Bradezone

Outside the mild afternoon rains continue to fall, while inside the relaxing whir of espresso machines fills Greenville’s latest Barnes & Noble bookstore and adjoining Starbucks coffee shop. I sit alone at a small circular table, burnt orange in hue, while reading Dostoevsky and soon resolving to write my own impressions of my immediate surroundings. My table forms part of a long line situated snugly against an ebony barrier about four feet high that divides the coffee shop from the rest of the store. A couple sits at the table next to mine playing a card and dice game, which the man introduces to his partner as the game of “Cheating.” The man is older, perhaps in his early fifties, clad in a maroon sweater and tan casual slacks, and wearing white Nike sneakers. His hair is dark gray and neatly combed, and his wire-rimmed glasses adorn an inconspicuous face. His voice betrays his refined southern heritage; it is subdued yet subtly animated as he explains the rules of the game. As their contest unfolds, he chuckles intermittently at his ever-changing predicament. The woman, who is overweight but not offensively obese, is discernibly more expressive than the man, at some points laughing mischievously and at others accusing him of bending the rules or at the very least seeming a bit too lucky. Yet her voice is ever coupled with some measure of restraint, politely conscious of the other patrons. Her back is to me the entire time; she has on dark denim jeans, stylish black boots, and a long-sleeved shirt only a shade lighter than our table tops. Her hair is mostly straight and brownish with streaks of blonde here and there. She appears about fifteen years younger than her opponent. Over the course of the game a die rolls off their table three times, and is in each instance accompanied by a brief whispering laugh from one or both of them, a silent acknowledgement of the possible disruption they have caused. At one point the woman insists that the man is cheating, but in a tone that reflects her obvious lack of any real irritation. The man responds with a playfully sinister laugh and exclaims, “I love it!” but only as loudly as the most austere fellow customer would be willing to tolerate. At intervals he tutors her on the rules of the game; likewise she audibly figures out its various aspects, finally giving her stamp of approval to the game of “Cheating.” After an hour or so they leave their table, and soon enough I do the same, hoping to read the rest of Notes from Underground later that evening.

Conflicting emotions, bemusement, pointless pondering, is it just a number, slowly processed, incomplete, the end of something, soul weight, plans, reliance, come on stick to the gameplan, fight it out, out here, outside the fray, headcase, case in point, will you no longer argue, make you laugh, ease the weight, we get along but are we together, accomplishments sure, but the undone, where is my focus, how will it end…

Today I had the pleasure of experiencing one of those Bible-induced revelatory moments whilst reading through Romans 8, a chapter which is itself fascinating, challenging, and uplifting all at once. When I reached verse 10, so many avenues of thought were about to be opened.

And then I read, “If Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, yet the spirit is alive because of righteousness.”

By itself it is a clear and concise statement of the basic truth of salvation, yet within the context it is so much more. Paul had been writing of the usurpation of the Old Testament law by the New Testament of grace, whereby those who believe in Jesus are freed forever from the penalty of sin, which itself was made evident by that law. He then deals with the conflict between the mind and flesh of a believer—a battle that is ongoing even after justification in God’s eyes is assured. Paul exhorts us to consider our new freedom and serve God with all our effort, even while our subsequent inevitable failings are covered by the momentous sacrifice of Christ.

Verse 10 then comes along to clarify all points of thought. Our bodies are bound to the pull of sin while we remain on this earth, and because of their continued imperfection they must die. However our spirits—what Paul elsewhere identifies as our “inner man”—are escalated to immortality and freedom from sin at the moment we accept the free gift of God—the sacrifice of his son Jesus, who through his life, death, and resurrection exemplifies true righteousness perpetually.

In the verses that follow, Paul exhorts his readers to succumb to the leadership of God’s Spirit in their everyday lives, even through the worst this world has to offer. Through pain, sorrow, loss, and even death, we might truly take pleasure in the fact that even though those things are bound to happen to our sinful bodies, they can have no effect whatsoever on our spirits—the “real us” as it were.

As I see it, verse 10 answers in large part that most troubling question, “If God is so good, why is there so much evil in the world?” Evil is not just something that sneaks about this vast world and strikes us unawares. Evil is always very much at hand, because it resides within the very flesh of our bodies. We will still experience physical death as a punishment for sin even after we accept Christ, because these physical bodies are still under the influence of sin. Our spirits meanwhile belong to God from the moment we place faith in Jesus Christ as our means for salvation and eternal life—a life no longer encumbered by our sinful bodies. Indeed we should celebrate the fact that we will not have to deal with these bodies for much longer.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to announce my new favorite snack chip, a distinction which has at sundry times been held by such luminaries as Funyuns, Pizzarias, Spicier Nacho Doritos, and Tom’s Nacho Rings. The current champion is none other than Cheetos Flamin’ Hot, an aggressively flavored chip that burns with just the right intensity and provides an unmatched taste sensation. I have been downing these things as if my life depended upon them, and I will likely continue to do so for the forseeable future. The only side effects so far include a radioactive red color on all fingertips within 3 seconds of opening a bag, and a brief period of esophagus-burn that signals the proper time to cease consumption. Priced at two dollars a bag at your local Bi-Lo, how can you not treat yourself to this most intriguing of grub options?

In what was one of the most lethargic Super Bowls ever–despite a record-breaking run and interception return–the Seahawks failed to get the job done. Congrats to Pittsburgh, I guess. The dullness of the game has obviously infected even my writing ability, so I shall stop here.

I want to give “madd propz” to the dude who figured this out. Because of this we have image links in the top right that will show up as text if one is not using CSS, and without the usual hackneyed method of indenting my text 5000 yards off the side of the screen to “hide” it.

But I suppose this news item will receive less national coverage than the “battle of the gridiron” taking place this evening betwixt the Seahawks and Steelers. I for one am rooting for Seattle, given their somewhat hapless sports history to this point. I had the privilege of Shaun Alexander’s presence on my fantasy football team this season, which finished… in 2nd place. Well, let’s hope he comes up big tonight then, so he won’t have to settle again.

Also, shout out to Sigs for his graduate art show today. Get the inside scoop at his blog. I’ve already signed up for one of the pieces, and it possesses a French theme no less! Hey, not all of us Americans have it out for them… Not all the time, at least.

So now my blog can be released to the wild, since I have incorporated my site design into it. Thanks be to WordPress for rocking the web standards, and DreamHost for the one-click installs.

First things first. This is the “all new, all freestyle” Brade blog. Entries will be short and awesome. So without further ado…

I was recently exposed, via my American Lit class, to a wonderful work by William Byrd entitled “The Secret Diary.” Therein Bill posts some worthy nuggets, my two favorite of which are “I ate milk for breakfast,” and “I danced my dance.” While you are free to conjure up your own image of what these mean, I simply hope that someday, when I am laid to rest, it can be spoken of me that “he danced his dance.”

In other news, Paul Shirley is quite the funny.