It Is A Backwards World

Do we really think if or when Jesus comes back, we’ll like what He has to say? Do we think He’ll hand out yellow happy face stickers and say, “Good job. Keep doing what your doing.”? In fact, humans will be most distraught at what stern feedback He gives. Bide our time if we must. Sooner or later we will recognize the true consequences of our labor. We will finally see the world stripped of our biases. We will gaze upon the enemy’s true face, and we will realize our adversary came in the name of good. Beforehand, we had thought the animus or the big boss kept us safe. The world, after all, is a small business who pays the gangsters for protection. Did we really think the gangsters who run this block would never charm or flatter us? The cunning gangster does jovially remark, “Be a good boy, and work for us.” We might think we know who we’re dealing with but even though we might not see any weapons, we must know that the gangster holds a smoking barrel to our temple. Gangsters enjoy pretending to be our friends, for without peasants there can be no throne. Unfortunately, authentic friends aren’t found much around here. Jesus is not our friend either, though He is something better. He will tell us that we asked for this economic and political devastation that left us so despondent. Humans want to forget this fact and come out and play. The truth is that the boss tricked us to jam needles into our ears and rub rocks into our eyes. What game shall we play when we can’t hear and we can’t see?

The gangster won’t acknowledge that we’re blind, deaf, and dumb. Our lack of awareness is, of course, to the gangster’s benefit. With hands full of toys, gadgets, and jewelry, we dropped our map and compass. How can we follow Him if we’re the ultimate triple threat: blind, deaf, and dumb and if we cannot follow Him, who do we work for? We work for the big boss. You work for the boss, and you’ll get the money. You get the money, and you’ll get the girls and if you get the girls, you’ll get to play. People will envy your freedom to play. The world will beg for your acceptance. You have the money, the girls, and the power. The world praises you, but who do you think you are? This story has a sad, terrible ending. Play time is over, and she never really loved you. How can she? She’s just like you, a triple threat. If most people weren’t triple threats, sex and status wouldn’t sell for so much. In this world, this sadly isn’t the case. As a backwards world, prostitution and its legal iterations, whether spiritually or physically, brings us a bounty of money and attention. If the lies lost their power to mesmerize us, only then will we finally show up to work. We have one job to do. We purify the triple threat within ourselves. Purification is real work. Purification cannot be stifled by time wasting bureaucracies and soul sucking, redundant tasks. On the other hand, the cleansing process will hurt. It doesn’t pay to follow Him.

Predictably, we’ll have to give up the money we earned from the boss before we even start our righteous journey. You don’t bring anything, and you don’t say anything. You don’t try to be anything, and you don’t try to get anything. You will be stripped of the comforts of your ego. The world will sneer at us but if at least half of us followed Him, maybe a good person would receive more of our currency. A good person will see to it that the power will flow to where it’s needed. A good person will help remove the dams that the gangsters built to intoxicate themselves with power. The crux of this story is about subjugation. See the world, and you’ll notice that the currency flows backwards. The drug mules are major recipients of the power. The drug mules sell fashion, entertainment, and “snake oil” products to keep us trapped in a flux between desire and satisfaction. The best salesmen help the gangsters acquire tremendous wealth. They sell lies. They give their customers squirts of dopamine. Playing the status game, we keep buying their garbage, and we keep buying due to our manufactured dissatisfaction. This dimension to our problem is strikingly clear, but most of us don’t know that we came uninvited to a sex and death party.

The hosts of this party, or the ones in charge, behave like sadists and seem to encourage the suffering. Promote authentic compassion at this party, and you are the rebel in need of reproach. If you aren’t transfixed with the new, shiny toys, you are the problem. The gangsters own this block, and you pay them to live on it. They’ll even persuade you to feel good as you pay them. They’ll say you’ve done your duty. If so desired, they could pretend that you were on the guest list all along while you serve them at their party. You might even think it would be fun to join but indubitably, the party itself is a lie. Any sex and death party starts and ends as an extension of our collective suffering. On the surface the party is booming laughter, dripping sweat, and spraying blood. Below the shallow waters exists an eternal trap, the abyss that cannot satisfy its hunger for souls no matter how many it swallows whole. The good news is that if we’re sick of their party, we can build our houses somewhere else. Although, we shouldn’t expect much justice in this backwards world. Any righteous community will face unrelenting attack and might crumble at the weight of ignorance and hedonism. Any good community is vulnerable, because the bulk of the current is wasted on the gangsters.