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Emil
Registered Member
Date Joined Nov 2001
Total Posts : 6
| Posted 11/14/2001 1:40 PM (GMT -6) |   | Edited by - Emil on 11/14/2001 6:44:00 PM
Edited by - Emil on 11/21/2001 1:20:49 PM | | Back to Top | | |
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writerdad
Registered Member
Date Joined Jun 2001
Total Posts : 448
| Posted 11/14/2001 8:00 PM (GMT -6) | | YAWN...JUSTANOTHERROUNDWISHICOULDSAYIMISSEDIT
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trosie
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 550
| Posted 11/15/2001 12:20 AM (GMT -6) | | quote:
Wislawa: Throwing myself overboard will restore the justice that the violence of my birth has already caused humanity. I am the white whale—destroy me and you’ve destroyed all evil, and established the kingdom of God.
Call me gullible but I DO NOT resonate what Writerdad wrote: YAWN...JUSTANOTHERROUNDWISHICOULDSAYIMISSEDIT
Wislawa, I found what you wrote interesting. The theology of a person who really believed they are a "curse" would need to be challenged with scripture. I am curious what was your intent in sharing this story? I would be concerned if a person truly believed the mindset of this young man being an "antichrist" who needs to be destroyed in order to destroy evil because the belief of a person being a "curse" is a LIE right from the pit of hell! Did you write this as an exercise for all of us to ponder and reflect our thoughts on or is this your actual theology and belief?
If a young child were actually told and instilled with a belief that he fulfilled a curse of bringing misery to his mother, this would have lasting and devastating effects for that young lad's belief about himself and the world. When this young man would grow up he might live his life out (and interpret information) in a way that would reinforce this bulls eye belief of being a "curse." This belief might get generalized from being a "curse" to his mother to later mean a "curse" to the whole world. This would impact how he would filter and sort data about himself in relationship to the outside world and in his interpersonal relationships. With this mindset the man would interpret the rejection of a lady (who to him represented what he believed about Christ) as further reinforcement about bringing only misery to others... This belief would trigger the thinking that he is intrinsically a "bad" person who is TOTALLY unlovable. Even though most people who have risked loving another have been rejected as well, for him it would interpretated that he is a "curse" and an evil person who brings misery to humanity. I'd like to challenge this belief and theology with the what the bible says about God's handiwork. Wislawa, do you believe that there is ANYONE who is totally an unlovable (evil)person? Do you know of any little boys who behave in such a way that they are NOT deserving of the love of God? It is true that we are all born under the curse of the fall of man hence are born into the world of sin, "ALL have sinned and fall short of the Glory of God." "NONE are worthy, no NOT ONE." BUT, the beauty of this storyline is that Jesus came to reclaim us from this fate, "While WE were yet sinners, Christ came and died for OUR sins." I emphasize WE because it is not restrictive to only the people (or boys) who are "good" by whatever definition we choose to define "good" as being. Christ died to regenerate us ALL and unite us ALL back to Himself if we just accept this gift.
The most disturbing part of this story would be if a person actually believed that to throw themselves over a bridge would benefit humanity. This belief IS A LIE DIRECTLY FROM THE PIT OF HELL! This theology is NOT scripturally sound. The TRUTH is, "God so loved the world, (and EVERYONE in it) that He sent Christ to die that WHOEVER believes would NOT PERISH but have everlasting LIFE." Not perish means that ANYONE can be delivered from the hands of the enemy if they accept Christ hence this belief, about being a "bad" person who could spare humanity by destroying oneself, is NOT biblically correct theology.
And that's my two cents worth of feedback to your story. 
trosie
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might-be-don
Registered Member
Date Joined Jun 2001
Total Posts : 830
| Posted 11/15/2001 1:33 AM (GMT -6) | | Wislawa says:
quote:
All that passed for “love” was merely an abstract concept. But evil, loneliness, and unlovedness, these things cannot exist as abstractions. They always always always manifest themselves in concrete ways. The “Christian Love” I had witnessed thus far simply couldn’t measure up to the level of reality that evil always already presented.
