You're Not Supposed to Be Here

My life has contained more misadventures in four decades than the complete lifespans of many people twice my age. One of the more common refrains from these odd experiences include the phrase, “you’re not supposed to be here.” Yet my trailblazing approach to life has been to experience all what God created – and most of what man made along the way – during the dash in my life. For example, I made an impromptu appearance at ESPN headquarters in Bristol several years ago following an interesting workweek across the state and the consequential visit to Mystic Pizza. While visitors were gleefully welcomed at the restaurant in addition to the maritime exhibits along the city, my presence was less-than-welcomed at the sports network’s world headquarters an hour northwest. Because of not knowing the proper decorum (the campus tours filmed in the commercials are not for the public), I was kindly asked to leave the premises but not before I snapped a picture of my car in front of the ESPN sign.

Come to find out, I wasn't supposed to be here

Two days later, I found myself at a very familiar location:  a black Baptist church. Once a member the security team working the neighborhood during morning worship motioned for me to park in the visitor’s space in front of the building as he noticed the out-of-state tags, I simply walked right in and felt welcomed as if I grown up in the community. Members greeted me warmly and as a result, that church holds an indelible part in my memories for years to come – it is quite unfortunate I cannot remember any of their names several years later.

I’ve already detailed in a separate blog about my current church’s initial reluctance toward my wife and me, so I won’t share anymore of that content. It still amazes me that congregations can be so cold toward prospective members and those who are ‘trying one on’ for fitment. The Church is a spiritual hospital; that means we do not have it all together when we set foot on the property or find a section unoccupied by multigenerational families. In Hebrews 13:1-3, we are reminded to “show hospitality to strangers” (Hebrews 13:2). Both Luke and Paul instruct us to show active love to people with social and physical needs (Like 14:13-14; Romans 12:13; Acts 6:1-7). 

Among the body of believers, we have a special responsibility to show love (Galatians 6:10). Otherwise, we are just a band of bodies who use 11 am Sunday morning worship as a social hour out of tradition without seeking out our own relationships with God.

Lesson:  Do not slam the door on strangers citing that they aren’t supposed to be here. Whatever reason for their appearance is why they are here with us:  Show agape love and compassion toward them – when we do, they see and feel our Savior in the midst.

Next Chapter

I’ve written this letter over and over in my head, yet I find myself prereading it and throwing it away into the annals of history along with the ideas gone bad each time. Each moment of our lives exists for a season and a purpose that no one really knows or understands until we have either departed the period or are introduced to a new challenge that can completely change the trajectory of our lives for the better or worse. Would it be for the best? What are the risks in taking such a plunge? How would my family feel about this? More, how will the next chapter affect my own relationship with God beyond the titles and busywork the ministry unintentionally layers upon me?

Maybe this is all coming out because I am nearing age 40 and I feel like although I’ve accomplished a lot, more needs to be done and/or seen. I’m young yet the indiscretions of youth combined with the immaturity associated with naivete escaped me several years if not a decade or two ago.

Maybe this is all due to witnessing the seasons of happiness and heartbreak within the same short period firsthand. You know, the dash upon our tombstones represents a relatively brief time on this rock; we aren’t intended to make the earth our permanent home. Even Methuselah died – imagine how much he saw in 969 years!

But…this is not supposed to be a melancholic letter that could have more than a few of you making welfare calls on my behalf nor would I want that.

Everywhere along this journey has defined me in terms of experiences, interactions, and relationships (neighbor, coworker, congregant, teammate, relative, frat brother, teacher, deacon, etc.) and all of you have been invaluable in the process. These words are incredibly difficult for me to pen without making them sound like a suicidal note (I AM NOT GOING TO KILL MYSELF. I HAVE NO DESIRE FOR THAT ENDING); due to the fact of not knowing what the future holds, I must keep Ecclesiastes 11:6 near me.

