Redirected, Day 16

It’s been over two weeks since I got the news I already knew.

It’s been over two weeks since I decided to be the proof of what I say I believe.

It’s been over two weeks since I consumed dairy of any kind, and my only sugar has consisted of extremely small quantities of raw honey.

It’s been no less than five trips to my cool chiropractor dude in Amarillo.

It’s been no less than 20 cucumbers, 30 tomatoes, 25 avocados, a dozen bell peppers, 10 each cantaloupe and onions, 6 heads of garlic, 3 dozen lemons, and at least four heads of broccoli.

My cutting board and I are having an affair. I see more of it than my sweet hubby nowadays.

Oh….and I’ve nurtured 4 batches of home grown sprouts…

My chickens are making wonderfully nourished eggs from all the veggie scraps.

I have learned that not everything that should be good for me is. It seems food has energy, and sometimes my own energy treats otherwise healthy foods as if they are suspicious strangers.

I muscle check every new food I put into my body. I also keep a food diary and have my chiropractor check for any sensitivities. It’s really fun when he expects me to react to something and I don’t.

It’s not nearly as much fun when I want add something and he says no…..or rather my body says no.

There is no grapefruit, cilantro, cumin, or flax on this adventure. There are also no nuts or seeds….except Brazils. For some reason my crazy self is okay with Brazils, but I can’t handle almonds, walnuts, pecans, cashews, or even sunflower or pumpkin seeds.

It’s sorta complicated.

Why in the world would I go to this much trouble? Because I want to prove that uterine fibroids are a symptom to be addressed, not a nuisance to be yanked out.

And I want to prove that a female body can be nourished back to peak health.

I am cheating a bit, however.

I went to see a naturopath today with my sonograms, blood work, and medical diagnosis in hand. She gave me wonderful things to take with promises of feeling much better soon.

She gave me a prescription for bioidentical progesterone. It seems I have none.  But then I already knew that. So did my husband and children.

She gave me Vitamin D3 drops and Vitamin B6 & B12 drops.

She gave me iodine. (Didn’t know about that one.)

She gave me cabbage in a pill. (Something about extract from cruciferous veggies.)

And she gave me thyroid stuff.

She muscle tested every one of them to determine the dosage. I think muscle testing is so cool.

She told me to stick with the diet and skip all animal protein.

She also nixed any soy. That narrows down the vegan cookbook selections.

She pulled out a little book by Louise Hay called Heal Your Body. I smiled because I already have that book.

She asked if I was familiar with tapping, also known as EFT.

Yes. Yes I am, and we’ll be tapping next time I go to see her.

The good news is this thing appears to be getting smaller.

That makes me happy. I would do a happy dance, but I don’t yet have enough red blood cells to dance without running out of breath.

I will soon, though. I will soon.

Redirected, Day 1

I was up until after midnight last night reading and processing the available information on nourishing my body back to health. It seems there are a number of considerations.

I need to detox.

I need to alkalize my internal environment.

I need to drastically improve my red blood count.

I have to decide what I will put in my body in what combinations and when.

I was awake at 6 AM this morning processing all that information. There were things to be done. There was filtered water to retrieve from the massage center next door. There was lemon to squeeze into said water. There was extra virgin olive oil to swallow.

That last one will make a person question how badly one desires healing.

I decided it was time to add walking to my morning routine, so I put on my tennis shoes and took a walk around the block. It’s actually more like 4 blocks. And with no significant quantities of O2 hitting the cells, it didn’t happen at a super fast pace.

That’s okay. At least it happened.

Then there was the post-walk vinegar-water drink to consume.

Breakfast was next on the agenda. Modified Huevos Rancheros. There were tomatoes to dice, onions to mince, and garlic to smash. A dash of olive oil in a skillet over moderate heat turned my veggie mixture into a warm, juicy topping for two gently-fried, sunny-side-up eggs plucked from the hens nest within the last two days.