Where is the warm blanket when you need one! I am challenged by this statement. My evil usually appears alot more real than my love. God help me.
peace and (love in action) , don
A quote from Rev. Gregory A. Boyd, PhD ... " Has anyone seen my keys? " | | Back to Top | | |
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trosie
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 550
| Posted 11/15/2001 3:20 AM (GMT -6) | | Wislawa:
quote:
All that passed for “love” was merely an abstract concept. But evil, loneliness, and unlovedness, these things cannot exist as abstractions. They always always always manifest themselves in concrete ways. The “Christian Love” I had witnessed thus far simply couldn’t measure up to the level of reality that evil always already presented
Might-be-Don:
quote:
My evil usually appears alot more real than my love. God help me.
To coin a TNT term: The map is NOT the territory!
Blessings,
trosie
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churchmouse522
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 163
| Posted 11/15/2001 3:11 PM (GMT -6) | | Here's the kicker Wislawa: Jonah didn't die.
Your story is more or less the story of the lies we are all told to get us to waste our lives.
Don't be taken in. Don't be your mother's second abortion.
Blessings,
Mouse
"We're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy." Seal | | Back to Top | | |
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Semeia
Registered Member
Date Joined Aug 2001
Total Posts : 522
| Posted 11/15/2001 7:51 PM (GMT -6) | | Wislawa,
I am in a long line of difficult children, and I have already given birth to the next in line. I think genetics and God’s sense of humor do just fine with or without a curse. When I say “God’s sense of humor” in no way am I making light of the pain. The pain is real. Some days I’d rather rip my fingernails off with a pliers than go the next round with my daughter. I felt equally tortured by my relationship with my mother. Depression was her warm blanket, which, when the time came, she generously out of her unconscious passed on to me a tattered section, so that I too could sleep in a dark room, hoping “it” (the world, life, pain, God) would go away. Now that I am a mother, I try earnestly to burn that blanket, so that nothing remains for my daughter. Unfortunately, there is an endless loom in my unconscious, weaving, weaving out of the past that which I cannot bury or burn. I would like to suggest to you two possible views of the situation, which in the end are intertwined.
The first is the idea of the self-fulfilling prophecy: the human tendency to bring about that which we most fear. We fear that we are unlovable, which brings about a desire from which behavior follows, which leads to yet another fear, more desire, additional behavior, and before you know it the downward spiral has picked up speed and taken on a force of its own. Guess where it ends? In the realization of the very fear we started with. And who is the author of this terrible result? Is it the unloving world? The family that doesn’t care for us? The disinterested friends? The shocking, unbelievable, inescapable truth is that we are the author. We fear that we have no meaning, and our obsession with our own meaning quickly propels us into trivialities.
The second is that God’s view of the situation may in fact be quite different from ours. From His perspective my suffering with my own daughter may in fact be my only hope of ever seeing my mother truly, the way God sees her. And it may, indeed, be my only hope of seeing myself truly. I held my infant daughter in all her perfection; I saw her innocence and vulnerability, and whatever she becomes in her life, I will never forget how she started, as a miracle. When she flies at me in a white rage because I didn’t wash the pants she was intending to wear to school that day, or because I tell her one too many times to brush her teeth before she goes out, I remember the infant, completely dependent on my love and my good intentions. I try to keep my eyes on the prize: the completely new, never-before-seen human life created from nothing, born into the fallen world on a wish and a whim, taking its place, as Plath said, “among the elements.” Plath chose suicide, and although it was the wrong choice, life sometimes wraps a forgetfulness around us, a forgetfulness wrapped like gauze bandages around us, so that we cannot remember our origin, with God and for God, and out of sheer distraction from the origin, we choose death.