Sow your seed in the morning and do not be idle in the evening, for you do not know whether morning or evening sowing will succeed, or whether both of them alike will be good. – Ecclesiastes 11:6

Which is why:  After eleven years of toiling on the overnight shift, I am bringing my sleepy eyes and untapped talents to the day shift. There will have to be some adjustments to be made such as not coming to work disheveled and reestablishing a morning routine without taking a nap. This survivor has a very compelling story to tell – and when I say survivor, I am referring to years of underemployment relative to my professional background and making a dollar our of fifteen cents. I recall a professor from undergrad frequently repeating the line “crappy jobs build character” during his lectures; in my case, each step has been a part of the process to this very moment.

Saying goodbye is difficult yet inevitable. Just as I have gladly said sayonara over the years to my hometown of Conway; shed a few tears leaving Arkadelphia, the town where I met my wife and most of my closest friends; and chunked the deuces to Colebrook/Winsted, the neighboring towns that forced me out of my comfort zone and aside from a few interactions with law enforcement along Route 44, were generally okay places even as my blackness seemed simultaneously exotic and threatening. As of today, there are no intentions of us leaving Springhill Manor for it was here when we became homeowners and parents – our daughter will forever be a native of Bryant, Arkansas.

You may wonder what happened to Dub Shack BBQ. Simple:  It’s still in the periphery and possibly something I can really dedicate myself to upon retirement from this role. In the meantime, I admit I am guilty of being too laser-focused on getting a storefront instead of a trailer first and building a clientele; by doing so, I put the cart before the horse and we all know what that result is. I’ll still make box lunches periodically and occasionally cater events; as for hitting the KCBS circuit, I cannot justify spending all of that money on meat for only a few bites that can make or break a weekend. I’m also working on some new sides that I cannot disclose at this time but when I’m ready, you will get an invite to the cookout.

No matter where the next chapter takes me, you all have mattered in more than words, deeds, actions, etc. than you shall ever know. I’ve had some pretty awesome people around me at all stops even when disagreements could have obliterated any semblance of a relationship developed and cultivated.

Again, this is not a goodbye – it’s an “I’ll see you around” kind of moment. I am a call, text, tweet, or email away if you ever find a desire to reach out, and I’ll do my part to keep those lines of communication open.

May God bless and keep you in my prayers.

With all of my love,

ACedA

The blackest thing I've seen all day pic.twitter.com/E8aJ3QKVYd

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) October 3, 2018

They Smelled Like Christ, Not Teen Spirit

For the past twenty years or so, I have learned how to be comfortable in less-than-ideal circumstances with varying results. In the beginning there was a two-hour commute thanks to the state highway and transportation reconstructing interstate lanes to a small country town where no one had ever heard of me; by the time I graduated five years later, the road was sufficient to cut a half-hour off my drive home. In addition, the early friends I made were friends of a high school friend/original mentor who happened to pave the way for me to do a little more than hang out in the dorm and study nonstop (which truthfully, I should have done more of as a freshman). They helped aid the transition by hosting Sunday evening dinner at their apartments and for a season, I felt at home. Despite my self-inflicted attempts to climb out of my extremely socially awkward shell, I was still welcomed as part of the click.

Looking back, I wonder how those five years in Arkadelphia have come to define me and what would have happened had I transferred to the large public university in my hometown following a very difficult freshman year; that answer can be found in 2 Corinthians. The Apostle Paul describes God-followers as people with a “pleasing aroma of Christ.” Although those hosts jokingly jabbed me about my doppelganger rushing me during pledging season instead of my attending their informational sessions, they indeed smelled like Christ.

When Paul says that God leads His people in Christ’s triumphal procession spreading the fragrance of His truth, he’s referring to a practice in the ancient world. Victorious armies would burn everything incense as they marched through the streets bringing joy to the townspeople. In the same vein, the people of God have a pleasing scent – at the very least, a welcoming temperament – to those that believe. It isn’t Joop!, Nautica, Michael Jordan or any other cologne we’ve created or chosen to wear to attract the ladies but something God has gifted us as He leads us in spreading the knowledge of Him.

It’s funny how that small country town of 11,000 souls has led to so many friendships in addition to being introduced to my wife but notably remembering those friends of a friend who smelled more like Christ than Teen Spirit.