The delicious aroma almost dragged my 14 year old out of bed. Almost.

The taste was pretty darn good, too. Why don’t I cook like this all the time?

Oh yeah….I’m a bit on the lazy side.

My flank steak for lunch needed a marinade, so I quickly threw that together, went next door to give a massage, and came right back to start chopping cabbage and shredding carrots for a modified coleslaw recipe. It seems healthy and healing bodies really like raw cabbage.

And yes, I used a cutting board and a knife to shred my cabbage…by hand…my hand.

FYI–I’m accepting donations for a really good food processor if anyone is feeling sorry for me yet.

Oh, and there was celery to prepare for my morning snack. The meal plan calls for almond butter, but my chiropractor indicated my body is not ready for nuts, so I made some hummus instead.

My Asian marinated flank steak was pretty darn good, and my coleslaw was edible.

More reading and information processing plus ordering a bottle of liquid iron supplement from drugstore.com, then my body demanded a nap, so I obliged it.

Post nap found me standing at the cutting board again. There was guacamole to make which means more tomato and onion dicing, lemon juicing, and avocado smooshing. Cucumbers needed slicing. Cantaloupe needed prepping. Squash for the grill had to be scrubbed and sliced.

I was busy.

Supper for me consisted of grilled turkey tenderloins, grilled squash, cucumbers and guacamole, and cantaloupe.

This is actually a pretty yummy way of life, and the chickens are eating quite well off of the trimmings and cuttings.

I’m wondering how in the world this is gonna work when I actually have a busy day and no time to shop, prep, and plan food.

Next up……figure out how to grow and juice wheat grass.

I’m now taking donations for the arse kicking (or in this case wheat grass smooshing) Omega juicer.

Anyone?

Redirected

It’s funny how things come along in life to serve as a point of redirection.

Yesterday I got redirected.

Yesterday I was given the opportunity to decide whether or not I truly believe what I say I believe….

….about health, nutrition, wellness, medical intervention, and more.

Yesterday I learned that I have fabulous cholesterol levels. I also learned that as far as a sonogram is concerned, most of my internal organs look pretty good.

Most of them, anyway.

And most of my blood work was pretty good. Most of it….except the little detail of my hemoglobin–my almost non-existent hemoglobin. It seems a 6-point-something-or-other is a little low when ideal is 12-16. The doc commented that she was amazed I was even able to get up and walk around. Guess that explains some of the fatigue that’s been plaguing me lately. I just thought I was really out of shape.

Then there is the matter of my “baby”. It seems there is an alien thing growing inside and around my 44 year old incubator.

No, I’m not pregnant.

Thank God.

My diagnosis was basically exactly what I had already self-diagnosed and the reason I even went to see a traditional doc in the first place. I am exhibiting symptoms of a benign uterine fibroid. I had already decided I could manage one of those, although some things might have to change about my diet.

I had purchased the “Living with Fibroids” book, and  I had done lots of research before hand. I was pretty sure I could handle this.

The part I wasn’t counting on was just how big the fibroid collection turned out to be and the unexpected thickened endometrial lining they found. Seems I have 3 mm too much for comfort.

The medical approach in such cases is referral to a GYN for biopsy of the uterine lining and likely hysterectomy due to the size of the fibroid.

I am, after all, kicking out a good solid blood transfusion each month at this point.

And I mean it’s not like I’m gonna need that uterus to make more babies, right? So medical logic says let’s just cut that sucker out and eliminate the problem.

Except that doesn’t solve the underlying problem.

My diet and lifestyle have created this thing. Cutting it out isn’t going to solve all my problems. In fact, it will add a few to the mix. My hormones are already jinked up pretty badly. I’ve known this for a couple of years now, but I’ve procrastinated doing anything about it. I’m pretty sure cutting out an entire organ that contributes to what’s left of the production of natural hormones is probably not the greatest of ideas.

And the synthetic stuff is just totally scary.

I am not a horse.

