Title: The Holy Bible (King James Version), Book 2: Exodus
Author(s): Anonymous
Length: 25,957 words
Publisher: None
Rating: 5/5
Short-and-Stupid synopsis: Moses talks to burning-bush-God and hires his brother Aaron to help him convince the current Pharaoh to let the Hebrews go, as they are currently enslaved. Moses does some neat magic tricks: snake-staff, flies, frogs, blood rivers, locusts, plagues, burning hail -- that sort of thing. Each time, Pharaoh is totally like, "Okay, you guys can go." But then God makes him change his mind and Pharaoh is like, "No, they totally still have to be my slaves." God helps Moses kill a bunch of babies and shit, then Moses sneaks the Hebrews out of Egypt. Pharaoh gets understandably pissed and hunts them down. Moses parts the sea, Pharaoh goes after them, and gets swallowed up as the sea comes back together. Moses then wanders around with his people for a bit. His people are all like, "Yeah, we're kind of upset and hungry. You need to perform miracles." Moses makes it rain bread or something. The people are okay for a while and stop at a mountain. Moses decides he needs some laws to lay down to keep his new gang under control, so he hermits up in the mountain for over a month and talks to God. Meanwhile, the people get bored and make a cow statue. God talks to Moses about interior decorating and fashion, then is all like, "Hey, I'm going to murder your people I just helped saved because of that cow statue." And Moses is all like, "Cow statue? Dude. Don't murder people, God. That's evil." And God has chill. Moses comes down from the mountain with his tablets that he's been working on for a month, sees his people having a good time all naked and stuff, and he throws a bitch-fit and breaks his tablets. He orders a small group of guys to murder 3,000 of his own gang, just because he needs to keep them in line. Moses destroys the statue, then goes back up on the mountain for another month to redo his tablets. God is totally into telling Moses about his interior decorating ideas and is all like, "Yo, pimp my Ark. Give Aaron some sweet threads." Moses comes back down and is all like, "Hey, these are the words of God. Don't do this shit." Moses then follow's God's interior decorating and fashion ideas.
Favorite quote: 2:22 "... I have been a stranger in a strange land."
My parents weren't opposed to me going to the Christian youth group, but they weren't necessarily pleased about it. My mother was the most vocal in her displeasure.
"You know I don't like those people, Derek," she said. "They're just so... judge-y. You remember the arcade protest. You remember about the little pink church."
My mother grew up in extreme poverty in the middle-of-nowhere Arizona desert. Her and her family had tried to go to church for the first time, but were, more or less, cast out due to their ragged clothing and uncouth appearance. Mom had sworn off organized religion forever, choosing to "follow God" or whatever she wanted to call it in her own manner. The little pink church still exists and I have seen it alongside the road in my scant few visits to Arizona several times. My father, coming from somewhat of a similar background, had been a door-to-door Bible salesman in his youth and had once been devout; though time, depression, and the drudgery of every day living had pulled him out of The Faith. He was a reserved skeptic, but quiet, as usual, on the subject. Talking about it made him uncomfortable.
I was in my 6th grade year at the time and nearly friendless. My friends I had made at the arcade were gone and in college, though several stayed behind and hunkered down into the slow pace of small town Iowa living for the long run. I had met a boy who shared several of my classes, who had an interest in zoology, Star Wars, and other nerdy things. I had met someone who was, for the most part, a lone and awkward comrade-in-arms. His family was Baptist and, after some prodding, had convinced me to join in his weekly youth group meetings. There, I found other outcast kids, had snacks, talked about faith and morality, and played games.
In short, I felt like, for the first time, I truly belonged somewhere with people my own age.
It was a refreshing feeling and the irony was not wholly lost upon me. I recognized I had, to some degree, sided with the enemy, as the adult members of the group were some of the picketers from that fateful day at the arcade. Maybe they were right. Maybe I was full of evil and I needed to do something about it.
So, I turned to God and all His majesty. I became very critical and sensitive to everything.
"I can't even say the word 'retarded'?" my mom once asked, after I chided her. "Or 'fuck'? Who are you becoming? Why are you judging me?"
It took me three years to realize I didn't like who I was becoming. Would I have been any happier if I'd decided to become fully vested in my religious exploration?
Image courtesy of Panels.net.
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