For as we are unto God a sweet savor of Christ, in them that are saved, and in that that perish. 2 Corinthians 2:15

Yeah, I Voted.

Yeah, I voted Monday.

When I drove to New Life Church of Bryant to cast my ballot, I thought about all who gave so much for me to push buttons to select the men and women whom I feel would be most effective leading us for the next few years.

I thought about my grandpa when he ran for mayor of Gould twenty years ago.

I thought about the people who decided their voices didn't matter two years ago.

I thought about the current leaders who have hosed our communities thinking of me instead of we.

Honestly, I had a case of anti-incumbent fever going on just as America experienced in 2010. I cannot say for certain that the resistance, or blue wave as it has recently been termed, will be enough to offset the rise of the Tea Party eight years ago. Instead of outright racism in response to the nation’s first Black President – try telling some of these people Barack Obama is biracial and notice the plugged-in ears and incoherent babbles from their echo chambers and propaganda station Fox News telling them how to think about the changing world at large. Here are my voting choices, explained:

For the honor of representing AR-2 in Congress, I went for Clarke Tucker. In an era of throwing shade at all costs AND before that blatantly racist ad for the incumbent Rep. French Hill, it is refreshing to see my generation stepping up and otherwise maintaining an upbeat campaign throughout. I’m sure Rep. Hill is a pretty nice guy, but he should’ve been more than a lackey for 45 as a key vote to repeal the PPACA and more accessible to the most diverse and best-educated district in the state. I’m not saying he should have made more appearances in Southwest or south of Interstate 630, but giving a damn about the less affluent in more than a few crafted words would have been a start.

To become our next governor, my vote went to Jared Henderson. I see much of the same charismatic demeanor as Rep. Tucker and for standing up for the public sector – which hopefully gets the hardest-working among us deserved raises. Gov. Asa Hutchinson truly loves Arkansas and did an admirable thing in separating the Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert E. Lee birthdays as joint state holidays, the token measure falls flat when considered the disadvantaged who have lost their health insurance due to work requirements, shoddy (if available, at all) internet service, and not completely being able to keep the state Legislature from reverting to 1956 or worse, 1836.

My vote for Anthony Bland over Lt. Gov. Tim Griffin is simple:  I will always vote for the black man assuming his values align with my own. Besides, didn’t Griffin say he would abolish the office when he ran for it in 2014?

In the campaign for Attorney General, I voted for Mike Lee instead of Trump stooge Atty. General Leslie Rutledge. One thing she should have done is give more of a damn about her constituents instead of chasing every frivolous lawsuit she can attach herself to in the quest of wasting the most taxpayer dollars. The old emails about her anti-black comments and stereotypical jargon, although unsurprising given the state of today’s political climate alone did not sway my decision as much as her portrayal of a female George Wallace standing in the way of legalized gay marriage thereby presenting the state as a band of Luddites.

In the state campaign I paid the least attention to, I selected Susan Inman over the current Commissioner of State Lands John Thurston for Secretary of State. Certainly, I am overjoyed that current Secretary of State Mark Martin (not the NASCAR legend -  he’s presumably enjoying retirement fishing and running his auto dealerships in Batesville and the surrounding areas) is term-limited from dragging the Natural State back in time any further. Aside from the boat and fishing controversy surrounding Thurston, I felt a fresh voice would be necessary; that Garland County (Hot Springs and the small towns that comprise the GOP-stronghold) left her name off the ballot at three of the four early-voting precincts is appalling.

As for state Treasurer and Auditor, I held my nose and crossed over to vote for Dennis Milligan and Andrea Lea. Because I do live in Saline County, I am familiar enough with Milligan to make the reluctant call to send him back for four more years. In addition, in a period where no news can be equated as good news, Lea deserves more time to do the fiscal balancing around here; the Arkansas state constitution requires a balanced budget contrary to what several of our legislators statewide in both major parties tend to think.

For Commissioner of State Lands, I went full outsider and voted for Larry Williams.

