Wives, Do Your Part

Ephesians 5:21-24
(in continuation of Sex & Sinners series)
The difference between saint and sinner is that the saint has accepted Jesus as Savior. You know there is a grace that keeps you through the day. God has expectations for us regarding how we live; we don't have it all. There are days that my little light may be used to burn you.

V. 21. Submitting one to another.  
You fall in line when instructions are given to you. In the military, you work top down leadership - the generals tell the coloniels, etc; in the Christian perspective,  you work as a team player. When you yoke yourself to the wrong train, you're apt to travel the wrong direction. When God speaks of wives, this is man & woman NOT two dudes (top and bottom), nor two chicks.

V. 22. Wives, submit to your own husbands.  It is imperative that women find THEIR OWN men, not the ones who are already taken. It shouldn't be as difficult as it seems to be with women being alpha dogs.

V. 23. Husbands are the heads of their wives. Like Christ is the head of the church, the husband is the head of the household. By learning to serve, obey, adore, etc., couples parallel the models in the church.

V. 24. Be in submission to everything. 
You've been forewarned about being unequally yoked by God. Commit this day forward to understanding the role of wife and appreciate more than just the benefits. 

Know Thy Neighbor

You can be a good neighbor only if you have good neighbors. -Howard E. Koch 

Love thy neighbor. pic.twitter.com/kkM9gz6N9l

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) November 24, 2015

A question was presented to the listeners of a popular radio station recently: Is it important to know your neighbors in this day and age? Do you know your neighbors? I've taken the liberty to looking at both sides of this coin, and if you know me well enough, you know which road we ended up travelling. The advantages and disadvantages of knowing your neighbors can make all of the difference - and even impact your lifestyle. 

The advantages of knowing your neighbors are the need to know the types of people around you; which families have children of a similar age to your own that they can play with; serves as a lookout; camaraderie; a sense of belonging; and being acutely aware of events, a "secret society" feel. Knowing the neighbors means that you get a pretty decent idea of the character types; if the people across the street are meticulous with yard work, they can serve as an unspoken peer pressure for you to keep up the lawn and protect property values. On the contrary, they could simply park their cars all over the grass and throw their trash everywhere as if the world is their private landfill. For families, the assurance that their children can make friends without having to drive across town to the park or the Boys & Girls Club means that they could have a place to crash after school until a parent picks them up. The kids may even become best friends based on the communities they live in! Another advantage of knowing the neighbors is serving as a lookout for suspicious activities throughout the neighborhood. If you're on vacation, you want to know that someone is looking out for your home while you are away and everything is safe and sound upon returning. No one wants to come home after a relaxing week at the beach to a ransacked house because no one bothered to remain vigilant while you were out. The next advantages are camaraderie and a sense of belonging. Life is so much better when you get along with the people next door or across the street in that you're more apt to carry on a conversation and share life events with them such as block parties, births, and shared yard sales. You take pride being a part of the community because you have skin in others' lives. The final advantage of knowing your neighbors is being acutely aware of events and the local gossip, a "secret society" feel. You know who is crazy, who the party animals at the end of the cul de sac are, and where the kids who TP'd your oak tree live. 

However, some people think it is unimportant to know the neighbors. Common reasons are we do not have time for other people at the end of the work day; all they are doing is waving from the lawn; welfare concerns; physically look different from the rest of the neighborhood; that life seems outdated; and this is what social media is for. In our fast-paced lives, the last thing we want to do is have to deal with someone making an impromptu - and sometimes inappropriate - visit. After a long day at work, the couch is the place to be, not conversing with the woman next door about her petunias and how the world is changing for the worse daily. Waving at the folks who pass by your house may seem harmless, but maybe you just aren't particularly outgoing. Their friendliness comes across to you as fake, yet it makes you feel like you've landed into a scene from Pleasantville where everyone is overly polite in their own little world. The third reason to take pause in getting to know the neighbors is for welfare concerns. Every town has sketchy people, and if you haven't met them, keep living. They may be just a little off, but their eccentricities are enough for you to be put off. For example, the Oompas two doors down only come outside to move their cars or load up to eat at the nearby pizzeria every Tuesday night. They may not be sketchy people after all, but maybe someone saw them scratching their behinds in public before or host Wiccan ceremonies at home. Strange, but I wouldn't call that sketchy; having a rapist next door with my teenage daughters in the bedroom with an easy windowsill to sneak in/out of is an instant cause of concern. Looking physically different from the neighbors is also a reason not to get to know them albeit a silly one. Being the token minorities in a majority neighborhood can be intimidating, and if no one is accepting of you, it is easy to stay inside and keep to yourselves. Again, this is something you would typically pay attention to during the house hunt, but if not, it can cause unneeded worry and additional stress that something evil could happen at this house. The next reason why some people think it is not important to know your neighbors is that taking the time to meet and greet the people nearby seems outdated as if doing so means you are living in a different era. It could also mean that you are remaining guarded because of past treatment from a former neighbor or someone you were close to betrayed you in one way or another. Feelings are important, yet it doesn't mean keep everything bottled up on the inside. Lastly, people think it does not matter if they ever see their neighbors thanks to social media. Most of us are on at least one social site (Facebook, Twitter, Foursquare, Google+, etc) and for much of the day, we engage ourselves in conversations with our friends and sometimes not even know they live in the same place as you. That sense of community does not matter since I see you online all of the time, so why should I come over to chat with you?

