The Decline of Maturity

When I was ten years old, I would have been absolutely devastated for my friends to know that I still watched cartoons. The really terrible thing, in my mind, was that I wasn't even watching action cartoons, but foolish, humorous cartoons meant for seven-year-olds. I believe that this was a natural tendency. In the mind of every human this is a natural instinct to put away childish things. In this statement, childish things would be defined as any practice or possession meant for a person younger than oneself. For instance, a teenager's reaction to their parents suddenly trying to act more youthful (which may be by breaking out the old habits that they had in college, or by attempting to adopt the current lifestyle of the young) is embarrassment. This is because the attempt to act younger that you actually are is very basic foolishness, a foolishness which can be identified by anyone save (perhaps) the person who partakes in it.

Please do not misunderstand me. I do not mean to say that it is of the Devil to reminisce about the "good old days," or even under circumstances to act silly. For instance, if one is a grandparent, it is perfectly acceptable to play with one's grandchildren, and any intelligent parent would be grateful for this giddiness (unless, of course, this play is putting one's child in harm's way). However, if one is the age of a grandparent and insisted upon wasting their time playing with plastic figures, this would be looked upon as very awkward and foolish; pointless, really. This is obviously an extreme case, but I believe that extremes are quite often needed to view the intricacies of certain comparisons. 

Now, this example aside, I must let you know that I am not writing to criticize the elderly (as I have not seen any prominent evidence of the old pretending to be young), or even self-pitying men in a mid-life crisis (although that is extremely silly), as this is not my place. Indeed, what I have written already may be too much; for we are to respect our elders, despite what fool-hardy society might teach. No, my message, my criticism, is for my generation. Yes, the generation whose battle-cry is "Not for God, nor for community, but for myself!" This is the generation to whom I speak. The lazy, gluttonous generation who expects for life to be given to them without any hard work; who expect a promotion because, although they are below mediocre as an employee, at least they've been working at the same job for years! To those who go into absurd amounts of debt for their out-of-the-blue degree and expect this to be a certificate of a guaranteed job; yes, my cry is to you.

When did it become acceptable to continue in one's childhood? For my peers continuously announce that they are childish, in the things they watch, in the graphics they wear, and in their lifestyle of a need to be entertained. And as you continue in your childish way, why do you expect to be treated like an adult? Why do you try to jump so quickly into a thing so holy as love when you cannot be trusted even with trifles? O how little heartbreak would there be in this world if boys became men before they dove into a relationship! For in the way that they enter, so will they leave. If the deciding factor in a relationship is the physical appeal, why should a man stay when that physical appeal has dwindled, even though it had produced four children? And from whom are those children to derive their lifestyle from? Their father who was never there? Their mother, who has been in and out of relationships since she was sixteen? Is this love? We act as animals, staying with a "lover" for just one season. O how Satan has perverted that which is perfect! And what a brilliant plan it is. Tell me this, one-night-standers, after your practice of loving and leaving has gone through three generations, do you honestly think that our society will continue? You who say "If you love them, sleep with them and love will pull you through," I have something to say to you: "If you base love on the heart, which is called (among many other things) deceitful above all things and desperately wicked, how is this love to pull you through?" You will not stay with them, and if you do, you will be like a dead man walking.

This pitiful excuse of romance and family is not the only thing that my immature generation is affecting. Our immaturity causes us to cease to learn. We will not take responsibility for schooling that we feel we will not use. What avail is History? What use is English? I will not name their intellectual merits here (though there are many), as that is not relevant to the issue, but I will state what may be their most important use. These seemingly meaningless things teach us to be productive, a word which my father always uses around me.

"Be productive," he would say when he left for work. "Be productive." Those words were pounded into my mind, and although they have not affected as much as my father may have wished, they have certainly built me up. In recent years (months, in fact) God has been enforcing the fact that whatever I do, I must do it heartily, as to Him. This is because He is who I am representing. My generation also representing their parents. In their lazy, procrastinating way, they are putting on display their parents, most of whom are also slothful and unfaithful. Why give it your all in something as "meaningless" as school when your parents have shown you that you shouldn't give a rip about fighting for something as sacred as love? 

