Monday, November 30, 2009

'I Ain't Been Nuttin' But Bad' or Why I Need the Gospel for Christmas

I'm gettin' nuttin' for Christmas
Mommy and Daddy are mad
I'm gettin' nuttin' for Christmas
'Cuz I ain't been nuttin' but bad

So echoes the humorous chorus to a humorous song penned in the 1950s in which a bratty boy rattles off in verse his various sins of commission coupled with his refrain that "somebody snitched on me" before issuing an admonition to fellow and would-be rotten brats:
So you better be good whatever you do
'Cause if you're bad, I'm warning you,
You'll get nuttin' for Christmas.

It's a funny song, but it made me think of how it's a great springboard to discuss the Gospel.

After all, the Bible tells us about how we've been "nuttin' but bad" and how that badness is pervasive, stemming from the very core of our being and manifesting in numerous sins that are fruits thereof. Simply put, we sin because we are sinners, we do bad things because we are bad: [Romans 3:10-20;22b-23]:

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Monday, November 2, 2009

Taking Your Idol with You to the Grave

Literally.

From Sunday's Washington Post front page:

Joe Kelly won't go as far as calling Baltimore's Pimlico Race Course a burial ground.
But the 91-year-old track historian is quite sure that Willie Doyle, who rode Effendi to victory in the 1909 Preakness, isn't the only guy whose remains are mingled with the turf where the great Seabiscuit and War Admiral famously battled.

"Oh yeah, it has happened fairly often, including a couple of bettors who were very well known," Kelly says. "They figured they'd spread their money around there; may as well spread their ashes."

While Doyle's choice of Pimlico's finish line as his final resting place is among the more colorful episodes in horseracing lore, it's hardly unique. From baseball parks to football stadiums to golf courses, sporting venues regularly field requests to scatter a loved one's cremated remains at the pitcher's mound, under a goal post or on a fairway overlooking the sea -- anywhere a sports hero has trod and triumphed.
Death is the ultimate reminder of our limitations, our creature-ness, if you will. We all are headed there and all will give an account to our Creator, yet without a changed heart, we will cling tenaciously to our idol(s) of choice, even to the cold recesses of the grave.

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