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OPEN CONFESSIONAL. Feel free to assign penances (is that the term?) or whatever feels fitting . . .

For the record . . .

I don't have any trouble with any Christian seeking to love what God loves and hate what God hates.

I don't even have THAT much trouble with any two of us being 180 degrees on what it is we think God hates and loves . . . particularly if we arrive at such convictions out of an earnest, good faith sort of start, motivation, goal.

I don't hate individuals. I really don't. I've seen enough of my own crud . . . there's no point. Besides, it's not what Father does and I'd rather become more like Him vs less. I really would.

I do hate . . . destructive structures, deceptions of satan etc. as supposedly all Christians do. And, I don't mind, that much, that my holy of holies might be some other believer's 'hell in a hand basket on a fast freight.'

I used to be every bit as fussed up, obsessive compulsive, starchy, prissy, long-pointy-school-marm-fingered; self-righteous, haughty, stern, harsh, thin-skinned; know-it-all-y; judgmental; vengeful; angry; ALWAYS RIGHT; . . . the list went on and shamefully on . . .

as anyone here and no doubt far worse than most if not than all.

And it never achieved any of my 'lofty' goals. Almost always the opposite.

I could go into all the psychodynamic stuff involved but that's not all that critical to this confessional pontification.

I was still racked with the above 'qualities' when I worked at a human relations project in San Diego ran by chaplains. CREDO. We took Navy, Marine Corps, Coast Guard personnel and on different weekends, their spouses up to the WMCA ranch house in Julian Thurs through Sunday and messed over their minds wholesale.

Was a great program. We really helped lower enlisted and officer and higher of both learn to hear and communicate with one another much more effectively. Commands which had even say 15-25% of their personnel go to the workshops had less sick days out; less AWOL; more reenlistments etc. And a LOT of families were changed much for the better.

I was always paired with ORF. ORF was a chaplain psychologist but a pretty mild mannered sort. I was his side-kick because I could be counted on to stir the pot good and proper and then some. And all our 14 workshops went well, very well, very productive. And that felt good.

Down in San Diego, across from the Star of India on the Wharf, we also had groups that I ran and some participated in. Amongst them, our staff meetings were also group process amongst our 10 member staff. That would be about 5 or so chaplains and the rest of us enlisted and civilian types.

Welllllll, I was always happy to process or be on the hot seat . . . and virtually no one else was eager to . . . so 90+% of the time, staff meetings were shred, wash, spin dry/make-over-Quix time.

A lot of time, at the ranch house or down on the wharf, folks would jab me good and sharply, deeply with what was supposedly humor but which I didn't understand or didn't relate to as humor at all. But they were laughing.

And in a lot of the staff meetings, the hostility toward my Evangelical self-righteousness etc. was fierce. There was enormous pressure to capitulate, conform, become LIKE THEM.

That never happened.

But I did learn a lot . . . SOME OF IT ON REFLECTION, LONG AFTER.

I knew that at least some of them really did care for me in spite of their anger, hostility, satire etc.

AND SOME OF THEIR SATIRE REALLY CAUSED ME TO PRODUCTIVELY PONDER. Of course I prayed about all the above all the time. But some of that satire was just tooooo much--tooooo something to dismiss easily. The barb stuck in deep and solidly and wouldn't leave me alone sometimes for months or even years in some respects.

And, certainly, not all the satire was lovingly motivated. Some just hated me and my self-righteousness and would have been happy to have literally ground me up and fed me to the sharks in the bay. I had it coming. I was a real prig.

But God was not finished with me yet. He saw to it that all those satiracle barbs, practical "jokes," blatant assaults were used for my good. I probably gained another PhD's worth of education and growth from them.

One of the biggest things I learned was that . . . don't sweat it. None of us gets out alive in our flesh anyway. All flesh stinks. Let it die. Bury it. Plant flowers. Don't visit.

I learned that humor and even satire, often especially satire . . . can sling in, zap in some truth between the armor plates in ways that nothing else can.

And, that even IF someone was ruthlessly satirical deliberately at my expense--even with great malice and aforethought--I COULD PROBABLY LEARN A LOT FROM PRAYERFULLY PODNERING IT--EVEN IF WHAT I LEARNED was not always all about me.

And all of it taught me a lot more about taking myself and most of life with a grain of salt; a lot more humor; a lot more of a Snoopy dance and a SO WHAT attitude. Not in a blindly dismissive or clueless way--at least mostly most of the time not so--but in a--so what is the big deal--we are all human. We are all flawed. We are all works in progress. We can all learn and grow. And we all frequently have egg or worse on our faces and ought to learn to laugh about it. Laugh AND LEARN. But at least laugh. Life is too short not to laugh.

I'm sure I've laughed at a lot of satire, practical jokes etc. that the perpetrators were convinced I was an IQ30 clueless idiot who didn't understand how badly I'd just been skewered, insulted and put down.

But they didn't know that I'd prayed virtually all my life to be able to put myself in the other person's skin and to see what they saw and feel what they felt. And, many times, even if the goal was to assault me ruthlessly, there was often something about the perspective of the perpetrator's that I could find funny about me and truly laugh at it.

I also learned along the way about satire . . . even ruthless, fierce satire . . . that it can stick sufficiently in the muscle of my mind to bring healthy fruit for months and even years afterwards. It's less likely to be dismissed and forgotten so easily, so quickly. All the more so if it triggers a lot of emotions.

And, accordingly, I've had many, many people come back to me and say, Quix, I hated it when you . . . . I could have killed you. But years later, God showed me you were right. I was wrong. And you helped me and my family relationships from that forever more once I woke up enough to pay attention to what you were really getting at. I hated you for 3 years for what you'd said and that biting satirical way you said it. But slowly the light began to dawn because I couldn't forget it.

That's why I take the risks. That's why I bother. I know what that kind of growth is like in my own life and in the lives of many dozens of others.

Do I miss it? Am I flawed in all such. Sure. I haven't found Enoch's chariot yet. But my heart is to do good. I'm not interested in anyone bleeding to death.

I'd actually MUCH RATHER NO ONE even be slightly offended. That's my natural bent. I'm even still ENOUGH of a people pleaser that I'd PREFER that everyone think all my words were golden dew drops and my person the picture of Christian charity and graciousness. But that's not really my brief and I'm now OK with that as I've written hereon elsewhere.

I just know that I'm my own best . . . tool . . . in a lot of respects . . . in the sense that . . . God uses all of me in surprising ways time and time again. And who am I to say no.

Therefore what hereon, I'll have to continue to pray about. I'm certainly not into hate except hating satan and his works.

But I can honestly and genuinely say it is easy for me to love every FREEPER on here--even those who hate my guts. I only want good for them as well as everyone else hereon.

I have learned that sometimes Love comes in very funny packages.

Thanks for the chance to share this confessional pontification,

LUB