Three Birds on a Fence

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One time in college, I took some acid. More than once actually. This particular trip however, gave me a newfound respect for those afflicted with Schizophrenia; I felt like I bought a mental disorder for the evening. At one point during the trip, I made the decision to walk through the woods back to my dorm to play video games. The woods by the way, are a great place to trip on acid. Until the acid turns on you. Then the woods come alive as a horrifying maze of panic-inducing, life-threatening terror. Stay out of the woods when tripping on acid. As a matter of fact, don't take acid. Scratch that. Do what you want. I'm not tripping again, in or out of the woods.

As my journey to the dorms began, every minute detail of every task required to satisfy my desire for video games flooded my consciousness at once. I became paralyzed. First, I'd have to put one foot in front of the other and swing my arms back and forth over and over and over again. I may get tired and have to sit down. Then my clothes might get damp. Then I'd be cold. Maybe someone would stop and talk to me and I'd have to try and appear "not crazy" (which would be virtually impossible anywhere else on Earth except a college campus).

The point is, overthinking delays action. I over thought my decision (largely due to the high-powered hallucinogen coursing through my bloodstream). After anticipating every potential challenge, obstacle, and speed bump, I decided the easier, softer way was to stay put. Even though I wasn't thrilled with the eerie atmosphere of the the woods, I decided it better to stay mildly dissatisfied with my present situation than walk through the fear of change to get where I really wanted to be.

 If three birds are sitting on a fence and two decide to fly away, how many birds are left on the fence? Think long and hard. Give up? Okay, I'll tell you. Three. Three birds are left on the fence. Two decided to leave. They made a decision but failed to follow it up with an action and therefore, stayed put. How many times in my life have I decided to fly away only to stay stuck on the fence with the other birds?

If I had a dollar for every decision that I made but did not follow up with an action, I wouldn't have to write fake books and peddle them up and down the Fictional Speaker Circuit (see Delusions of Grandeur). I have two Bachelor's Degrees and am unemployed. I had two Bachelor's Degrees and was bagging groceries at Acme a few years ago. Granted, I was fresh out of rehab for a horrific case of alcoholism and drug addiction, but still. A person who has enough follow-through to graduate college (twice) shouldn't be bagging groceries at Acme. That's piss poor, friends. *Disclaimer: Brandon Stephens in no way meant to discredit the good name and reputation of Acme Supermarkets. Their superior produce, professional bakery, and personable staff make for an exquisite shopping experience. Please don't sue me, Acme. *

You may be saying, "Brandon, you have two degrees. It sounds to me like you walked through the fear of change, flapped your wings, and became the first person in your family to graduate from college. How can you say you stayed stuck on the fence?" The truth is, I never wanted to go to college in the first place. My plan was to take a year off and then join the Peace Corps.

I made the decision. I spoke to my guidance counselor and read some pamphlets. I even picked up a Peace Corps application. But when I told my parents about it, they said, "No. You're going to college. You're the first one in our family with the grades to go. You're going." Instead of flapping my wings to head in the direction I really wanted, I stayed on the fence and went to college.

   
Mom and Dad only wanted the best for me and I love them dearly for their efforts. During my youth, they were over-protective in my opinion (Ha! see Everyone Has One and They All Stink). They had the final say in who I hung out with, where I went, and what I listened to/watched. I rebelled in high school with sex, drugs, and alcohol every chance I could. I tested and pushed every boundary they put in place. I used to get mad and tell them they were too strict, that I couldn't wait to turn eighteen and become an "adult." Now, I see they were excellent parents and are the reason I didn't end up dead or jailed during high school. Because I had that FIRE in me.

    
 The disease of addiction has reared its ugly head in my thoughts and actions for as long as I can remember; untreated sin that could not be arrested with a moral, loving upbringing. I needed Jesus. No amount of morals or values could replace this sinner's need for a savior. The fire burning inside me seeped out every chance it could. Throughout my adolescence, Mom and Dad suppressed it to the best of their ability. But once I went away to college and left the safety of the nest, that fire ignited and combusted into an unquenchable blaze fueled by promiscuity, drugs, alcohol, and ego. I skipped classes, had sex, and did drugs with whomever, whenever, and wherever I wanted. And I loved it. I had found Heaven on Earth. Or so I thought.

