Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Olympic passion?

One of my favorite Bob Dylan songs has a phrase in it: "You can play your Olympic games..."
The week before the official Day of Industrial/Carnal Romance, we are treated to the self-proclaimed "spectacle" of the "Winter" Olympics.
It is wonderful to see beautiful teenagers creating their own sports and winning medals for it, isn't it? 
Of course, the literal flag-waving and the inspiring tribal grunting of "U-S-A!  U-S-A!", never gets old to me, just as I am still truly blessed to hear an "artist," who employs soft-core porn videos to showcase his crude lyrics, thank God or Jesus for their Grimy Award.
The "interviews" are my favorite part of winter games; 'specially when "passion" is spoken of.  Everyone now has a passion.  Do what you have a passion for.  Whatever you do, do it with passion.
So, now, it’s like “awesome.”  It means nothing more than a preference.
Mel Gibson was widely vilified for a movie about Passion in its archaic meaning, which I consider proof that his film glorified God by making the experience of Jesus vivid enough for modern audiences to get.  Nonetheless, passion ain't what it used to be.
Science shows the heart and the brain work together to produce hormones affecting our emotions, and the heart is found to contain cells unique, we thought, to the brain.  Does the Holy Spirit ever drive me emotionally, or are emotions always flesh?  The only thing able to help me make such distinctions in my own heart is the Word, rightly dividing between His will and mine.
I am passionate about being transformed, becoming more like Him, and dying to self.  My concerns about my own ability to accomplish—or even submit to—this have been assuaged, of course, by His promise to complete the work Himself.  I am zealous to progress in that which I have been given to do, which is, now that I have been reconciled, to increase in faith.
It's often difficult to translate faithfulness into joyful hope—tough to wring enthusiasm from duty.  I’m trying to get excited about dying to self.
How’s that workin’ out for me?  “Me, who?” he cried with passion.
In the vernacular of the current celebration of the flesh, "We're gonna stomp this!"

I'd like to share a clip of a guy I became aware of only recently.  He's been at this for years, and I'm glad to know he's out there, producing one of my favorite fruits, Joy! 

Hope to see you next Wednesday!