To become Associate Justice of the Arkansas Supreme Court, Courtney Goodson was as close to a no-brainer as one can get on the ballot especially with challenger David Sterling positioning himself as a conservative who stands with President Trump. It is one thing to respect the office of the President of the United States of America, and another to rubber-stamp everything the current occupant says including the blatant falsehoods without any sense of decorum.

Closer to home...yep, Salt County.

Having a disparate population means reaching out to everyone versus a select few from the country club, the local Baptist church, or the newest all-you-can-eat buffet. In this regard, I voted for Melissa Fults instead of Rep. Kim Hammer for state Senate; his comments about the Lady Razorbacks basketball team kneeling during the playing of the National Anthem struck enough of a nerve to make me wonder what brand of Gospel he preaches to his congregants each Sunday morning. Protesting is as American as apple pie – or from what I gathered in his words, only for a certain class. On a more spiritual level, let me remind everyone that Jesus was a radical nonviolent revolutionary who hung around lepers, hookers, and crooks; who wasn’t American and didn’t speak English; was anti-wealth; anti-death penalty; anti-public prayer (see Matthew 6:5 about those who used flowery language and really said nothing); but was never anti-gay; never mentioned abortion or birth control; never called the poor lazy; never justified torture; never fought for tax cuts nor demanded fealty to a piece of cloth. What I said about Hammer can easily apply to more of the boisterous voices in the state Legislature (you know the ones – there is that thirsty one from back home that tried to come for me eighteen months ago yet was unprepared for the truth to smack him around the head, among others).

Myka Bono Sample got my vote only because she ran unopposed. I reckon she’s done a good-enough job as County Clerk to earn another term from the people.

In town, I chose to give Mayor Jill Dabbs another four years as Bryant’s cheerleader. For the posturing with state and national politics that she reflexively does and the less-than-satisfactory response to the neighborhoods flooding and water problems, I do like the direction Bryant is growing. If Springhill Road is ever widened to at least a constant turning lane with sidewalks from Highway 5 to Northlake, she’ll have my vote for life. Allen Scott, while engaging in the Sunday meetups at the parks throughout town, seemed to me like he was less of a checks-and-balances toward Dabbs than someone with an axe to grind.

I had more anti-incumbent fever in choosing Bob Joiner for City Clerk over the current officeholder Sue Ashcraft.

Those pesky issues…

Fortunately, Issues One and Three were thrown off the ballot; therefore, human lives do have a monetary value for the time being although we should live as we are truly irreplaceable, and regarding Issue Three, politicians/future lobbyists shall be changed frequently like dirty diapers to prevent corruption or the perception that representing the people with benefits is why they want to run back to Little Rock. What I find interesting about Issue Three is that the same folks who rail against the majority-minority capital city clamor to be sent down to speak up for the forgotten and denigrate the Rock at every single turn in the name of likes on social media even as their own records show nothing of real substance.

I voted against Issue Two for the sole reason of requiring a photo ID for absentee voting, but I could very well regret this vote depending on how it worded in a manner that allows citizens to obtain identification cards at no cost. I’m all for inclusion; the other question arises from who counts the ballots as they show up at the precinct.

Voting against Issue Four is a tough call:  On one hand, we do need the jobs and the revenue; on the other, I do not gamble, and the two locations selected (two miles outside of Russellville and Pine Bluff, respectively) may lead to other problems not limited to law enforcement and those of a social nature.

I voted for Issue Five which raises the minimum wage to $9.25 on January 1, 2019, $10 the following year, and cresting at $11 on January 1, 2021. Minimum wage should not be a living wage but a gateway for those entering the workforce for the very first time or in a long time; anyone who is against that cannot afford to keep the doors open to his or her business. It’s also why Dub Shack BBQ is presently a one-man band:  me. After food costs and time, I still must be able to live and care for my family versus merely existing to provide customers with great barbecue every day only to subsist on Ramen noodles and crackers.

In declining to vote for Issue Six, I made this decision not based on the (perceived) lack of opportunities here in Saline County as much as the fact of increased property and sales taxes. While assessments are a necessary evil and a vital part of paying for things the public uses such as roads, sewer, water, and in some cases, electricity, at which point can a homeowner ask for some relief? What have our leaders been doing with the tax dollars accrued over time besides whoring themselves to medium-to-large businesses with giveaways that only a handful of people could potentially benefit from?

