Easter Sketch

Golgotha, "place of the skull"

Image: the 'Helmet of Salvation' atop a human skull.

Golgotha (meaning 'place of the skull') was the site of crucifixion on Mount Moriah, Jerusalem, Israel.

The Helmet of Salvation is part of the Armour of God referenced in Ephesians 6:10-18;

(10) Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. (11) Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. (12) For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. (13) Wherefore take unto you the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. (14) Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; (15) And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; (16) Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. (17) And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God: (18) Praying always with all prayer and supplication in the Spirit, and watching thereunto with all perseverance and supplication for all saints;


Salvation refers to freedom from bondage to sin and death (for us) by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.


The image therefore represents 'life for the dead'.

Joy Theory

JOY THEORY

WHAT IF JOY was to be both the inspiration and objective of every decision we made? Would we make different decisions? Would we change where we worked? Would we change our friends? Would we change how we spent our time?

Ask yourself. Why are we alive? What is life all about? What do we desire? Is it not joy? Is that not why we are here?

It's something I've been thinking about over the past several months. Why do we often not consider joy in every decision we make? And if joy is not the object of every decision we make, why do wonder why we end up unhappy, bitter, or depressed?

In light of these musings I have recently been testing a theory: The Joy Theory.

The Joy Theory

We were created out of love and were intended to experience and share unending joy. Nothing has changed. Life is meant to be joyful. Our spirits are meant to rejoice and seek good things. When we are pondering doing something, we should ask ourselves if joy is involved. If it isn't, we should ask ourselves why we intend to do it. Choose the things that lead to joy and really seek them out.

So this is what I have been doing. I have been trying to reconcile my plans and actions to joy. If I can see no joy coming about as a result of an action, I don't do it. If something will bring joy, I do it. 


I apply the theory to all aspects of daily life (when I remember); getting out of bed, what to have for breakfast, who to hang out with, whether to help someone in need or not, to sit and watch television or not, to go out for lunch or not, if I should go for a run. 
It sounds stupid, like all of those decisions are not very important ones, but I've found that they actually make a big difference at the end of the day. It also scares me to think about all of the things that I do without knowing why, things I don't really want to do.


It makes a big difference when you help someone out of a joyful heart or help someone out of joyless obligation.
As does going for a run.
Or having a cup of coffee in a cafe.


The above things do not really seem to be a problem if done joylessly, but what if our lives are a culmination of moments and decisions like these? If we choose badly, we deprive ourselves of joy. We forget why we are living. We forget why we were made. We lose perspective.


This is bad.


In my experimentation I have found that the Joy Theory is not just an applied rule but it is also an outlook. In seeking joy we are not just seeking momentary pleasures but long lasting pleasures. Joy comes from things that are immediate and things that are to come. Good and bad things have a habit of self perpetuating. We are the sum of our decisions. We choose the path in which we walk. We make the bed in which we lie. Where do we end up if our decisions are devoid of joy?


(Note that pleasure is not necessarily the same as joy).


Consider going to the pub when you are in a bad mood compared to going to the pub when you are in a good mood.
Consider buying a sweater when you have had a bad week compared to buying one when you have had an amazingly good one.


Chances are, going to the pub in a bad mood isn't going to end joyously. Chances are, in a few weeks, or months, whenever you look at the sweater you bought you will be reminded of the mood you were in when you bought it. Will you be reminded of that terrible week or that amazingly good one?


How about relationships?


Does application of the Joy Theory change the company you keep? The girl you pursue?


How about your job?


Or when considering consumption of that extra row of chocolate?


The Joy Theory. It's an interesting experiment. Why not test it and see where it takes you. 
I've been testing it and I'm a believer.


This blog is dedicated to my very good friend and fellow peregrino Matt Chernishov, who has made some very good decisions in the name of joy.


joy
–noun
1. the emotion of great delight or happiness caused bysomething exceptionally good or satisfying; keen pleasure; elation: She felt the joy of seeing her son's success.
2. a source or cause of keen pleasure or delight; something or someone greatly valued or appreciated: Her prose style is a pure joy.
3. the expression or display of glad feeling; festive gaiety.
4. a state of happiness or felicity.
–verb
5. to feel joy; be glad; rejoice.

You will show me the path of life. In Your presence is fullness of joy. At Your right hand there are pleasures forevermore. 

Psalm 16: 11

Wisdom (as pointed out to me by elderly ghosts)

How I Learnt to Seek Wisdom: The story of my elderly ghosts

It all began in the hospital. I heard the screams of dead people, past, present and future. They whispered and pleaded but received no answer because the sands of their life had already fallen through the hours of their glass.


But then I had to go and see the people on their way out. Some were kind souls. They were at peace. They understood their fate and destination and ushered the transition as if some sort of holiday. Others were opposites. They clung desperately onto their remaining breaths. They were wretched, disconsolate works that cursed an ambivalent and distant time keeper, or refused to acknowledge any such entity completely. Their essential angst burned with a desire for the destruction of everything and everyone if that was to be their fate. It was a dichotomy that I found hard to shake. If there was one thing I learnt from the departing, it was to consider the destination of accumulated steps, the directions I took, the decisions I made.


