No, I'm not really back. But I've gotten a few emails wondering if I'm, well, alive. I'm alive and kicking, albeit with only one leg. The other one, the knee, it's not so great. I won't darken the air with details about my degenerative health issue. But there are a few things to say. Phrase-maker that I am, it occurred to me that this is either a tragedy, or ironic, depending on whether or not there is ultimate meaning in the universe. The other thing is:
I have been in open rebellion against God since the early Aughts. I am a publicly optimistic person, but inclined to private bitterness (this blog has been considered private). So when tragedy overtook me and mine, lo those many years ago, I didn't handle it with equanimity. Well, as I say, if there is meaning in the universe, then God shepherds those he has chosen. Tough luck for everyone else. Part of that shepherding includes chastening. We know the parable Jesus tells about leaving the flock to go after the wayward sheep. What Jesus didn't say was that it was a shepherd-industry practice, for a sheep that continually wandered off, to break its leg. Can't get to far, hobbling. As I happen to know.
It's not, or need not be, punishment. It's chastening, to get attention from the willful, toward what is important. It's a nice difference, between punishment and chastening. The form may be the same, and the intent, and the outcome. Neither is about pain alone. The difference lies in the relationship. Punishment is about justice as much as correction. Chastening is just about learning. So what came to me, last week or so, was, as these things sometimes do come, with the clarity of a resonant voice, this simple and super-obvious fact: God is not mocked. See? That's what I've been doing, for many years. My blog is riddled with it.
God has been patient. I don't even think he's mad at me. But if there is meaning to my infirmity, it is in the fact that now, finally, God has my attention. I said, decades ago, to a nice guy who was confused about God, that it's great to think of God as a friend, but you'd better think of him as God, too. Well, talking is easy. But in my case it takes constant pain and the inability to, oh, run, or walk down steps, to listen to the things I already know. My genius is surpassed only by my stupidity.
I do have a plan, another plan. Everything I've done so far has been ineffective, so the plans, the inconvenience, necessarily become more extreme. Now it's very strict detox. I already cut out literally every bad carb -- they are inflammatory. No joy. Next level, then: detox. Serious green juicing, and bentonite clay (I won't elaborate), and a few other things. I'll write a detailed case history, if it works. If not, I'll spew bitterness like a volcanic mudhole.
To my amazement it turns out to be very easy to publish on Kindle. Some years ago I edited the earlier part of Forgotten Prophets into manuscript form, and then, being me, did absolutely nothing with it. Last effort was 4 years ago, per the save-dates on my computer files. But now I've uploaded it onto Kindle. What, $6.95. To make even one sale would take marketing. That's unlikely to come from me. But it's there, for posterity to discover, in a far more manageable format than the inchoate outpouring of the blog itself.
What's that? -- you'd be edified and delighted to read it? Of course you would. You may find it HERE -- under the inexplicable title of "Godz Fuul Dot Com: ...". Why not "Forgotten Prophets Dot Com"? Because I am a marketing genius. Oh, there is no actual website by that name. I suppose I should lock it in, but if there's any rush to beat me to it, it would just be malice. Who could possibly bear me ill will? You can "Look Inside" at the first few entries. I'm not displeased.