For all the ways we like to bash our nation and leaders, I still like living here better than just about any place in the world. I think we get taxed too much, and I also think that the people we elect to be stewards of our financial contribution spend it way too foolishly, from the Feds right down to the local town council. You can't please everybody, so our budgets wind up somewhere in the middle give or take a few extra liberals or conservatives. As much of a left leaner as I am, I'd hate to see Cadillac social programs at the expense of unsafe bridges, or decreases in public safety. I think having 2 strong political ideologies to balance each other was exactly what the founding fathers had in mind, and I'm OK with that.
Back through the early years of this country as a collection of colonies, one idea bound the residents together; there should be no established national religion. This idea was so strong, that when we first broke away from Great Britain it was incorporated into the Constitution. Those early settlers here had witnessed first hand what having an "official" religion had done to England through history. A modern day parallel seems to be the nations which are Muslim and have a system of sharia law which is open to the interpretation of religious scholars. Doesn't matter whether you're muslim or not, you have to follow their moral code or be subject to Islamic justice. Christians have suffered for years in primarily Islamic societies, even those that are more modern and tolerant than others.
I'm a Christian. I believe that Jesus Christ was sent to establish the Lord's kingdom on Earth as the one true Son of God. That is my personal faith, and I struggle daily to live up to His code of conduct. In these United States, we are guaranteed the right to worship and live as Christians and the many different assemblies (Protestant, Catholic, Pentecostal) who all worship Christ.
I think that sometimes we twist history a bit and make a lot of assumptions about the founding fathers' stand on faith. More than a few times, I've heard Christian leaders exalt how we were founded as a "Christian" nation. It's true that most of our laws are based on Mosaic law as most of the founding fathers observed Christianity. I think if you read the First Amendment closely the words saying Congress shall "making no law establishing a religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof", you really can't glean more than 2 facts; Congress shall not establish a "state" religion, and shall not pass a law prohibiting any other religion.
Therefore, except for the "body of Christ" within this country we are in fact not a Christian nation. We are, in fact a nation of many religions; to each his own. To say otherwise would put us in the same light worldwide that Muslim nations under sharia law are viewed by the Christian world.
Christianity is not a nation. It's the heart of a number of individuals who profess their personal savior as individual parts of the "body of Christ". Part of this message clearly stated in the New Testament includes humility, forgiveness, tolerance, and a lot of other stuff that we find hardest to do when someone provokes us to anger, or causes us personal harm.
Since 9/11 there has been a growing fear of Islam and a number of malicious verbal and violent attacks on those who observe it. I can only hope that people who have righteous anger at the KKK, and American Nazi party (both of which embrace "christianity") don't view my faith in the same light as the radical muslim extremists who practice a violent offshoot of what is basically a peaceful religion.
There's a lot in the news lately about a planned mosque to be built roughly a quarter mile away from Ground Zero. Reaction has been a lot of hysteria, anger, media hype, and most prevalent; political maneuvering. There were practicing muslims who actually were victims of the 9/11 attacks.
Personally, I question the wisdom of Islamic leaders in choosing this particular spot to build. On the other hand, there's little anyone of Islamic faith could do right now that isn't under media scrutiny. A muslim could probably lynch a convicted pedophile and somehow there'd be a terrorist spin put on it.
In closing I'll say this. While Christian, and American, you can't just hold up the Constitution for protection when it suits you any more than you can profess a love for Christ whenever comfortable. In this nation, anyone has the right to build a house of worship wherever they can obtain the property. Regardless of that faith.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
Friday Night Memories of Dan
I don't have many good memories of my oldest brother Dan.
He was about 10 years older than me, and was a very angry person. I can't count on all my appendages the number of times his anger would show at my parents, or my grandmother, or me. He left home at 17; that is to say, he left our house and moved in with my grandmother. He and my father never got along well; Pop was a school teacher who believed in order and discipline and Dan was more of a free spirit who didn't like to be told what to do. Their major rift occurred when Dan was on the high school newspaper. Dan was in on a stunt that involved publishing a non-flattering story about the principal and one of the social studies teachers. There had always been a "hush hush" rumour the two were involved, and a story was published that pushed the limits of what satire high school journalists were allowed to invoke.
Dan was a bit of a self-centered guy; that is unless you asked anyone outside the family. I can't count the number of people who told me what a great guy he was. I generally remember the angry cursings he'd lay on Pop, or Mom, or Granny or occasionally me.
Tonight I read a story in the Charlotte Observer that brought back one good memory I have of my brother.
