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I used to want to be a rapper. I'm talking, like, a RAPPER, with diamonds and gold chains and rims and women and drugs and duffel bags full of money. You know, a rapper. My life's goal was to smoke weed every day, hire a team of scientists to pretest groupies for STD's, and purchase a grill in my mouth containing miniature TV's so you could watch music videos of me when I smiled.
Seriously. That sentence wasn't written for comedic value. That was a real-life, premeditated plan. The best I can do with the power of my will, is strive to gain enough money to put TV's in my mouth. Right now, some rapper has read this post and is on the phone with Sony to see if the invention is possible. Well, I suppose if I've helped one person with this blog, my job is finished.
What in the world possessed me to desire televisions in my teeth, you might ask? My ego. When I Edge God Out (ego) and seek the things of the world in order to please others, I grow leaves and the ego is thrilled (see The God-Shaped Hole). Then, Jesus comes by, famished, and uproots my tree because all the rims and gold chains in the world don't amount to jack squat in the Kingdom of Heaven. We make living wills because we're well-aware that the Benz isn't coming with us when we kick the bucket.
Why do we think "things" will make us happy? The praises of men and the feeling of coolness derived from living outside our means are temporary rewards. When I stand before God and He asks why I should be allowed into Heaven and I say, "Because I had TV's in my teeth," I don't anticipate a warm welcome. The outward appearance of wealth and success by the world's standards will not get me into Heaven. The idols of Crapitalism are false gods and offer nothing to the Lord when He comes to me looking for a bite to eat. Jesus wants fruit! He wants to be obeyed. He wants me to write when He says, "Write!" (see Mustard on the Hotdog).
He wants me to trust Him to provide for my needs instead of bowing down to the gods of Visa and Mastercard to provide my wants. God wants me to spend time with Him; reading His word and doing the work He's given me. And the funny thing is, His yoke is easy and His burden is light (see Mustard on the Hotdog). The Lord gives me tasks that I'm already equipped to excel at. When I chase my will, I'm away from the things that truly fulfill me and am left feeling emptier than before.
When I trust the things of the world to fill the void inside of me (see The God-Shaped Hole), I'm a dizzy dog spinning after my own tail. There's never enough drugs, sex, or recognition and I'm left needing more. More money, more clothes, more vacations. Faster cars, bigger houses, shinier jewelery. God's will for my life satisfies the yearning in the depths of my soul because the hole I'm trying to fill is a God-shaped one. God, and only God is enough.
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Enjoy poetry? Check out these popular Bent Straight poems by Brandon Stephens:
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“My yoke is easy. My burden is
light.” Matthew 11:30. For years, I’ve busted my hump with a works-based mentality thinking, “If I
just accomplish this goal, get this recognition, please the right person,
grease the right palm…then I'll be happy, fulfilled, and
successful.” Ironically, with this mindset, rarely did I put any
actual work into my works-based faith. Oh, I labored all right. It’s hard work
cheating, stealing, copying others and being fake all the time. It’s not easy
creating mask after mask to fit in and maintain a reputation; a self-perceived reputation at that. Those honest
folks who were true to themselves probably saw right through my facade and
pitied my vain efforts.
The point is, Jesus said, “My yoke
is easy. My burden is light.” The work God has for me is always the path of
least resistance. It speaks to my soul, lights up my spirit, and inspires me to
be my best. I’m not saying God’s will is easy. He said
it, not me! Wow, I just realized that. God said His yoke is easy. When I’m struggling and scrambling
to force a situation to a particular end, I feel awful. Anxiety consumes me and
I become restless, irritable, and discontent. Fear takes
over my thoughts and I become impatient. When I just go with the flow and let go of my
wants, desires, ideas, and expectations, God directs my life and things go
off without a hitch. Or is it with a hitch? Is the hitch good or bad? I can’t
remember…
Nevertheless, God’s will is easy
because He gives me things to do utilizing the unique gifts
He’s already equipped me with. Take this blog for instance. God spoke to my
spirit and said, “Write.” He didn’t tell me what to write, how much to write
or who to share the writing with. Now, if I stressed
out trying to get all those answers before obeying Him, I’d be full of fear;
anxious and depressed. All He said was, “Write.” And I’m a writer; no problem!
