Third grade gym class was the ultimate nightmare for a nine year old female who constantly had her face in a book. It was an unspeakable horror to be asked to run five laps and God forbid Coach Ashby ask us to perform push-ups.
The day I remember best started out as a complete wreck. It was frisbee day.
Let it be known that I cannot catch a frisbee to save my life. I'm great at throwing them; but unfortunately, that wasn't the task of the day. It was catching.
It required coordination, which as most people know, I was not blessed with an excessive amount of.
Or, at all, really.
It was simple, really. You caught the frisbee on your turn, or you ran five laps. If everyone in the class caught the frisbee (which put an unbelievable amount of pressure on me not to be the only one to screw it up) we could then play dodgeball for the rest of class.
I accepted my fate before I even ran out to try to catch the stupid thing.
I, along with every other person in the class but one, missed the frisbee.
Looking back, I think it was the dumbest thing he ever had us do. Maybe the dumbest thing I've ever done in my entire existence as a human being. Who in the world cares if I can catch a frisbee? Please, someone explain to me how that's going to help me in the grand scheme of things.
The only kid in my class who caught the frisbee was Ryan. No one was shocked, Ryan was the most athletic person in my grade, by far.
That day in gym after everyone had had their turn, Coach Ashby turned to Ryan.
He told him he a choice.
Either he would sit out the five laps like he was promised
OR
He could run laps for the rest of us while we played dodgeball.
(At this point I was screwed either way- dodgeball was just as bad, if not worse, than running- but that's beside the point)
Ryan looked at the twelve of so of us.
And he said, "I'll run."
And while for years I thought that was the most unfair question to be put on a 9 year old kid, I finally realized that whether or not he meant to, our Coach taught us something really valuable that day.
That is the only day of gym class I can distinctly remember.
And it's because it was more than gym class that day.
It was about who we were as people.
What I took from that day wasn't the fact that I still couldn't catch a frisbee.
It was redemption.
~Juliana True
Friday, June 28, 2013
Monday, May 27, 2013
Movie Review: Star Trek into Darkness
Rating: PG-13
Time: 2 hours, 3 minutes
Violence: It's Star Trek, what do you expect? There's everything, from people getting sucked out of ships, shooting people, and... yes, there's some skull cracking. It wasn't bad in my opinion, but this is coming from the girl who watches Supernatural all the time. So, I'm not quite sure I count.
Nudity/Sex: A girl is seen in only her undergarments. A guy is seen in bed with two alien girls.
Personal Opinions:
Stars(1-5): 4
Actors/Casting: I thought the casting was brilliant. I was pleasantly surprised that they managed to keep all the characters (that were named at least) from the first one. I was also excited to see one of my favorite actors ever (Benedict Cumberbatch) was going to be the villain.
Plot(No spoilers): I thought the plot was good, it was very good. The reason it got 4 stars for me, was because I wouldn't have ended it the way they did. But I've always been a huge sci-fi fan (I grew up watching Star Wars) and Star Trek did not disappoint.,
My Age Recommendation: 13/14+
Would I recommend it? It's certainly not for everyone, but yes I would:) It was a a fantastically executed movie.
If you went to see Star Trek, how did you like it? Let me know!
~Juliana True
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Just Trust
I'm reading this book called Costly Grace by Jon Walker right now. It's an amazing book, and I would totally recommend reading it. It's pretty cool.
But anyway, he talks a lot about how we take the Gospel, and we take what Jesus says to us, and we take bits and pieces of it-the pieces of it that appeal to us.
We take the pretty things, the ones that sparkle in the sun, or the ones that taste good- but we leave the ugly, the nasty ones behind.
We accept his grace, but we don't truly give our entire lives to him. Because that's scary.
And I just molded this analogy in my mind somehow, and felt the need to share it for whatever reason.
You have this cousin. And you know she really can't stand you. She's whiny, she's disrespectful and thinks she hung the moon. She's rude, and she's never grateful for anything.