When I was about 8 or so, my grandmother lived across an empty field behind our house in a small neighborhood called Dal Wan Heights. You could see her home from my backyard, and that's the neighborhood I grew up in. Usually on the weekends, it was a big deal for me to walk across that field around dusk and spend the night on her living room sofa. Starting around 8, I could have the television to watch sitcoms like Brady Bunch, Love Boat, Sanford & Son, Fantasy Island, and then if I wasn't too tired I'd stay up for either the Late Show movie or saturday Night Live.
As Dan was in his late teens, he'd be out carousing with his buddies. Never a drinker or partier, he'd roll in around 11:30 or midnight and more often than not he had a Village Inn Pizza and 2 liter Pepsi tucked under his arm.
As much of a "pest" as I was, he'd usually offer me a slice or two of his pizza and pour me a glass of Pepsi. We'd then retire to his bedroom where he'd switch on his TV and turn it to reruns of Mid Atlantic Championship Wrestling.
There, we'd cheer on his favorites; Ric Fair & Greg Valentine, Sergeant Slaughter, The Four Horsemen, and a host of others whose names I've long forgotten. Occasionally, we'd have the beginning of a "deep" philosophical conversation, but usually it was a lot lighter. I think he just was really lonely and wanted some company before he slept.
Sometime after about 2AM, back in those days the National Anthem would play announcing the end of the broadcast day, then go to a test pattern. I'd retreat to the living room, and sleep until Granny woke around 9 and made me silver dollar pancakes with bacon.
Dan brought a lot of grief to my parents. He never really was able to support himself, and always seemed to make poor decisions about money management and the people in his life. In retrospect, he had a number of self esteem issues and was never able to establish anything more than superficial interpersonal relationships. The really sad thing is that he overlooked the very people in his family that could have been his cornerstone.
Still, on nights like tonight when I take inventory of the fun times I had in simpler times, watching late night TV & wrestling while eating pizza with Dan always seems to come to mind.
He was about 10 years older than me, and was a very angry person. I can't count on all my appendages the number of times his anger would show at my parents, or my grandmother, or me. He left home at 17; that is to say, he left our house and moved in with my grandmother. He and my father never got along well; Pop was a school teacher who believed in order and discipline and Dan was more of a free spirit who didn't like to be told what to do. Their major rift occurred when Dan was on the high school newspaper. Dan was in on a stunt that involved publishing a non-flattering story about the principal and one of the social studies teachers. There had always been a "hush hush" rumour the two were involved, and a story was published that pushed the limits of what satire high school journalists were allowed to invoke.
Dan was a bit of a self-centered guy; that is unless you asked anyone outside the family. I can't count the number of people who told me what a great guy he was. I generally remember the angry cursings he'd lay on Pop, or Mom, or Granny or occasionally me.
Tonight I read a story in the Charlotte Observer that brought back one good memory I have of my brother.
When I was about 8 or so, my grandmother lived across an empty field behind our house in a small neighborhood called Dal Wan Heights. You could see her home from my backyard, and that's the neighborhood I grew up in. Usually on the weekends, it was a big deal for me to walk across that field around dusk and spend the night on her living room sofa. Starting around 8, I could have the television to watch sitcoms like Brady Bunch, Love Boat, Sanford & Son, Fantasy Island, and then if I wasn't too tired I'd stay up for either the Late Show movie or saturday Night Live.
As Dan was in his late teens, he'd be out carousing with his buddies. Never a drinker or partier, he'd roll in around 11:30 or midnight and more often than not he had a Village Inn Pizza and 2 liter Pepsi tucked under his arm.
As much of a "pest" as I was, he'd usually offer me a slice or two of his pizza and pour me a glass of Pepsi. We'd then retire to his bedroom where he'd switch on his TV and turn it to reruns of Mid Atlantic Championship Wrestling.
There, we'd cheer on his favorites; Ric Fair & Greg Valentine, Sergeant Slaughter, The Four Horsemen, and a host of others whose names I've long forgotten. Occasionally, we'd have the beginning of a "deep" philosophical conversation, but usually it was a lot lighter. I think he just was really lonely and wanted some company before he slept.
Sometime after about 2AM, back in those days the National Anthem would play announcing the end of the broadcast day, then go to a test pattern. I'd retreat to the living room, and sleep until Granny woke around 9 and made me silver dollar pancakes with bacon.