He gave me a task utilizing skills He’s already equipped me with. God didn’t
say, “Brandon, I need you to learn Arabic by tomorrow because you have to teach
an Advanced Calculus class in the Middle East next Tuesday.” No, He didn’t say
that because that request would be the furthest thing from “easy” and “light”.
Hard-work, elbow grease,
and gumption produce a lot of pretty leaves (see The God-Shaped Hole). Here’s an example: I’m an Eagle
Scout with the Boy Scouts of America. However, if not for the work of my father, I never would’ve received the esteemed award. He kept me on track in regards to the required service project; filling out paperwork, reminding me of deadlines, doing research, and making phone
calls. My dad is the real Eagle Scout. That is an honor on my resume, a leaf on my tree that wouldn't be there if it wasn’t for my him.
Whoa, Eagle Scout is an award I didn’t earn and don’t deserve? It’s only
through the work of my father that I
received it? Does anyone else see where I’m going with this? Talk about
personal revelations, holy cow! *Disclaimer: Brandon Stephens is not Hindu and
does not revere the Bovine species as divine. In no way, shape or form was the
previous statement meant to belittle or insult those practicing Hinduism.*
Great, there goes my speaking tour in India. Are folks from India even Hindu?
I’m so geographically ignorant sometimes. And here's why...
In high school, I used my stellar
reputation to cut class and manipulate teachers into thinking I had band
practice or Student Council when really, I just wanted to
walk the halls and be seen. I graduated 5th
in my class (5th out of 117 students but still, 5th ain’t
bad). In 2001, I received the prestigious award, “Student of the Year,” with the Bordentown Elks. Student
of the Year! I got high every single day my senior year. I quit running track
and started selling weed. I slept with people’s girlfriends and stole
merchandise from stores. I lied and cheated, used and manipulated everyone I
could. I drove drunk and should be dead from some
of the situations I put myself in at 18 years old. But, when pitted against
actual scholars, real humanitarians, talented musicians, and gifted athletes,
they called my name at the awards ceremony and dubbed me “2001 Student of the
Year.”
Why? Why me? Was it due to the
abundance of fruit my life produced? No. It was because of my exquisite leaves (see The God-Shaped Hole). You see, I looked great on paper. College prep classes, varsity letters in
soccer and track, Eagle Scout, Honor Roll, Student Council Vice President, Concert and Jazz Band, etc. In actuality, I cut every corner
and took the easy way out as often as I could for as long as I can remember. My “easy” way and God’s easy way are two totally different things however. Here's a real-life scenario from high school to illustrate my point:
There's a test coming up. God’s easy way is for me
to stay in class, pay attention, takes notes, and study. My “easy”
way is to make up an excuse to miss class (fear getting caught), copy
someone’s homework after stressing to find a classmate to manipulate (fear
getting caught), then try to cram for the test the night before only to skip class
the day of the test, certain to fail. Phase Two of my “easy” way is to
show up to class the day the teacher goes over the test and fill in all the
correct answers on a stolen, blank exam. That way, at the end of the semester when my grade stinks, I
can ask the teacher why my mark is so low. After telling me that I missed a
test, I say, “That’s impossible. I took all the tests. Let me check my
notebook.” Then, I turn in the answer sheet with a forged “100%” on top,
receive an “A” for the marking period, and an apology from the teacher. That's my easy way.
I lived that way for a long time,
never realizing how preposterous the behavior was. Fancying myself slick, I felt bad for the poor suckers wasting their time doing the
right thing. I felt like “the man” when those same suckers reluctantly handed
over their homework or let me copy their tests. Little did I know,
the joke was on me. All those years spent scheming and conniving, lying and manipulating
created an emptiness inside of me that could not be filled with anything in
this world. The aforementioned test scenario is just one of countless
others throughout my lifetime illustrating my depravity.
With all the sneaky stuff I did to
get good grades, those grades were all I got. Like those Jewish leaders in
the Bible that prayed loudly in the streets and sounded a trumpet every time
they gave to the poor, I hoped everyone would
take notice of my virtue. Well, the praise of men was all we got. People are impressed with leaves. God isn’t.