This kind of lifestyle thrived among the children of Israel for a time (Ex. 32:7) until God almost destroyed them all, with the exception of Moses. Yet we treat sex as a light thing. "Where is God's punishment, then?" You may well ask. "If He was so angry about it then, why aren't we being punished?" My answer? Look around you. Our society is slowly degrading. Fathers do not lead their families. Sons are not taught discipline. Mothers do not have enough authority to keep a teenager in check. Daughters are taught to dress like prostitutes to find love. Children are killed and worse. Lawmakers try to destroy holy matrimony. In short, our society has become one of murder, strive, deceit, and evil-mindedness. There was once a place just like that, known as Sodom. So let me ask you; 

Where is our punishment?

Rehoboam's Folly

Someone who seeks the counsel of advisers who simply itch his ears is not justified in his biased determination, regardless of whether those advisers are his peers or his feelings.
When Solomon first began his reign, his primary goal was to lead the Israelites in the way they should go, and he acknowledged the fact that he was completely incapable of doing this (a sign of humility). This humility, this contentment to be nothing except a vessel for Yahweh, did not last long. Much in the manner of high schoolers doing foolish things to gain popularity, Solomon rejected the command of the LORD, and began marrying foreign women (a thing which was explicitly warned against in the Law). In the days of Moses, Balaam (the infamous “man of God”) informed Balak (a king of Moab) that the most efficient way to make the Israelites stumble was to seduce them with foreign women. Thus, when tempted with the lust of the eyes, the men of Israel fell into sin and corruption. When the Israelites became intimately involved with the Moabite women, those women taught them of their god, the Baal of Peor. Before long, the People of God were sacrificing to the false gods of Moab, descendants from the sinful daughter of Lot. Because of their sin, a plague from God broke out among the people. 24,000 people died from sleeping with foreign women. Solomon was not unaware of this. He knew that God hated it when his people were unequally yoked, and Solomon knew why this was the case; because one cannot serve two masters. When one attempts both to serve God and to associate with pagan women, something must give way. Even so, even after understanding all of this, Solomon (disregarding God’s counsel) came to the conclusion that he was an exception to this rule. He decided that, even though his people mustn't marry inter-racially, it was entirely acceptable if he did. And so the scandal of decades began; gossip so heinous that the tabloids (had they existed in those days) would have blown up; a rumor so disproportionate by comparison that it would make Bill Clinton look like a saint. Solomon did not stop with a foreign wife. He married many foreign women, and in all likelihood worshiped all of their false gods: their baneful Baals.
Solomon had a child with one of his many wives; a child named Rehoboam (literally, he who enlarges the people). Rehoboam, the prohibited child of Solomon and an Ammonite. When Solomon died, Rehoboam became the king of Israel. Upon his coronation, his people approached him and informed him that they would serve him only if he would be a merciful king, as his father had become slightly despotic in his later days. In particular, they asked him to lower the taxes. Rehoboam asked them to give him three days to think about it, something a wise man would do. The people give their assent, and Rehoboam approaches his late father’s advisers; aged men with much experience in such matters. They tell him that if he serves the people and speaks good to them, that they will be his servants forever. However, something in their advice must have agitated Rehoboam; perhaps the idea of he, the king, being a servant to the people. Regardless, Rehoboam ignored their wisdom and sought the counsel of his peers, of the young men who had grown up with them. They informed him that he should not only keep the taxes at the same rate, but instead that he should raise them. His friends advised him to tell the people that he would be even more despotic than his father was, and that while his father had used whips, he would beat the people with scourges. And thus Rehoboam did; he followed the advice of his friends, the advice that he wanted to hear. Predictably, the people did not serve him. They rebelled. Ten of the twelve tribes seceded, following after Jeroboam, while only two tribes (Judah and Benjamin) remained under submission to Rehoboam. The king of Israel found his own counselors to assuage his itching ears, and so divided the Children of Jacob. From that point until the Captivity, the Northern Kingdom (Israel) and the Southern Kingdom (Judah) were always at war; stark enemies who would seemingly never reconcile. Because of Rehoboam’s pig-headed attitude of listening to what he wanted to hear, a schism was made between Israel and Judah which could not be ignored. Many lives were lost in the wars of the Northern and Southern Kingdoms. Much hatred was conceived. The fact is that unilateral decisions do not have to be made by only one person; they may be made by many people. However, unilateral decisions (unless made by a supreme being) will inevitably end up in conflict.