Besides, where will the alien grow next if we cut out its host and don’t change the environment that’s supporting its growth?

After processing all of the information I have so far and considering things like the expense of surgery, I realized I was being given an opportunity. …

I preach that the body has the ability to totally heal itself if given the right nutritional and energetic support.

I watch people put their eggs entirely in the western medicine model of cut, slash, burn and shake my head in pity.

I am now faced with an opportunity to put my money where my mouth is.

Literally.

I can totally change my diet and the internal environment of my body, or I can continue consuming things that deplete my body of life force energy.

I can nurture my girl parts back to vibrant health by using food and herbs as medicine, or I can let the whackers take my parts away forever.

I realize some people hit a point at which there isn’t an option left. Cutting the body  part off or out is sometimes the only option for survival. My heart breaks for them.

I, on the other hand, still have time and a choice.

On this fourth of July, 2012, my choice is eating cake and ice cream in celebration of my second daughter’s 18th birthday, or eating homemade guacamole and cucumbers. One feeds the alien. One feeds me. Once creates the acidic environment that encourages tumor growth. One provides the alkalinity to feed, nourish and repair damaged cells.

My game plan includes my MD, my chiropractor, a naturopath, a hormone-compounding pharmacist and quite likely an acupuncturist. Gotta get the iron depletion resolved immediately. I even have a game plan for that. Just gotta run it by the doc and see if she can find a way to make it happen.

It also includes an abundance of raw alkalizing foods….all of which have to be washed, sliced, prepped, and more. Broccoli and cabbage are my new best friends. Dairy, sugar, and anything with gluten are the enemy.

I think I have a new full time job.

Good thing I like guacamole and cucumbers.

Anyone for a big heaping bowl of coleslaw and a cup of herbal tea?

 

PS: I don’t need your prayers. God didn’t make me eat crap and God isn’t going to fix it for me by some miraculous intervention. I need your encouragement, positive energy, and an occasional batch of organic broccoli and carrots that I don’t have to take time to wash and cut up. I also need your massage business. Eating healthy isn’t exactly cheap. Much gratitude in advance.

What the Cross Means to Me

It was a dark, cloudy evening. Thunderstorms were all around and the lightning flashed almost constantly as we made our way back home from a night in the big city.

…big by our standards anyway.

As we approached Happy, Texas, there it was in the distance standing tall with lights illuminating it for all to see…the cross.  It was recently erected in hopes that someone would see it and feel compelled to turn to God.

I have lots of respect for those who chose to honor the object of their beliefs in such a public way. Even though it is not something I would do, I won’t begrudge them their passion and purpose as long as they don’t force those ideals and beliefs on me and my family.

As we drove by the illuminated cross, I asked myself what it meant to me to see it there on the side of the road. For that matter, what does any cross I see these days trigger in me?

For the Mel Gibson crowd, the cross is a reminder that Jesus suffered, died, and miraculously came back to life for the purpose of getting their evil, sinful selves a pass into heaven on judgment day.

Not me.

Not even close.

Well, maybe sorta close.

That cross in that moment amid a backdrop of violent lightning, reminded me that religious people through the centuries have gone to great lengths to silence anyone who dared question the currently accepted way of doing things.

Jesus dared.

They had him killed in a very public and official display of authority.

That much, I do not question.

Beyond that, I have many, but that’s for another day and another post.

Not much has changed in 2000 years.

Bottom line, regardless of who you are, if you seek to show people a better way–a more compassionate and less vengeful pathway to communion with a divine source–odds are pretty good things may get messy for you.

Thank you, Big Cross, for reminding me that rocking the boats of the religious majority rarely ends with “peace, be still”. Thank you for reminding me that sometimes the message of a better way through love and peace can be twisted and perverted into a whole new religion.

Sorta makes a person wonder if speaking up is worth it, doesn’t it?