We did get to know the neighbors on both sides of our house as well as the ones across the street and behind us. While we do not constantly hang around each other, I know that they have our backs and vice versa; as for the neighbors behind us, we know where the party is by the number of people standing on their deck. My worries were relieved once we got to know them (hey, none of them are sketchy!) and after four months, we feel like we fit right on in with the rest of the subdivision. Your decision to introduce yourselves to the neighbors is completely up to know; I just have to know who the people that live next door to me are and what kinds of people they are. 

On Being Told I Don't Speak Like A Black Person (Story of My Life)

Emphasize the "th" in "brother", 
- it's not pronounced "brudder" - 
is what I learned in elementary school
where my redheaded second grade teacher
fawned over me as if I were her own son.
Trained in Fayetteville, she attempted
to pass on her passion of all things Razorback and 
simultaneously eradicate any semblance of negro dialect
primarily to push an unspoken agenda. 
Even in her forties, she kinda resembled a Juilanne Hough
type, always smiling in her own matronly way.
I somehow speak with more of a midwesterner's tongue
instead of the broken southern negro accent associated with
my neighborhood
my community
my classmates
my friends
my playmates.
Inflections were flattened;
a slightly nasal sound was substituted for the starting singy-songy sentences.
During those days no one told me (to my face) to eliminate that voice
perhaps they were amazed by the newly discovered intellect
and all wanted credit for finally getting me to open my mouth. 
It was only in junior high when I realized I sounded differently; 
thanks, cuzzo, for telling me I sound like a damn white boy.
I was ever so observant, inquisitive to a fault 
that once my a-ha! moment of awareness struck
i didn't sound like anyone black the other guys hung out with.
So here I am, entering a social crisis.
No way I could possibly sound like I was from Wisconsin or Illinois
when the extent of my travels were weekend trips to Texas
and DC in middle school. 
What others laughed at me about
besides my infamous red Urkel glasses
besides not having a negro sound
besides my limited athletic skill/ability
(remember, I was an intellectual heavyweight in the making)
besides the perfect fit levis that showed how much smaller
i was relative to everyone else
was how clueless I was in matters of the larger world. 
Suddenly, the summertime gangsters and rising hoops stars
jeered me as an oreo, a sellout.
I didn't want to be white, I just wanted to be accepted.
Then i knew black wasn't it for me. They knew
what black people sounded like from the movies
and in living color
and rap music
and I wasn't it. 
Am I supposed to break cardinal grammar rules, slur
my tongue as if it were tied up by shock tarts and twizzlers> or 
better yet, novacaine from the medicine cabinet?
Oh, I'm supposed to drop syllables, leave
fragmented words hanging from a cliff
were certain terms, phrases too proper
too academic, too articulate for someone who looked like me?
Exasperated, I inquired "what do you mean?" only  to
receive derisive laughs toward me.
you're such a white boy
you need to quit being a scary nerd
you should learn some, you know, Black English.
Does everyone in your family
speak alike? no offense to you or anything.
you're different. you're not black
like us.
did you grow up someplace else?
nothing means more to a person than 
his speech, so why shall I defend my tone?
Simply listen, prize the varying voices which differ
night from day without assuming
how any person will sound
until his mouth opens
until her mouth opens
until their silence shatters through
greetings in any language.

