MORE LIKE JESUS

I wish I were more like Jesus.

I wish I could be homeless, comfortably saying that the birds have nests and foxes have holes but I have no where to lay my head. I wish I could drop out of the wealth driven rat race of life. I wish I could do this with the conviction that everything will burn up and pass away.

I wish I could befriend hookers and prostitutes. I wish my presence and casual conversation could expose, convict, and comfort-- all at the same time.

I wish I had teachings and words of wisdom that gave men answers and seemed so profound that caused men to just up and quit their job.

I wish I could seek out those who took advantage of the poor and abused religion I wish I could call them vipers to their face. I wish I could dump their money out on the ground and stomp on it. I wish I could beat them with whips.

I wish I could feed lots of hungry people. I wish I could do away with Hamburger Helper that creates servings for four and miraculously multiply fish in a way that provides servings for four hundred.

I wish my touch could heal and raise the dead. I know a few people that I think should still be living.

I wish I were friends with John the Baptist. I've tasted lots of food, but I've never had locusts and honey.

I wish I were friends with Peter. He seemed to speak without thinking, so I bet he said some funny stuff.

I wish famous religious leaders came and sought my counsel at night and short people climbed up on trees to get a glimpse of me by day.

Unfortunately, I couldn't handle being Jesus.

I couldn't completely forsake my family. I couldn't refuse to call my sister, Sister, my mom, Mom, and my dad, Dad. If I were in church and they wanted me to do something I would leave. Jesus did those things.

I couldn't give up all of my selfish pride. I sometimes let it go to my head when somebody asks me to make a speech or tells me that they like my writing. My head would probably burst if I had a throng of people clamoring for me.

I couldn't handle the power of miracles. If I were deity, I would want to show off my cooking skills. I would grill the fish and burn them. I would let the bread go moldy. I have a moldy load of bread on the counter. I can't tell you how much bread I would let go to waste if I had five hundred loaves.

I have other friends. Their names are Isaac, D.J., Ryan, Travis, Jonathan, Wes, Donnie and there are many other names I could add. They say plenty of dumb things without accidentally committing heresy.

I couldn't stay silent before Pilate like Jesus. When I am wrongly accused I defend myself. I don't exercise patience. In the face of persecution, I might endure it but I would also probably pitch a fit and whine a bunch.

I couldn't withstand crucification. I would try to run. The guards would have killed me long before we got up to Calvary.

I am thankful I have a savior like Jesus. No, there's no possible way I could be him. They won't rename time after me. My life won't be viewed as a turning point in history. At best my life might point others toward the Creator and His ways.

I have not been entrusted with the salvation or care of the working class, vagrants, and women of the night. My current lot in life is the education of middle school students. In some ways it is a greater responsibility than I could ever imagine or comprehend. They are in the middle of deciding who they are going to be for the rest of their lives. Ever since Bible times, society has molded kids like bullets, conformed them to a particular mold and sought to shoot them down the barrel of life at breakneck speed. I feel like middle school is the swing of the hammer and I am one of an elite group of people that has been asked to help steady the weapon.

There's no way I could do a good job on my own. I'm a bit shaky and have poor eye sight.

I need a friend like Jesus to help. We all do. The world does.

GREATEST HITS

I get about ten hits a day on this thing and most of them are from strangers who found this site via search engines and are looking for detailed information about something that I just briefly mentioned. They click and leave as quickly as they came. The most clicked through post that I have ever created, that has been linked to by e-mails and forums around the world was about Daler Mehndi's song "Tunak Tunak Tun."

Well, I've found another version of this song and this time it is flash animated. It doesn't possess the high Indian campines of the video version, but it is still worth a look if you like that sort of thing.

It is on the site Fun Free Pages.
Click This!
Link

LUXURY

As I mentioned in a previous post, I had a heck of a time making it to Singapore. Unlike some disgruntled travellers, I was one of the few to cheerfully thank the flight attendants as they regretfully told me I would have so stay the evening in some random hotel across the world.

One amazing occurance that I may never again get to experience is being bumped up to World Business Class, aka first class, on a twelve hour flight. It was wonderful and I have never been pampered in such a way in my entire life. We were each seated in wide reclining seats that had compartments containing hideaway LCD screens that allowed you to watch the first run movie of your choice. I watched a documentary hosted by Lisa Ling about China and then flipped over to Madagascar, a CG kids' flick about animals escaping from the New York zoo.

