Feral! Report -- Day 6/7

All too soon, the final morning came. I had already packed up most everything, so all that remained was to strip the bed, fold up the sheets, and stuff them in the suitcase. Also, Wolfin had passed along a few souvenir-type items that he did not want to take back with him, so they ended up in my suitcase.

After breakfast were the closing ceremony and group picture. It took a few minutes to get everyone rounded up, so quite a few of us sat on the main lodge stairs and waited. And waited some more. Eventually, all the furries were corralled into one location so they could be shot more easily. From what I have been told, usually they spend fifteen minutes or more shooting us with a lot of cameras, but this year they had the idea to coerce one person into taking one group shot, ideally to reduce the time it took. I suppose it worked. There are pictures available online for those who wish to look. I do not wish to link it though.

After that, and packing and getting on the bus, we were ready to leave. Of course, there had to be a roll call to make sure everyone was on the bus who was supposed to be, and no one was trying to stay behind. After all weekend one of them still had trouble with my name. He did get it right though, the second time.

On the trip back, Wolfin and I sat beside each other again, as we did on the way up. We sat in almost the same seat, too, maybe even the same one. We can be creatures of habit I suppose. We made ourselves comfortable, knowing that we had four hours ahead of us, and engaged in conversation with some of the people around us, whom we now knew and were no longer complete strangers. (Blackfeather Tanfur, for example.)

We passed around our camp books for each other to sign, while on the bus. The idea behind that is this: on the bus, they are a captive audience and cannot escape. Perhaps they could simply pass along the book to the next person, but that would be rude, no? I started out with a pen and ended up with someone else’s pencil. Sorry about that, if it was dear to you. I have no idea whose it was and have no way of returning it to you. You can have my pen instead. I placed a contact card in each book I signed, but I’m not sure how many of them stayed in the books. I suspect some of them fell out.

For lunch we stopped at a hamburger place called Weber’s. It was good I thought. Again, we had only 30 minutes to eat, but we were there for about an hour is my guess. It took a while for everyone to get their food. It was there that I finally had poutine. (The camp served some version of it the night before but I refused to touch it then.) Wolfin had all but threatened to make me eat it in the weeks before we left, so he should be satisfied.

As it turns out, I like it. Not enough to eat it all the time, which is probably a good thing because nothing about it is good for you, but I like the taste.

That was about the halfway point, so we got back on the bus and went the rest of the way to Toronto. Somehow, the trip did not seem to take very long in either direction. Perhaps the lack of traffic helped especially, coming back. But when we got to the dropoff point, it was time to unload the trailer and see everyone off. Wolfin took a taxi to the airport and flew out later that evening, and I took the subway to a hotel downtown.

It was a sad parting.

I did not do much that night. Had supper, walked around Toronto a little bit more, and went to bed.

The next morning I was ready to get to the airport, so I could go home. The trip had been quite fun, but it was time to return to the Carolinas. Checked in for the flight, got my ticket, went through US Customs (truly my least favorite part of any international trip… I have never met a US Customs official who was not rude) and finally security before entering the terminal. I had a little while before my flight, so I checked email and talked on Skype with Wolfin and some others, and when it was time for lunch, found something to eat.

Afterward things got a little more exciting. I did not have a direct flight from Toronto to Charlotte, but had one layover in Chicago. Now, this would be fine except the flight to Chicago was delayed, and delayed so much that I would miss the next flight. Now, my bag has already been checked and is no longer with me, so I don’t like knowing that I may be separated from it. After talking to someone at the airline’s customer service desk, they were able to find a direct flight to Charlotte and move my bags to that flight. They also printed a new boarding pass, and it was then the computer system decided to hate me and flag me as needing additional security screening. In order to board the flight, I had to return to security and get them to stamp my boarding pass, so I could board the flight.

I don’t think they’re used to people going from the terminal to the secure area. At least they were pleasant about it.

Once that was cleared up, I went to the new gate and waited to board. Soon I was in the air and on my way to Charlotte, and early enough that I could make it to church that evening, which I had not expected to be able to do.

Feral! Report -- Day 5

All too soon we reached the last full day of Feral, and I was determined to make the most of it. There were still things I wanted to do that had not been done (kayaking), and that, at least, was on my to-do list for the day. Otherwise, who knew when I would get the chance to go kayaking on that lake again? As much as I’d like to go back, the next one’s a year away, and who knows what can happen in one year, much less two or more?

That was also the day the weather decided it would be a good time to rain. The camp staff referred to it as “silver sunshine”… they might need to be reacquainted with sunshine because I do not quite have the same opinion of it that they do. Fortunately I enjoy the rain, so it was not a negative by any means.