Lastly, I voted against Issue Seven for the reason of why would I reward my council member with two more years to sit around, do nothing, and be otherwise evasive? I understand that two-year terms can lead to constant campaigning but until I see better by the Bryant City Council, then each member needs to remain in service for two years until the city can justify four-year terms with one of two metrics:  a) population size; and b) annual revenue.

Every election is more important than the previous one, and each has perks for the winners and consequences for the losers. While our method of democracy is modeled worldwide, it still has flaws (see Voter ID laws across the country) and dark money entering campaigns to muddy the truth courtesy of Citizens United. We must find a way to suss out the fluff now that even the media no longer tells a straightforward story; too often, we are enthralled or disgusted by entertainers, talk show hosts, and others deciding their own truths and that inevitably colors how we operate on this rock. Each of us has a concern worth fighting for – and all of you who really know me, that concern is #BlackLivesMatter. Having my wife and daughter to protect and love in a society that tries its best to marginalize black females regarding pay, intellect, appearance, etc. is paramount to not only my own manhood but also to our daughter’s self-confidence in a world that gladly tears people down with impunity. I would also like to come home at the end of each shift without being harassed or worse a gunshot wound thanks to a small-town police officer with a trigger finger and serious animus toward my skin.

Whatever your reason, get up and go vote! Your life and freedoms may very well depend upon this simple act.

About Grandpa:  He lost that race in 1998 by twenty points but he at least he threw his hat in the ring to make Gould, Arkansas a better place to live.

How to Protest Without Offending White People

How to Protest Without Offending White People
Michael Harriot

Many people were surprised when President Donald Trump suggested that NFL team owners fire players who quietly choose to sit out the national anthem before games, but I was not one of them.

Even though they thought they’d solved the anthem problem by blackballing protest starter Colin Kaepernick, the residual insolence displayed by the players roiled white people to no end because their protest was so disrespectful—not to a 250-year-old cloth logo or a Francis Scott Key bar song. Taking a knee is disrespectful to whiteness. It is not that white people can’t understand Kaepernick’s point of view; it’s that—to them—any other point of view is nonexistent.

For future reference, we have put together this handy-dandy checklist for designing a protest that white people will find inoffensive and respectable.

Don’t Say “White”

I have no idea why, but white people hate it when anyone uses the phrase “white people,” because, for some reason, they consider it a pejorative. When protesting police brutality, education inequality, unfair housing practices or anything else, you must be careful not to “make it all about race”—even if the thing you’re protesting is all about race.

Refer to racism as a “social issue.” Instead of slinging the phrase “white supremacy” around all willy-nilly, you can instead refer to it as “structural inequality.” If your “underprivileged” child has been fenced into a poorly funded educational system, call it an “inner-city school.”

Uttering the words “white people” only serves as a reminder of their historic ties to oppression, which can only be negated by their instinctual regurgitation of the preamble to all white excuses: “Not all white people ... ” Even if you make your protest about a “societal issue” that’s not about race, you still shouldn’t expect them to join in or approve. They already heard you say “white people.”

Don’t Say “Black”

When protesting, you must not only refrain from lumping Caucasians together, but you must also be careful not to remind them of your blackness. Again, the word conjures the imagery of oppression and makes everything about race.

Plus, it is divisive. Any mention of race is divisive because it overlooks the fact that every color and creed has problems. Some people have to worry about the leader of the free world trying to deport their children, vilifying their religion or referring to their mothers as bitches, while others have to live with the terrible burden of people constantly belittling their chicken seasoning and potato-salad-making.  We all have a struggle.

Be Inclusive

If there is one thing white people outer-city people hate, it’s being left out. If you watch the nation unite in empathy and mourning for the single Caucasian victim of white supremacy, while ignoring the fact that the same supremacists have terrorized people of color for more than a century; when you see Justine Damond’s death change the leadership of an entire police force while streets run red with black blood spilled by acquitted police officers, you still shouldn’t say, “Black lives matter.”