Being Remembered

There has been little the past six months that has spawned my desire to blog. Thank God for Easter kicking my rebel mind into high gear. And a word of warning: If you are going to CHOOSE to be offended by what I say, stop reading and close this page. I don’t need the grief.  If, however, you are willing to have your thinking challenged in a way that may be very uncomfortable, then read on.

As people around the world seek to find an appropriate and sometimes elaborate way to memorialize the death and resurrection of Jesus, I have found myself wondering what he thinks about all of this. Please indulge me for a moment as I take this though process through its steps.

I have had a number of older family members (grandparents) pass over the years in the usual sad yet relatively mundane, uneventful ways–heart problems, cancer, old age, etc. I have known a few people who have died horribly tragic deaths–violent, graphic, unfair deaths.

In each instance, I find myself asking, “How would they want to be memorialized?”

Would my grandparents want everyone to gather around a hospital bed year after year at the appointed time and cry as each of us remembers their departure?

Would those who were killed in tragic accidents want their families to reassemble at the place (or a substitute place) where their death occurred and re-enact the events that led to their death?

Would they want a bigger than life monument erected so that everyone who passes by could see and remember how they died? Maybe it would be a crushed car three stories high, or a fifty foot replica of the handgun with which they were shot, or a giant ligature with which they were strangled.

Pretty gruesome, when you think about it, right?

I think in each case, they would want to be remembered for what they did in life, how they made a difference for others, what they contributed to the betterment of society.

Ask yourself  how you would like to be remembered? Go ahead and take a moment to think through how you want your family to reflect on your life and death each year.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

Why do we think Jesus wants to be remembered as a gruesome bloody body suffocating to death on a cross? Why would he want us spending time and a buttload of money erecting crosses to repeatedly remind us of how much he suffered? Would your loved one want that?

No where did he ask us to remember his suffering by putting crosses throughout our homes and along our highways. He simply suggested we eat some bread and drink some wine in his memory….

Oh……and do what he did: heal the sick, feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, and love our neighbor.

One other thought that is likely to send a few more people over the edge…

I find it ironic that we have conveniently forgotten the commandments about no graven images, idols, statues, objects of worship as well as that whole Tower of Babel story that are found in the Old Testament, but we can’t seem to move past the notion that homosexuality is an abomination and they must be put to death (right alongside your neighbor who ate pork last night).

Happy Easter everyone. May your day be filled with opportunities to bless someone’s life without judgment.

A Parable of Memoirs

Recently I’ve been reading and listening to some historical information on how the Bible as we know it came to be.  From the historian/scientist standpoint, it’s very difficult to accept the collection as literal true history once the facts surrounding the origin and compilation are made known.

It simply isn’t logical given what we know about how the human mind and memory work.

Yet Christianity has developed a very effective means of getting around the lack of logical. We simply ignore the facts of the matter, claim divine inspiration and guidance, and call it faith.

The result is a collection of contradictions and conflicting opinions that become the absolute inerrant Word of God.

Be sure to make a note of the words contradictions, conflicting opinions, and inerrant. Not words that typically fit well together.

In order to better illustrate to the faithful why this might not be quite as accurate as most want to believe, I’d like to share a little story, or parable of sorts. That’s how Jesus made his point to the hard headed and under-educated of the times. Remember, the story that follows is total fiction.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Angie. She had three friends and a cousin with whom she had been quite close when she was between the ages of 10 and 13.

When Angie was 43, her three friends and a cousin decided they each wanted to write a memoir of the times they had with Angie between the ages of 10 and 13. There was only one small problem. They all had serious learning disabilities, and had never really mastered the whole reading and writing thing very well.

Tales of Angie’s life between the ages of 10 and 13 had become legendary, so the three friends and a cousin each told their stories to a ghost writer who recorded the memories each had of the events that happened 30 years ago.

Fast forward 100 years. Angie had become quite a legend all over the world. Tales of her escapades as a pre-teen were shared around summer campfires. Ghost stories involving her and her friends grew the legend even more. Her story was known far and wide and was told in many different languages.

