As a follower of Christ and as an embedded undercover missionary within the poverty culture, I’ve always sought the balance between wealth and poverty. Between enjoying what you have and giving what you have. Between the words of Jesus and the nonsense of North American middle-class culture.
My friend The Shaman (formerly of Chickasha, OK and now of the Rocky Mountains in CO) recently wrote of Ecclesiastes in his daily on-line journal. His mention of Eccl. chapter 9 verse 7 and onward in defense of enjoying what the CEO of the universe has given us makes sense. The Shaman uses this verse to follow his words “When we have a real empathy for the needs of others, especially the misfortunate and poor, there is a tendency to have guilt about our own personal blessings and provisions”.
Basic gist: have care for those without. But enjoy your bread & wine. Enjoy your wife. Keep yourself clean, and work with all your might.
Oddly enough, I’ve always tended to agree with this. I surely enjoy my wife. And wine. And Golden Monkey Belgian triple ale.
But I still scratch my head over followers of Christ spending vast resources on gawdy property when the local poor go without.
In the local news this week, a local church bought the legendary mansion on Buffalo Gap road with hopes of turning it into a public event center and church function shin-dig house. This 12,000 sq foot monstrosity is in grave disrepair so this church is also raising funds to fix it up, under a non-prof outfit. So it goes.
This house is so bloated and asinine that even its builders/original owners back in 1983 couldn’t keep it after a few years.
The OLD Agent B would have lambasted this church’s purchase without question.
The NEW Agent B questions the comparison of enjoying ones wine from god with buying ridiculous property on the hopeful nickel of generous others for repair.
There is a new character working in the remodeling outfit along side myself, Chuckie, and The Jedi Master.
Forty-Nine Cent hails from Flint, Michigan but has been in the west Texas region for a good while. He claims to now be clean from a serious drug past that landed him in prison for five years. The prison-made mural tattooed across his body tells the tale of the snitch who sent him away, while the grim reaper lorded his life over specific years.
Admittedly, I never understood the gangster wanna-be attitude and culture. Even the baggy pants/boxer shorts uniform seems so impractical for a lifestyle that ends up on-the-run in a moments notice. Although cops have told me that they love this fashion when things digress into a foot chase. Baggy pants guys are easy to catch.
Forty-Nine Cent & I worked together this week and I’m glad to get to know him. He’s newly married and making a sincere effort to “settle down” and so forth.
Of course, the real beauty here is the redemption path that The Jedi Master is allowing Forty-Nine Cent to take. He worked for JM years ago and quit just as he stole a few hundred dollars in tools for a high. JM recently allowed him to work off that debt and start fresh.
My dream of house flipping has become complete with the sale closing yesterday.
I'm reporting this on the fly with little thought or deep meaning behind it. But anyway, I am thankful to the CEO of the universe who has once again given me an identity after many long years in the desert.
I am also thankful for my Jedi Master and Chuckie who have been beyond instrumental in my training of such endeavors.
I am thankful for Agent Wife and all three offsprings who are extremely supportive of my new found work and semi-passion.
And I will always be thankful for Nat Sherman "Nats" cigarillos and Victory Storm King Imperial Stout - the best beer I've found yet.
The Jedi Master will help me shop for a second house next week. I'm looking forward to doing this again (take THAT "recession").
Howdy all. It’s old-school Agent B here in rare form.
Recently I heard a peculiar analogy for the social club-style church. Or better yet, the attraction-al model church.
A person was convincing others in a conversation how their church’s worship service needed to be superior quality and excellent (ie: above and beyond average singing and music, etc) since Sunday morning service is considered a net. Basically, make it nice and pretty so visitors will hang around, come back, join, and become part of the collective.
I could easily go off on that faulty notion of excellence and worship. Not that I embrace crap or second class worship or anything from the christian culture (Fireproof anyone?!?). But my kids make excellent paintings (or so I think) that wouldn’t be worth a dime on the street. But these paintings are priceless to me. I’m sure the CEO thinks likewise.
But a net? How shallow.
Sure. Nets catch large quantities of fish with little effort. But they also entangle, drown, and unintentionally destroy various marine life (dolphins, sea turtles, etc).
That little effort part: I guess a Sunday morning social club would need to be a net if the individual people or families won’t bother with the effort to live with, walk with and understand another individual or family for the long haul.