Dan brought a lot of grief to my parents. He never really was able to support himself, and always seemed to make poor decisions about money management and the people in his life. In retrospect, he had a number of self esteem issues and was never able to establish anything more than superficial interpersonal relationships. The really sad thing is that he overlooked the very people in his family that could have been his cornerstone.
Still, on nights like tonight when I take inventory of the fun times I had in simpler times, watching late night TV & wrestling while eating pizza with Dan always seems to come to mind.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Sins of the family
I wrote awhile back about a 7 year old, Aiyana Jones who was killed by police in a "no knock" raid on a duplex in Detroit.
To refresh everyone's memory, Aiyana was sleeping on her couch when a Detroit SWAT team threw a "flash-bang" grenade through the front window of her home. Some few seconds afterwards, the "point man" entered the home and fired his weapon which struck and killed this child.
I for one am outraged, and have been keeping an eye on the Detroit News and Detroit Free Press yet their coverage of the investigation has been weak, and overwhelmed by the numerous other murders happening in the city.
I can't understand why all the secrecy, and I further can't understand why it's been almost 2 months and this investigation hasn't been completed with a result. I read one article in June that allegedly placed her father in the vehicle of the perpetrator (who lived in the other half of the duplex) during the drive-by shooting that started all this.
Despite the possibility that her family was either directly or indirectly involved as accessories before or after the fact in the original murder, there was no reason an innocent child had to die.
I'm going to continue to keep an eye on this, and would ask others to question the motives of the Detroit Police in keeping this under wraps.
No child should have to suffer the sins of their family, and professional law enforcement officers should be held accountable for such an obvious abuse of power/force, and what was clearly poor tactical judgement.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Love and fathers.
Today is Father's Day, and Dad is on everyone's mind.
I can't really relate to Mothers and their female offspring, but I can speak a word or two about fathers and sons.
My dad wasn't really a touchy-feely kinda guy. Save for WWII and the GI Bill, I doubt my father would have ever seen the inside of a college classroom. He was raised on a farm deep in the mountains, the second set of offspring from my grandfather's second wife. From what I understand talking with my aunts and uncles, Grandpaw Whitson was a ruthless disciplinarian with little time for shenanigans. Pop loved him, but decided to strike out on his own at an early age.
After leaving home for the Baltimore shipyards, he enlisted in the Army and served in the Field Artillery. Home from occupation duties, he made his way to East Tennessee State University and studied History and Physical Education.
Pop didn't have much of an affectionate way with kids. He kinda thought his lot was to make sure we didn't grow up hoodlums. His place in our family was along the lines of Judge and Jury, with swift justice being the main reason for his existence. If we ever needed soft guidance in matters of the heart or world that was up to mom.
The worst thing you could hear in our home was "Wait til Dad gets home". Those words instilled more fear on my brothers and I than about anything else you could hear. I'm not quite sure "grounding" had even been invented yet, because we usually saw whippings.
Pop wasn't without an occasional soft side. He loved to share his knowledge of cars, carpentry, and lawn care though we usually didn't see that as much more than another set of chores to complete. I will have to say that I couldn't hammer a nail straight or saw a board in half if I hadn't been cajoled into helping him with some of the literally hundreds of home improvement projects he oversaw over the years. Anything I know about car trading and haggling came from watching him shave a hundred bucks from a car salesman, or fifty cents from someone at a yard sale.
Pop was pretty vocal about our various career choices; he didn't care for any of ours. I think he was just wanting us to get a little bit farther than he did. His candidness about how we'd turn out was just as full of truth though we couldn't see it at the time. One brother of mine died penniless and in poor health, the other saw his money dwindle down before he drank himself to death. I'm still a "work in progress" so we'll have to see if I wind up in the poor house.
I never quite understood my father. He spent over 30 years working at a job he hated, while I work at something that will never get me rich, but I enjoy doing.
I spent a good deal of my life at odds with my father. It took the birth of my own son to bring us closer together. Seeing them interact and play on visits warmed my heart to him, and actually got through my thick skull that for all the imperfections our children and parents may have, we love them just the same. It also opened my eyes to fact that as a father, it is realy important to hear "I love you" every once in awhile.
I'm really glad I got to say those words to pop before he passed away.
Yeah Pop, I do love you.
I can't really relate to Mothers and their female offspring, but I can speak a word or two about fathers and sons.