One day, the Society for the Preservation of Angie’s Story decided to compile all of the stories into a novel. The dug through old documents that were faded, torn, and dusty. They hosted evidence hearings to evaluate all the different versions. They hired linguists to translate the various stories from other languages and cultures.

Many of the stories and sources were rejected. They did not align with the ideals held by the leadership of the Society. In order to prevent them from ever polluting Angie’s Story, the Society decided to burn every document that was deemed false.

And so the story was compiled. 

Unfortunately, the memoirs used to compile Angie’s story had many contradictions. They showed her to be in multiple places at once. They contradicted each other as to who her great grandparents were. They even added in details that defied the laws of nature. Miraculous tales of time travel and flying through the air without wings.

It was an amazing story.

The Society proclaimed it was historically accurate and convinced a world leader to side with them. As people came forward to question the inconsistencies and the implausibilities, they were discredited or even put to death.

And so the legend grew. Two thousand years later, a nation’s government decided that Angie’s Story should be taught in schools as historical truth. Many people continued to point out the inaccuracies and inconsistencies, but the majority ignored them and claimed Angie’s Story MUST be true because she was divine and the story had been properly preserved and protected by her divinity.

Those who didn’t believe were labeled as evil-doers and unfaithful. 

Sadly, the true message that stood to be gained from the adventures of Angie’s pre-teen years were totally lost in all of the fussing and fighting about the authenticity of the story. Everyone focused on the fight to defend her story as literal true history, and totally missed the point of her life and message.

 

Dangerous Thinking

Recent travel has afforded me quite an extensive opportunity to listen to some audio books. At the top of my list has been the works of Bart Ehrman, evangelical Biblical scholar turned agnostic.

While listening my way through his book, God’s Problem, Ehrman told a story of a Cambodian refugee family with whom he became acquainted. I was fascinated by the tale of survival  that was shared as the father in the story described to Ehrman how he had destroyed his own eye glasses to avoid appearing educated to the brutal regime of Pol Pot, which was determine to destroy any threat to it’s dictatorial movement.

Destroy those who appear educated.

They are the greatest threat to dictatorial control.

Don’t ask questions. Don’t appear to be a thinker. Don’t challenge the status quo.

Education can be a dangerous thing.

More recent reading has led me to another of Ehrman’s works entitled Jesus Interrupted. In this work, the Biblical scholar shares both historical evidence and Biblical contradictions that are well known to seminary students, yet almost unheard of in the layity.

Could it be that the information and education vacuum that exists within the Christian community is a self-perpetuating beast? My faith history tends to shun (or at least regard as suspect) educational materials that are not created or generated from within its own faith community. They are serious educators, but only with their own brand of religious dogma. It wasn’t until I began to educate myself with materials from the “outside” world that I realized a more historically accurate truth.

When I did that, I became dangerous.

I became so dangerous that it was necessary to redirect me and keep me from contaminating those who might be easily influenced by my questioning. It happens all the time all over the world and has been going on for centuries.

Education is dangerous.

Rational, critical thinking is dangerous.

Poverty, ignorance, fear, and survival mode are religion’s best friend.

What are you doing to educate yourself on the facts?

An Ethical Dilema

This morning I applied for a teaching job.

There is nothing about that act that should be out of the ordinary, stressful, or otherwise challenging to my psyche. The job is for a position with my college alma mater and it is something I have dreamed of many times. I have the fondest of memories of being at that school. I have no doubt I am qualified. I have no doubt I can do it. I have a few reservations about the prospect of being expected to pursue a doctorate, but even that is certainly well within my capabilities.

The ethical dilema reared its ever present head when the question of personal faith appeared on the application. Plain and simple:

What is your religious faith? Church of Christ or Other? If other, please explain.

Seeing as to how important that CoC part is to the organization to which I am applying, I defaulted to that option. After all, it is my faith heritage.