When my mother was dying of cancer, I got to know her for the first time. I described this in the eulogy that I gave at her funeral. The eulogy came after another sister played ninety seconds of a super-8 film of my mother, taken when she was around forty years old. She was up on the shore of Lake Superior, at a friend’s cabin. They had come across a nest of hundreds of monarch butterflies on an outcropping of rocks on the wooded shore. My mother, in her white tennis shoes and delicate body, was walking like a woodland nymph through the butterflies, each step sending up a new cascade of monarchs. The film is in slow motion. Someone had set music to it, violin, or maybe flute. At the last moment she looks up, directly at the camera, and yet past or through my father who is holding the camera, whom she would divorce in the next year, with an intense look of joy and grief, of tremulous life. Butterflies on stone, my mother’s perfect metaphor. My personal tragedy is that I mostly saw the stone, until she was dying.
Here is the eulogy. It is the story of my own curse, made into a blessing. You can skip to the end if you like, because it’s all there.
EULOGY FOR MY MOTHER
Each of us in the family has had our own journey with Mom, during this last year, as well as during our lifetime. Although I feel moved today to talk about my own experience with Mom, it is but one perspective among many. To borrow from Emerson, “An innavigable sea washes with silent waves between us and the things we aim at and converse with…Life is a train of moods like a string of beads, and as we pass through them they prove to be many-colored lenses which paint the world their own hue, and each shows only what lies in its focus.” And so I will try to animate a few beads, which by necessity are saturated with my own colors.
When Dad died, people spoke of him as larger than life: a man whose passions, whether of love or anger, could hardly be contained. Although Mom was every bit as passionate as Dad, her passions ran inward, and in many ways she seemed smaller than life. She didn’t take up a lot of space in the world, even before she got sick, but the inner life she lived was tumultuous and vast. Outwardly she carved for herself a small, well-defended sanctuary wherever she lived, surrounding herself with white and beige, the window sheers floating inward on their bit of breeze and sunlight, with just the right kind and amount of red: a bowl of apples, an oriental rug. Mom struggled over such things, over how much red to add to a neutral canvas, in the same way that she contained and withheld her emotional life, sometimes at great cost to herself. On one level it’s something we all loved about Mom: her incredible attention to detail, elevating the arrangement of every-day objects into an art form, transforming even a place as inflexible as a hospice room into a reflection of her moods, to the point where she talked wistfully about re-covering the couches there. Her sense of style was a gift, and her stamp was unmistakable. Both Mom and Dad instilled in all of us a passion for art. There is nothing in Mom’s small town upbringing to suggest the genesis of this, except that once again I think of how little of her was reflected in her tiny outward self, and how different she must have felt, on the farm, in the small town, with her passion for fine things, Russian literature, great art, and beauty in all forms. Mom did amazing things with the little money she had, and when we were growing up it wasn’t much, and what we did have, Dad usually spent unwisely. Who can forget the red plaid and chrome chairs he brought home, that rang the death knell of their marriage? I think Mom could forgive almost anything but bad taste! But before all that, when we all lived together in the uneasy truce of the all-American dysfunctional family—I remember that Mom would cut out pictures of paintings from magazines and art books, and shellac them onto pieces of wood and hang them on every wall, and thus it was that we grew up surrounded by Modigliani, Renoir, Degas, Gauguin, and Picasso. On a large sheet of rice paper she wrote in plain calligraphy a quote by the composer Christopher Gluck, “Simplicity, truth, and naturalness are the great principles of beauty in all artistic manifestations.”
Mom suffered from profound, untreated depression for much of my early life, probably stretching back to before I was born. Although there were better times and worse times, I don’t ever remember a time in my life when she seemed completely unencumbered, and she often retreated into sleep. Partly she slept from exhaustion: with a family of nine and no washer and dryer, she managed to keep the house clean and the clothes hauled back and forth from the Laundromat, a Sisyphean task. But her exhaustion was deeper and broader than anything physical, and she seemed at times to be at war within herself, and barely able to engage with the world. I don’t know if people outside the family noticed, because Mom presented herself with grace and gentleness and strength. But at home when she wasn’t asleep she often sat in her bathrobe, drinking cup after cup of coffee, smoking cigarette after cigarette, until the ashtray overflowed, with a faraway, impenetrable look in her eye. As a child I yearned to connect with her. Sometimes I would tug at her robe and say, “Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom!” until she would startle. During those years there were two sure-fire ways to bring out Mom’s tenderness: one was to be a baby, which basically was a one-shot deal, lasting about 18 months; the other was to be sick. This I was very accomplished at, and I perfected the art of malingering in order to stay home with my mother, whose depression would lift in the presence of a seemingly sick child, and she would lovingly minister to me: stroking my forehead, bringing me hot cocoa and sandwiches and comic books in bed, and because I often wasn’t really sick she would let me do all sorts of projects not usually allowed in a crowded house. After I had my tonsils and one of my kidneys removed I retired these skills—but even in college I managed to get the flu every time I came home for Christmas. (Although I assure you the kidney really did need to come out!)