My dad wasn't really a touchy-feely kinda guy. Save for WWII and the GI Bill, I doubt my father would have ever seen the inside of a college classroom. He was raised on a farm deep in the mountains, the second set of offspring from my grandfather's second wife. From what I understand talking with my aunts and uncles, Grandpaw Whitson was a ruthless disciplinarian with little time for shenanigans. Pop loved him, but decided to strike out on his own at an early age.
After leaving home for the Baltimore shipyards, he enlisted in the Army and served in the Field Artillery. Home from occupation duties, he made his way to East Tennessee State University and studied History and Physical Education.
Pop didn't have much of an affectionate way with kids. He kinda thought his lot was to make sure we didn't grow up hoodlums. His place in our family was along the lines of Judge and Jury, with swift justice being the main reason for his existence. If we ever needed soft guidance in matters of the heart or world that was up to mom.
The worst thing you could hear in our home was "Wait til Dad gets home". Those words instilled more fear on my brothers and I than about anything else you could hear. I'm not quite sure "grounding" had even been invented yet, because we usually saw whippings.
Pop wasn't without an occasional soft side. He loved to share his knowledge of cars, carpentry, and lawn care though we usually didn't see that as much more than another set of chores to complete. I will have to say that I couldn't hammer a nail straight or saw a board in half if I hadn't been cajoled into helping him with some of the literally hundreds of home improvement projects he oversaw over the years. Anything I know about car trading and haggling came from watching him shave a hundred bucks from a car salesman, or fifty cents from someone at a yard sale.
Pop was pretty vocal about our various career choices; he didn't care for any of ours. I think he was just wanting us to get a little bit farther than he did. His candidness about how we'd turn out was just as full of truth though we couldn't see it at the time. One brother of mine died penniless and in poor health, the other saw his money dwindle down before he drank himself to death. I'm still a "work in progress" so we'll have to see if I wind up in the poor house.
I never quite understood my father. He spent over 30 years working at a job he hated, while I work at something that will never get me rich, but I enjoy doing.
I spent a good deal of my life at odds with my father. It took the birth of my own son to bring us closer together. Seeing them interact and play on visits warmed my heart to him, and actually got through my thick skull that for all the imperfections our children and parents may have, we love them just the same. It also opened my eyes to fact that as a father, it is realy important to hear "I love you" every once in awhile.
I'm really glad I got to say those words to pop before he passed away.
Yeah Pop, I do love you.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Fitness at 47; He Ain't What He Used To Be.
47 came and went last Monday along with lots of hugs and kisses from my family and well wishes from my friends.
I've been thinking a lot lately about my health in general. Maybe it's a touch of middle-age crazy, maybe the cancer scare but I reflect on my life 5 years ago and can hardly believe the shape I've let myself slip into.
I never was much of a fitness nut growing up. My father was a coach, so naturally I rebelled by being an indoor kid. I was chunky all through school and the first 3 semesters of college, then got a job as a paramedic and my first boss said "you're on 90 days probation. If I don't see serious effort at weight loss you're outta here." I'd fought for that job, and traded in McDonald's for Lean Cuisine. Started jogging to burn calories and didn't take me the 90 days to slim down about 50 pounds.
It doesn't seem like that long ago I was regularly bicycling to work and taking a 15 mile detour just to get a solid workout in. Getting up at 5:15 so I could be the first person on the StairMaster was a daily occurrence, and I remember walking in again (for the second time that day) 7:30 PM one evening and heard one of the fitness trainers point at me and whisper "hardcore" to one of his colleagues.
I decided to start hiking because I was getting bored doing an entire hour on the climber without any change of scenery. I started with regular trips to Stone Mountain State Park above Elkin, then day trips to mountain trails in the western part of the state. Within 2 years, I'd joined a group and we spent an entire week hiking, including a climb to the top of Long's Peak. The Long's Peak climb started at 1AM, and we hiked through the night to get above the treeline. We summitted at about 11AM and didn't get back to the car before about 4 in the afternoon, then showered and went out for a celebratory beer and steak dinner. I amazed the other guys by being up at 6:30 the next day and taking a 5 mile run before we went into town.
A number of issues conspired to get me off track physically. My brother died in 2003 and I lost a good deal of desire then. My father's death, and then a difficult separation drove the final nails in the coffin of my program.
I kept my Y membership for a couple of years after I quit going. I'd try to start again every couple months or so, but somehow the drive had left me. I remember how embarrassed I was when I stopped by 70 pounds overweight and turned in my card. Likewise, selling my bicycle at a yard sale when we cleaned out our home for sale brought a measure of sadness.