Next came the sworn statement about upholding the values and beliefs of the CoC.

After a long pause, I checked “Yes, I will.”

You might wonder how in good conscious and total honesty I can still claim a Church of Christ faith, especially considering some of the intense posts I have composed in the past year. It’s really pretty simple.

The basic premise of the Churches of Christ is to be like the first century church. In other words, the stated objective is essentially immitate as closely as possible the man called Jesus of Nazareth and his followers before, during, and after his death.

I hold to the majority of those beliefs.

I believe that there is something greater than me that is a part of me and I am a part of it.

I believe it is our responsibility as human beings to share our resources and help ease the suffering of those whose circumstances are a source of misery and hunger.

I believe in the importance of loving not only my neighbor, but my enemy as well.

I believe Jesus questioned and challenged authority and tradition at every level and encouraged his followers to do likewise.

I believe that a person who chooses to live by the fruits of the spirit will be much happier and will bring happiness to those who enter our lives.

I believe our thoughts shape who and what we are and will become.

I believe in the concept of believing as if we have already received.

I believe that the performance of a ritual such as baptism or communion to signify a commitment to these concepts can be an important part of a person’s spiritual journey.

I believe the Bible has much wisdom to offer those who turn its pages and consume its texts.

I believe in the importance of questioning tradition, authority, and assumptions.

I believe “the church” was intended to be a source of unconditional brotherly love.

I love a cappella music. Oh, and instrumental music, too.

However, there are many ideas held by some individuals within the group that identifies itself as the Church of Christ with which I cannot currently accept as a part of my personal belief system.

I do not believe it is appropriate to take literally, declare as sacred, and apply as law for today a collection of writings compiled by a group of men, translated numerous times by hand from a variety of languages, which were written with a particular culture and ideas as its focus.

I do not believe a religion in which torture and murder of those who questioned the leadership and status quo can be viewed as authentic and completely accurate.

I do not believe the many contradictions, inconsistencies, and unanswered questions can or should be dismissed by stating that we as mere humans cannot understand the mind of God.

I do not believe that sparing the rod has spoiled the child.

I do not believe God cares whether or not we use intruments in making music.

I do not believe that all homosexuality is a choice and that those with such feelings should be denied sexual satisfaction and happiness or risk being labeled as sinners.

I do not believe “the church” as a whole has been a source of unconditional brotherly love. On the contrary, I believe the church has used religion as an excuse to be prejudicial, exclusive and hateful toward those who experience life differently from the norm.

I do not believe it is appropriate to request that we not all be lumped together because “not all Christians are like that”. We should be policing our own and recognize that we are in fact our brother’s keeper. The wacko Christian that just killed 90+ people IS our problem. We created him. By the same token, Muslim extremism IS the problem of the Islamic religion and its people. Both are dangerous. Neither embodies the concept of love advocated by its object of worship.

I do not believe religion has any place in the making of laws of our government if we are in fact a “freedom of religion” state.

I do not believe religion is the ultimate  answer to drought, hunger, mental disorders, marital problems , and suffering in general. Such belief tends to make matters worse, not better.

I do not believe silencing the questions will save the sanctity of the organization. Pursecuting and punishing those who would publicly raise the tough and challenging questions assures that a group of people are NOT true followers of Jesus.

I do not believe in the law of silence. Just because the chosen writers didn’t record it in black and white doesn’t make it an abomination to God.

I do not believe the Bible accurately and clearly portrays the entity we refer to as God. If so, we have a very bi-polar and confusing deity.

I do not believe Paul is the ultimate authority on Christian worship and behavior.

I do not believe the words of Paul, Peter, John, Timothy, and others should be taken above those of Jesus.

I do not believe in black and white, nor do I think Jesus did either. If he did, he would have cast the first stone at the “sinful” women he encountered.

There are probably many more things I could add to this list, and some that may some day be removed as my questions evolve and my spirituality matures. Until then, I hope that my desire to be like the great teacher who taught love as the greatest commandment will be enough to make me worthy to be a teacher as well.