But, in an attempt to get to know her better (because she's family), you decide to take her on a trip.
Now, this trip is fully paid for by you. You've paid for the whole thing, the gas money to get to the place, the hotel, the food, everything.
So, you tell her about it. You tell her that you'd love to spend some time with her, develop a relationship with her, that the trip is fully paid for.
She's ecstatic I mean a fully paid trip? She's in! And she's starting to like you a little better too.. I mean you're the one paying for it!
But then you say this, "You can come with me, but I want one thing from you. I want- I need- you to listen to me the whole week. Because you're younger than me, I'm responsible for you, and so what I say goes. The whole time. I need you to trust me."
She stares at you. Thinks about it.
Then she nods.
She'll do it.
So, you go. You have fun, and everything goes great for the first couple of days.
Then, on the third day, you decide to go to the beach. She swims farther out than you, and later into the day, you can start to see the tide coming in.
You yell out to her, "Come in! The tide's coming in, it's going to be dangerous!"
She looks at you.
Looks at the water.
Looks at you.
Purses her lips.
Your heart beat quickens as you realize what's about to happen.
She shakes her head. Walks even farther out- right into dangers.
She doesn't trust you, she's making her own rules. She's playing God. She trusts herself more than she trusts you.
That's what we all struggle with. "You" is God in this analogy, and the "cousin" is us.
We're whiny, disrespectful, rude human beings. But since God created us, he wants a relationship with us. He loves us, and so he pays for our vacation- Jesus paid for Heaven for us on the cross.
We hesitantly agree to trust him on the trip.
And then we hit a snag. We hit something where we think we know better.
We start to question God and question whether he really knows best.
It's in that moment, where our faith is tested.
Where we see if we're any different than when we first started the trip.
Here's what it all comes down to:
In the analogy: Has your cousin's relationship with you gotten stronger? Does she trust you more now than before?
In reality: Has my relationship with God gotten stronger than when I first accepted him as my Savior?
How much will I trust him with?
Will I only trust him with the simple pretty situations? Or will I trust him with the nasty parts too?
He asks for it all. The pretty, and the gory.
He just wants us to trust him, totally and completely. And He'll take care of the rest.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
The Beauty of The City
I'm really very strange.
See, most photographers I know love taking pictures of nature, taking pictures of animals, or trees or other things.
Things that were made by God, and have been here from the beginning of time.
That's what makes catches their eye, and makes them want to in turn capture it for others.
My photographer's eye is caught by those things sometimes, but not all the time.
The only place I can go and feel my heart burst with passion to capture it's beauty is Atlanta.
I've been to Atlanta many times in my life, and it never ceases to make me stop and gawk at the buildings that tower above me. To us down on the road, those buildings are blended together, looming above. But inside, there's a lamp positioned in a corner, a cup of coffee sitting perched on a desk, a person on a cell phone.
Each of these things make up a piece of the puzzle of the buildings above us, but we only see the facade. We only see the big picture, and not the little pieces that make it up.
I love seeing what we've done with the world God gave us, what we've made of it. What better way to see that than in a city filled with the people he made? To see the things we created with the brains he gifted us with is pretty cool.
That's part of the beauty of it. Another thing that makes my fingers itch for my camera is the fact that so many people don't appreciate it as they drive through.
When you drive through a field filled with cows, or an orchard, you can't help but stop and marvel at the majesticness.
How many times do we gape at the beauty of Atlanta? The beauty of spaghetti junction, the beauty of the incredibly and vibrantly red tree just past the Holiday Inn, the beauty of the lamp posts lit up along Imagine It at night?
Never, because we don't stop to see the little details that make up the big picture of the busy city.
It's beautiful to me, because no one appreciates it. Everyone goes along their merry way, complaining about traffic, and checking their watches, and listening to the weather on the radio. They don't ever look up, they don't ever see the beauty in the city.
The beauty is in knowing I'm looking upon something in a way few others have ever done before.
The beauty is in the oblivion.
See, most photographers I know love taking pictures of nature, taking pictures of animals, or trees or other things.
