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Get Keen - October 2006

Nursing Homes and the Kingdom of God

October 20th 2006 04:04
The smell of urine and pureed green beans; comatose nursing aids pondering whether or not they have the winning lottery ticket for Saturday night’s drawing; numerous television sets with little-to-no reception blaring out a symphony of General Hospital, Lawrence Welk re-runs, and a Jerry Springer documentary about wife swapping with a touch of kinky sex. Welcome to the local nursing home anywhere in the United States; the proverbial “dumping ground” of the aged. Pity the poor, dumb, bastards who venture down these halls. Nevertheless, if you can get beyond the smells, the depressing sights and sounds, and the pitiful stuffed animals crusted with ancient saliva, then maybe, just maybe, you will catch a glimpse of the Kingdom of God. I go every Thursday to visit Mrs. V, a lady in her 90’s with no short-term memory. The visits are brief, but very much appreciated. There is no glamour in this context; no one is watching, no one notices, no one except the audience of one. Jesus said, “I was sick and you helped me; I was lonely and you comforted me; I was in prison and you visited me, etc.” Why does Father Keen visit? Because these gentle creatures (in the twilight of life) bear the image of the Living God. If you want to experience the Kingdom of God in a real and meaningful way, you will often find it in the most unusual places. More than the excitement of the mega-church, more than the sensationalism of the electronic church . . . this is the real deal; the Kingdom of God in the midst of a human waste land filled with those too sick to live, too healthy to die, and all hungry to witness a display of “true religion” according to St. James (1:27). Check it out.



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The Truth About Katrina

October 13th 2006 00:51
Consider all you've heard about the woeful negligence of federal authorities to respond (in a reasonable manner and amount of time) to the plight of those devastated by the worst natural disaster in U.S. History. Now, before you rush to judgment about "W", or Jesse Jackson's comments, or the noble efforts of L.S.U. and N.O. Saints football celeb's, or Gov. Kathleen Blanco, or Mayor Ray Nagin, consider this: If one has never lived in the "Crescent City" (a/k/a The Venetian Paradise on the Gulf), then one is not in a position to offer an intelligent opinion regarding the circumstances surrounding this tragedy. I lived in New Orleans five years (circa: 1990-1995), and currently; I have a daughter enrolled at Tulane University. Without a doubt, New Orleans is one of the most fascinating and frustrating cities in the U.S.! Where else can you find a party 24/7 and enough booze to make your kidneys float down the mighty Mississippi? Further, where else will you find worthless thugs who fire assault rifles at e-vac vehicles in the sky struggling to save hurricane victims!? Ah, but it wouldn't be New Orleans without all this weird stuff going on constantly. Again, if you haven't lived there, it is hard to understand. This "soup-bowl" city (25 feet below sea level) has been positioned for a disaster of this magnitude for years, but we all lived in denial thinking it would never happen. I lived in two homes during my time in N.O. and both received 8 and 9 feet of water, respectively. Why? Because the levee system broke. Why? Because like almost everything else in New Orleans, "lack, loss, or theft of funds" compromised the project a long time ago. Louisiana in general and New Orleans in particular have a long, long, long history of dirty politics, fraudulent practices, and genuine skullduggery!! From Huey Long to Edwin Edwards, New Orleans is a shrine to "stealing people blind," and the miserable failure of President Lyndon Johnson's so-called "Great Society". To my knowledge, no other city in America practiced the abject stupidity of planned developments of drug-infested, crime-ridden housing projects right next door to affluent communities. The idea (forcing folks to "get along") was good in principle, but the TRUTH of the matter is: you can't force people to love each other, or get along together . . . it must happen on a volunteer basis. The former is Communism, and the latter is Christianity. At any rate, I (we) can blame the Politian’s and bureaucrats all day long, but the Bottom Line is this: the "Response Failure" wasn't Bush's fault, or Blanco's Fault, or Nagin's fault, or anyone else's fault (individually); it was the fault of the Christian Community to care for this ancient "lost cause" of a city a long time ago. I am a Christian, and I take full responsibility for not caring for the poor, not caring for the children, not fighting the fraud, and other general crimes of apathy. We Christians have a long history of "talk, but no action." I no longer live in New Orleans, but I weep for the tragic circumstances faced by the thousands of good citizens who live there. As a Christian, the fault is mine, and so must the remedy be. That is the truth, plain and simple, and though painful to admit, it's time to repent.



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Can You Handle The Truth?

October 12th 2006 03:13
Take the blue pill or the red pill . . . you decide, but it really doesn't matter; most people don't really want the truth about a number of things like "Who am I?"; "Why am I here?"; "Where am I going?" Truth isn't found in a pill, but a number of other places if you're willing to look, see, and risk. I seek truth about a number of things such as confusion over human sexuality; the plight of the urban poor; the evils that plague orgainized Christianity (evangelical and liberal); the meta-message behind Rap music; the cry of the soul coming from a single mother struggling to make ends meet in the "teeth" of poverty; politics, power, and religion in the United States; the perverse things that come from within and ultimately find expression in what we say, do, and think. This blog isn't intended to be about one thing, but many things that ultimately point to the one thing that matters: truth. Come along for the ride; your input is welcome, but time is short so we dare not waste a moment.
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