Do As I Say...

You're writing a "gospel," a chapter each day,
By the deeds that you do, by the words that you say;
Men read what you write, whether faithless or true—
Say, what is the "gospel" according to you? —Gilbert

"Do as I say, not as I do." I don't quite know where that saying came from but it's quite popular these days. This morning's ODB devotion was talking about this as well, that Christians need to be careful that their righteous and holy words match their actions else their "audience" is going to get mixed messages.

And isn't that the truth? I remember the girl that Jas' and I shared an apartment with was a trip. She was a minister in her church and had the most holier-than-thou attitude ever, but if you weren't a member of her congregation, she just didn't give two clicks about you. It wasn't that she was deliberately ill-mannered, it was as if she just didn't care.

I remember my Aunt and cousin came for Christmas, and we baked her a cake for her birthday and she had two bites and that was it. Then she'd talk bad about her fellow 'church sisters' behind their backs, wondering outloud why they thought she was monopolizing the pastor's time, when he was only 'helping' her. Even to the point where he was going to find her a plae to live - right across the street from the church, and rent free for the first three months, no less - so she could help with morning devotions.

I mean, okay, maybe nothing untoward was happening, but gosh. And then over Christmas (when we found out that in fact the pastor hadn't come through with the place to live) the choir master/music director started showing up. They'd spend their time in the living room in front the TV until all hours of the morning, which in essence is alright, but is quite inconsiderate when my Aunt and cousin are in the bedroom and she knows that Jas and I need to fold out the futon to sleep. I remember one night Jas and I just gave up and bedded down on the floor in the room with my Aunt and cousin and at sometime in the early morning hours she knocks on the door to say, "Oh, my company's gone now, so y'all come out." or something inane like that. I was too tired to curse her off, so I just told her curtly that it's okay, and shut the bedroom door firmly in her face.

It was even based on this 'house via pastor' that Jas and I had to plan and move on base because we wouldn't have been able to afford rent by ourselves (I couldn't work, no permit). Moving out in itself was a debacle, she was so far gone we nearly came to blows over a two-bit, cheap, Wal-mart toaster.

Sad, on my part too, I should've laughed in her face and gone back to the room and shut the door and ignored her manic screaming. Anyway, last thing I heard she was five months pregnant for the choir master/music director.

The moral of this story? If I wasn't already Catholic, she would've turned me off all forms of religion. And that's the saddest part right there, because who knows how many other potential Christians she turned off from God?

• Mood: tired as hell, did nothing but toss and turn all night
• Music: sirens on the main road