Things that were made by God, and have been here from the beginning of time.
That's what makes catches their eye, and makes them want to in turn capture it for others.
My photographer's eye is caught by those things sometimes, but not all the time.
The only place I can go and feel my heart burst with passion to capture it's beauty is Atlanta.
I've been to Atlanta many times in my life, and it never ceases to make me stop and gawk at the buildings that tower above me. To us down on the road, those buildings are blended together, looming above. But inside, there's a lamp positioned in a corner, a cup of coffee sitting perched on a desk, a person on a cell phone.
Each of these things make up a piece of the puzzle of the buildings above us, but we only see the facade. We only see the big picture, and not the little pieces that make it up.
I love seeing what we've done with the world God gave us, what we've made of it. What better way to see that than in a city filled with the people he made? To see the things we created with the brains he gifted us with is pretty cool.
That's part of the beauty of it. Another thing that makes my fingers itch for my camera is the fact that so many people don't appreciate it as they drive through.
When you drive through a field filled with cows, or an orchard, you can't help but stop and marvel at the majesticness.
How many times do we gape at the beauty of Atlanta? The beauty of spaghetti junction, the beauty of the incredibly and vibrantly red tree just past the Holiday Inn, the beauty of the lamp posts lit up along Imagine It at night?
Never, because we don't stop to see the little details that make up the big picture of the busy city.
It's beautiful to me, because no one appreciates it. Everyone goes along their merry way, complaining about traffic, and checking their watches, and listening to the weather on the radio. They don't ever look up, they don't ever see the beauty in the city.
The beauty is in knowing I'm looking upon something in a way few others have ever done before.
The beauty is in the oblivion.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Called to Be Outcasts- Together
Human nature says to fit in. If you're thrown into a very awkward uncomfortable situation, you're going to try to make the best of things- right? You're going to try to fit in, to blend into the woodwork on the wall, and pretend you aren't there.
Well, that's the problem, isn't it? It's human nature for us to try to fit into this world, because we'e human, But, it's like trying to fit a round peg in a square hole.
We don't fit at all.
That's because we aren't of this world, we're supernatural. We're trying to fit into a place that isn't our home, a place that's a middleman. We were never created to fit in down here.
This world is full of sin, sin roams the streets, the devil steals souls, and temptation floods through the cracks of houses. We live in a world controlled by sin- so why do we try to fit in here?
In Romans 12:2 it says, "Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind."
Eventually if you pretend, and you act like something's real- if you act like someone you're not, to quote High School Musical (sorry), that's who you become.
God says to not conform ourselves to the pattern of this sinful world we live in.
Then in, Jeremiah 30:17, He says, "But I will restore you to health, And heal your wounds, declares the Lord. Because you are called an outcast, Zion for whom no one cares."
We aren't just called to not fit in here- we're called to be outcasts.
Pause.
Hang on.
We're supposed to be outcasts? We're supposed to be totally different from everyone else on this earth?
Yes, we are. Because we're not of this earth.
People will see you as an outcast. They will see that, and they will think to themselves, "What is UP with them?" But in doing this, you'll intrigue them.
This person who stands before them, who wants nothing to do with the world, who wants nothing to do with sinful nature, and who doesn't want to fit in at all, will interest people. They'll be perplexed.
And curiosity is the beginning of wisdom.
The coolest part I found about this, was when I was reading Acts the other day. Paul is speaking about the fellowship of the believers in chapter 2, and is explaining how they all congregated together, to eat, and pray.
It says, "All the believers were together, and had all things in common."
And then my mind went into overdrive, and I went back and read the verses directly before that, where Paul stands up to talk to the crowd. At this point he was explaining to everyone there how they could all speak to each other even though they all spoke different languages. It was sort of like the reversal of The Tower Of Babel.
Now, here's the kicker,and what just blew my mind. It says, "Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews of every nation."
Okay.
So.
We have people of every nation, from different families, different backgrounds, different jobs, speaking different languages, looking nothing like each other all congregated, okay?