There were two flight attendants dedicated to serving us. For each meal we could select from three gourmet choices on the menu. For dinner I had salmon lasagne and for breakfast I had a savory omlette with granola. If we became hungry or thirsty between meals, the attendants offered us an endless and infinite selection of beverages and there was a never ending basket full of chocolates.

At one point in the flight, they brought out a shopping cart offering a variety of items. I can't decide if this is just another luxury or if the rich who usually fly in World Business Class are so addicted to consumption that they view it as a necessity.

As we left the plane, the KLM (Royal Dutch Airlines) flight attendants handed us little Blue Delft houses.

I wish I had some poignant observation to make or grand conclusion I could present about this experience. I'm from Missouri, my family's isn't rich and I'm used to Wal-mart, Aldi, and, if I really wanted to go upscale, Target. Unless someone in my family wins the lottery, I will probably never fly first class again and I don't expect to. In some ways, I am glad. I am glad that I don't live life completely pampered and coddled. I feel like falling in the category of comfortable middle class consumer is more than enough, maybe too much. Even though it is dangerous to wish this, my real hope is that I will be able to accept almost any circumstance in life with a cheerful and thankful heart.

VANITY SEARCHING

Search engines can be cool. I noticed on the sitemeter that I was getting awful lot of search engine hits from the name of a creation scientist I mentioned in one of my posts. Out of six hundred and sixty three pages my web page is number three in the AOL listing. It also has a cool sounding meta tag underneath it. Click the link to see what I'm talking about.

Link

PABLO BAEN SANTOS

I had last weekend free so I decided to go see some of the sights around Singapore. I live right in the heart of the city and most of the tourist places that are worth looking at are within walking distance of my apartment. I stopped at the Singapore National Library and was rejected for a library card because I did not have my passport with me. I went to Raffle's Hotel and saw how the enourmously rich live, business men lounged on the cigar devan and pampered families ate five course meals. Raffle's also contains a bar that was frequented by Joseph Conrad and Rudyard Kipling. It is creatively titled "The Writer's Bar." I also went to "Simlim Square," a shopping center where you haggle for electronics and has a hawker that serves excellent tandori chicken.

I also visited the Singapore Art Museum. It features the largest collections of South Pacific art on the planet. Malay, Indian, Singaporean, and Hong Kong artists are all represented. Unlike many American art museums that feature a mishmash of classical and modern art presented with little rhyme or reason, the Singaporean collections are all unified and you can read the story of each artist and his work as you go through the museum. Many of the presentations are chronological. Perhaps it is because that what we think of as art doesn't have a very long history, less than one hundred years, in this region so they are able to present an accurate explanation of the social context and motivation behind each piece of artwork. Maybe the museum just does it because it is sponsored by a borderline totalitarian state.

One of the most interesting pieces that I saw was by an artist named Pablo Baen Santos titled "Bangong Kristos." In English it means "The New Christ." The center of this oil painting was a dark skinned man perspiring blood. On his back the Christlike figure carried the dollar sign in place of a cross. If you gaze at the painting long enough you begin to see an American flag waving in the background.

As an American I really don't know how I should respond to this. The Singaporeans have seemed to embrace American culture without reserve. There are probably more Starbucks coffee houses and western style malls per square mile in Singapore than America. I hope that the dollar sign is a symbol for economic oppression that has colonial roots, an issue historically much larger than America. I would like to think that America did not go on to cause problems for people greater than the ones we were liberated from during our Revolutionary War. Unforunately, we probably did. The questions we should ask ourselves now is what, if anything, can we do to help remedy the situation.

HUNGRY GHOST FESTIVAL

Most Americans celebrate Halloween. In Singapore and China, they celebrate the Hungry Ghost Festival. On the seventh lunar month of every year they think that the ghosts of their dead ancestors come out from hell and want food. The Chinese Buddhists make plates of food and leave them on sidewalks and in the middle of the street. Most hawkers have elaborate displays of food and incense. They also offer the ghosts fake money by burning piles of it in the streets. The picture is of a plate of fruit that I almost stepped in yesterday.

