Abishag the Shunammite, 3000 years later (pt. 2)

Then David slept with his fathers and was buried in the city of David. And the time that David reigned over Israel was forty years. He reigned seven years in Hebron and thirty-three years in Jerusalem. So Solomon sat on the throne of David his father, and his kingdom was firmly established. Then Adonijah the son of Haggith came to Bathsheba the mother of Solomon. And she said, "Do you come peacefully?" He said, "Peacefully." Then he said, "I have something to say to you." She said, "Speak." He said, "You know that the kingdom was mine, and that all Israel fully expected me to reign. However, the kingdom has turned about and become my brother's, for it was his from the LORD. And now I have one request to make of you; do not refuse me." She said to him, "Speak." And he said, "Please ask King Solomon--he will not refuse you--to give me Abishag the Shunammite as my wife." Bathsheba said, "Very well; I will speak for you to the king." So Bathsheba went to King Solomon to speak to him on behalf of Adonijah. And the king rose to meet her and bowed down to her. Then he sat on his throne and had a seat brought for the king's mother, and she sat on his right. Then she said, "I have one small request to make of you; do not refuse me." And the king said to her, "Make your request, my mother, for I will not refuse you." She said, "Let Abishag the Shunammite be given to Adonijah your brother as his wife." King Solomon answered his mother, "And why do you ask Abishag the Shunammite for Adonijah? Ask for him the kingdom also, for he is my older brother, and on his side are Abiathar the priest and Joab the son of Zeruiah." Then King Solomon swore by the LORD, saying, "God do so to me and more also if this word does not cost Adonijah his life! Now therefore as the LORD lives, who has established me and placed me on the throne of David my father, and who has made me a house, as he promised, Adonijah shall be put to death today." So King Solomon sent Benaiah the son of Jehoiada, and he struck him down, and he died. -1 Kings 2:10-25 ESV

Abishag the Shunammite found herself at a crossroads.  Having seen out the end of her great lord the King, she wondered where the rest of her life might go.  Once upon a time she had found herself in the place of power, fully in control of the world of her lord the King.  All news of the kingdom would be filtered through her, as her role as the Copier meant that his fragile heart would never have to hear about how many of his subjects prayed for his downfall.  Once, he had been a great hero to many; a reality TV star, actor, slumlord, and man about town.  "Perfect and majestic king, you will surely live forever!  Dance with your arms alone, and make the world turn!"  Now, however, his foolishness and incompetence, pushed on by his abject corruption, had turned his people against him.  Sending troops to fight foolish and endless wars based on fantasies he had derived in his head, renaming bodies of water simply to troll his former allies, pilfering his citizens in financial schemes in which he alone made money...his people had had enough.  And so upon his death, some of his people mourned his royal greatness, but most celebrated in the streets drinking strong ales and shooting off fireworks.  

Abishag the Shunammite found herself alone.  How would she provide for herself?  Her once legendary beauty was starting to fade.  The possibility that she would marry the son of the old King had been extinguished when that son foolishly had claimed power for himself and found himself on the wrong end of a sharp sabre upon the command of his younger brother Solomon, known to his pals as the Barron.   She had thrown herself at the new upstart of a king, but sadly he preferred skanky young college girls who were willing to pay exorbitant money for well-named energy drinks.  

Perhaps, Abishag the Shunammite thought, she could make her way much as her old lord had done.  "O lord, your ability to bleed money from others makes me smile."  A friend told her about something called a stablecoal...a perfectly worthless scheme in which she told her friends to buy, buy, buy a lump of coal engraved with a picture on it, and then charged a fee based upon everytime somebody else sold that coal to someone else.  Most of her fellow Israelites realized it was all a scam, even as it had been for the old lord.  But surely there were still gullible people out there.  All she had to do was look for the people still holding onto the past, wearing red turbans that screamed 'Make Israel Great Again!'  You could usually identify those people by seeing chariots propped up on wooden logs in front of their rundown huts, unable to actually go anywhere.  Many of them sat on barren patches of ground and screamed insults against their fellow Israelites...surely, they still believed the old lies.  These fools and their money should be easy pickings.  

But there had to be more, Abishag the Shunammite thought.  Even though she had no discernible skills beyond the ability to fawn over old men, Abishag the Shunammite would make her way.  Perhaps she needed to expand her view even further outward.  Surely there were old kings and tyrants amongst the nations who needed a woman like herself to fawn over them as well!  Even though her looks were fading, her skills at telling shallow men the lies that they wanted to hear were as strong as ever.  "Vladimir, I was a fool for not coming to you for so long.  Your shirtless rides on stallions have brought me ecstatic joy.  I will now serve you forever.   There's nobody like you, my beautiful lord!"  

Oh, the skills of Abishag the Shunammite, so ready to serve her own interests above all else!  May she be praised!  