These people are the most random bunch of people you ever met in your life. It's like if you walked into Target, and just stood there and watched people.
Those people are all different right?
It was a crowd just like that.
Totally different people.
So how, on earth, in the next chapter can it say that they had everything in common?
When we know for certain that their jobs, their nationalities, their languages, all of that, were different?
How can they be the same?
Because they're outcasts together.
The one thing every single person gathered around listening to Paul had in common was that they were God-fearing.
They had the breath of God living inside them, his Holy Spirit residing in their soul.
God covers everything else. His love and grace covers our job, it covers what kind of house we have, what kind of car we own, how many kids we have, where we live, who we talk to, what we do.
It covers it all, because none of it matters.
All those things, are things of this earth. Things we're not defined by.
What mattered to them, and what should matter to us, is that God called us to be outcasts together.
He called us to find the people who have seemingly nothing in common with us, but God. He calls us to rally with those people to bring others to Him. He calls us to love the people of this world-just not the sin of this world. He calls us to laugh in the world's face as we accept that we're different. We were born different, we will die different.
And we will spend forever in eternity.
Different.
Outcast.
Cast out of this world, and into Heaven.
Well, that's the problem, isn't it? It's human nature for us to try to fit into this world, because we'e human, But, it's like trying to fit a round peg in a square hole.
We don't fit at all.
That's because we aren't of this world, we're supernatural. We're trying to fit into a place that isn't our home, a place that's a middleman. We were never created to fit in down here.
This world is full of sin, sin roams the streets, the devil steals souls, and temptation floods through the cracks of houses. We live in a world controlled by sin- so why do we try to fit in here?
In Romans 12:2 it says, "Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind."
Eventually if you pretend, and you act like something's real- if you act like someone you're not, to quote High School Musical (sorry), that's who you become.
God says to not conform ourselves to the pattern of this sinful world we live in.
Then in, Jeremiah 30:17, He says, "But I will restore you to health, And heal your wounds, declares the Lord. Because you are called an outcast, Zion for whom no one cares."
We aren't just called to not fit in here- we're called to be outcasts.
Pause.
Hang on.
We're supposed to be outcasts? We're supposed to be totally different from everyone else on this earth?
Yes, we are. Because we're not of this earth.
People will see you as an outcast. They will see that, and they will think to themselves, "What is UP with them?" But in doing this, you'll intrigue them.
This person who stands before them, who wants nothing to do with the world, who wants nothing to do with sinful nature, and who doesn't want to fit in at all, will interest people. They'll be perplexed.
And curiosity is the beginning of wisdom.
The coolest part I found about this, was when I was reading Acts the other day. Paul is speaking about the fellowship of the believers in chapter 2, and is explaining how they all congregated together, to eat, and pray.
It says, "All the believers were together, and had all things in common."
And then my mind went into overdrive, and I went back and read the verses directly before that, where Paul stands up to talk to the crowd. At this point he was explaining to everyone there how they could all speak to each other even though they all spoke different languages. It was sort of like the reversal of The Tower Of Babel.
Now, here's the kicker,and what just blew my mind. It says, "Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews of every nation."
Okay.
So.
We have people of every nation, from different families, different backgrounds, different jobs, speaking different languages, looking nothing like each other all congregated, okay?
These people are the most random bunch of people you ever met in your life. It's like if you walked into Target, and just stood there and watched people.
Those people are all different right?
It was a crowd just like that.
Totally different people.
So how, on earth, in the next chapter can it say that they had everything in common?
When we know for certain that their jobs, their nationalities, their languages, all of that, were different?
How can they be the same?
Because they're outcasts together.
The one thing every single person gathered around listening to Paul had in common was that they were God-fearing.
They had the breath of God living inside them, his Holy Spirit residing in their soul.
God covers everything else. His love and grace covers our job, it covers what kind of house we have, what kind of car we own, how many kids we have, where we live, who we talk to, what we do.
It covers it all, because none of it matters.