Then came the personality change, the arrest, the pregnancy, the abortion, the depression, the hopelessness, and the despair. As the drugs and sex lost their ability to produce satisfaction, I began to chase an illusion. With all my might, I attempted to regain the initial transcendence, well-being, confidence, and peace originally derived from these substances. Instead loneliness, despair, and depravity took over. My grades plummeted. I dropped classes and was put on academic probation. Unaware at the time, the ever-present God-shaped hole (see The God-Shaped Hole) in my heart had eroded into a gaping chasm.
    

Like Adam and Eve in the Garden after they disobeyed God and brought sin into the world, I felt naked. And when Adam and Eve found out they were naked, what did they try to cover themselves with? Leaves. They tried to cover their depravity and wickedness with leaves. And so did I (see The God-Shaped Hole). But I had rested on my laurels for too long. Sure, four years of manipulating the system, cutting corners, and cheating my way through high school had produced a stellar transcript and lengthy list of awards and accomplishments (see Mustard on the Hotdog). All of which were leaves. Shiny, beautiful, breathtaking leaves. In high school, I looked great on paper. But that was a thing of the past. 

My grades in college were atrocious. I hadn't joined a single club or activity (except Crew which I quit after two weeks in order to stay out late and drink). The fines associated with my drug possession charge were astronomical in the eyes of this Ramen Noodle-eating college student and kept me in a constant state of anxiety. My Aborted-Baby-Momma left me when I made it clear that drugs were more important to me than our relationship. I had no real friends, only acquaintances I got loaded with or bought drugs from. My life was in shambles. All the leaves on my branches had withered and died. Little did I know at the time, but a sovereign God was simply pruning off the dead leaves to make room for fruitful growth in the future.

     
When Jesus fed the 5,000, He didn't have enough food for all those people. However, He was thankful for what He had. After thanking His Father for the five loaves and two fishes, something miraculous happened. Jesus broke the bread and fed 5,000 people with enough leftover to fill twelve baskets. Jesus broke the bread and the blessing came. The blessing came after the breaking. Sometimes, God has to break us before He can bless us. I was a loaf of bread that needed some serious breaking! 

Through trials and tribulations, God lifted His sovereign hand and allowed exactly what I needed in order to grow. After years of allowing me to do it my way, God lead me to a place where I was able to recognize my will to be insufficient. He had to break me before I became willing to ask Him to bless me. Asking Jesus to come into my heart as Lord and Savior, turning my will and life over to Him, and a short stint in rehab have worked wonders in my life. A tree once bare, is starting to grow fruit. Real fruit that satisfies the Lord. And you know what? I think I even see some foliage coming in (see Mustard on the Hotdog).


Enjoy poetry? Check out these popular Bent Straight poems by Brandon Stephens:

The Treadmill Continues

Self-Created Prison 

Self-Created Prison

Greetings! I once again went against the grain and posted some poetry. I hope you like what you see. As always, subscribe to stay plugged in to all things Bent Straight! Enjoy!

Self-Created Prison- by Brandon Stephens Copyright 2013

Somewhere between past pain and future fears

The foundation of freedom lies dormant

Prison cells of self-pity and shame

Incarcerate inmates shackled in regret

Selfish motives manipulate

Seeking to serve the ego as

Mass-murder character assassins

Hide behind fortified walls of weaponized words

Tearing down others to build up self with a

False sense of security like a mall cop's whistle and flashlight

Completely unaware that this jail exists

As a result of my own judgmental mentals

The key to the lock on this bondage of self

Is acceptance of who I am here and now

Perfectly flawed, worthlessly valuable, and

Uniquely normal in my spiritual humanness

Free at last

To joyously embrace the gift of the present

If poetry isn't your thing, check out these other popular Bent Straight posts by Brandon Stephens:

Here Ego Again! 

Everyone Has One and They All Stink 

Three Birds on a Fence 

For more poetry by Brandon Stephens, check this out:

The Treadmill Continues 

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Funny Money: The Attack on Our Nation's Motto

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With the Ten Commandments banned in our courtrooms and prayer forbidden in public schools, it's no surprise our nation's motto, "In God We Trust," is under attack on our currency.

