Creativity an essential to religion

CAVEAT: I'm not PCUSA anymore, so this is tongue-in-cheek. (I don't have the class that Will Spotts shows in just staying out of it.) But it's my blog, so I can vent like that. This post was written before I was tidily swept out of the ordination process. However, with the recent GAPJC ruling, I think it's relevant. The real mess isn't about THE GAY, but about THE GOSPEL. Disobedience to evangelical truth lies at the root of the rot - across the mainlines sidelines.

At the bidding of Clifton Kirkpatrick, I was reflecting on what is essential to Christian faith. Since the only folks who will determine if I've met those essentials (and CPE) are in Holston Presbytery, I decided it best to visit the teaching ministry of our most Reformed blogger, who - unlike me - is able to hold ordained ministerial status. I found there an essential of creativity. With that in hand, I thought about the general impulse of the blog and decided I'd better get about the task of finding a politicized church where creativity was an essential (rather than all those essentials of the Christian faith he has trouble accepting or understanding, like the full deity of Christ and his second advent, the inspiration of the Scriptures, and the Triune personhood of God).

I think I finally found one. It essentializes creativity, looks for logical / scientific / evolutionary answers to the world's problems, holds that Christian history is full of human horrors caused by supernaturalistic dogma, forbids thought of an afterlife, thinks that religion is best occupied by political action rather than doctrinal issues, and is all about taking care of the environment. They even emphasize women clergy! (That's one better than those NWACko winos!)

My Drug Problem

A little something nice I will pass along to you all, that was sent to me from the letters to the editor section of a local newspaper in Avoyelles parish!

MOTHERS WHO DRUGGED US!!!

The other day, someone at a store in our town read that a Methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farmhouse in the adjoining county and he asked me a rhetorical question.

Why didn't we have a drug problem when you and I were growing up?

I replied, I had a drug problem when I was young:

I was drug to church on Sunday morning I was drug to church for weddings and funerals.

I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter the weather.

I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults.

I was also drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home a bad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher or the preacher, or if I didn't put forth my best effort in everything that was asked of me.

I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth washed out with soap if I uttered a profanity

I was drug out to pull weeds in mom's garden and flowerbeds and cockleburs out of dad's fields.

I was drug to the homes of family, friends, and neighbors to help out some poor-soul who had no one to mow the yard, repair the clothesline, or chop some firewood; and, if my mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she would have drug me back to the woodshed.

Those drugs are still in my veins and they affect my behavior in everything I do, say, or think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or heroin; and, if today's children had this kind of drug problem.

America would be a much better place.

God bless the parents that drugged us!