All those things, are things of this earth. Things we're not defined by.
What mattered to them, and what should matter to us, is that God called us to be outcasts together.
He called us to find the people who have seemingly nothing in common with us, but God. He calls us to rally with those people to bring others to Him. He calls us to love the people of this world-just not the sin of this world. He calls us to laugh in the world's face as we accept that we're different. We were born different, we will die different.
And we will spend forever in eternity.
Different.
Outcast.
Cast out of this world, and into Heaven.
Time Heals All Wounds- Or Not
Whoever said "Time heals all wounds" obviously never actually got wounded.
For the sake of my analogy, let's pretend this "wound" is a stab wound, k? So, someone stabbed you in
the leg. Maybe it was you, maybe it was someone else. It doesn't really matter. When will that wound
scab over? Maybe a few days? Maybe less? When will it be totally gone? Maybe a month or so?
Okay, here's the next part:
A few days after maybe your mother's funeral, or parents' divorce, has the pain scabbed over?
Maybe so. Probably not. It's probably going to take a while for that to happen, for the pain to not be
fresh every single time you think about it.
When you press a finger to the stab wound on your leg, that's long since healed, will it still hurt? No.
Even if there's a scar there, it will not hurt.
So, in a year or two, when someone mentions the person who died, or that divorce, or that person who
left, will it hurt?
Heck yeah, it will.
It's not going to be like the scar on your leg that doesn't hurt at all. It's going to be an ache deep down in
your chest, one that screams and writhes and wants to be free of your body.
It's something you'll carry around with you forever.
It's a stab wound that will never get past the scabbing stage. It will always be a scab.
You'll know it's there, and therefore do your best to ignore it. You won't mention or think about the hurt
or death in your life. You'll tread lightly, walking gently, and trying not to run into any sharp corners.
But sometimes we can't help it. Sometimes others bring things up, that resurface our pain, and the scab
is ripped back open and blood and hurt and agony begins to pour back out.
Sometimes we accidentally hit the table when we're walking by and the wound hurts so bad we are left
gasping on the floor.
Time does not heal all wounds.
Time only scabs wounds, leaving them dangerously open, dangerously waiting.
The good thing?
They change us. They become a part of our story. “Let me tell you where I got this scab…” They begin to shape us and mold us, until we’re a stronger person than we were to begin with.
When we come out of it, we have a much higher tolerance for pain than when we went in.
The other good thing?
We know how to treat other's stab wounds now. We know what helps with the pain, what will make it
scab faster. We know how to be empathetic, and how to be there for them.
We know how to be a doctor.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
The Miserable Ones
I think I started crying about ten minutes into the movie.
When I saw Les Mis the first time, it was at a friend's house and it was awful. Okay, awful is a bit excessive. It wasn't good. There was no acting. There was no movement. It was people standing in a line on a stage singing. I followed the plot line for probably about an hour, before deciding I didn't really understand what was going on any more and completely zoning out.
When I heard that it was being turned into a movie, I was naturally extremely skeptical. The music was of course, fantastic in the version I had seen, but was great music really a sole reason to go see a movie?
In the end, I decided it was.
I ended up going with my mom and explaining the basic plot to her, since for the first hour of the version I saw, I was paying attention pretty well.
So, we got to the theater, and settled in our seats.
Oh, and just by the way, Movies at Carmike 12- Cartersville is like the coldest place in Georgia. That place was insanely cold.
But, I'm getting sidetracked.
So, the movie starts with this gripping scene with the soldiers right? And everybody's singing "Sweet Jesus doesn't care..." and I can already start to feel the tears prickle the back of my eyelids. But I held it together, right?
For like seven more minutes.
When the priest guy bestowed grace and mercy upon Jean Valjean, I just sort of lost it.
And my mother turns to me and says, "Are you crying?"
Yes, dear readers. I was crying.
I don't know how many of you know this about me, but when it comes to emotions, I take after to my dad. My dad is a crier. My mom, while she will still cry, is less of a crier than my dad.