When Mom was diagnosed with cancer our relationship was transformed to something quite different than it had ever been. But before I say anything about that, I first need to say that Mom was one of the strongest people I have ever known, as well as one of the weakest. She was one of the fiercest, and one of the most tender. She had the strongest backbone, and the weakest constitution. She was the most principled, and yet she remained unconvinced that she REALLY needed to pay taxes. She took up the least surface area, but plumbed the greatest depth. She was one of the most impenetrable, well-defended people I ever knew, but when she let her guard down, revealed one of the gentlest spirits.
But for most of her life her driving force was to be strong, and to that end she built a fortress of sorts. As her daughter I had long ago made peace with the kind of childhood we’d had, there’s a reason for everything, the past is the past, and all of that. But even over the last two decades I could not relinquish the desire in me that she be somehow different from what she was: softer, more concerned, reaching out to me; I was always wanting her to reach out to me. And the feeling of loss, and my yearning, was a wedge between us, because she was who she was.
But when she was diagnosed with cancer and it was clear almost from the beginning that she was dying, I let God work with my stubborn heart, and he handed me my mother as a baby. Because when someone is dying, you do not expect anything from them, you do not expect them to be different than who they are, but you see them as the child that they have always been, a child of God. I felt released from my sorrow, healed of my pain, and witness to my mother’s true spirit, which blossomed in the last months of her life after a lifetime of foundering, a lifetime of her own longing. When I was a child I used to dream that I was walking down a flower-strewn path to a cottage in the woods. A warm glow came from the windows, and in my dream I always pressed my face up against the glass, but I never went in, or even tried the door. Inside was what I imagined a happy family to look like, gathered around a table, laughing, content. When my mother was dying this image came back to me, only this time I could see my mother next to me, her face pressed against the glass, filled with the same longing. And I realized my mistake: because the door was unlocked, and God had invited us so clearly, “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.”
And so I say to my brothers and sisters, we have felt some of this healing already, by God’s grace, through Mom; let us ask for God’s healing of this family to continue, and for the door to be thrown open for whatever God has in store for us: [names of my family]
And lastly I want to say something about Mom in those last months of her life, when she became like a child, and was born of the spirit. Mom faced death with a courage and grace that changed the people who witnessed it. Up until this time, fear was a constant companion in Mom’s life, and her strategies for dealing with it were human ones: being strong, putting up walls, using sleep as a narcotic. But God’s strategy is different, and paradoxical, and in the last months of her life Mom abandoned her fear, and allowed the fortress she had built around her to crumble, and in her utter vulnerability and weakness, she opened herself to the power of God, as is written in 2 Corinthians, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness…for when I am weak, then I am strong.” And as Mom’s body withered and shrank from her bones, and the sensations of the world retreated one by one: the sense of taste, of heat and cold, they were replaced by the substance and sustenance of the spirit. I asked Mom a few weeks ago what was the happiest time of her life, and without much hesitation she said before the age of five, and when each one of her children were born. In the hours before her death the Spirit of God could be felt blowing the ashes of the world from her bones, blowing the ashes of her grief, her pain, her love, and the trance of her life, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, so that she might be born from above, as Jesus said, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above. The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” And I held Mom’s hand as she was born on the wind from this world to the next, and at the moment she left I was filled with a powerful vision of Mom as a little girl of four or five, running through a field of flowers, running and twirling with her arms outstretched, running and falling and laughing with the wild abandon of her young soul. And I think of Matthew 18: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”
Wislawa?
