~~~Shadsie's Art and Musings~~~
I've been working a little bit on "A World of Rusted Dreams." I'm thinking of probably putting more emphasis on the Guardians as "possibly being delusions" and a lot of emphasis upon them being "as the charge who calls them needs them."
Anyway, I was reading some random blogs tonight on politics and religion. The one consistent thing that I see just about everywhere that I really like is that "extremes" on all sides seem to be overwhelmed by the moderation of most commentators. As a Moderate-type, I take comfort in that, I really do.
Anyway, most people who read my journal here know that I'm a Christian - I haven't gone to church in a while and I consider myself nondemonimnational, but I am still a part of the "Evil Empire," in some loose way. I am one of those who actually reads and has studied the Bible, however, so I actually *know* about the unpleasnant and controversial bits as well as the "good" stuff that people on "my side" most tout. And I cringe whenever fellow Christians try to tout the Bible has "having no contradictions" and so forth. I also am a seeker-type personality and I question my faith all the time. I just happen to always come back to "I still have it," whether others like it or not. I cannot speak for others, even other Christians over what makes one "true," I can only speak for what I believe, how I experience my faith on a personal level, and keep track of trying to do what's right in my own life.
In thinking that, well, I'm pretty much hopeless when it comes to "outgrowing such silly superstitions" as the TV Trope says, I've come to a pretty weird conclusion about Jesus in my life. I may have chosen Christianity some years ago for some basic reasons it just "clicked" with me (converted as a teen), but after having my beliefs in flux over the years, all the thinking and questioning, I have an analogy of where I am now with it. You may find it amusing or just disgusting. Your milage may vary.
Jesus is like this lovely little benign mole I have on the upper part of my right arm. @_@.
In my mind/soul/spirit/whatever, he is just "there" much like this mole in my arm is "just there."
If I were to cut it/him off, a scar would be left.
I happen to enjoy having it/him around, so I will not be ridding myself (at least not anytime soon).
If you think that I would be better off without the "mole" and come at me with a razor blade trying to cut it off, I'm gonna run away from you. If you keep coming at me, I might just take that razor blade and shove it in your face.
If I didn't see (my perception of) God as having a sense of humor, I would have been doomed long ago.
And, why yes, this weird rant has a little *something* to do with my creative work, as I mentioned the novel I'm working on above. It's about concepts of faith told in a weird, fantasy-type of way, so, I've had to think a lot about such concepts lately in the real world in order to put them in the fantasy world/fantasy context.