The Freedom from Religion Foundation – one of the nation’s most radical atheist organizations – has filed a federal lawsuit to remove “In God We Trust” from United States currency. They claim our money discriminates against those who don't believe in God. Give me a break!

The last time I checked, money was the same shade of green for the faithful and the faithless. The FRF's claim might be substantiated if certain items were not available for purchase with American, "In God We Trust" dollars. I'm pretty sure however that strippers, drug dealers, hookers, and hit men accept the same promissory notes as doctors, postal workers, teachers and firefighters.

This latest attack on God in the name of political correctness and equal rights is as absurd as me making a fuss over New Jersey's nickname, "The Garden State." Should I go and petition Governor Chris Christie to remove the phrase from our state license plates because I don't have a garden? Absolutely not! My car gets me from point A to point B regardless of what's printed on my license plate and US currency allows me to make purchases regardless of my religious beliefs.

The only difference between atheists and "In God We Trust," and me and "The Garden State," is the fact that I don't hate gardens. Although I don't have one, I do acknowledge that gardens exist and are important in the lives of my fellow citizens. Whether or not I choose to believe it, the food I eat on a daily basis comes from a garden somewhere.

The individuals seeking to remove "In God We Trust" from our nation's currency claim to not believe in God and are completely free to do so within the constructs of the US Constitution. Attempting to remove our nation's long-standing motto from coins and bills however, is an aggressive act of hatred toward God and His people. If you choose to believe there is no God that's your business. The questions remains, how can you hate something you don't believe in?

The Treadmill Continues

Hi everybody! I was inspired to deviate from the normal format of the blog and drop some poetry on ya! I hope you enjoy it. If you like what you see here, subscribe to the blog and stay up on my most current ramblings. Thanks!


The Treadmill Continues- by Brandon Stephens Copyright 2013

Forward-thinking yet stuck in the past's muck
Break-neck speed spinning treadmill belt gears
Lucid American Dreams lived loosely
Defined by subjective interpretation
Create basement heavens, penthouse hells, and
Middle-class purgatory sentences

Penance doled out by media priests through
Digital cable confession boxes
Create salvation for sale to the highest bidder
The rich in spirit starve joyfully
While gluttonous appetites rage on ravenously

Selfish motives cloaked in smoke and mirrors, and
Quid pro quo humanitarianism
Pontificate promises from political platforms
Proving nothing more than power moves
In a popularity contest between two losers

Until we all see
That the "you" I'm trying to screw
Is me
The treadmill continues

In Gosh We Trust

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Holy cow! My word! Jiminy Crickets! When something surprising or unbelievable happens, what's your go-to phrase of exclamation? Over the past few years, I've adopted a conservative, "Oh my goodness!" as opposed to the previous, "Oh my God!" One of the Ten Commandments states, "Thou shall not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain," which can also be understood as, "You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God." Ergo the question, "Is the phrase, 'Oh my God' considered making misuse of the Lord's name?

If used to convey the idea, "Wow, what I'm experiencing is so intense I need to be closer to God," then the idiom stands faultless in my opinion (Ha! Opinions! see Everyone Has One and They All Stink). I would bet however, more often than not as was my case personally, the phrase is thrown around with scant regard for fellowship with the Creator. It's kind of like a swear word I suppose.

Instead of saying, "Holy shit!" we're saying, "Oh my God!" Is "shit" worse than "God?" Is "God" worse than "shit?" God is THE shit in my book. He knows I'm a sinner. He knows that my heart is wicked and deceitful. His Word says that without Christ, even my best intentions are like filthy rags in His sight. It's doubtful He'll be impressed if I switch from, "Holy shit!" to "Oh my God." I avoid using both phrases when I remember to and stick with an innocent, "Oh my goodness." It just sounds less offensive. Plus, as a father, I'm keenly aware that children parrot everything they hear.

Have you ever heard a little kid say, "Oh my God!" or worse, "Jesus Christ!" in exclamation? It doesn't sound right. It's downright offensive to listen to. And you know the response isn't organic. The child learned it from television or parental influence. The fact that this topic is even of concern to me today stands as proof of the Holy Spirit's work on my heart. Growing up in a secular home, I dropped plenty a, "Oh my God," in conversation without reprimand from my parents. We didn't go to church, we didn't read the Bible, and there was no talk of God in our home. More a piece of slang than anything else, "Oh my God," was an interjection picked up from being a member of society.