Semeia
"The opposite of sin is not virtue, but faith."--Soren Kierkegaard | | Back to Top | | |
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churchmouse522
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 163
| Posted 11/17/2001 7:07 PM (GMT -6) | | Semeia,
That was one of the most beautiful things I have ever read. I cried. Thanks for sharing something so personal and profound with us.
Mouse
"We're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy." Seal | | Back to Top | | |
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Kyle Essary
Registered Member
Date Joined Oct 2001
Total Posts : 113
| Posted 11/18/2001 8:27 AM (GMT -6) | | | | |
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Emil
Registered Member
Date Joined Nov 2001
Total Posts : 6
| Posted 11/19/2001 6:03 PM (GMT -6) | | | | |
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trosie
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 550
| Posted 11/19/2001 6:41 PM (GMT -6) | | quote:
Trosie, love you lots, but what makes you so sure i'm swallowing a lie? everything you say is would be true of everyone except the antichrist. he's real you know. what if he's me? are you sure you want to take that risk?
Wislawa or Emil or Antichrist or WHATEVER you wish to be called:
You definitely are something else! BUT the Antichrist Nay, I think that the Antichrist wouldn't be so KIND and FORTHRIGHT as to let us know that he was the Antichrist in the first place. Your informing us of this kind of proves you wrong, don't you know.
You're something else, Wislawa, but the Antichrist NO WAY!
You sure have quite a list going. 
trosie
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churchmouse522
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 163
| Posted 11/19/2001 6:51 PM (GMT -6) | | OK Wislawa,
I'm gonna need a lot more proof that you're the Anti-Christ before I encourage you to jump. So far the only evidence you've produced is that trouble seems to follow you and you were cursed by your mother. Welcome to a club of about a million other people. What else you got?
Mouse
"We're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy." Seal | | Back to Top | | |
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Cibertus
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 57
| Posted 11/19/2001 6:52 PM (GMT -6) | | Wislawa,
So you are the anti-Christ? I doubt if anyone else here believes you. What if I said I believed you? I couldn't say I did, I have a reputation to maintain. unlike your anonymous self.
Did throwing Jonah overboard cause the sea to calm. Or would/did Jonah's alliance (obedience) to God calm the sea.
Does the resolution of the Devil's Advocate offer the final extermination for the Anti-Christ? Well the story of the Anti-Christ remains. He lived breathed walked the earth and then killed himself.
So you’re the Anti-Christ. Become like Beatrice. By sheer act of defiance or by obligation to us your fellow humanoids become "the Christ." That is the only true way to "kill" the anti-Christ. When this chapter of life is over, what story will remain? Who is this who lived breathed and walked this earth? What Anti-Christ?
Cibertus
Anabaptists demonstrate a total lack of intelligence. There is nothing to be learned from their ideas.--John Calvin | | Back to Top | | |
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churchmouse522
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 163
| Posted 11/19/2001 7:01 PM (GMT -6) | | By the way, if you're an open theist you must believe that the anti-christ would not be born to be the beast. He would have to form himself to some degree by the choices he makes. So tell me Wislawa, are you consenting to your role as the anti-christ? Have you signed on to this gig?
Just wondering,
Mouse
"We're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy." Seal | | Back to Top | | |
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Springs
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 636
| Posted 11/19/2001 7:01 PM (GMT -6) | | Hey Wislawa,
WE have something in common!!! My grandmother told my mother that she hoped she would have a kid like her to pay her back for all the sorrow my mom caused her.
When my mom had me she told me the same thing. "I hope you have one just like you."
Like mouse said, it's a pretty common sentiment.
How is it that you loved beauty? Why is it that you want to save humanity at the sacrifice of yourself? How is it getting jilted tells the world you are unlovable? I didn't hear about till now.
How long have you known you were the anti-Christ? Have you killed anyone yet? Do you have plans to kill anyone yet?