And so I would part their curtains and transport myself into some sort of purgatory. Heaven or Hell I told myself. Each had its inclination. There was not much I could do for the bodies that lay, but my contract dictated that I be there to at least give them the option - or sentiment - of disparaging movement. Some would greet me with a smile and a gentle squeeze on my hand but others would outpour a tumultuous internal dialogue. They spoke to me like ghostly apparitions. They warned me of mistakes and the pending apocalypse. With skeletal arms they grabbed me by the collar and pulled my face until it met theirs. I would be forced to look into their half-dead, receding, blood vessel scrambled eyes. 


"Listen!" they would say. "It's happening now! You think you will live forever! I was like you once but look at me now! It tricks you! Time beguiles and dispossesses. There will be no more footsteps, your destination determined. Beware. Pay attention. The thief pretends to be a friend and soon you will be gone."

This is why I no longer work in hospitals. I prefer private clinics. People are much younger. There is no eminent death.


But the elderly people still haunted me. They followed me from the hospital and sat in the room watching as I treated the younger, healthier people. They pointed certain patients out to me. Sometimes they nodded in approval. Sometimes they made a throat slitting gesture. I asked them what they meant by such signals but they no longer spoke because they were dead. And so the behavior continued. Sometimes there was a shake of the head, sometimes a nod, sometimes a slit of the throat. They would follow me to the tea room. When I left work at the end of the day, they would watch me through the window as I drove away.


After a couple of years of having these elderly people persistently follow me around I decided to consult a Great Physician on the matter. I told him about my ghosts and how they continually tried to communicate with me. At this point they were not only bothering me at work but had begun to follow me around everywhere. They would criticize choices of girlfriends, nod their heads in approval whenever I went for a run, fold their arms when I drank too much and conversed drunkenly in a nightclub.


"Why are they bothering me?" I asked the Great Physician.


"They want you to realize something" the Great Physician replied.


"What is it?" I enquired.


"There is nothing I can say that will not always be said" said the Great Physician. "And there is nothing that I can do that will not always be done. You must look, you must listen and you must pray. Everything in nature is a sign. It will be found by those who search and pray. But many do not bother. They are too stubborn, distracted or proud. The path to death is not with feet but led with the heart."  


And so I left the Great Physician's office and walked home with my elderly ghosts en tow.


Days went by and nothing changed. Work was the same. Ghosts would nod, shake their heads, or slit their throats depending on the patient. Life criticism was the same. When I ate my vegetables: nodding. When I went to the mall: shaking. When I considered contacting a particular girl: slitting of throats. I started to suffer from lack of sleep as the ghosts began to make a habit of standing by my bedside staring at me quietly through the night. I told them to go watch some television but they wouldn't listen. Every time I opened my eyes or woke from a dream their deathly faces would be staring at me.


One Saturday morning having woken to the staring faces of death I decided that I had had enough. I would finally get to the bottom of the mystery that was plaguing my life.


"What do you want from me?" I asked the ghosts.


They looked at me blankly.


"I know you can't talk so instead I am going to look to you for permission. If I walk in the right direction I want you to nod. If I walk in the wrong direction I want you to shake your head. And if I walk in completely the wrong direction, I want you to slit your throats. It will be like a modified version of Charades. You will guide my every action with your approval or disapproval."


The ghosts nodded happily.


And so I got out of bed: Nodding.


Slowly I walked towards the door to exit towards the kitchen but the ghosts shook their heads.


"You want me in my bedroom?" I asked.


They nodded.


I proceeded to slowly pivot on the spot and looked to the ghosts for approval. They nodded slowly and then nodded avidly and then proceeded to shake their heads when I had pivoted too far. I returned to the desirable direction and found myself facing my bookshelf.


"You want me to walk towards my bookshelf?" I asked.


They nodded.


There were not many books on my bookshelf. I picked up a magazine and the ghosts started slitting their throats.  I picked up a comic book and they started slitting their throats. I picked up a tennis ball: Slitting throats. Cricket trophy: slitting throats. Rubber band: Slitting throats. Paperclip: slitting throats. Half eaten apple: they pointed to the bin. Eventually I picked up a book. It was a book that I had neglected for some time but knew I should have been reading. The ghosts nodded.


I opened the book: nodding. I skipped to the back: shaking. I thumbed my way more towards the front: nodding. Eventually I found the right page and the ghosts were ecstatic. They threw their hands up in the air and celebrated, championing my achievement.


I proceeded to read from the book;


"Happy is the man who finds wisdom,
and the man who gets understanding,
for the gain from it is better than gain from silver
and its profit better than gold.
She is more precious than jewels,
and nothing you desire can compare with her.
Long life is in her right hand;
in her left hand are riches and honour.
Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
all her paths are peace.
She is a tree of life to those who lay hold of her;
those who hold her fast are called happy."


And with that, the ghosts were gone.




So the moral of the story is this:
Seek wisdom when you are young because it will set all of your paths straight. It will lead to a long, honest life of joy and pleasure, void of regret. It is a wealth that all of the money in the world cannot buy. You will rest easy and peace will find you.