SECURITY

I live very close to one of the entrances to the Istana, the office of the President of the Republic of Singapore. If you drive on a road that is within fifty meters of my house this sign will greet you.

There are two things I know about first impressions. The first is that they are awfully hard to forget and the second is that they are nearly always wrong.

My first impression about security in Singapore is that they don't mess around. There are signs like the ones posted above, a secret police force, and in the subways you might catch the occasional glimpse of a guy wearing a red beret and wielding a machine gun. If the Singapore government is going to secure an area, enforce a law, or protect the citizens they will stop at nothing until the job is accomplished effectively. They have six hundred and ninety three square kilometers and they are going to run the best city that they can. They won't be bothered by criminals, terrorists, or people that disrupt the peace.

Don't get misunderstand me. It is not a perfect place. I don't agree with the BBC's assessment that Singapore is like Disneyland with the death penalty. You will still find a decent amount of graffitti and litter, but most people who travel frequently say that you will see far less than in other parts of Asia. Most of Singapore's vandilism seems to be in the form of crude copies of American rebellion patterns. I once saw the word "PUNK" spray painted on the side of a building.

I imagine that there is a downside to all of the security. I haven't been here long, but I have a hunch that there may be deep-seated injustices experienced toward the poor and certain racial classes. However, unlike America every citizen of Singapore gets to live in an HDB flat, really a decent place to live, and I haven't seen or heard of anybody going hungry.

As I live here longer I will see if my hunches come to fruition or if they are founded in needless American angst.

EXPORTED IMAGES

Even though I am in Asia, I've been battling a short spat of Montezuma's revenge. It was difficult for me to sleep last night so I came into the living room and watched some TV.

I saw the tail end of a Shaw Brothers kung fu movie. Two guys in traditional Asian dress battled to the death over some gold. The climactic fight scene featured two guys doing high wire kung fu moves with explosions occurring all around. One was impaled on the horns of a dragon statue and the other was cursed by the gold and died foaming at the mouth. In the end, peace was restored to the kingdom and the cursed gold went back to the emperor.

The next channel I flipped to had a Korean horror movie. Even to an American who was once a high school horror movie aficionado, this movie was weird. A girl was accidentally killed by a group of three teenage guys, as a result the guys were cursed. In order to remove the curse they had an old lady counsel them in ways to conjure the dead. Each ghost they met gave the boys a different task- ranging from burning incense and candles to stealing money off of the corpse of a dead man to buying a gold ring. I didn't make it to the end of the film. I became too confused by the quagmire of a plot. Besides, when I flipped to channel five, the one that features mostly English content, something else caught my attention.

Usually channel five feature such asinine and inconsequential content as The Apprentice, America's Next Top Model, and the Robocop movies. However, last night they were showing American World Wrestling. Most Americans might think that pro wrestling fits perfectly with the caliber of entertainment programming that I listed above. Yet from the perspective of an American sitting on a couch in Asia, what I saw as embarrassing, jingoistic, and shameful. And I'm not even talking about the Crisco clad Speedo men grappling with each other in the ring.

Between each match the wrestlers would come out and perform skits where they taunt and cajole each other. In one of these skits a wrestler wearing an Uncle Sam hat and a red white and blue sequin vest showed up. While listening to his speech it became evident that at some point he was one of the few, the proud, the people that fought in the American Armed service. He was getting ready to fight some rival. I've already forgotten the names and quips of both wrestlers. However, I distinctly remember what the flamboyant Uncle Sam macho man told his audience.

He told the audience that most of them were cowards who let other people, like himself, fight their battles for them. He reminded the roaring crowd that America has terrorist enemies and that we need to rise to the challenge to defeat them. He told the crowd there were people in the world who hated us because we were rich and powerful and they weren't. While watching him I got the sense that he was the living embodiment of neoconservative foreign policy.

In the wrestling audience, some people booed and some cheered at his words. I'm sure this wrestling actor knew he was serving as a polarizing force. During my senior year of high school one of my classmates and I intentionally made it habit to watch the WCW, so we could live out the irony of discussing pro-wrestling while attending end of the year scholars' banquets. I remember wrestlers dividing into separate camps, usually between good and bad. One that sticks out most clearly in my mind is the New World Order (NWO), a group of evil wrestler bent on taking over the world. I don't think they succeeded.