Sometime after breakfast was the writing workshop with Rikoshi. A few weeks before Feral, there had been an announcement sent out (it was well-hidden, and many did not hear about it) that anyone who wanted to submit a story for the workshop could do so. Wolfin and I decided to do so, and as it turns out, we were the only ones. That meant Rikoshi had to suffer through our stories and did not have any others to read and recover from what we put him through.

It turned out all right, though.

Since there were only two people who submitted stories and only three who had read the stories, that was not quite enough for a not-awkward workshop, and Rikoshi had managed to draft about four other people into the workshop. So we all sat around the table and read each other’s story, and the audience was able to provide feedback. Now, we did not read our own, and we did not read the whole thing. I read about a page of Wolfin’s story, and he read a page of mine. He did not quite get the accents right, but that’s okay. I never told him that I was mimicking a select few of the South Carolina dialects.

Now that I think of it, that’s probably for the best. He hasn’t quite mastered the generic Southern accent, much less the more specific regional dialects. Maybe in time that will change.

We both got good feedback from it, I think. Also, since there were not very many stories to talk about, that just meant both of us got a more in-depth look at our own stories. We talked as a group until something like thirty minutes before lunch, so we hung out and then grabbed something to eat. I can’t remember what we had for meals on what day, anymore. That knowledge left me within two days of returning home. Sorry if you were waiting to hear it.

After lunch was staff vs camper dodgeball. The staff lined up on one side of the court, and the campers on the other, and we proceeded to pelt each other with mostly-inflated rubber balls. (There were two types: blue ones that were effective, and a yellow one that no one wanted to use.) To add to the fun, the court was wet from the rain. Not only wet, but also slippery. Now, I do not have a strong throwing arm. For that matter, I have next to no upper body strength as it is. I prefer the “dodge” part of dodgeball. Wolfin was much more enthusiastic about getting up to the front and getting as many people out as possible, before becoming a casualty himself, and I was content to lurk in the back and use the rest of them as human shields. This generally meant I was one of the last out, and also one of the most useless.

Did you know that getting hit by a dodgeball in the neck is not fun? I tried to catch it, and that did not succeed.

Afterward was the campwide game. I had not participated in a weekend-long game where people went around and got answers to trivia questions or be recorded as having participated in various activities, so I wasn’t able to play. You will have to wait for the ‘fin to tell you about it. He should in the next few days, otherwise poke him until you get your report.

Instead of the game, I went kayaking with Kuprin and Pathfinder. It took a few minutes to learn how to go in a straight line, and also to convince myself that the plastic banana I had squeezed myself in was not going to flip over. We had two options: we could go over to where a beaver dam possibly was, or we could paddle to and around an island. We chose the island. That was probably the better choice, too. On the far side of the island from camp, we came across a few loons, one of which came surprisingly close to our kayaks. Once again, I have no pictures to prove it, but we drifted for a few minutes and watched until they got tired of us and moved on to something else.

After that was a very long hike with Pathfinder to a creek something like two kilometers from camp. (I could be very wrong on the distance, but the hike was longer than expected and the sign I saw did say it was 2200-something meters to the lake. Maybe my distance estimation is off.) This trail was also narrow, and that was the only time of the trip that any insects were annoying. A couple black flies decided they wanted to sample coyote. They must not have been very interested because by and large they left me alone.

Cabin skits were that night. Our cabin had not done much of anything in the way of preparing and letting me know about it, so I found out sometime around supper time what we were going to do. Most of the cabin did not have any speaking parts, we just had to annoy the person who did, and then Wotan finished up with a song. Apparently he is known for that?

Cabin skits are best when short. The shorter ones can usually be witty. Too long and they get kind of dumb.

After that, it was time to go back to the cabin and start packing, and accept the fact that Feral was more or less over. It was fun, but it had to come to an end I guess. Then it was off to bed, and sleep. Tomorrow was the trip back to Toronto.

Feral! Report -- Day 4

On this, the second day of Feral!, I actually learned how to use the hot water in the shower. Now, you may not think that’s very important, but believe me it is. I was not about to be tricked by Camp Arowhon into doing the Polar Bear Swim unwittingly. The trick to get the hot water to work is to turn the hot water on. Yes, coyotes can be stymied by the simplest of tasks.

There were two things I really wanted to do at Feral! aside from see Wolfin: go kayaking and do some hiking. Sunday was hike day. Now, it is always important to let someone else know that you are about to go traipsing off into the wilderness, so they know to send out a rescue team if you don’t come back. It’s also good to go with a friend, so if you do get lost, you can get lost with a friend. After informing Potoroo and some of the others about my desire, and learning about a few of the trails behind camp, Wolfin somehow got roped into going hiking with me, and off we went.