A particular memory sticks with me however. I must've been a boy of eight or nine. My dad's friend had this brand new golf cart (we had a summer trailer in a campground in Pennsylvania and everyone got around by golf cart). In front of our trailer, there were a bunch of little, greyish-blue stones leading out to the road. Hitting the gas on the cart, my dad's buddy spun its back wheels quickly, throwing rocks about and leaving a small hole in our driveway. As the golf cart sped away, I looked at the damage, looked at my dad, and exclaimed for the first time in my life, "Jesus Christ!"

The phrase felt strange leaving my mouth. A split-second before choosing the words, something told me I was taking a gamble with this particular interjection. My father paused for a second before remarking, "Don't say that. It doesn't sound nice for a kid to say that." Even though I knew very little about Jesus, I learned that day that there's something special about His name. My dad was right. It didn't sound nice coming out of my mouth. Wait a minute! Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me." How could the name, "Jesus Christ," not sound nice coming from the lips of a child?

 
Often in life, it's not so much what you say, but how you say it. I wasn't speaking to Jesus that day. I wasn't telling others about Him. I wasn't crying out to Him or praising Him. I was taking His name and using it in place of a curse word. I suppose that's what it means to "take the Lord's name in vain" and misuse it. It's always been the "in vain" part of that commandment that confused me. I've always thought vanity was looking at yourself too much in the mirror. Like the piece of furniture women sit at to look at themselves while putting make-up on: a vanity.

Still not having taken my own advice about buying a dictionary (see But I Digress...), I just looked up the definition of "vanity" on dictionary.com (I told you it was a wonderful resource!). Vanity can mean, "being excessively proud of or concerned with one's appearance", which doesn't really fit in with taking the Lord's name and making it a curse. However, an additional definition is, "ineffectual or unsuccessful; futile." Ah-ha! When I say, "Jesus Christ!" as a swear word, I'm not communicating with God. I'm cursing!

Cursing something with Jesus' name, I'm exercising futility. He's not some black magic, voodoo God who bends to my will and curses people and situations I'm displeased with! John 3:16 says, "God so loved the world that He gave His only Son that whosoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life." God is in the business of grace, mercy, and blessing. Jesus name is life, not a curse! When used as an idiom in vain, the result is, "improper or irreverent." When "Jesus Christ", the name of the Creator of heaven and earth, is used in place of, "son of a bitch!" when I stub my toe, I'm using it improperly and irreverently.


Check out some other popular Bent Straight posts by Brandon Stephens and be sure to subscribe! 

The God-Shaped Hole 

Here Ego Again!

Mustard on the Hotdog

Enjoy poetry? Check out these popular Bent Straight poems by Brandon Stephens: 

 

The Treadmill Continues 

 

Self-Created Prison

    

   

I. P. Freely: Live from the Pity Pot

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With one foot stuck in the past and the other foot rooted firmly in tomorrow, I've effectively pissed all over today. Regrets of time wasted, opportunities missed, and dreams lost eat away at my conscience. I long for a fresh start. Oh how I wish I knew what I wanted to do with my life. Better yet, I wish I knew what God wanted to do through me.

If only I had discernment of God's will for me in high school. I could've chosen a college and picked a major with intention. Instead, I let my flesh make all my decisions and stayed stuck on stupid (see Three Birds on a Fence). Seriously distracted by my full-time job as a free-lance drug addict, I wasted my parents' money choosing classes at random and dropping them at will.

At 29 years of age, I should be established in a career. Instead, I have an eclectic resume with little to no expertise in any particular field (aside from Fictitious and Theoretical Literature Composition and Motivational Speaking, see Delusions of Grandeur). The jobs my two Bachelor's degrees will allow, I want nothing to do with.

As new interests arise, I toy around with the idea of going back to school (again) to pursue a new career (again). The cost and time requirements of earning another BA are prohibitive; at this juncture the practicality of such is nil. Pursuing a Master's degree seems advantageous only to those already on a career path desiring to climb the pay scale. I want to head in a whole new direction.