Abishag the Shunammite, 3000 years later (pt. 1)

Now King David was old and advanced in years. And although they covered him with clothes, he could not get warm. Therefore his servants said to him, "Let a young woman be sought for my lord the king, and let her wait on the king and be in his service. Let her lie in your arms, that my lord the king may be warm." So they sought for a beautiful young woman throughout all the territory of Israel, and found Abishag the Shunammite, and brought her to the king. The young woman was very beautiful, and she was of service to the king and attended to him, but the king knew her not. - 1 Kings 1:1-4 ESV

And Abishag the Shunammite found herself wandering the halls of power.  Once she had been just another bubbly blonde on the local cable TV channel, until the day in which she found herself discovered by the king.  "Oh, I love the King!  He makes my life worth living.  I will follow him all of my days!" was the nightly cry of Abishag the Shunammite.  The king soon hired her away and put her into his service.  Paid a small ransom each month, most of her money went towards making herself attractive to her lord.  "You are my everything" she would write to him in small notes each day.  "You are the greatest king of all time, and will be greater than anybody else that will come, though I cannot imagine the universe continuing without you!"

Day by day Abishag the Shunammite continued to wedge herself into the old king's life.  Her need to be so close to him meant that she would run behind his golf chariot in high heels, and though she was told that there was no room in the limocart taking him back to Mara Slago, she crawled into the trunk to ensure that she could stay near.  "My life was incomplete until I met the King.  Even if I have no other life now, I at least can devote myself to him."  

Her influence continued to increase.  One day while fawning at her lord, she smelled something distasteful.  The old king has pooped his pants right before a important meeting with the Egyptian pharaoh; his constant diet of fried chicken and diet Coke had finally corrupted his digestive system.  How embarrassing, everybody might think.  But Abishag the Shunammite knew that one day this would happen.  In the suitcase she carried around like a sherpa was another wardrobe for the old king.  She quickly pulled him into the bathroom and quickly took off his stained garments.  She wiped the waste from his body, sprayed his body down with Fabreze, and diapered him back up in a matter of moments.  She then dressed him in an identical blue robe with a matching red turban, and got him back to his meeting on time.  "What would the world be without the brilliance of my lord?  I am his willing and faithful slave."

Oh, the goodness of Abishag the Shunammite, so ready to serve the interests of the king!  May she be praised!  

That Was Unexpected...

In my last post I talked about a vehicle I would see coming into the middle school parking lot every morning with a lot of stupid and marginally offensive bumper stickers.  The point of them was that Trump Is My Daddy and I Hate Liberals.  I fantasized about plowing into the back of the vehicle to take out the bumper stickers.  

So...a few days later I had a few minutes before my afternoon route from the time I filled up my bus and when I had to get to the school for afternoon pickup.  I stopped at the parking lot across from the gas station and was walking over to get a Dr Pepper, when who should pull up aside me but the Trump Woman and her horrible billboard?  "Are you a bus driver?  I wanted to stop and say thank you for all your hard work driving these kids.  My father was a bus driver, and I know how hard it can be."  And then she drove off.  

I gotta confess, I was not expecting that.  Over a year of fantasizing about plowing through the back of a car, and now the driver of that car that projects such hostility and rage speaks a word of kindness.  Who would have thought that was coming?  

I suppose the answer is the old cliche, that you can't judge a book by its cover.  Of course, if the book has a cover of a bloody robot destroying a handful of newborn kittens, you're not going to expect it to be a love of story.  How does somebody who intentionally promotes herself as a person of such rage then turn out to be a not-so-bad person of kindness?  

Maybe it's a lesson that shows the importance of being consistent in our words and deeds.  Because, for all I know, she might have driven off from me to go to a Trump rally that night or drive through the streets of our town looking for people of color to report to ICE.  I still see that vehicle almost every day and though I know she had a moment of kindness, I still don't trust her.  It only takes a moment to speak a kind word; it takes thought and consideration to put up that many terrible bumper stickers.  She might well be a nice person at times...but her soul is likely still dark as night.  

Middle School Pickup Line Dreams

There's an SUV I see leaving the middle school almost everyday.  It's a fully MAGA-approved vehicle, with a bumper sticker for almost every grievance.  The sticker that stands out the most identifies the driver as Christian.  Conservative.  Straight.  It then follows with a question about whether anybody is offended about this.  More than a few of the stickers use a lot of vulgar language about the intelligence of liberals or socialists or whatever else the owner heard about at some Trump rally.  There's also a big sticker with a hot cartoon blonde holding a beer and screaming Trump Woman.  I've seen the driver...definitely not hot.  But my favorite sticker goes something like, "If after the last year of Joe Biden's sh*tshow you still want to hate Trump, you're a f*cking moron."  Since I've seen that on there now for at least the last two years, I'd be curious to get her take on the last 18 months of the Trump administration's accomplishments.  

