acloudtree

To Love or to Loan

When Jaimi and I were first married, we were living in Oregon and had in our possession a Pontiac Grand Am, which even then was on its last legs. After a couple years, it was apparent that the car was not going to make it much further. So my brother, being the kind of guy he was, drove over for a visit.

“Hey man” he said one night “I was thinking of flying back home tomorrow and leaving you guys the mitsubishi pickup. I want to get a different rig anyway, so if you want, you could just give me a thousand for it” his smile was huge, and his dimples were deep. It was obvious, that Jaye was trying to help us. His little mitsubishi was easily valued at over four thousand dollars. But this was the type of person he was.

“Well-” I said stumbling “-we can’t really afford to pay that all at once.”

“I know, I know” he replied. Pulling his hands up, palms out, trying to reassure me. “Just pay me $25-$50 a month for however long it takes. Does that work?”

I smiled “Thanks Jaye, that will help out a lot.”

And so he flew home the next day and time flew right along with him. Days turned into months, and at the end of each, I would sit down and pay the bills. But every month, I would think to myself

You know, Jaye doesn’t need this money right now, he won’t care if I skip this month.

And so I would willingly choose to short my brother. The dude that I am supposed to love and protect.

Three months turned into six, six into nine, and pretty soon a year had passed.

Jaye called me one afternoon asking ”Hey brother! I am driving over for Jaimi’s graduation next weekend, is that cool?”

“That will be awesome!” I replied. Though I knew in my heart, that I wasn’t totally stoked. Because as we all know, when you haven’t been fulfilling your part of a promise, you carry it around like a loose bag of stones.

Jaye arrived on a Friday, I remember him getting out of his new Honda accord and we embraced in a very long hug. Because of Jaye’s history with epilepsy, I remember holding him while thinking

Is this the last time I’ll get to hug my brother?

But this type of thought was fairly common for me. I was the one who originally had found Jaye suffering his first seizure. With all the close calls He had had throughout his life, my brain just digested his condition as increased risk. And at these moments, thoughts like this formed around that fear.

“Good to see you Jaye” I said.

“Well, it is great to see you” he laughed as he spoke. The inside joke being that he knew by using the word “great”, that he had one upped me in our faux sibling rivalry.

The weekend seemed to fly by. And it was filled with hanging out, laughing, and seeing Jaimi walk down the isle to receive her Masters in Education. But throughout all of this, never once did I feel any awkwardness from Jaye. Never once did I feel that he was letting my broken promise affect his love for me.

Before we knew it,  Sunday was upon us and Jaye was by the door starting the ritual goodbye.

He gave me a hug and said “I love you Jared”

“I love you too Jaye” I replied, letting him go. And I watched him reach down and grab his bag, turn his back, and walk out the door.

Realization hit like a lighting bolt as I recognized that Jaye was going to let me off and was not going to bring up the owed money. The grace he was offering me was easy to see, and through his actions, proved that he loved me more than the potential damage in trying to collect. And with this knowledge, my pride bent, and my body acted.

“Hey Jaye!” I called out towards his back. He stopped and slowly turned, walking back straight to the door. When we were standing in front of each other I started to speak.

“I just wanted to let you know-” I began, as my gaze found itself upon my feet and my fingers scratched the back of my neck in awkwardness. “-what I mean, is that I need to apologize to you, for not sending you any money for the pickup. That was wrong of me, and I am sorry.”

Jaye stood still, for what felt like a very long time. Then he took a step and leaned into me, giving a giant bear hug. Pulling back, he held me away from himself by gripping each of my shoulders in one of his hands. I could see that his bright blue eyes were happy, and the depth of his dimples forecasted this same joy.

All he said was “I knew you could do it.”

He then patted my shoulders and turned around taking off at a jog. Quickly escaping the depth of emotion that I knew we were both feeling, upon the newly recovered foundation that had been constructed.

Calling out over his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon!”

I yelled back “But Jaye, what about-”

Without turning to face me, and still in stride, he yelled “Don’t worry about it, I don’t care about the money!”

That was the last time I ever saw Jaye, for not a month later he was dead. But when I think of this remarkable life lesson, I am in awe of what he taught me. Which is that a loan is ruled by profit, but grace is entirely funded through love. And it is easy to see, that Jaye truly knew how to love.

* * *

June of this year, marked the five year anniversary of Jaye’s death.  The worst thing about this, is that Gracie was born into a world where her uncle will only exist in stories. I almost couldn’t complete this one, because of the emotion it brought. But if Gracie Jaye is going to learn about her namesake, I knew I had to get it out. Thanks for reading.