Jesus Is My Status, Not Facebook

This post consists of notes from when our associate minister Aaron preached way back on January 13. As always, study for yourself and don't buy into the hype. 

1 Timothy 1:8-10, 13-16

Aaron goes into the text as an introduction to Facebook. Status is what you according to your interests; in Paul's words, he considers it what you really are. Use the law wisely to ALL of the commandments, not just ones you feel are beneficial to your situations. 
Anyone can be saved! It's not that hard. Christ had to die in order for us to live (remember John 3:16?)
The Gospel is a divine plan according to Scripture. Everything Jesus did, He knew AND referenced scripture! So why go contrary?
Achievement? His life was for us. 
Free offer? I <3 free .99
Enjoyment of fellowship in turn = good news
Status: after things happen, we typically take to FB or Twitter. 

The Case for American Exceptionalism

Not to sound like a professional lecturer, but I'm proud to be an American. 

Just so you'd know. 

Are we a perfect people?

Of course not, but what we stand for is what unites us. 

I don't need some damn symbol of a flag, apple pie, baseball, or some French lady holding a torch welcoming the tired masses to know what I am honored to be...

Notice I didn't use the word blessed.

I'm black - and the last time I was pulled over by the cops, I was quickly reminded of said fact.

I know my way out of your lily-white town, sir, you don't have to follow me with guns drawn out at me and my little old car all the way to the city limits sign.

I understand that I'm not welcome, so I shall put deuces to this place, a reminder of Mayberry. 

I'm proud of my heritage:

The one of the struggle, the one that indicates that there is so much more work to do, the one that pushes me to think that I'm a part of the shining beacon on the hill, and yes, even that others are envious of my lot.  

I don't know what for. 

Having to spend my life shattering your stereotypes of African-American males is tiresome; we're not all pant-sagging thugs who can run, jump, shoot, and want to impregnate Becky or Mary Ellen.

Neither of them are my type.

What frustrates me when I see the words "American exceptionalism" is the aforementioned Rockwellian images that a few people tend to run with.

You make me feel like a bastard stepchild in my own family.

Am I supposed to fight your wars and kowtow to the symbols when I'm the last hired, first fired?

Enamored of what others worldwide see on TV when I can barely keep the water on and feed my child?

Are you kidding me?

However, I live in a place where the rest of the world looks upon us as a role model for its own people, if you haven't referenced other nations' constitutions and their desire for a democracy.

This also should explain why so many international students attend OUR universities, McDonald's is in over one hundred countries, and when their leaders get in trouble, we are the first to be called upon. 

Not last, THE FIRST.

So you think I'm not beating my chest? Watch the Summer Olympics during any Leap Year.

USA! USA! USA!

Where else can I freely choose my next President without having my entire family massacred for not supporting the government's choice?

Only in America!

In the end, we are exceptional not because of where we were born, but because of what our common ideas bring to an infinite number and having the right to disagree. 

Toldja America is an exceptional place, and I'm proud to be an American. 

Remember...the things we make, make us.

Innovation is in our bloodline, as are initiative and a certain strong ethic to be greater than the sum of our parts. 

I'm proud to be American, and that is what makes me exceptional.

When The Neighbors Make Up

My Bach trumpet's mouth is contrite.
We both shed alligator tears

To the Love Jones soundtrack. Louis Armstrong 
misses his wife. It hurts

To know the music means we 
need to clean up. The repainted walls

Tell a sordid tale. Tears can purify
the heart. Even your tender

Kisses ache. Louis Armstrong
misses his wife. It's muted

On my iPod, the moments betwixt
fighting and fucking. The wall

Moans in silence. The horn vibrates
C, B flat, D, back to C again.

Your tongue teases my right
earlobe. Louis Armstrong 

Misses his wife. No one called
til after the battery

Stopped. Our hearts and dueling 
horns. Both horns are work.

At rest. Mike and Ally are
barely breathing. You open 

My shirt like French doors
to passion. I am rigid

As an erect muscle. Mouth on the penis
beneath the curly hairs

This is the best pleasure,
make up sex. 

One Dollar, One Dream

all i have are one dollar and a dream.

it isn't much, but for me, it's all the opportunity i need

to break out of the rat race

and create a better life for my family.

i'm livin' on a hope and a prayer

that God keeps taking care of us, opening padlocked doors

because...

all i have is faith.