"what I bring to the ring
as the bell goes ding ding
is that lyrical swing
to which I am king
...sprite, i'ight?"
Uh, seeing as how Pete likes to write about song lyrics, I figgered that
I'm game, I can fling woo, too. Unfortunately, while entertaining, the
above song fragment from a commercial has nothing to do with the "guest
thought" at hand. (Though it surely makes me desire clear bubbly
drink.)
By the way, my name's Bum, and I'll be your pilot this evening.
I think Pete wants me to talk about shtuffs that's been going on in my
life, some real testimony-type shenanigans. Normally I'd say sucks to
your ass-mar, Piggy (can I say this on TV?), I'm my own man. And this is
where I'd talk about whether or not people would eat poo if it tasted
like chicken, or if you'd eat chicken if it smelled like poo. Or about
Ben Affleck (for the ladies). I mean, you don't really want to hear
about how I worked in a comic book store for two years, do you?
Sigh. But I have too much love for Pete.
Stinking Pete.
And so I worked in this comic book store for two years, right? Up until
this past summer, I was a comics industry goon at the lowest level
imaginable, stocking shelves and sucking up to the man. But don't get me
wrong, goonery has its perks; the second half of my tenure there was spent
doing real simple stuff with the store webpage for quite a pretty penny.
And I had my own keys, and I made my own hours. I was in nerdy
nirvana.
Um, and I stole all this stuff. A little bit here and a little bit there
added up to this fat stack of crap in my house. Heh, by the way.
And time kept on slipping, and I gave them two weeks notice, and the
summer ended, and I was a newly transferred junior at UCLA. Chain
reaction changes, can you dig it; many new sights, sounds, experiences,
tastes? Lots of good stuff. And the obvious best, the king of the heap,
was the rebuilding of my spiritual life. I'd accepted Christ about four
years ago, but was still waiting for my free toy; for some reason, my
happy meal felt incomplete. I just hadn't taken it all the way-
somewhere along the line I'd gotten lazy and drifted off into
philosophical back-pedaling. I think it's safe to say that God was a
little more faithful- through a ministry on campus and later through a
local church, (and trick that, just through stinking everyday life,) I've
been blessed with far too much to stay the way that I was.
But words are easy, right?
That's what He seemed to keep telling me at the beginning of Winter
Quarter, as my thoughts started returning again and again to my days as a
comic book store clerk. While I'd feel truly remorseful, I realized that
I hadn't really repented, that my actions were not following the handful
of garbled phrases that trickled out of my mouth as I blubbered to Him.
Had I really changed? A number of ways to assuage my guilt came to mind:
I could work there again during the summer, and subtly put everything
back... I could sell everything on ebay, and send them an anonymous
check... I could leave the boxes of crap on their doorstep...
After a little soul-searching, I knew what I had to do.
This past spring break I was able to catch the owner of that old comic
book store while he was busy reorganizing the stock. I asked if I could
speak to him for a second; Under a nice sunny sky, I confessed what I'd
done. He graciously agreed to accept the six or seven boxes worth of
comics in my car, much of which he already rightfully owned. Later that
night, I also sat my parents down and let them know what their second son
had been doing with his time only a handful of months ago, and to let them
know that God had been changing their son, and refusing to let him stay
the same.
I'm so, so thankful for having had this opportunity to witness to them
through my actions.
Heh, and my life probably doesn't mean much to you. Especially if you
don't know me, and can't imagine the wonderful facial expressions
dancing across this handsome visage as these words of wisdom pass from
'tween my lips. But kyo, we live in this world with wonderful God, a
father who's not afraid to take care of his children, and I hope you are
able to take comfort in that. Much love, all of Pete's homies...
"I passed the mike to the brat
-and yo, I passed it back..."