The Laundering of Christianity

About a week ago, in honor of the 4th of July, I began writing about the laundering that many Christians take part in. Where we are readily able to stand up, throw back our heads, and yell a very deserving God Bless America. As if we ourselves had worked for the America we now reside in. And with this creed, we continually miss the point, that we don’t deserve a thing.

I have thought about this a lot, on just how and where we go wrong. And I think, at its core, we seem to lose sight in the washing of our “sins” from the corporatocracy that owns our beloved country. As we sit silently by, and buy the goods that these mega corporations offer us. We seem to feel that because we are not doing the “direct” harm, that this leaves us unaccountable for our actions. Yet our ignorance is ever apparent to everyone else. The mega-corps do our dirty work,  but everyone still knows that we, the Americans, are the fuel that feeds the engine. And we are indeed accountable.

In America, it is routinely claimed that over 80% of our population identifies itself as Christian. And with this statistic in hand, the right rises up and shouts its venom like ideology. Wielding its version of the truth in one hand, and its mighty self ordained sword of justice in the other. But I would argue that we should focus not on the minority, but on the majority. And it is easy to see, if you really want to, that 100% of us worship at the alter of consumerism.  This ancient religion is nothing new, but is a splendid showcase to our pride and self belief. Yet history teaches and proves that this cannot and will not last.

Now, I rarely comment about church, because a lot of times I hear the same corporate voice at work in its message. But this 4th of July, something different awaited me. And so this is where I edited out a large portion of my post. To include a risk that Ken Wystma took, as he read a beautiful essay written by Micah Bournes. Here it is.

A wise man once said to me “the more I study history the harder it is to be a patriot.” America the beautiful, built on biblical principles and the backs of slaves. Manifesting our destiny from New England to the California coast, desecrating most native civilizations that got in our way. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m no afro centric conspiracy theorist with a slavery chip on my back, in fact, I’m proud to be an American, I love running water and Mickey D’s, religious freedom and democracy, but recently I’ve asked myself, what does it mean to be free? As natives of the U.S., liberty is engrained in our constitution and DNA, but if your freedom is married to your American rights, will you still be free when America dies? And America will die. No, I’m no prophet predicting the future, I’m a historian observing the past. From Egypt to Babylon, the Greeks to the Romans, in their moment, they felt invincible, little did they know, their temples would erode, their cities would burn and their coliseums would crumble with a roar as loud as that of the crowds which filled them before they fell to the ground.   The globe continued to roll. A new empire rose, then fell, passing the torch to the next generation of fools convinced they would eternally rule. So what makes us think we’re the exception? let me repeat my question. If your freedom is married to your America rights, will you still be free when America dies? What does it mean to be free? Bondage is a spiritual state, not physical chains; realistically most Americans are still enslaved. Mastered by their own desires, aspiring merely to aspire higher, driven by their insatiable appetite for material wealth and physical pleasure, wondering whether their labor will ever end. Slaves in need of liberation. In need of a freedom like Silas and Paul, fastened in stocks to a Roman prison wall, yet feeling so free they sang hymns to their liberator. For our freedom is greater than shackles. If  ever America is tackled by a foreign kingdom, and US citizens are enslaved or imprisoned, I will still have freedom. Freedom that is true, having nothing to do with a bill of rights or a politician, The Declaration of 1776 did not ensure my independence, nor did Lincoln’s proclamation bring my people emancipation, true liberation comes only by salvation. Salvation comes only by faith in Christ. Until you believe that the son of God died and resurrected so you could be free from your sin, you will never know liberation. And If you believe that the son of God died and resurrected so you could be free from your sin, no prison cell or ball and chain can ever take your freedom away. For he who is called in the Lord [while] a slave is the Lord’s freedman. Stand fast therefore in the liberty by which Christ has made us free, and do not be entangled again with a yoke of bondage. For if the Son makes you free you shall be free indeed. So tonight as we cheer for our moment in time, watching millions of dollars explode in the sky, I pray you consider this question of mine; will you still be free when America Dies?

It gave me hope, that something that I have been pondering and struggling with for twelve months, is also something that others have been wrestling. And this essay now lays the foundation, and points towards action. And so I ask myself

“How can I short circuit the engine that I so despise?”

One last thing that I would beg, is that you please don’t think me unpatriotic. For I do love what the true American Ideology is founded on. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And I feel America has the potential to be filled with that again. But currently, with everything I see and feel, with the selfishness and inequity so rampant across our world, and with the part that America and her Christians play in it, I can easily say that I am sad to be an American.

Copyright © Jared Folkins
Programming, Computers, Writing, Economics, and Life

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