To quote the great teacher, “…So who do you say that I am?”

A Trip with a Mission

My oldest hopped aboard a plane to Honduras this morning. She is with a group of very nice people, most of whom claim the label “Christian”.

One might tend to think I would be opposed to sending my kid off with a group like this on a “mission trip”, and in most instances, I would be a bit apprehensive of the potential for brainwashing that might ensue.

However, there is something different about this trip and the people making the trip. This group is walking the walk rather than just talking the talk. They are taking quite seriously the commandment attributed to Jesus to love your neighbor as yourself. They are making a trip with a mission, not going on a mission trip to proselytize people who just need medicine, a meal and shelter.

Here’s the itinerary for the trip:

Sunday – church in Santa Ana, lunch in Teguc and visits at Hospital Escuela and 21 October Home for boys. Finishing day at Nueve Oriental
Monday – Start willies house and building 2 others, Feed at Dump, Clinic Planning
Tuesday – Clinic at Sabana Grande, build 2 houses, willie house
Wed – Clothing give away, morning work at the dump, and more
Thursday – Clinic near the dump, build 2 houses, willie house, feeding people.
Friday – market buy/ food distribution, house construction, finish willie house, Casa de Esperanza
Sat – adios.

Notice anything missing? They will be too busy working their tails off helping people to tell them they are going to hell. Granted, they are having a church service on Sunday, but that’s what these people do on Sunday. It’s part of their spiritual ritual. I can cut them some slack on that one.

You see, I’m not interested in how many kids you drag to your summer Vacation Bible School. I’m not interested in how many people your church baptizes or how many show up every week. Frankly, I could care less about whether yours is the one true way to get to heaven. In my opinion, all of that is cow pookey.

I’m way more interested in how much love and compassion is shown to our fellow human beings.

Oh, and I am eternally grateful to those who have helped my daughter make this trip financially. You are my heroes as is she.

If you’d like to keep up with the events of the week, check out www.treymorgan.net. Hopefully he will be able to keep us all posted on their progress.

Hypocracy

Apparently today was a good day to blog about hypocracy. Seems half the people I follow had some element of hypocracy as their theme.  A couple that stood out to me included Trey Morgan’s post You Might Be a Hypocrite If… and Jessica Ahlquist’s post A Crown of Thorns with Jelly.

Trey, a minister,  takes the Jeff Foxworthy approach to identifying hypocratic tendancies that seem to rear their ugly  heads in Christianity from time to time. Jessica shares her story about efforts to secure separation of church and state in the public school she attends. She goes head to head with an ultra-right-wing Christian “hell-bent” on keeping prayer in the school. Said Christian had apparently been arrested in the past for “…freaking out and throwing a pro-life video at someone…”.

Both are good reads.

And it took everything inside of me to keep my mouth shut on Trey’s blog. I had a few things to add to his list, but didn’t feel like he deserved to have to deal with the ruckus I am capable of causing.

Nevertheless, I have a few questions to ask regarding this whole hypocracy thing.

Like, isn’t it a bit hypocritical to be pro-life and pro-war?

And what about supporting a thrice divorced candidate as the cheerleader for family values?

I’m even wondering if Jesus would support a political candidate who advocates drilling for oil in our protected areas?

I mean really, What Would Jesus Do?

Stem cell research….I wonder if Jesus would allow a child to suffer with a horrible disease that might be curable at some point through stem cell research? Oh wait….he’d just miraculously heal them. Hmmm…..bad example. :P

Might it be a tad hypocritical to cut federal funding for women’s health care clinics for the poor while bankrolling the banking and auto industry?

What about the Christian approach to solving the HIV/AIDS crisis in Africa? Eliminate the funding for medicine and condoms and start teaching them to keep their appendages behind their zipper.

That’s a real weinner.

What kinds of hypocritical political poop can you add to this list?

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