I'm sure that some hard core wrestling fans would go as far as to justify the wrestler's words and actions by saying he was fulfilling a role, playing a particular part in a masculine soap opera. From my time in the rural Midwest I know that it would taking nothing but balls to call a group of drunk redneck wrestling fans cowardly. Shoot, if I had watched long enough I might have even seen a hippie style wrestler in sunglasses (they do exist) exhorting the crowd to peace.

Yet none of that matters. August ninth was the Singaporean Independence Day. There was a parade, a display of fighter jets, fireworks, and a lot of flag waving. I didn't notice a single American style brash display of country love. The fact that war mongering and ignorant patriotism exists in American discourse should be greatly disturbing. These exported images are how foreigners get their ideas about Americans. It is unlikely that someone on the other side of the world would recognize the subtle distinctions differentiating even radically contrasting American political philosophies. I'm a university educated person who lived in Missouri for most of my life and I can't even tell you who runs Canada, or even Iowa for that matter.

Before I went to bed I flipped over to Channel News Asia. They run a CNN style news scroll at the bottom of the screen. One line that flew by said, “George W. Bush will not rule out the use of force against Iran.” I can't imagine why they might be concerned.

HASH

If this business existed in the United Sates there would be rampant protests and public moral outrage, SWAT teams would be called to scale its walls and confiscate its profits, and its customers would be accused of denegrating society. The picture is of The Bulldog, one of Amersterdam's famous hash bars.

I nervously entered. A three foot tall bust of a bulldog head greeted me with glowing red neon eyes as I walked through the door. The stereo piped out a song with a thumping beat and a chorus chanting “take another hit.” There were small groups of people, ranging from experimenting teenagers to twenty something hippies to silver haired middle aged business people, sitting around tables smoking various types of joints and cigarettes. I walked down a few steps to get to the main bar. There was a women wearing a black tank top and few piercings in her face busily serving coffee and “green” beer. I approached the bar, failing miserably at trying not to look to out of place with my laptop computer case in one hand and a pack full of carry-on luggage on my back. I finally caught the bar maid's attention and got up the gumption to ask her, “May I please use the toilet.” She pushed a special button behind the bar that unlocked the restroom and pointed me toward the back. I used the restroom and exited the bar out of the gift shop.

That was my experience in an Amsterdam hash bar.

Some of you may ask why I even bothered to enter into such a dark den of iniquity. Well, the excuse is I was with some guys that wanted to go in, but the truthful answer is I wanted to see how it was done, what it was like, and why our nation feels so threatened by places like The Bulldog. I could have easily taken a leak at the Burger King across the street.

After I was out of the bar, I sat on the street corner watching a few street performers and looking at the people that came and went from the hash bar. It really was an egalitarian bunch. There were people from every class and walk of life. There were Africans, old folks, young ones, tall ones, skinny ones, and a few who rode on bikes. To pedestrians, there was nothing unusual or shocking about the place. I noticed a toddler who walked by with his mother. The toddler saw the bulldog head through the window and ran inside to look at it. He pointed at it and said something in toddler talk. His mother used some Dutch words to call him back to her.

Everybody I saw smoking on the porch was very laid back and relaxed. While the music inside was loud, the atmosphere was nothing like a bar that served alcohol. Nobody was loud and obnoxious. Nobody was sloppy drunk. Nobody was flaunting themselves or acting promiscuous. The hash bar seemed a lot more pleasant and law abiding than many of the places on Columbia's Ninth Street.

The guys I was with came out of the bar quite a while after me and started smoking joints outside. A strange, relaxed smile was over their faces, but as far as I could tell the only negative consequence was that they were hungry and they had a strange perception of time. I could tell because they kept looking at their watches.

Was I tempted to join them? Whs I tempted to try? They offered. Was I curious to partake in a drug that has been the subject of adoration of nearly every pop music star, from Steve Miller to Snoop Dogg? Sure. I'm a little high strung and the idea that I could inhale a few fumes and chill out has some attraction, but I know that not trying it is for the best. I'm not even sure “tempting” is the correct word. I had made up my mind a long time ago that I wasn't going to smoke dope. And once I've made up my mind to do something sometimes I can be as stubborn as a Missouri mule- just ask my students or my Mom.

