I seem to be having typographical diarrhoea today

But whatever.

I was turning things over and questioning earlier this afternoon.

Why do I feel like I've passed my 'use by' date? All my drive and energy for work is gone, and apart from brief moments here and there, that's been true for the last 3 years or so. I'd rather surf than work, rather do nothing that read journals. There are times that I feel more than a little trapped into the need to earn a good wage and keep it up until the kids have finished their education and I can start the slow moulder down into retirement like so many guys I've known.


Why is the church compromised to death? I was reading 'The Eagle and child' earlier, talking about the 'fast food' culture, and it's got right into the church too. Now we have people offering seeker sensitive services, contemporary worship services, traditional hymn:prayer sandwich services and all manner of crap in between. We've got to the point where some people ask why we're even still questioning about women in ministry, we have practicing gay leadership and we have church leaders denying the virgin birth.

All these things come under the umbrella of 'church' now. The church isn't bad because this is happening: this is happening because the church went bad first.

As a teenager I left these things behind. I left the falsehhod of a pretending church for the reality of worshipping Jesus with others that wanted Jesus for His own sake. It was obvious which churches had life and which didn't. But instead of the increased polarity I expected, we've seen compromise. The 'dead' churches have begun to sing the 'right' songs, talk about the Holy Spirit, have little 'open prayer' interludes in the rigid format.

It's all become a large luke-warm pile of blandness, with something for everyone and no-one satisfied. Go ahead and vomit.

The worst of it? I've lost my edge, and now I'm 'nice' and embracing compromise myself. AND I HATE IT! But I'm too wet to fix it. I enjoy material comfort, buying things, good food, nice clothes, and 2.4 kids. I don't want to climb on the altar any more. The idea of street work fills me with mild anticipation and mild lethargy at the thought of arranging some.

This is Mr. Wishy-washy signing off another useless and stupid rant against nothing and no-one in particular except himself.