You Think You've Got Problems (No Question Mark)

When The Qweenbean and I divorce- Did I say, "when?" I mean if... If The Qweenbean and I ever divorce it will be because she has set two of the car radio buttons to Jesus stations. We don't have "her car" and "my car." We have "the car" and "the truck;" both used for their purpose by whomever has need. We both drive both vehicles pretty equally, so it seems neither of us should dominate the presets. Maybe one Jesus station I could tolerate. But two stations? And Star 98.7? To the exclusion of Indie and KPFK? Unacceptable.

All this is to qualify why I heard anything on the Jesus station- I think I need to assure you that I am still sufficiently jaded and detached... I suppose I could have said I was ironically listening to the Jesus station...

In any case, this morning I heard a spot for some car giveaway contest they have. At one time in churchy history, contests and raffle type events were malus in se- but apparently, just as a clearly evil song by the Cure or U2 can be sanctified and qualify for a Dove award when performed by some Tooth and Nail product (even without changing the lyrics or arrangement ), so can a game of chance be redeemed by its issuance. This radio station is holding a giveaway for givers. You nominate someone you think is worthy- someone who demonstrates what it means to be a giver, and somehow a winner is selected to receive two cars- one to keep and one to give away. I'm not sure if it's by voting or the abject appeal of the nominee, but I was lucky enough to hear one recorded nomination. I forget the name, but boy, was she a Christian hero: she suffered from multiple debilitating conditions that made getting about without a scooter difficult, she was in a great deal of physical pain, and she lost her home so rents a room from a friend. She suffers. That's why she's a giver.

Somebody misunderstands what it means to be a giver. I admit I am not the best Christian, so I may not understand what Christians mean when they say someone is a giver. Or maybe, the radio station plays a recording for every nominee, so this one nominator misunderstands what it means to be a giver. Or maybe the radio station misunderstands what it means to be a giver. I don't know for sure. For some reason, when asked to nominate a giver who deserves a car, so it seems at least two people, the nominator and the one who decided to put it on the air- thought suffering or misery made one a giver therefore a suitable contestant. Dumb. It seems to fit, though, with this greater phenomenon that I have encountered in my dance along the edges of Evangelical culture. Christians love a sad sack.

Many years ago, The Qweenbeen and I knew a girl that was quite a celebrity in our social circles. She had cancer. This opened all kinds of doors for her, she was made the central feature at someone else's wedding (the entire ceremony was oriented about how long and where she could stand), she was a marquee speaker at a Christian camp "decision night" (for those of you that don't know- "decision night" is the moment at the end of a long week of social coercion, little sleep, physical exertion, protein deprivation, and dehydration wherein children are asked if they want to be like the leaders around them and accept Jesus.). She shared how her family rejected her because they didn't want a kid with cancer, how she suffered but God kept her alive well past the point doctors said she should be dead, how she experienced miraculous healing of tumors, and if she could go through so much and believe what was stopping anyone else. I don't remember the details but she said she had some type of cancer that was definitely going to do her in. Soon. All of this suffering brought out so much good in people. People opened their homes, prayed over her, took her to the doctor, defended her against jerks like me who said, "I thought chemo was supposed to make you lose weight." And because of all of this goodness in the face of suffering, wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles God took a tailor by the hand- I mean this little lady is still alive, and last I heard, sharing her cancer experiences with another group.

When I once asked why she wasn't dead yet, after years and years of what was supposed to be a very aggressive terminal cancer, I got the same type of looks I would get when I naively suggested that there seems to be a different order of creation in each of the Genesis accounts (don't worry, it was well before I was really a Christian- now I know how to read), or the same look one might still get today if they prayed for enemies in a way that didn't imply we want it to be easier for THE TROOPS to kill them.

I wish I could say I was prescient or had so much insight into the human psyche that I saw her game- but really, I'm just a jerk. Turns out, she was a faker. A pretty good faker. She was shaving her head, marking up her body for her radiation treatment, injecting herself with saline, walking around with an IV, researching what her symptoms should be, collapsing, getting cold, etc... She seemed to be going through the things someone with cancer would be going through- except, the people that I know who have really had cancer didn't do any of the things at which she became a virtuoso. Now that I mention it, the people I know who really have had cancer, especially the ones who died, were very different from this girl. Different enough to be described as almost exactly opposite. They seemed to lack the desperation and desire for notoriety. Their private suffering, humor, dignity, moments of anger, resignation, and general effort to get on with life were as different from her aggressive pathos as genuine conversation is from movie dialogue. But plenty of people were looking for someone to play a part- someone to say, "I'm an alcoholic, Kyle... an alcoholic."

Sad that life in Christ is ostensibly supposed to be waking life, real life, but we so often choose slumber or to trip through existence playing prescribed roles. Sadder that we so often choose the pathetic roles we do. It seems like we know our hearts of stone need be replaced, but we choose plastic over flesh.

Lame.