Even if there has never been a nanosecond in the long history of America during which anyone questioned the worth of white lives, you must still include them. You should also be inclusive enough to make up an entirely new category of human being and announce that blue lives matter, too.
Unless you hate cops ...
... and smurfs.

Be Invisible

White people The average American doesn’t mind protest ... as long as he or she can’t see it. You absolutely have the constitutional right to feel a little morose whenever your son, neighbor or fellow citizen is shot, choked, beaten or discriminated against—as long as you don’t obstruct the weekend Caucasian commute to the mall to purchase yoga pants. Why should they have to think about the disproportionate, continual murder of black people when they’re trying to get half-price cargo shorts at the Gap? That’s just un-American.

You can object to inequality as much as you’d like, as long as it isn’t at sporting events. No one wants to think about politics at sporting events. Or at political rallies. Or inaugurations. Or on social media. Or at schools. Or at actual protests.
Everywhere else is fine.

Be Respectful

If you miraculously find a place to protest, find an inoffensive phrase and include people from all groups, you should still be mindful that there is a list of things that white people the overprivileged value more than your life, freedom, equality or happiness. Your civil disobedience must not offend or disparage any of the following: flags that represent America, flags that represent traitors to America, monuments, names of buildings, statues, stained-glass windows, cats, American flags, 150-year-old songs, freedom of speech (but only their freedom of speech, not yours), bathrooms, dogs, the children (not children, but “the children”), the Founding Fathers, first responders, blue lives, religious freedom (Christian only), traffic and troops.

Especially troops. Wypipo love troops. They can watch a cop shoot an unarmed person in the head and see the brain matter splatter on his or her baby in the back seat and feel no empathy, but burst into tears when someone shows them a clip of a dog licking a soldier’s face when he comes home from killing brown people somewhere in the world protecting their freedom.

In fact, if you wrap a puppy in an American flag and put it on top of a pumpkin-spice gift certificate to Starbucks and tell a white woman you’re giving it to a soldier, she will spontaneously orgasm.

Real talk.*
*I don’t actually know what “real talk” means, but I know that—according to Section 3, paragraph 5 of the Uniform Negro Code—affixing “real talk” to the end of a sentence automatically makes it true.

Be Dead

One of the surest ways to engender respect from white people the unmelanated is to die. If you don’t feel like dying and have white-enough teeth, you can alternately outlive their vitriol and wait for them to embrace you.

Muhammad Ali was considered a traitor when he stood up for his rights and refused to fight in Vietnam. Tommie Smith and John Carlos were vilified. Gallup polling recounts Martin Luther King Jr.’s favorability this way:

In 1963, King had a 41 percent positive and a 37 percent negative rating; in 1964, it was 43 percent positive and 39 percent negative; in 1965, his rating was 45 percent positive and 45 percent negative; and in 1966—the last Gallup measure of King using this scalometer procedure—it was 32 percent positive and 63 percent negative.
Five months before the March on Washington, 60 percent of the country had a negative view of the event and 57 percent thought that peaceful sit-ins hurt the civil rights movement. Even a year later, in 1964, 73 percent of Americans believed “Negroes should stop mass demonstrations,” according to Gallup.

Never Forget that Martin Luther King Jr. was Hated by White America

There has never been a movement for the freedom or equality of people of color that has gained white approval. Not the abolitionist movement. Not the anti-lynching movement. Not the Black Power movement. Not the civil rights struggle.

Looking for respectability and approval from white people will always be as fruitless a task as a chicken’s attempt to convince a fox to respect the boundaries of the henhouse.

In fact, historical, anecdotal and empirical evidence shows that there is only one way to protest without offending white people:

Don’t.