As a Christian, it would have probably violated God's call to be sober minded. As a Christian educator working for a mission in a foreign country, it would have violated my contract, and if the administration found out I would have had to high tail it right back to the states. Don't teach a class, don't pass “Go,” don't collect two hundred dollars. As a traveller in a foreign country who has never really taken any intoxicating substances, there's the possiblilty that I might have freaked out and done something that made me miss my flight- something that would have cost me thousands of dollars.

Later on in the day, one of the Polish guys asked me why I didn't join them while they smoked at the bar or drank beer during lunch. I told him that I was a conservative Christian and that I didn't feel like God wanted me to. At this, he told me that he was not a conservative Christian and that he felt it was best for a person to create his own philosophy. He felt that adopting any system of thinking that required persuasion or evangelism eventually lead to wars. I started to respond, but after less than a minute he changed the topic of conversation and just told me that it was complicated. I could have pressed the issue, but I let the subject drop.

As I reflect on my day in Amsterdam I do think quite a bit about my Christian witness, which really was the factor that motivated most of my decisions that day. Unfortunately, I think it is sad that the best I have to offer is teetotalling. If Jesus had lived in modern Amsterdam, would that have been his identifying mark?

I don't even really know any other way to do it. I doubt engaging people in heated debates using the latest radio ministry apologetics is really that effective or even that Christlike. I also think tracts are pretty worthless. I guess they can be good if you don't speak the language or are just desperate to convey your message, but most of the time Christians just use them as an excuse not to form relationships.

So, returning to the original question, on of the motivating factors for this particular adventure, should places like The Bulldog be illegal in the United States. I don't think so.

Politicians and anti-drug advocates will quote statistics identifying the dangers and negative consequences of people who smoke marijuanna. They will say it is a gateway drug and that taking drugs can lead people into a life that is in shambles. Yet, none of those studies are valid because no person in the control group really has a problem violating the law.

Don't get me wrong, intoxicating yourself is not an activity for Christians. However, getting drunk, selling birth control to the unmarried, and watching shows like “American Idol” (just think about the name) aren't particuarly Christian either, but we don't waste countless dollars and resources to prevent those activities.

Right now, the drug war in the United States is really ineffective. In high school and college I knew of people that took drugs, marijuanna in particular. The system is unjust. The more income a person's parents made, the easier it seemed for them to get away with it.

In Singapore, the only penalty for drug solicitation is death. While I've heard that some drugs exist here, I'm pretty sure that Singapore has won the drug war. Only the tiniest minority of high school students will ever even try them and drugs will never be seen in public. If America was serious, I'm sure we could adopt the no tolerance model and make a considerable amount of success.

Yet, I don't think it would be worth the cost and I don't believe our justice system could handle it. America struggles to fairly execute murders and rapists. It seems like a much better solution would be to adopt a more graceful approach. Because America's war on drugs, especially marijuanna, takes up so many resources maybe it would be better to legalize it like Amersterdam or at least a find a new way to enforce the laws. We could invest all of the money we currently spend on jail time for drug offenders into medical treatment for drug offenders.

I'm not sure of the correct solution, but after my experiences in Amsterdam and Singapore I know that when dealing with drugs we basically have a choice between death and grace. I want to choose grace.

DURIAN

I've been in Singapore less than a week and I've been told that I'm already a more adventurous eater than most people who have lived here two or three years. I've had extremely spicy meat from Malaysia, shrimp and crayfish with the eyes still on them, squid, sea urchin, and a number of tropical fruits. However, when I talk to people about what I have eaten, what impresses them most is the fruit pictured above, which is known as durian.

I asked what it was after seeing a signs on buses and MRT's explicitly stating durian was a forbidden fruit. I asked the science teacher at the school why. Is the Singapore government trying to test our loyalty to its imposing presence? Of course not. The reason you can't bring durian on public transporation is because it stinks. It has a pungent odor that affects everything around it.

After going out to eat for some tasty Indian chicken, a few of the school faculty and I were going to go to Plaza Singapura for some ice cream, but all that changed with the science teacher saw durian on sale at the local Carefour store. It was a two for one deal and she shelled out twenty dollars just so that two other new faculty and I could eat durian. I guess she had some kind of intiation in mind.

