and loved it all the more. Many years later, it was buried beneath layers of crap, other sermons and all the stuff of life. Then I went to a Uth conference where the same guy was teaching, how brilliant!

I do not particularly like Uth events which is bad because I am a Uth pastor. Here is the thing, I am one of those not-really-old-but-acts-old guys. I find the exuberance of youth inspiring to watch but it is mostly and quickly exhausting. Like youth they will get silly, eventually annoying and I just want to send the lot to bed. But, I do enjoy watching them have a good time. I step in  as needed to douse the fun. It's what I do, at times it's what I have to do.

On my way from the conference, where I had been reminded of the amazing idea of being a servant like Christ was to His disciples and all mankind; I mean, this is life altering teaching. Stuff I should be contemplating and 'chewing cud' on for yonks, but my self-centered mind could not handle the Truth. So as quickly as it came to me, I found me throwing this salt and light out of every open window and door before it took root. It was a sick, self-destructive conveyor belt. Of doom! Throwing out the mediocre with the excellent! By the time I got home it had almost emptied my noggin.

So I got home and picked up the book again, listened to the recording of the book and will keep looking at the notes I made so that it fills my mind and out of the content of my heart, my mouth would speak and my being behave so I can be just like Jesus.

When you are with me, I'm free

My college girlfriend decided Creed's My Sacrifice would be 'our song.' I didn't care. I liked the song too, it was no sacrifice. At this time of my life I had a recurrent fight dream. I have had many more since, this one started it and I showed reruns many times over. It sticks in my mind so I added a soundtrack...

We are walking through downtown Someplace, headed home after a movie or something. The sky is a lovely dark blue ink. There are little stars getting brighter as we walk further from town. I turn and notice three guys following us. I note their presence in my James Bond file and we keep walking. They make our every turn, stop when we stop, without a doubt we are being followed.

We walk faster and almost immediately they react. They start to run. I grabbed her hand and we ran casually, I told her I was anxious to get home and she went along with it. After a bit I picked up the pace and had to tell her we were being followed.

'Don't be sacred, just run.'

So run we do and try to lose them to no avail. They are on us like stink to a warthog. We run to a school (I know now to be were I attend church, had never been there at the time.) They are after me, so I tell her to hide as soon as we get on the grounds. I run into the school, crash through a glass door, down the corridor and into a classroom. They walk into the classroom after me. I stop, breathe and yell.

'Stay in the closet.'

I stood in front of the closet door and faced them. They take the bait.

The three goons come toward me. One of them has a stick, he slaps it on his hand repeatedly to my great annoyance. The other sniggers like a hyena out of Lion King. To complete to comic effect the big one growls. I smile. I know it is about to get physical. Oh well...bring the pain. I hear the grunt behind the toss, then the flying chair. It crashes next to me, the pieces fall to the floor. I pick up a pair, they fit perfectly. It has begun.

The Big One! Blast, the big ones always come first. He roars towards me. Time slows, I turn. The moon is up, the stars twinkle as if winking at me.

'Go ahead' they say, 'get it over with.'

I smile. Fragrant flowers fall to the ground. They smell so good. He keeps roaring, hope he does not run out of breath. I keep my head turning right so the Big One's fist crashes into the closet door. It does not budge. Impressive workmanship. He is jarred to his very core, so I help to shake him up some more. The chair pieces in my hand met his jaw and oh snap! He will be on a liquid diet for many days. He comes back for seconds, with seconds. I duck and this time meet his flabby gut. The groan is satisfactory, and as I rise my head, his jaw, again. Higher pitched sound. While his hands tend his face I finish with a well placed knee that sends him on his knees. Ahh, room to exhale. A neat kick to the chest and he is sprawled amidst his gaping fellows.

Why do goons attack one at a time? It is illogical, especially if the big one is taken out first - incoming stick. Whoa! It whistles, some strength behind it. The still intact chair catches it. My turn for jarring, I feel it in my teeth. Not pleasant. I decide to dispatch him directly. His stick breaks on the chair, the momentum of his attack causes him to bow. I send him a knee of welcome and simultaneously put a bit of chair in his spine. He squeals and crumples into a mass of writhing agony. He will not rise unassisted. One down, one and a half to go.

The hyena remains. He has some smarts, he looks at his fellows and steps back to muster himself. In the mean while in the corner of my eye I see her get up and run back towards town. She will be fine. It was never about her anyway. She turns in my direction, as if to face me though she cannot see me. I will her to get away, and she hears me.

He has gathered his resolve and he comes howling, I am sure now he is the Hyena boy. He will not giggle after I have met him. I am unarmed, so is he. He introduces himself with a sloppy kick. I easily dodge the foot. He thunks into the glass. It does not break, how feeble. As his body follows his foot I turn and push him further and his face does the trick. The cool outside air rushes in. The flowers smell so good. They clear the smell of blood and anger out of the room, almost poetic save for whimpering goons. He catches himself on a pillar supporting the overhang. He takes raspy breaths and spits a bloody mess. His hand goes to his face to wipe the red out of his eyes. Hyena boy is smart, he looks once, looks twice and turns to run.

She has gone home. She will be up late worrying. She knows not to call anyone, well she will call her mom. The night is young. I feel energized. I have to know what this is about. As Hyena boy stumbles away I give chase. It is my turn to hunt. He hears me laugh behind him and tries to straighten up to run. The knock to his head was a good one, his world is spinning. This will be fun.

I wake up with a maniacal smile in cold sweat. I know I will pull through. After all its just a Microbiology final.