I ate a good meal for my birthday; the last "good" meal I've had since. I've decided I've got one good fitness odyssey left in me. Today marks completion of my 4th day on the Couch-2-5K program on my iPhone. As painful as it is, I step on the scales every morning when I shower and mark it down. Every morsel of food has been measured and logged as to calories, fat grams, and carbohydrates. So far, I'm a walking sore but I find that sleep is coming easier and energy more plentiful. I have found that the recovery time at 47 is significantly more than it was at 40.
As long as the Naprosyn holds out, I'm gonna stick with it.
I've been thinking a lot lately about my health in general. Maybe it's a touch of middle-age crazy, maybe the cancer scare but I reflect on my life 5 years ago and can hardly believe the shape I've let myself slip into.
I never was much of a fitness nut growing up. My father was a coach, so naturally I rebelled by being an indoor kid. I was chunky all through school and the first 3 semesters of college, then got a job as a paramedic and my first boss said "you're on 90 days probation. If I don't see serious effort at weight loss you're outta here." I'd fought for that job, and traded in McDonald's for Lean Cuisine. Started jogging to burn calories and didn't take me the 90 days to slim down about 50 pounds.
It doesn't seem like that long ago I was regularly bicycling to work and taking a 15 mile detour just to get a solid workout in. Getting up at 5:15 so I could be the first person on the StairMaster was a daily occurrence, and I remember walking in again (for the second time that day) 7:30 PM one evening and heard one of the fitness trainers point at me and whisper "hardcore" to one of his colleagues.
I decided to start hiking because I was getting bored doing an entire hour on the climber without any change of scenery. I started with regular trips to Stone Mountain State Park above Elkin, then day trips to mountain trails in the western part of the state. Within 2 years, I'd joined a group and we spent an entire week hiking, including a climb to the top of Long's Peak. The Long's Peak climb started at 1AM, and we hiked through the night to get above the treeline. We summitted at about 11AM and didn't get back to the car before about 4 in the afternoon, then showered and went out for a celebratory beer and steak dinner. I amazed the other guys by being up at 6:30 the next day and taking a 5 mile run before we went into town.
A number of issues conspired to get me off track physically. My brother died in 2003 and I lost a good deal of desire then. My father's death, and then a difficult separation drove the final nails in the coffin of my program.
I kept my Y membership for a couple of years after I quit going. I'd try to start again every couple months or so, but somehow the drive had left me. I remember how embarrassed I was when I stopped by 70 pounds overweight and turned in my card. Likewise, selling my bicycle at a yard sale when we cleaned out our home for sale brought a measure of sadness.
I ate a good meal for my birthday; the last "good" meal I've had since. I've decided I've got one good fitness odyssey left in me. Today marks completion of my 4th day on the Couch-2-5K program on my iPhone. As painful as it is, I step on the scales every morning when I shower and mark it down. Every morsel of food has been measured and logged as to calories, fat grams, and carbohydrates. So far, I'm a walking sore but I find that sleep is coming easier and energy more plentiful. I have found that the recovery time at 47 is significantly more than it was at 40.
As long as the Naprosyn holds out, I'm gonna stick with it.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Graduation: The Morning of Your Life
Graduation morning at Davie County High School. Up at 7 for a 930 start time.
Katie, my girlfriends daughter will walk across the stage about 90 minutes from now.
I expect we'll hear all the usual cliche's about endings and begginings. Having lived with Jeannie these last few weeks leading up I can tell you that these same cliches apply to parents as well.
Contrary to what's in a parents heart, we don't raise our children to be with us forever. We get a precious few years to enjoy them before they make their own way in the world. They start to pull away from us in their teens as they try to find their identity. I think this is Nature's way of weaning us from them; not the other way around.
There is certainly a lot of excitement around us as we wait. You'd be hard pressed to find a single parent not beaming with pride.
My own high school graduation was held at night. I think it's fitting that this one is held in the morning as these young folks are in the "morning" of their lives. One of the best summers of my life was the summer between high school and college. There was just enough adulthood to feel independent and just enough youth to be relatively free of responsibility. As time goes on, this balance will shift and by the time you're my age the weight of responsibility will be quite burdensome.
Katie has a good head on her shoulders. She's had a plan for a couple of years now and will be leaving us for nursing school at the end of August.
We're very proud of her.
Peace until later. Tim
Katie, my girlfriends daughter will walk across the stage about 90 minutes from now.
I expect we'll hear all the usual cliche's about endings and begginings. Having lived with Jeannie these last few weeks leading up I can tell you that these same cliches apply to parents as well.