As I get stopped at the light right behind her in my giant middle school bus I sometimes dream about the trouble I might get in if I should happen to rear end the SUV and destroy all her precious, precious stickers.  The schadenfreude I might get from doing so probably isn't worth the scratches on my bumper or especially the chewing out I might get from my boss.  But most importantly, I'm not going to do this because I suppose we all need to realize that there's still that 38% or so of Americans who still can't see clearly.  Were they wholly cowed at the foolishness they have driven into maybe we'd forget that they they are there, and even here in Red State America the number of red hats and blue Trump flags (with the requisite "F*CK YOUR FEELINGS!" subtitle) seem to have diminished.  But they're still here, and that's important to keep in mind.  

I suppose I am offended, to her delight, at these stickers.  But not how she might imagine: So here's a woman who thinks of herself a Christian.  Probably loves the idea of Christian nationalism.  Thinks that Trumpy and his administration are doing God's work.  Should I see her SUV parked at Wal-Mart, I'd be tempted to put a note on it.  "So, you're a Christian?  Sorry, I didn't realize that the definition of Christianity has changed, whereby crass vulgarity, a delight in ticking people off, and worshipping an orange deity moved to the top of the creed.  Just wondering how on earth you create the 'Biblical' worldview that's shown on the back of your vehicle.  But hey, I'm sure that in your mind you feel assured in your holiness by the hour you spend at church every six weeks or so.  Good job, I'm sure you are creating the fruit of the Spirit everywhere you go, and I'm sure that you're going to be reaching your friends and neighbors for Jesus, even if it's not the Jesus we read about in Scripture.  Again...thumbs up!  Have a blessed day."

I don't know what to think about our country anymore, but the most depressing thing about it is the downfall of the Christian witness everywhere you look.  I used to think that we were about a half-century behind western Europe in our dismantling of a Christian worldview, but I think we've gone down a very different course, thinking we are yet Christian when in fact those things that some count as Christian are completely and wholly unChristian.  Sometimes I see much different bumper stickers with genuine Christian witness, but even then I am increasingly suspicious about how genuine their faith is.  And am I any better?  Does my contempt for my fellow believer show just how far we have all gone wrong?  

Maybe I won't be the one who rams into the SUV.  Traffic has gotten far worse in front of the school, and it would be a cryin' shame for somebody to wreck all that sweet, sweet hatred.

Pre-Grieving

"Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble." - Matthew 6:34 ESV

At the end of this calendar year I will re-purpose (OK, retire) away from full-time preaching.  In less than three weeks my youngest child will be heading off to college.  I fully expect a call in the next few months that one of my aged, increasingly frail parents will have fallen or have had some kind of medical emergency or have even passed away in their sleep.  And I am increasingly convinced that this year, the 250 year anniversary of the Grand Republic, may be one of its last.  

I've still got a few months to preach.  I am trying to enjoy my son before he abandons us to become a College Man.  I am grateful my parents are still living, and maybe I'm completely wrong about our nation's future, that Dimwit Donnie is just a blip in our nation's history before we finally wake up and realize the damage he and his minions are doing.  

But this year has been one that, if somebody someday decides to write my autobiography, will be titled 'The Year of Pre-Grieving'.  Even as our Lord has told us to not be anxious about what is coming, that each day has enough garbage in it, I'm already starting to deal with the struggles that I know will be coming soon.  

The classic five stages of grief are usually defined by denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. And so given that this summer has found me a bit sad quite often, I wonder if I've already been jumping the gun on the grieving that I will be doing for all of these things.  I've been truly angry about where our country is going.  Part of me is in a kind of self-denial that come the end of December I won't be standing before a captive audience several times a week.  Have I bargained a little bit about my son leaving, questioning whether he really wants to major in what he has said or wondering whether or not he'll really like it there and transfer back to somewhere closer within a year?  Am I even accepting that my parents will die having lived a good old age, since I have seen so many others do much the same thing through my years of working with elderly people?  

I suppose that my purpose in writing this today is to deal with some of the depression I've been facing.  I don't know that it's clinical, and I know that it's not debilitating.  Throughout life I've found certain little coping mechanisms; as a younger man I had a punching bag and a pair of gloves that allowed me to take out my frustrations; in recent years I have rediscovered video games, mostly driving and puzzle games that I can pop into for 20-30 minutes at a time.  But in recent weeks I've found how much I love an early morning walk where I get to clear my head and get ready for the day.  Most mornings I walk around 45 minutes through the streets of our town.  I see some of my neighbors doing much the same; do they struggle with their own sense of the future?  

Perhaps starting to cope with the things that are going to come will be of benefit to me.  Like checking in to an appointment or a flight the day before, pre-grieving has this way of watering down the annoyances of grief that are to come.  I've never been much of a procrastinator, as I try to get stuff done ahead of time...and maybe that's what I'm doing with the future griefs that are certain to come.  Who knows whether or not this is a good idea, but it's what I do.