A Communion

The waves broke, having nothing else to do, on the jagged rocks.
I am standing on the top of the cliff, gazing into the dark void broken occasionally by the glowing rapids which are shooting upwards into a mist, which condenses on my lax face. I am not bored, although my expression might insinuate otherwise. In all honesty, I am more alive than I have been in the entirety of my existence. The sharp smell of the saltwater penetrates the pores of my nostrils; my brain is alert, my heart beating. I feel like it’s going to ram its way out of my torso. I redirect my gaze to the night sky. I am practically unseparated from the vastness of the cosmos. I am transfixed by the tail of the galaxy in which I reside. The simple complexity of the heavens takes my breath away as I get goosebumps all the way up of both my rams. I feel the presence of my God; His Spirit is showing me his omnipotence. I want to go with Him now, but as I cannot, I sink to the hard rock under my feet. I cross my legs and place the backs of my hands on my knees, palms outstretched to the Receiver of my prayers. Some would say that I am meditating, but that is not true. At this moment, I am not letting go of everything important; I am grasping for it. I am talking to the Creator, and this thought alone causes my heart to sink into my stomach in reverence and excitement. This practice is terrifying, humbling, and relaxing; a mixture that only a sage like God could produce. Oh, my words are inefficient; what can you call a person who created wisdom? For surely wise falls short. No, I must continue. Wise is not sufficient, but God Only Wise is nearer the mark. How do you praise with speech the one who created language? How do you worship with emotion the One who created feeling? It is a simple process of giving back what He has given to oneself.
I inhale deeply; the saltwater succeeds in making my blood flow harder, but fails in making me aware of my situation. I am removed from my surroundings; the tools that the Spirit has used to bring me to this solace. I feel my soul rising out of its prison, and I feel warmth on my heart, like a hot drink on a cold night. A smile flashes on and off of my face, like the grimace of a madman. I can almost hear Him speaking, but my little faith does not let me listen to His tangible voice. I call out to Him. I came to ask Him for something, but now that the moment comes, I can do nothing but praise Him with the scripture I know. I think of, but do not say aloud, the Psalms of David. I did not write these words, but at this moment they are mine; they come from my very soul.
My palms drop to the stones beside me and I realize that my Father was not being facetious when He stated that even these would cry out if Man would not praise Him. After all, how can creation help but glorify Elohim when it is acting as it should?
I am close to the edge of the precipice, but I can’t bring myself to care anymore. The vain theory that I am afraid of falling is eclipsed in the powerful arms of I AM. I can’t speak anymore, not even in praise to my Jesus. I am too overcome with the Majesty of El Elyon. I don’t feel the rocks poking into my legs, I don’t feel the cold piercing my very nerves, nor do I care about the strong mist soaking my garments. My, how the things of this Earth pale in comparison to the One who created it!
I wish that this moment could last forever, but I know that it must end. Half of the purpose of this encouragement was so that I, in turn, could encourage others. But I know that one day, that this moment will continue unceasingly. No indeed; not this moment, but a moment infinitely better than this. A moment where there will be no pain, or suffering. A moment in which I will be clothed in white. A moment which was coming soon.
The peace of God falls like autumn leaves upon my heart, and I smile in anticipation for the day when I will see my Savior face-to-face.