Even if no one reads this blog and
I don’t receive one shred of human recognition for this project, obediently using the
gifts God gives produces fruit for Him. I have absolute faith that as I continue to spend time with Him and obey
the leading of His Spirit within me, all my needs will be met with exceeding
grace and abundance. Matthew 6:33 says, “Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things shall be added to you." When God is my priority,
the demands and expectations of the world lose their power. Their importance
and urgency fade as I surrender to the idea, “God’s will, not mine be
done.”
My will is to say yes to everyone
asking for a piece of my time and labor. My will is to overwork for underpay
because it’s the “right” thing for a family man to do. My will is to walk on
eggshells in order to please everyone all the time. My will is to criticize and
judge others in order to feel good about myself. My will is to exclude others
and live in a world so small, nothing or no one new will have a chance to hurt me.
God’s will is for me to love Him
with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love others as I love
myself. That’s it. And how do I go about loving God? By obeying Him. When He
says, “Write,” I write. Do I get it perfect all the time? Nope. Do I get it
perfect ever? I doubt it. But it doesn’t matter. God doesn’t judge me by my
actions. He judges me by my clothes.
Today, I’m clothed in Christ. All
God sees when He looks at me is His Son. My failures and shortcomings, my
laundry list of depravity has been blotted out and is illegible. Sure, leaves
are beautiful to the eye and beauty is made to be appreciated. But fruit is
what satisfies the Lord’s hunger (see Delusions of Grandeur). Obeying God produces fruit. Any leaves that
sprout thereafter are just mustard on the hotdog, baby!
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Enjoy poetry? Check out these popular Bent Straight poems by Brandon Stephens:
The Treadmill Continues
Self-Created Prison
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I’ve often wondered what it takes to write a book. Presuming a crap-ton of research is involved, I picture note cards and Post-Its plastered to pages of books strewn about a dimly-lit study with classical music playing softly in the background. I imagine pipe tobacco, some scotch, or at least a British accent necessary as well. I assume I’d have to come up with a captivating plot, some interesting characters or, at the very least, teach a worthwhile skill of some sort.
However, could it be possible that my personality and rantings are interesting enough to fill the pages of a published book? I mean really, who has the time to research and study and make outlines and charts and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah? There’s a lot of good TV on these days; lots of commercials to watch, and cereal to buy. Who actually takes the time to properly prepare before writing? Professional writers, that’s who. This self-proclaimed amateur doesn't want to get held hostage in some cabin, Misery-style, because he locked himself away in solitude to write a manuscript. No, sir! I like my ankles far too much. Well, the family just came home and ruined my alone time. See? Who can research and plan with a wife and two kids? Personal rantings are the best I can do these days.
Back again. It’s now 2:45am. I woke up because my right forearm was itching, compliments of Smithville's mascot, the greenhead fly. I rolled over to see the hallway light shining through our cracked bedroom door. No, the door itself isn’t cracked, the door was ajar. Anyway, the doorway was illuminated and seemed to be calling me to get out of bed. I smiled and said to myself, “Ok God, I’m coming but I need to hit the bathroom first. ” As I sat down to pee (yes, I sit down to pee. Especially at night. It’s wonderful. Ask Larry David about its benefits. Who’s Larry David?! Google it! You’re doing yourself a disservice if you like to laugh and don’t know who Larry David is) I started to think, “What am I going to write about?” Then it dawned on me, “That’s it! Therein lies my genius, my Mozart, my Beethoven, my (insert famous prodigy here)! It doesn’t matter what I write, just write!”
Great, now all my illusory fans know my multi-gajillion dollar secret. They will pick up a pen, write a bunch of nonsense, and come up with a best-selling book. Oprah will interview them, they’ll get a cover on Time magazine (far more prestigious than US Weekly [see Delusions of Grandeur]. Sorry, US Weekly, but it’s true. Sue me.), and will probably win the Nobel Peace Prize for Literature. When asked where their inspiration came from, they’ll probably give all the credit to God, completely disregarding the hard work and effort my ego put into this paragraph. Ha! As if I’ll even type up this writing project I may or may not complete due to procrastination, laziness, fear of failure and distractions (like that wonderfully awful full-time job I almost considered taking for $28,000 a year. No thanks! I think I’ll ride out unemployment and keep writing fake manuscripts for non-existent publishing companies because that’s where the money is!).
