Good 'ol Date Night

Rarely does a generation have enough foresight to look down the road to see what will become of humanity with "self" as the cruel conductor. 

I started writing this blog because of the things I saw one night when my husband and I went on a sweet little date to the sweet little rodeo. We were greeted at the entrance by a man who yelled to us, "Don't smoke pot here; they'll arrest you."         Thanks for the tip.

We walked through the fairgrounds dodging husky voiced men who encouraged us to come challenge our skills to win a stuffed animal. Stuffed animals that would have smelled like hot dogs, popcorn, and maybe even travel grease. Cowboy hats were being sold everywhere, because, you see, at the rodeo, everyone suddenly discovers their hidden longing for riding in open plains, caring for cattle, singing over an open fire, and drinking far too much at an open beer garden. Monster truck, huge snakes, ferris wheel, and those little donuts.

As we wandered, I wondered, "Where do all these people come from? Do they all actually love the rodeo? Is it rather that they love crowds and noise and opportunities for conflicts and hook ups?"

Women passed by, prostituting themselves. Selling skin, paid for by glances that would numb their hunger for a moment. The men gladly bought. The children ran from exhibit to game to ride, oblivious to the social parade around them. The mother in me knew that those little babies weren't exactly going to be snuggled in pj's and tucked in tight anytime soon.

Throughout the show, Bryan and I kept staring into each others eyes, kissing and joking to try to keep the mood light, but as the sun tripped and fell, our hearts grew heavier. By the end of the show we had run out of jokes. We held hands as Bryan guided me through the crowds.

So many people pretending to be happy. Such soured expressions and so much growling and jostling for position. Anger erupted as alcohol increased. Through a loud speaker, a female employee for the BudLight beer garden called out. "I see you all walking by looking at us. I know you want to be in here! This is where the party is at." I wondered if anyone else could hear her tone of voice and how forced she sounded.

As we were leaving the fair grounds two young men walked out near us, trailed by a young lady trying to keep up. One of the guys started yelling obscene things to the police who were acting as security that night. 

"Let's go break stuff and steal cars!" he said.

"Yeah. haha stuff and cars!" his shadow echoed.

"Let's go smoke pot and rape women!"

"Yeah. hahah pot and women!"

I could see that the first wanted to appear fearless in the eyes of the world and that the second desired to belong somewhere. The trailing girl. We looked at each other and she made it clear that she didn't approve of what her boyfriend and his friend were saying, but...where else was she supposed to go? The instigator would pull her close for a few sloppy kisses and grabs, then just as quickly walk away and forget her presence.

Humanity does not do what is not in it's nature to do. "The Selfish Gene" is a book by Richard Dawkins. According to some, it is his phenomenal discovery of evolutionary processes down to the building blocks of biology. Within organisms, genes work selfishly to guarantee their own survival. They will do anything to be stronger, bigger, quicker, more adaptable so that they can dominate. Each gene looking out for its own well-being. There are times when a gene will give of itself, if in the long run the action will promote its own advance. (For instance, a mother offers herself for the sake of her children, but in the long run, her own genes will multiply and grow in the bodies of those children.)

Our genes may have learned how to thrive, but our souls sure seem to be missing something. 

 Humans are foolish creatures, destroying themselves slowly through substance abuses and other harmful behaviors that are just as lethal, but somehow more socially acceptable. Children follow their parents down the trodden pathway of moral deterioration, who also walked behind their (oftentimes) well-meaning parents. And as each generation passes by, those paths become ruts, become ditches, become pits. Everyone walks in the same direction.

 Faithfulness and kindness are traded in for self-gratification. At first only those things which don't hurt others are acceptable, but as time passes, it becomes every man for himself. To some extent, it has to be this way because everyone else is living with the same agenda. Self-gratification turns into self-preservation.

  When the moral compass in a civilization has lost true north, the infrastructure crumbles. One of two things occur.

Domination by another empire. Or resuscitation of the conscience.

And the scenario has repeated it self over and over again. A broken record.

I may sound it, but I am far from hopeless. Resuscitation is possible because it happened to me.

O wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?

When we were utterly helpless, Christ came at just the right time and died for us sinners. Now, most people would not be willing to die for an upright person, though someone might perhaps be willing to die for a person who is especially good. But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.