I can't seem to fit the corporate, capitalist mold. Money won't fill the void (see The God-Shaped Hole). The thought of being stuck in a cubicle from 9am-5pm is anxiety-inducing. Working for peanuts to make someone else rich sickens me. As an employee, I'm self-centered and rebellious enough to cut my own nose off to spite the rest of my face. Under the challenge of a quota, I shut down. I simply don't care about projects that aren't mine and money isn't a strong enough incentive to motivate me.

As much greener as the grass of a new career looks, I'm not that naive. If I'm not spiritually motivated and fulfilled by my work, I'll continue to repeat the cycle of restlessness and dissatisfaction. I'm ready to receive my life's work and hear my calling. I pray I'm given the ears to do so.

Cue the fear of the future! Barring a lottery win, we'll need a regular source of income to keep our family afloat until this life's calling of mine decides to dial. What to do in the meantime? I wish I had it in me to just suck it up and take some job I hate for the next thirty years like generations past. The work force doesn't really seem to operate like that these days though. The traditional "pension and benefits for life" upon retiring have all but vanished. Companies start up and go out of business in the blink of an eye. Massive layoffs are common and the unemployment rate is rising.

Perhaps I'm too picky (some may call it spoiled and arrogant) but I can't seem to assimilate into today's workforce successfully. Not for lack of trying; I've had no less than eight jobs in the past six years. I feel deeply that I'm called to something with a purpose and am having a terrible time settling for nonsense.

So who pays the bills? It looks like my wife may enter the work force to bring home the vegan bacon. There's talk of such but opportunity hasn't yet arisen. Mortgage bills have though. And car insurance and electric and sewer and gas and cable and internet and grocery and so on and so forth. We trust God as our Provider and will stay put until He reveals the next step. Faith doesn't change the fact that patience proves difficult at times.


Check out some other popular Bent Straight posts by Brandon Stephens and be sure to subscribe! 

Everyone Has One and They All Stink 

Here Ego Again!

 

Mustard on the Hotdog

Enjoy poetry? Check out these popular Bent Straight poems by Brandon Stephens: 

 

The Treadmill Continues 

 

Self-Created Prison

School Shootings and Santa Claus: Ho, Ho, Holy Crap!

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I'm angry. Furious really. Livid. No matter the choice of words used, the feeling isn't accurately conveyed. 20 dead kids and six adults in a public school? Disgusting.

Another deranged lunatic goes postal and follows up with suicide. What a coward! He should have done us all a favor and blown his own brains out first and saved a lot of people a lot of grief. My heart is broken for his family and the families of the victims.

As a parent, to imagine receiving news that my five year old little boy was mercilessly slaughtered in front of his classmates...ugh. No parent should ever have to endure such agony.

I'm so angry it's difficult to think straight. I want to do something but feel powerless and helpless. Why would something like this happen? Oh yeah, that's right! Satan has dominion over the earth. He is the prince of a world full of evil and darkness. And our politically-correct, overly-sensitive society tries to extinguish the remnant of light left every chance it gets.

We push God out of schools and indoctrinate our kids with a sleigh-full of Santa Claus. Then we have the nerve to ask, "Why?" when a mad mad guns down innocent children. Time and time again, we have made it clear to God that we're doing just fine without Him. We break His laws and deny His existence, all the while convinced that being a "good person" is enough. Well guess what? It's not.

No one is good but God. And unless we're clothed in Christ, all God sees is our sin and rebellion. That sin will be judged and punished eternally. The time is now. If you don't know Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, I beg of you will all my earnestness, admit your sins to Him and ask for forgiveness. Receive Him into your heart. Get a Bible (and read it), join a Bible-teaching church, and tell others about Him.

Only God knows how much longer the window of salvation will stay open. Take advantage of the free gift of eternal life God has made available to us through Christ. Not because we're good. Not because we deserve it. But because God loves us. And for all you folks out there who laugh at the notion of God, atheism is cute but guess what? There is a God and you're not it.

America, stop telling your kids to believe in Santa. You're lying to them! At best, they'll develop the idea that being good enough equals gifts and blessings. At worst, they'll view you as a hypocritical liar that created faith in a false god and broke their hearts when you couldn't keep the lie up any longer.

When we tell our kids to believe in a man they can't see who brings presents if they're good enough, we're laying dangerous groundwork for a works-based idea of salvation (If I do good things, I'll earn my way into heaven). We're saved by grace through faith in Christ, not by tipping the scales in our favor through good deeds.

