Today’s topic – danger. A rather incongruous subject to my present state of safety and repose, but one is always more disposed to discuss dangerous things in security than when actually in danger. And why not? It is danger that makes safety so delightful and terrifying things that make simplicity and mundaneness so enjoyable. Only those who have never experienced danger can be bored by everyday life. And only those who delight in the everydayness of life can truly be ready for danger when it comes. The reason for this, of course, is love.

The person who is content and happy with life, enjoying mundane things and delighting in pure simplicity has a reason to fight. Better a farmer with a pitchfork fighting for what he loves, than a rigorously trained, hardened warrior that doesn’t care. That farmer fights because he loves his chores, his work, his animals, his mundane routines, his sweat, his dirt, his family. He fights because he wants to wake up early in the morning, watch the sun rising to caress his land with a glorious red glow, feed his animals and hear their contented chewing, he wants to scratch a pig’s bristled back and smell freshly cut hay, he wants to revel in the first moments of a newly born lamb and watch the baby horse taking its first steps, he wants to tickle his daughters, chase them around the barn, see their eyes sparkle, their giggles startle the horses, and straws of hay get lost in their curls, he wants to kiss his wife every morning, growing old with her, he wants to see his God in every blade of grass, in every drop of dew, and praise Him for sun, rain, joy, sorrow, laughter, and tears. He wants life with all its tiny, unimpressive feats and everyday miracles. He doesn’t seek out danger, but when danger comes he will meet it head-on, plunge into it with fear, but without a backward glance, because he loves.

The other man has become tired of life, mundaneness irritates him, simplicity bores him, he has no time, but all the time in the world. He fills his life with emptiness, surrounds himself with complexity to hide his loneliness, plunges into activity to mask his idleness. He has lost his curiosity, lost his imagination, lost his love…he seeks danger because he has lost his desire to live.

That farmer, if he loses his life to danger, gives it willingly for love. If he conquers the danger he praises God and comes joyfully back to his mundane life. The other man, if he loses his life, has given it willingly because it bored him. He sacrifices it because he is tired of it. That farmer offers his life back to God saying “thanks for the ride, it was a good one.” The other man shoves his life in God’s face saying “thanks for nothing, take this back, I don’t want it anymore.” If he comes through danger with his life, he is disappointed, the home-coming is anti-climactic and he is already seeking another drink, another draught of danger. In the words of G. K. Chesterton “A martyr is a man who cares so much for something outside him, that he forgets his own personal life. A suicide is a man who cares so little for anything outside him, that he wants to see the last of everything.”

Danger gives spice to life, it makes life worth living. But danger is also…well…dangerous. Let us not be so eager for danger that we forget to enjoy mundane life, and let us not cling so tightly to life that we are unwilling to face danger for its sake.

So I’m going up to give the gatekeeper my ticket so I can get on the plane, and this guy that had been passing out police stickers to kids comes up to me and says, “I noticed your T-shirt, I’m going to have to check your bag.” Mind you, this ominous shirt that I am wearing now is an orange college shirt from a college that does not have a violence record. Two-hundred students can hardly be considered a terrorist movement. So I try to explain that the college is actually a nice place with great drinks and pastries when he gets all big chested and tells me quite dubiously to open my bag. I do so with great haste. He then takes out this scanner that looks like a laser gun in the old TV series “Lost in Space” and sticks it in the opening. He didn’t find anything, but the passengers that I rode with looked at me funny the entire flight.

Why is it that we are guilty until proven innocent? Isn’t that supposed to be the other way around? I’ve heard horror stories from friends that just wanted to visit grandma who were strip searched and humiliated… in the USA. In the name of feeling safer, we have sacrificed our humanity. Is safety really our biggest worry? That reminds me of Dilbert and the “preventer of communications,” or some such thing. We are not allowed to profile, but we are allowed to treat all citizens as potential traitors. That is what we have fought wars over, what we hated the Russians for in the Cold War. Commies are supposed to do that, not us.

Oh well, I guess some perverts need jobs too. Not the security officers, the “scan scanners,” as I like to call them. Think about it. This is science fiction stuff we’re talking about. A scanner that can see through clothes? That doesn’t deter terrorists who hide stuff in cavities, that’s just an excuse to humiliate people. I wish I could see a benefit out of all this, or a logical reasoning somewhere, but really, all this does is makes us want to stay home. … … Wait, that’s it!

Okay, so here’s the plan. We make the people so sick of flying, that one day the only people who would dare go somewhere in a plane are the ones that are terrorists. It makes perfect sense if you don’t think about it. So terror wins in bringing about the end of free America and turning us to “safe” workers of the state. After all, we’re all in it together! Except for the politicians, they can do what they want. Safety must not be as important to them.

Here is the point. Human beings have a natural, though morbid, fascination with death. Why does the government want euthanasia? They want to kill, but they want to do it with a murder label across there face. Stalin had no problem with this label, and sported it in gold lettering on every occasion. That should tell us something. Being fascinated with death is a pass time for people like Stalin and our government, meaning, not for rational, Christian, thinking people. Now, now, I know that every Christian looks forward to that day when we die and are “present with the Lord,” and that’s all well and good, but having a love affair with black, rotting, corpses is wrong. All this to say I hate Tim Burton. Yes, hate.

Now you see where I’m going! I know your first thought was, “I’m not all that into death. What is his problem?” The truth is, you are that into death. Yes you are.

Question 1: Do you think the story in the first paragraph is funny, sick, or sad?

Correct answer: funny and sad… Your answer: sick.

Question 2: Are you angry that I speak of death in such a blunt manner?

Correct answer: You’re weird… Your answer: I don’t like to talk about death.

That’s enough; point made. If you are the one who feels “icky” when talking about the natural process of life called “death,” then you have a morbid fear of death. Not a fear of dieing, a fear of death. The correct view of death is the escape of being fascinated by it, either in fear or admiration. Think of it as what it is, the end of one life and the beginning of another. It’s really just another part of living. Equate a funeral to a wedding. They really are the same thing, except with different ways of expressing emotion.

In conclusion, Don’t worry about death, and don’t look at it with puppy dog eyes. Look at it as a cool thing everybody gets to do once, like getting married, hitting puberty, and loosing your teeth! By far, loosing your teeth seems to be the most unpleasant. And if some weirdo dies in a weird way, don’t hesitate to laugh at the irony. It’s a sign that you’re cultured.