I suppose even if my book spelled out exactly how to get rich (as if I were privy to such information), it wouldn’t necessarily mean anyone would actually do it. All a book needs to be popular is the convincing idea that the information inside will work for you if you work it. Hope is what I’m peddling here, folks. Do what I did and you too can be in your undies at three in the morning vomiting blue ink on white paper for the sake of your soul. “Oh my goodness! Did he just say he saved his own soul through works? He’s not a Christian! Don’t buy his books!” If that’s what you got out of my last sentence then, well, I almost wrote something un-Christian. But I digress…
I love that phrase! “Something, something, something, but I digress.” How deliciously arrogant and condescending! Wait; are “condescending” and “arrogant” synonyms? Did I basically just say, “How deliciously tasty?” Some writer I am. I’d better keep my day job down at Unemployed. That’s what’s paying some of the bills after all, not this lofty idea of becoming a published author. Stay in the now! Don’t follow your dreams! Don’t sacrifice time or money, Brandon. You’ve got consumerism to consume, dollars to earn, things to buy, debt to accrue, time away from your family to schedule! How dare you sacrifice money for family time? Who do you think you are?
I don’t know who, but I know WHOSE. I serve an abundant Provider that knows my needs, doesn’t care about my wants, and gives me breath in my lungs as I write these very words. I’m here, now, for a reason and it’s not to buy into this Crapitalist idea that money is more important than family, that money is more important than God; that money is God. I do not worship the small-mighty dollar and will not bow down at the altar of the time clock. God’s will is all that matters. My will gets me nothing but beautiful leaves; dazzling, blinged-up terds. And God wants fruit. God can’t eat terds. I mean, He can of course. He’s God, for Heaven’s sake. But He don’t want no terds (double negative intentionally placed).
A fig tree with leaves and no fruit is a hypocrite according to my man J. C. (see The God-Shaped Hole). I wish not to wither, waver, or any other “w” word that would complete my attempted alliteration. What’s alliteration? Look it up. If you’re already smarter than me, I apologize for looking down my nose at you. If you have no idea what alliteration is, seriously, get a dictionary and look it up. And don’t go to dictionary.com either (a wonderful resource by the way. Highly recommend it. Please don’t sue me dictionary.com!). Actually buy a dictionary and look stuff up. My mom used to make me do that whenever I asked her how to spell something (looking back, she probably just didn’t know how to spell the words herself) and I hated it at the time but now I’m thankful she made me do it. Mom taught me how to find the information I needed and gave me a sense of accomplishment and independence. Generally, I would just use another word that I already knew how to spell because I’m lazy and like to cut corners. But when I actually took the time to look a word up, nothing short of a miracle happened. I got smarter!
Not only would I find out what the word meant, but I’d glance at other words on the page and inadvertently find out their definitions as well. Plus, having to sound words out in order to look them up made me a better reader. Those things don’t happen during an online definition search. You could type in “dglepdzinthropy” and the search engine will respond, “Did you mean, “Pinochle?” Yes, that’s exactly what I meant. Thanks for anticipating, adjusting for, and correcting my laziness and stupidity. Spell check is the calculator of vocabulary. It lets people who have no business making certain verbal computations feel like literature Einsteins.
Wow, I would’ve missed all this good creativity had I just scratched my itchy arm, rolled over, and gone back to sleep. Thank God I “saw the light” and got up to write. Now what? Do I just keep going? How much do I write? I’m as tired as a mother (that simile is very fitting. My wife is the mother of our newborn and she’s always tired). I should probably hit the hay. Thanks for waking me up and spending this quiet time alone with me, God. I’m beginning to enjoy our time together and look forward to more of it. I’ll try my best to be willing but You’ve got to give me the eyes to see You, and the ears to hear You because I’m deaf and blind without You. My will is to scratch harder, make the bug bite worse, and go back to sleep only to wake up in the morning more irritated than before. Your will is for me to get up, apply some ointment, and rest in You. God, you are so good!
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Everyone Has One and They All Stink