Before I go on, I'll provide a little background information. First, durian really stinks. Did I already mention that? Second, pregnant women are directed not to eat it. They say it raises the body's cholesterol too much. Third, in its raw form it looks like a cat fetus, at least that is what the science teacher said.

After the durian was purchased for us, everybody had a little taste. I put it in my mouth and felt the mashed, slimy texture, smelled its rich aroma, and tasted its uniquie flavor- something akin to mashed up horseradish mixed with apples and run though a blender. I ended up eating two pieces. It really wasn't that bad and it really wasn't that good. I could see why some people might like it, but it is definitely not something I would like to have every day, or week for that matter.

After I got home I rinsed out my mouth with Listerine, brushed my teeth and took a shower. I tried to offer it to my Chinese neighbors. The other teachers recommended I offer it to her because the fruit is considered such a delicacy. She did not take it. I wonder why.

The Detroit Airport

Detroit is a city of economic extremes. I'm sure there's more balance in the suburbs, but ff you walk around downtown it is evident that there are only two classes: The extremely wealthy that work in the massive polished skyscapers and the beggars and wage earners, who cling to Detroit because it is there home but experience none of its luxuries.

At the Detroit Airport exists the most impressive hallway that I have ever seen. It is like something out of the Jetsons. Colored lights create psychadelic ambiance and travellers are transported down the hallway on a conveyor belt.


Sometimes the hallway changes green, other times it changes blue, and occasionally it turns into a rainbow color.

However, if you look closely in the airport you will find that despite the ominous, almost magical technology. Man still does not possess the power to keep nature out.

Adventures Across the World

My two connection flight to Singapore turned into one of the craziest adventures of my life. I flew Northwestern and every single flight they scheduled me for was either cancelled or delayed. I'm not sure why God put me through all the stuff I've been through over the past week, but I'll go ahead and write it down for your reading enjoyment.

I started from Springfield, Missouri and had to go to Detroit instead of the previously scheduled city, Minneapolis. When the plane arrived at Detroit there was a lightning storm over the airport so the plane flew around in circles for an hour before it began to run out of gas and was landed in Fort Wayne, Indiana for a fuel up. After finally landing in Detroit, I missed my connecting flight to Tokyo so they told me they were going to reroute my plane through Paris and Amsterdam and I needed to spend the night at the hotel Pontchartrain, an extremely luxurious downtown hotel.

The next day I went to the GM World Headquarters and looked as some cars and was a cheapskate and I needed to find a computer part so instead of taking a taxi I rode the city bus through inner city Detroit in order to get to the airport. I flew all night to Paris and I had a four hour layover so I rode the train into Notre Dame and walked around, took pictures, and ate pastries. I went to the French McDonald's, home of the famous Le Bigmac.

When I got back to the airport my flight to Amsterdam was delayed, so naturally once we finally took off I missed my connecting flight to Singapore. The airline was terrible sorry for my predicament so they paid for my meals and put me up in the Hotel Ibis for the night. They also bumped me up to first class. I woke up and met some rich businessmen, Bart and Raddick, from Poland in the hotel lobby. They asked me what I was doing and I told them sightseeing downtown. They were doing the same thing so they invited me to come along.

We went downtown and looked at some expensive diamond shops, saw the outside of a royal palace, walked through the red light district (it was one in the afternoon, not much was happening), and toured a museum that showcased torture devices from the middle ages. The rich guys went to go get stoned (it is legal there, but I didn't join them) at the Bulldog Cafe, and I walked around and took a few pictures and watched a guy who could swallow fire, another who bounced soccer balls on his head while climbing light poles, and another who did impersonations of Garfunkel. I met up with the rich guys again in an upscale restaurant after they got the munchies and had bought themselves $60 a plate stakes. They still kept their word to let me go with them in the cab back to the airport. I didn't have to pay a dime and they were insulted when I offered.

I flew first class into Singapore, enjoying heated mint hand towels, four course meals, unlimited beverages, free candy bars, and a personal video screen that played movies on demand.

Now I have jet lag.

If you're the praying type, please ask God to give me the grace to get past my tiredness and, now that the adventure of getting here is over, focus on preparing for the school year.