I am more of a crier than my dad.
I cry at the commercials for Finding Nemo. I kid you not.
So, naturally this movie was horrible for my crying problems.
First time in my life I've been glad I accidentally put on waterproof mascara (dang, that crud is hard to get off... ya know... since you can't use water...)
Anyhow, there were like three times I sobbed so hard I was literally shaking.
1- When Eponine was watching the whole interaction with Marius and Cosette at the fence/ her singing in the rain.
It really is true the saying, "There's nothing worse than watching the person you love love someone else."
2- When the little boy dies. I knew he was going to die, and so I had braced myself for it. And I had told myself not to cry. And I didn't. Until his brother broke through the barricade to get to his body. Eessh.
3- The ending/finale. That was so spectacularly done, and so beautiful.
I'm not sure who was more miserable: the people in the movie, or me, sitting in a dark theater, freezing and sobbing/shaking.
But it was a good kind of miserable. IT WAS AMAZING. I sat there in my miserable-ness, and was miserable and LOVED IT.
I'll be back.
I'll be back.
"Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Do you hear the people sing
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that they bring
When tomorrow comes!" ~Epilogue/Finale Song
When I saw Les Mis the first time, it was at a friend's house and it was awful. Okay, awful is a bit excessive. It wasn't good. There was no acting. There was no movement. It was people standing in a line on a stage singing. I followed the plot line for probably about an hour, before deciding I didn't really understand what was going on any more and completely zoning out.
When I heard that it was being turned into a movie, I was naturally extremely skeptical. The music was of course, fantastic in the version I had seen, but was great music really a sole reason to go see a movie?
In the end, I decided it was.
I ended up going with my mom and explaining the basic plot to her, since for the first hour of the version I saw, I was paying attention pretty well.
So, we got to the theater, and settled in our seats.
Oh, and just by the way, Movies at Carmike 12- Cartersville is like the coldest place in Georgia. That place was insanely cold.
But, I'm getting sidetracked.
So, the movie starts with this gripping scene with the soldiers right? And everybody's singing "Sweet Jesus doesn't care..." and I can already start to feel the tears prickle the back of my eyelids. But I held it together, right?
For like seven more minutes.
When the priest guy bestowed grace and mercy upon Jean Valjean, I just sort of lost it.
And my mother turns to me and says, "Are you crying?"
Yes, dear readers. I was crying.
I don't know how many of you know this about me, but when it comes to emotions, I take after to my dad. My dad is a crier. My mom, while she will still cry, is less of a crier than my dad.
I am more of a crier than my dad.
I cry at the commercials for Finding Nemo. I kid you not.
So, naturally this movie was horrible for my crying problems.
First time in my life I've been glad I accidentally put on waterproof mascara (dang, that crud is hard to get off... ya know... since you can't use water...)
Anyhow, there were like three times I sobbed so hard I was literally shaking.
1- When Eponine was watching the whole interaction with Marius and Cosette at the fence/ her singing in the rain.
It really is true the saying, "There's nothing worse than watching the person you love love someone else."
2- When the little boy dies. I knew he was going to die, and so I had braced myself for it. And I had told myself not to cry. And I didn't. Until his brother broke through the barricade to get to his body. Eessh.
3- The ending/finale. That was so spectacularly done, and so beautiful.
I'm not sure who was more miserable: the people in the movie, or me, sitting in a dark theater, freezing and sobbing/shaking.
But it was a good kind of miserable. IT WAS AMAZING. I sat there in my miserable-ness, and was miserable and LOVED IT.
I'll be back.
I'll be back.
"Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Somewhere beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Do you hear the people sing
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that they bring
When tomorrow comes!" ~Epilogue/Finale Song
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Despicable Us
So, I got this really weird revelation today watching the very deep and emotionally scarring movie: Despicable Me.
I started thinking: We have two phrases to describe people. Either "Good or Evil" or "Good or Bad".
Did you notice that while the third word changed, the first did not?
Why do we use multiple words to describe "Evil" but good is always just good?