I am pretty thankful for much. Especially these days.
- The Jedi Master and I are scheduled to close our (my) first house flip partnership at the end of this month. This house flipping ordeal has been an amazing journey and dream come true. Thank you CEO. I’m still in awe of how fast I got into this. I am pretty sure this was meant to be.
- I wrote a letter to The Bulldog (who is in state prison). He replied with the most humble response ever. Becoming spiritually minded in jail is pretty common. But The Bulldog was apologizing for “not being a good neighbor” and not respecting his mother the way he thought he should. I never had any problems with his neighboring. I wasn’t too crazy about the gangsters he attracted next door though. Hopefully, he will continue to seek the CEO. And hopefully, our letter correspondence will continue.
- And lastly, a new character in my life got me thinking. Uncle Rico is a painter who is working on the same house that the Jedi Master, Chuckie and I are hired to remodel. I still haven’t figured him out completely, but I’m liking him more and more. His wife has a good paying job, so Uncle Rico paints houses whenever he can find work. He seems to embrace life where he’s at and not chase after prestige or anything. I can respect that much.
Uncle Rico got me thinking: I am 38 years old and support myself and my family on an hourly wage, plus any random lawn jobs that come my way. And now, house flipping projects. I am really thankful that I don’t have to live a rat race.
Before Frieda could tell me of The Tiger's court hearing, I stumbled across his verdict via a local news site.
The Tiger will spend the next year and a half in state prison.
I hate to see it happen. If there is a good side to this, it's that he's actually getting disciplined for something once in his life.
It kind of breaks me up a bit. As Agent Wife and I ponder our most likely assignment change, I often wonder if I'll ever see him walk as a free man again.
Change is definitely in the air. Our local assignment in this undisclosed location we call home is wrapping itself up.
The Tiger and his brother The Bulldog: one more chapter in our agent life closed.
For the better part of six years, Agent Wife and I (and three offsprings who joined us) have been in the desert. It is mostly, a “spiritual desert” for lack of a better term. But don’t put it past the fair mother city to be a semi-arid region of the world as well.
For bible believing people, the desert is where you go just before some important mission, new ministry or life-long task. It is where you are trained, like army basic training. There are few if any physical resources. One must rely solely on our father in heaven (the CEO of the universe).
One of the outcomes of this period is learning how to wait. Waiting is not popular in the westernized world. We are impatient. We want our microwaved hot-n-ready pizzas now. And so forth. In the western world, waiting is considered a huge inconvenience. And inconvenience is considered a major crime against our human rights.
Thus, waiting is assumed to be like an inhumane act.
During the past six years (and during my bachelor days of long ago, looking for the right mate) I’d like to think that I had this waiting thing down.
But as I approach the 90 day mark on my house flip project sitting on the market with little interest, I discover that I have retained very little on the subject of waiting.
Granted, 90 days is not a long time for a house to be on any market. And 90 days is the average time frame in the Abilene housing market.
The Jedi Master, Chuckie (when he’s not mad at JM) and myself have filled in our time with various remodel jobs for customers. So, we have work. But not the kind of work I had envisioned and hoped for. I can’t do another house flip until #1 sells. So it goes.
CEO – I give you the project and forgive me of my restlessness. Thank you for everything going so well on it during the initial 8 weeks of remodeling.
Your communications with the CEO on my behalf are also appreciated.
Last week I hitched a ride to the jail with Frieda Sanford to visit The Tiger.
This was my first time to be demoted to jail visits as a normal citizen. In the past, my ministry credentials with the izzy group allowed me 9-5 access behind bars. Now I had to stand in line with about 40 girlfriends, wives, and scattering kids for a one-time-a-week 30 minute evening visit. So it goes.
Waiting in the jail lobby brought back memories of the old izzy group food pantry days. The cultures are identical and I miss it.
Tiger is well. He's been on the work crew that goes around cleaning county roads and such 8-5 M-F. The work crew is for the privileged few: those who are in for a minor offense, are less likely to flee, and know how to work, etc. That's right up Tiger's alley.
He said the work crew also get shorter jail time (3:1), better food, and share a cell block which builds some sort of upper-level brotherhood.
I'm glad all is well for him at the local jail. Because, if he doesn't succeed at his upcoming court date then his fate will be like his brother's: state prison.
He told me when he gets out he will ditch his old friends and live on the up and up.