And my final question,
Can we do lunch?
Springs
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Semeia
Registered Member
Date Joined Aug 2001
Total Posts : 522
| Posted 11/20/2001 2:01 AM (GMT -6) | | Wislawa,
You're far too self-reflective to be the anti-Christ. What's so evil about evil is that it doesn't recognize itself as evil. Any recognition of evil pretty much removes you as a candidate.
Also, isn't the anti-Christ the same thing as satan? You should check out the natural evil thread. I've been arguing that satan is a metaphor. This could really help you out of this mess you're in. It's a metaphor. Pick a new one.
I'm a little disappointed with your list. OK, Thomas Kincade, I'll give you that one. But Bill Gates? Get over it. You were probably writing that in a Microsoft Internet Explorer browser, or on Windows first. Quit biting the hand that feeds you.
I liked Cibertus' advice: "So you’re the Anti-Christ. Become like Beatrice. By sheer act of defiance or by obligation to us your fellow humanoids become "the Christ." That is the only true way to "kill" the anti-Christ. When this chapter of life is over, what story will remain? Who is this who lived breathed and walked this earth? What Anti-Christ?"
What say you, Wislawa?
Semeia
"The opposite of sin is not virtue, but faith."--Soren Kierkegaard | | Back to Top | | |
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Emil
Registered Member
Date Joined Nov 2001
Total Posts : 6
| Posted 11/20/2001 10:18 AM (GMT -6) | | okay i give up. i tried. just remember you were warned.
Wislawa
Edited by - Emil on 11/20/2001 3:20:16 PM | | Back to Top | | |
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Modes of Thought
Registered Member
Date Joined Jun 2001
Total Posts : 817
| Posted 11/20/2001 12:22 PM (GMT -6) | | quote:
Cibertus
Anabaptists demonstrate a total lack of intelligence. There is nothing to be learned from their ideas.--John Calvin
Cibber-buddy! WHERE did you get that quote!?! That is the greatest! I laughed out loud for real. Please do tell. 
"Christianly understood, truth is obviously not to know the truth but to be the truth. Despite all modern philosophy, there is an infinite difference here..." SK | | Back to Top | | |
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Semeia
Registered Member
Date Joined Aug 2001
Total Posts : 522
| Posted 11/21/2001 8:40 AM (GMT -6) | | Wislawa,
Why did you do that?
Semeia
"The opposite of sin is not virtue, but faith."--Soren Kierkegaard | | Back to Top | | |
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trosie
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 550
| Posted 11/22/2001 1:52 AM (GMT -6) | | Wislawa, I agree with Semeia, WHY DID YOU DO THAT?
Now, if this is all a game then have I got a prize for you! I have some oceanfront property in Arizona that I will sell you for a deal and if you'll buy that I'll throw the Golden Gate in free! (For some reason I just had to throw those lyrics out for you)
Where are you Wislawa?
Concerned,
trosie
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Cibertus
Registered Member
Date Joined Jul 2001
Total Posts : 57
| Posted 11/27/2001 7:02 AM (GMT -6) | | Modes,
It's in John Calvin's, Harmony of the Gospels. I guess he said this in reference to Anabaptists and their views on taking oaths.
Some of these "brilliant minds," revered intellectuals, spiritual giants never cease to amaze me. Especially when they hand out these sorts of pot shots. I mean what kind of intelligence does that statement demonstrate? Makes me think about watching my words Guess you can't have it all together all at once.
Emil,
What's that supposed to mean? I'm confused. Sorry buddy, it's on your head, I offered you, the anti-Christ, the true strategy for eliminating himself and you did not accept. To kill the Anti-Christ is to ensure his life. Well placed bullets are not the answer. Are Anti-Christ/Emil's true intentions surfacing here? He really wants to be the anti-Christ.
Cibertus
Anabaptists demonstrate a total lack of intelligence. There is nothing to be learned from their ideas.--John Calvin
Edited by - Cibertus on 11/27/2001 12:06:58 PM | | Back to Top | | |
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