Another question: Why is it, that in all little kids movies, the bad guy is called, "The Bad Guy", but in more mature and movies for older audiences, the bad guy is always called the "Villain"?
I think I have a partial answer to both of those questions.
We deem bad guys, "Bad Guys" in children's movies, because they're just "bad". They're not really evil, or diabolical. Because it's a children's movie. The world is never really in peril, and all us older people know it.
However, in our movies, the bad guy is the "Villain" because he is Evil with a capital E. There's something about him that's not right, and he's whacked in the head, and he might really blow up the world.
Now, back to my original question about the bad/evil thing.
Okay, so let's go back to the beginning for a minute. The beginning of earth. What was the tree called in the Garden of Eden?
The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.
So, here's the deal.
Good is good is good is good. There's no getting around what good is. Good is purity, it's innocence, it's naivety It's love, it's everything right and perfect in the world. There's no medium to good. There's no gray area where something might be good. It just is.
Somewhere along the way, we decided we needed another word for evil. Because Evil with a capital E, was used in the name of the tree. Evil meant Satan. It meant darkness, it meant terror, it meant panic, havoc, fear, mortal peril.
But, the problem is; there are shades to "Bad".
Stealing a cookie from the cookie jar isn't as bad as murdering someone. Calling someone a name isn't as bad as robbing a bank.
We decided we needed to define evil/bad, because there are so many shades of gray in between what we consider bad, and what we consider evil.
You would never tell a child, "You are so evil!" But yet, I say all the time, "You are so bad!"
Because somewhere along the way, the word bad became a medium. It's somewhere in between evil and good. It's not good, but it's not evil either.
Being "Bad" is a very dangerous spot to be in.
It's an undefined area, an area humans made up. We made it up. We invented it in our petty minds.
When really God implied in that garden, that the things you do are either Good with a capital G, or they're Evil with a capital E.
There is no in between.
I started thinking: We have two phrases to describe people. Either "Good or Evil" or "Good or Bad".
Did you notice that while the third word changed, the first did not?
Why do we use multiple words to describe "Evil" but good is always just good?
Another question: Why is it, that in all little kids movies, the bad guy is called, "The Bad Guy", but in more mature and movies for older audiences, the bad guy is always called the "Villain"?
I think I have a partial answer to both of those questions.
We deem bad guys, "Bad Guys" in children's movies, because they're just "bad". They're not really evil, or diabolical. Because it's a children's movie. The world is never really in peril, and all us older people know it.
However, in our movies, the bad guy is the "Villain" because he is Evil with a capital E. There's something about him that's not right, and he's whacked in the head, and he might really blow up the world.
Now, back to my original question about the bad/evil thing.
Okay, so let's go back to the beginning for a minute. The beginning of earth. What was the tree called in the Garden of Eden?
The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.
So, here's the deal.
Good is good is good is good. There's no getting around what good is. Good is purity, it's innocence, it's naivety It's love, it's everything right and perfect in the world. There's no medium to good. There's no gray area where something might be good. It just is.
Somewhere along the way, we decided we needed another word for evil. Because Evil with a capital E, was used in the name of the tree. Evil meant Satan. It meant darkness, it meant terror, it meant panic, havoc, fear, mortal peril.
But, the problem is; there are shades to "Bad".
Stealing a cookie from the cookie jar isn't as bad as murdering someone. Calling someone a name isn't as bad as robbing a bank.
We decided we needed to define evil/bad, because there are so many shades of gray in between what we consider bad, and what we consider evil.
You would never tell a child, "You are so evil!" But yet, I say all the time, "You are so bad!"
Because somewhere along the way, the word bad became a medium. It's somewhere in between evil and good. It's not good, but it's not evil either.
Being "Bad" is a very dangerous spot to be in.
It's an undefined area, an area humans made up. We made it up. We invented it in our petty minds.
When really God implied in that garden, that the things you do are either Good with a capital G, or they're Evil with a capital E.
There is no in between.
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