CEO - you are the only way up. Please show him this.
After working 40 hour weeks for almost eight months straight, I have had no consistent work for almost a month now. Although I would prefer to be working (and REALLY prefer for my first house flip project to sell so that I could do another), I now see clearly how the CEO of the universe had me available for Obi-Wan these past few weeks.
As noted in the report that introduced The Acid Queen, she has signature authority on Obi-Wan’s checkbook. I released said checkbook to her back in December at Obi-Wan’s reluctant request and by her so-called claim that she is his power of attorney. I don’t know if she truly has power of attorney over him. Obi-Wan is confused about that.
But based on two months of bank statements, we have evidence that The Acid Queen has stolen money from Obi-Wan. The grand total is about $400 (that I know of), all made by The Acid Queen for her personal purchases, cell phone bills, and other things that were not in Obi-Wan’s best interests or made via his endorsement or knowledge.
After weeks of personal wrangling, Obi-Wan retrieved his checkbook from the reluctant Acid Queen.
All in all, Obi-Wan has removed The Acid Queen from signature authority of his account. I don’t know when or how she will discover this as Obi-Wan wants her to “learn the hard way” and not mention it to her. I advised against this action to no avail.
My role here as operative walks a thin line: I want to assist Obi-Wan in every way possible as the CEO of the universe would have me do. But I want to remain Switzerland in his personal financial affairs. I’m sure The Acid Queen assumes I am operating with devious motives similar to hers. All of Obi-Wan’s friends have been rightfully suspicious of me throughout the years. But I have nothing to hide. And Obi-Wan’s fondness of me has created jealousies, so it goes.
I find it no coincidence that I am currently engulfed in books on various injustices throughout the world. This week, it’s Terrify No More by Gary Haugen (thanks Nurse!) which documents the international legal wranglings of the International Justice Mission, specifically their rescuing of three dozen child sex slaves in Cambodia in 2003. It’s a great read. I highly recommend it.
Although third-world under-aged sex slavery and US elderly financial abuse are basically apples and oranges, the same gist is there: remove the victim from the harmful situation with systematic and methodical prose.
My son, Agent Offspring #1, is four. And in his vast world view, there are two kinds of people: good guys and bad guys.
He plays various adventure scenarios in the back yard based on the embarrassing amount of videos I never thought we'd let our kids watch. And the characters in his play adventures are realistic but quasi predictable. The good guys do good stuff and the bad guys do bad stuff.
He's probably too young to comprehend that sometimes bad people do good things and sometimes good people do bad things. Hell, I can't always comprehend it.
And then there's "who gets to decide what is good and what is bad and what is the definition of good and bad". And on and on.
A couple of weeks ago, my next door neighbor, former backyard shadow, and garden wars competitor The Tiger finally went off to jail for some crimes he committed about two summers ago. He was on probation for a while until he broke his probation.
I told him about jail a while back, hoping to convince him to live on the up in up during the probation period. It didn't work I guess. I said "you're 18 now. You're a man in the law's eyes. No more pansy juvenile detention wus-ville. You'll get put in a cell with six other guys who will force you to be their girlfriend, all at the same time".
I love The Tiger. He really has good in him. A lot. I've seen it. I've lived next door to him for six years and have known him for four years prior to that from the old izzy group ministry food pantry days.
Not to defend his actions but, in many ways he never had a chance. I mean, he grew up moving every four to six months. His mom moved him and his two siblings into one roach infested hell hole after another. He grew up watching men beat his mom. I'm still amazed that to this day he has yet to copy that behavior. He's never had a girlfriend that I know of nor has he created or participated in any physical violence.
He's just such a follower. He's never had a grand goal or even any small goals and stuck with it. He's never had any parents or adult role models that had goals either. He just lives day to day and see what stuff happens. That's the poverty mentality.
As an undercover operative for the CEO of the universe, I am strategically embedded within the poverty culture of Abilene, TX (the fair mother city). This blog contains my reports, discoveries, observations, and confessions. My identity must remain concealed due to passages in The Book under Matt. 6:1-4. The names on this blog have been changed to protect the guilty.
As a follower of Christ and as an embedded undercover missionary within the poverty culture, I’ve always sought the balance between wealth and poverty. Between enjoying what you have and giving what you have. Between the words of Jesus and the nonsense of North American middle-class culture.