Contrary to what's in a parents heart, we don't raise our children to be with us forever. We get a precious few years to enjoy them before they make their own way in the world. They start to pull away from us in their teens as they try to find their identity. I think this is Nature's way of weaning us from them; not the other way around.
There is certainly a lot of excitement around us as we wait. You'd be hard pressed to find a single parent not beaming with pride.
My own high school graduation was held at night. I think it's fitting that this one is held in the morning as these young folks are in the "morning" of their lives. One of the best summers of my life was the summer between high school and college. There was just enough adulthood to feel independent and just enough youth to be relatively free of responsibility. As time goes on, this balance will shift and by the time you're my age the weight of responsibility will be quite burdensome.
Katie has a good head on her shoulders. She's had a plan for a couple of years now and will be leaving us for nursing school at the end of August.
We're very proud of her.
Peace until later. Tim
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Spiritual but not religious...just what does that mean?
I read an interesting article on CNN today.
Many folks on FB list their Religious View as being "spiritual but not religious".
I guess you'd add me to that group, although I say "Christian" on my various profiles. Here's my take on Religion versus spirituality.
First off, I think most Religions are man-made. Groups of folks got together and decided how to worship their deity. Typically, some early leaders who probably were a bit more eloquent in their speech and writings were able to persuade others to follow them in their own interpretations of ancient texts. This continues today, as various denominations actually get together and vote on their particular take on either the Bible, or Koran, or whatever physical record exists of Buddhism, Shintoism, Hinduism or other belief system.
Many times, the persuasiveness of the supposed scholar can lead to perversion of any said text. Fundamental Islamists believe quite differently than the average Muslim. The Catholic Church believes quite differently from most forms of Protestantism. Some groups who embrace Christianity (the KKK for example) focus on mere "sound bites" from the Bible instead of the whole picture. Daivd Koresch, Jim Jones, and Fred Phelps were able to persuade groups of folks that their views held some "special" ordained righteousness.
Throughout history, Kings, Popes, and others have decided what "The Bible" should be. Some books accepted by earlier Christians were kept in while others were kept out.
Here's my take. We are all gifted with an inherent sense of what is right and what is wrong. It's called a conscience. It is up to us to seek a personal relationship with a higher power as we define it (mine is Jesus Christ) through prayer. Without that constant contact through prayer, we will stray from the spiritual path we should follow.
I believe it is good to seek fellowship with others to keep us strong spiritually. I also believe most of all that it is that personal relationship that guides us through the day-to-day trials we face.
I think when seeking fellowship with others, it is equally important to keep both an open mind on spiritual matters, yet also a discerning eye and praying for individual guidance. Christ himself said in the end times there would be many false prophets.
Many folks on FB list their Religious View as being "spiritual but not religious".
I guess you'd add me to that group, although I say "Christian" on my various profiles. Here's my take on Religion versus spirituality.
First off, I think most Religions are man-made. Groups of folks got together and decided how to worship their deity. Typically, some early leaders who probably were a bit more eloquent in their speech and writings were able to persuade others to follow them in their own interpretations of ancient texts. This continues today, as various denominations actually get together and vote on their particular take on either the Bible, or Koran, or whatever physical record exists of Buddhism, Shintoism, Hinduism or other belief system.
Many times, the persuasiveness of the supposed scholar can lead to perversion of any said text. Fundamental Islamists believe quite differently than the average Muslim. The Catholic Church believes quite differently from most forms of Protestantism. Some groups who embrace Christianity (the KKK for example) focus on mere "sound bites" from the Bible instead of the whole picture. Daivd Koresch, Jim Jones, and Fred Phelps were able to persuade groups of folks that their views held some "special" ordained righteousness.
Throughout history, Kings, Popes, and others have decided what "The Bible" should be. Some books accepted by earlier Christians were kept in while others were kept out.
Here's my take. We are all gifted with an inherent sense of what is right and what is wrong. It's called a conscience. It is up to us to seek a personal relationship with a higher power as we define it (mine is Jesus Christ) through prayer. Without that constant contact through prayer, we will stray from the spiritual path we should follow.
I believe it is good to seek fellowship with others to keep us strong spiritually. I also believe most of all that it is that personal relationship that guides us through the day-to-day trials we face.
I think when seeking fellowship with others, it is equally important to keep both an open mind on spiritual matters, yet also a discerning eye and praying for individual guidance. Christ himself said in the end times there would be many false prophets.
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