Imagine the anxiety created in children who still have strong consciences. "Have I been good enough? Did Santa see when I pushed Billy on the playground? Well, I told my mom her new haircut looked nice so hopefully that will cancel it out." Then, on Christmas Eve,  we tell our kids to leave the Santa-god an offering of cookies and milk in a last ditch effort to avoid a coal-filled stocking in the event our good deeds didn't outweigh the bad. We are teaching our children to sacrifice to idols to get what they want. Stop it!

Eventually, the inevitable truth is brought to light. Then when they learn that this man we taught them to love and have faith in and behave for is not real and the whole thing was done in "good fun" and in the "spirit of Christmas," we're making it pretty easy for children to lump God into the same category as Santa, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny.

At Christmastime, guess who has an all-access pass in school? You guessed it. Santa! In my son's elementary school, Santa is everywhere. After passing the 4ft tall, singing Santa statue in the hallway, I made my way to his classroom. "Santa" is a featured word on the "December Words" list and there's even a grouping of chairs and a table named in his honor. When I asked his teacher where the "Jesus" table was, she said, "Oh, we can't say that here. Santa is okay because he's secular."

The real meaning of Christmas, the birth of Jesus, can't even be mentioned in public schools. From an educational, sociocultural standpoint, our nation's children should be exposed to the beliefs of others. I want my kids to know what Hanukkah is all about. I want them to know that some people celebrate Kwanzaa etc. And I want them to know that Christmas is about Jesus and that Santa Claus is a fantasy character like Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck.

Instead of educating our children about the real meaning of Christmas, we indoctrinate them with lies and manipulate their behavior with presents. The next time some evil-possessed, gun-slinging maniac shoots up a school, I sure as hell hope the students and teachers aren't expecting Santa to save them.


Be sure to check out these other popular Bent Straight posts:

Funny Money: The Attack on Our Nation's Motto 

Here Ego Again! 

But I Digress... 


Enjoy poetry? Check out these popular Bent Straight poems by Brandon Stephens:

The Treadmill Continues

Self-Created Prison

   

Everyone Has One and They All Stink

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Opinion is a curious thing. Like noses, everyone has one and they all smell. Think about it. There's absolutely no need for the opinion of anyone to be backed by actual fact. Opinion can be based on superstition, tradition, indoctrination, brainwashing, marketing, muckraking, or propaganda but does not need to be factual to exist.

To test my theory, I'll pose the age-old question, "What's better, Coke or Pepsi?" Cocaine, hands down. Far too many calories in Pepsi. But that's just my opinion.  Seriously though, how many decisions do we make each and every day based on opinion instead of truth? The bank we use, the car we drive, the clothes we wear...in a world with so many options competing for our time, money, and loyalty, how do we go about choosing the particulars?

The vast majority of decisions made stem from our opinions. Especially in consumer affairs. Companies spend millions of dollars to form our opinions; so do politicians. Why? Because once our minds are made up, our hard-earned unemployment checks go where we perceive value to be. We pay for whatever it is we think we need. If leaves are your thing (see The God-Shaped Hole) and the envy of others is what you seek, marketers have sold the idea that a particular brand of car or jeans or liquor is the top-shelf, cream of the crop, bomb-diggity. But is it?

Take a car for instance. A car's purpose is to get you from point A to point B. However, if you want to feel good about yourself by making others jealous, then certain automobile companies are more effective than others. A Hyundai gets you to work as does a Bentley. But popular opinion says a Bentley is more prestigious. The masses buy into this idea and a six-figure price tag becomes the norm. Are leather, heated seats better than whatever seats are in my Saturn? I don't know. Popular opinion says, "DUH! Of course they are!" But if marketers of vinyl spent millions of dollars to convince us that killing animals and using their skin for our comfort is wrong, we'd be willing to pay $100,000 for a vinyl interior.

Opinions change with the times. What's believed to be the Next Great Thing today becomes the Worst Thing Ever tomorrow. Take the egg for example. "Eggs are great! Eat eggs! Wait, eggs are bad. Don't eat eggs! But there's protein. Eggs are good! Hold on, too much cholesterol. Eggs are bad!" Every so often, some "expert" comes out with a study and the headline reads, "Such and such product previously thought to be great, now linked to Alzheimer's." Who's coming up these "studies" anyway? What's their agenda? Do they have a vested interest in swaying our opinion? More often than not, the folks who fund these "studies" stand to make some bucks if the general public's opinion is successfully shifted.