Won't He Do It

Testimony hour: Ten years ago tomorrow, my brother and I (should've been) brought back home to God. We were driving to Jonesboro to drop Alan off at ASU and just shooting the breeze,  otherwise being brothers. In the 2.5 hour trip, we often talked about everything - life, school, women, stuff happening at the church, etc.  This time around, it was raining constantly, so we left home early to allow time to get there. About eight miles outside of Searcy, the car hydroplaned across US 67, sending us across the highway. As we spun around seven times like a kid with a Hot Wheel, we prayed and screamed for our lives because that could've been it. By His grace, enough cars and semis managed to avoid us and we were able to cross back over and continue the trip albeit two harried men. This is a significant reason why I've said #weallwegot over the years.

As I near that anniversary, I thank God He kept us around to see all we have seen: our wives Chastity and Nastassia, a child (my nephew),  graduation, and a host of many things too numerous to list. I can't imagine what our parents' reactions if we didn't make it home that Labor Day. I know it wasn't anything but Jesus that saved us!

You Like That?!

Current Minnesota Vikings starter Kirk Cousins went through a crushing onslaught of fan and media criticism in addition to multiple votes of no-confidence from his former team’s ownership and front office in the form of franchise tags instead of having the ability to negotiate a new deal or an extension as is customary for most starting NFL quarterbacks. After one comeback win for the Washington Redskins in 2015, Cousins yelled, “You like that?!” to CSN Mid-Atlantic reporter Tarik El-Bashir lending the saying to become the team’s rallying cry for the remainder of the season.

Kirk Cousins Washington Redskins Quarterback Yells 'You Like That,' to R... https://t.co/lKZiUnMYPM via @YouTube

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) August 31, 2018

It sounds like a good time until we find ourselves caught up in seeking the attention and becoming too craven to shy away from it.

How do we know this? 

By looking at our smartphones and acknowledging that we too, have become encapsulated by our social media accounts. People participate in challenges on YouTube and Snap to generate likes on Facebook and Instagram or more Twitter followers and reposts on Pinterest; I’m not above the fray here or even in this blog as I point out stuff that I have done and to an extent, am still doing. These posts aren’t just because I have steam to blow off or due to becoming an authority of some things as much as I genuinely enjoy the feedback and pats on the back for roughly seven hundred words from my mind and keystrokes to the rest of the world to read, parse, discuss, or dismiss.

This is akin to looking for love in all the wrong places. You like that?!

Jesus teaches us in Matthew 6 how to give Him praise – and it is not some superfluous prayer that references the 42-generational lineage of Christ and gets the church mothers swooning all over the front pews on Communion Sunday. In my own guilt from sounding like I wanted to be seen during devotional and praise service as opposed to giving an authentic conversation with the ensuing backslaps of a job well done, it sometimes feels like I indeed have missed the mark with the overly enunciated tongue thereby leading me to recognize that my own words in their own symbolism are slanted toward the approval of man in contrast to the true glorification of our Lord and Savior.

When you do it wrong, you end up like Maximus from Gladiator. ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?

How do I kill that internal rallying cry?

Writer John Piper had an idea, found in his book What Jesus Demands from the World. Self-denial and fixation of the self are essential, but O how easy it is to be made much of even my own self-denial! How shall this insidious motive of pleasure in being made much of be broken except through bending of my faculties to delight in the pleasures of making much of God! Christian Hedonism is the only solution. It is deeper in death to self. You must go deeper into the grave of the flesh to find the truly freeing stream of miracle water that ravishes you with the taste of God’s glory. Only in that speechless, all-satisfying admiration is the end of self. (What Jesus Demands, 136-137)

Only Jesus is the true Living Water and in Him, we shall never thirst. Only by centering ourselves into wanting Christ and the approval of God will our self-flagellation for human approval will be broken. The Spirit helps us in our weaknesses and enables us to do the impossible:  to say no to ungodliness and open our eyes to see the glory of God in the face of Christ. In this concept, we can influence more souls via our platform unlike by merely being a do-gooder.

Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.
Matthew 5:16 KJVhttps://t.co/sidt7qMa7g

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) August 31, 2018

It is only when we renounce our selfish desires and exalt Christ that we truly become free from condemnation (Romans 8:1), fully satisfied in Christ (Psalm 16:11) and free to yell, You like that?! sans consequence for the good of our neighbor and the glory of God.