Look at the tobacco industry. Early cigarette ads were created to address concerns people had about the negative effects of smoking. In 1928, The Lucky Strike brand ran an ad in Literary Digest boasting such "health benefits" as "a way to stay in good shape and always feel peppy." The Camel brand stated, "More doctors smoke Camels than any other cigarette." People smoked in malls, daycare facilities, and hospitals.

Today's research undoubtedly links cigarette smoke with cancer and emphysema. The US Surgeon General places warnings on every pack sold. Smoking is outlawed in just about every public place imaginable. Yet, millions of people still smoke every day. The fact is, smoking kills. But marketers for Big Tobacco are able to sell the idea that certain brands are better than others, worth the risk, and a value at $10 per pack. How is this possible?

Opinion is a difficult thing to change. My buddy hates being addicted to cigarettes. He calls them "cancer sticks" and says in jest as he steps outside to light up, "Time to go get some cancer!" But he only smokes Newports. He won't touch another brand even if it's given to him for free. Why? He's under the opinion that a certain aspect of the Newport brand does a particular thing for him that other brands don't. In its most basic form, a cigarette is a cigarette (all my cigarette-smoking readers are screaming in unison, "A cigarette is NOT just a cigarette!".)

Cigarettes are designed to bring nicotine into your bloodstream. A car gets you from point A to point B. Clothes cover your body and protect you from the elements. Style, color preference, and brand identity are subtle nuances created by marketers in order to form opinion, drive up prices, and make more money. In my opinion, $800 jeans serve the same purpose as $10 ones. Your opinion may tell you otherwise and that's okay! Opinion is not fact.

With so many opinions vying to become ours, decades can be spent chasing the wind (see The God-Shaped Hole). I've come to realize that the intense yearning inside of me cannot be filled with a particular brand, car, career, religion, diet, fashion, or political affiliation. All those things become leaves on my branches (see Mustard on the Hotdog) to be flaunted in the faces of others.

If opinion-based purchases can't satisfy and fulfill me, what is a boy to do? Keep chasing the wind? Hop on every bandwagon that comes along? Follow every crash diet and new age spirituality that Hollywood swears by? No. In order to gain lasting fulfillment, contentment, and peace, I need to turn from opinion and seek truth.
Opinions come and go. Truth is timeless and unchanging. The truth is the same yesterday, today, and forever. The truth cannot be manipulated by marketers or studies. Sure, opinions about what's true change like the weather based on "recent findings" and "newly discovered information," but the truth is eternal. So how do we discern what's true? 

The dogma of today's society is, "Everyone has their own truth. Whatever works for you is your version of the truth." I tried that on for size and it didn't fit. In John 14:6, Jesus says, " I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father except through me." God says, "Hey, that truth you've been looking for? That satisfaction you've been craving? You're not gonna find it in those designer jeans, organic vegetables, or expensive champagne. What you've been looking for...is me. What you've been looking for is truth; timeless, unchanging truth. I am the truth." 

The things of the world failed to satisfy me. When I found out the emptiness I was experiencing was a God-shaped hole, I asked God to fill it. Where did I go to seek God? His Word, the Bible. The truth I trust and the life force that sustains me is found in the person of Jesus Christ, the Word. My truth is found in the Bible. Turning my will and life over to Jesus as my Lord and Savior is the only choice I've ever made that has satisfied my desire for more. God is the only thing able to fill a God-shaped hole. But hey, everyone is entitled to their own opinion. 


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Here Ego Again!

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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.


Check out some other popular Bent Straight posts by Brandon Stephens and be sure to subscribe!

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The Treadmill Continues

Self-Created Prison

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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 (5^th out of 117 students but still, 5^th 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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Here Ego Again! 

Everyone Has One and They All Stink

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But I Digress...

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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!


Check out some other popular Bent Straight posts by Brandon Stephens and be sure to subscribe!

Everyone Has One and They All Stink

Here Ego Again!

Mustard on the Hotdog

Enjoy poetry? Check out these popular Bent Straight poems by Brandon Stephens:

The Treadmill Continues

Self-Created Prison