There are a number of trails with impressive views back behind the camp, and it’s quiet out there too. Camp is quiet as it is, but take away the hundred-odd furs and the stillness is so profound it’s impossible not to hear oneself think.

There are lakes everywhere up there, and naturally the trails take you to a couple of them. Over the course of the morning, I believe Wolfin and I hiked all the major ones. The first took us to Beaver Something-or-other, where we stopped at a rock promontory and stared at the meadow and pond several yards beneath and before us. The weather was pleasant that day, and so we stayed there for a few minutes admiring the beauty before deciding to move on. On the way back, we passed by another, larger lake. The water was so black and smooth, it offered a magnificent reflection of the trees and sky.

There were two things we forgot, and a third would have been useful. Sunscreen we had, because we did not wish to be burned. Bug spray we did not have, and neither one of us had enough water to be useful in time of emergency. (Although I suppose we could have consumed the lake water and risked the parasites later if we had to.) I am not accustomed to taking water on moderately short, well-marked trails, especially when it is as cool as it was, not even hot and humid enough to break a sweat. This leads me to the second item we forgot: a map.

The trails are supposed to be marked, and they are.

Just not well.

Their idea of a marker was a painted wooden block, weathered from exposure to the elements and posted at long intervals. Something a little more eye-catching would have been nice, although I do have to give them credit for the sign they posted at a crossroads. (Also, Croft State Park just a few miles away from here has as bad or worse markers.) It was also evident the trails did not see much use, as grown up as they were in places. It was never too difficult to see the trail, though, just difficult at times to tell which was what. The obvious exception was near the stables, where horses walk the trail and trample it to mud. At least when you see that (and other things) you know you can’t be too far from the camp.

We made it back alive, I think. Could be wrong.

After lunch was another game of watermelon football, but I had other plans. Rikoshi, last year’s guest of honor, returned this year as a regular attendee, and he led a writer’s workshop on constructing a furry world. We had to wait a few minutes for the building we were meeting in to be unlocked, but it was not long before we were able to begin.

The workshop was not quite what I expected, which was a good thing because it turned out to be far better. Discussed was the difference between different types of furry stories (is there a reason for their furry-ness, or is it just the way they are?) and there was a writing exercise at the end. Papers were passed around, and in one of the corners was written an occupation, a species, and a genre. The idea was to write the opening to a story connecting all three; or, failing an opening, to provide a synopsis of a story. I was presented with: turtle, piano tuner, day-in-the-life.

You will never see this story.

After the workshop was a game called Predator vs Prey, which sounded horribly complicated so I ended up not participating. (I ended up being 0 for 3 for the afternoon activities.) There was another reason for my absence, though. The workshop had got me thinking about the story I have been working on, and ways to improve it. I spent the afternoon dozing and thinking about the story, writing a few more pages of it and getting feedback from others on the story subject.

Feral! will be responsible for the impending total rewrite.

That night was furry improv, which was… odd. Improv has this tendency to start out strong, then turn weird before finally fizzling if it goes on too long. “Too long” varies depending on the skill level of the victim. While I thought about participating, I did not in the end. They had their traditions, and as I was an outsider, I wanted to observe and see how they did things before getting too far into it. Next time I will have a better idea of what to expect.

Sometime that day, although I cannot remember when or why, Pathfinder and I started to talk. He joined me on a couple Monday expeditions, but you will have to wait until later to read about them.

And then at the end of the day, Wolfin and I headed back to the cabin to retire for the night. We talked about our stories for a few minutes, inadvertently keeping someone else in the cabin awake, so we ended discussion and resumed the next day.

Feral! Report -- Day 3

Saturday, the first official day of Feral! Because I am naturally an early riser, I woke up when it started getting light outside, somewhere around 6 AM. It’s also a bit chilly in the mornings in late August, apparently. I did not have a thermometer with me, but I suppose it was around 50 F. Considering that was the morning I did not quite figure out how the showers worked and I woke myself up with a contained version of the Polar Bear Swim (which I never participated in), that just added to the cold.

Breakfast is at 8 AM, so I go over to the main lodge and hang out for a little bit, get to know a few more people. I think this is when Wotan and I began the first of several talks over the course of the weekend. It’s quiet in the morning, though, because furries do not believe in waking up early for the most part. After breakfast comes the opening ceremonies, which was the shortest and most informal I had ever seen. In my mind that’s not a bad thing. Almost everything that happens at opening ceremonies can happen in 5 to 10 minutes if it’s timed right. Potoroo introduced the staff during breakfast, and Max from the Arowhon staff introduced himself and the rest of that group, and then it was outside to introduce the guests of honor and raise the Feral! flag.

One of the things I like about Feral! is that there are actually things to do that don’t involve wandering the dealer’s den and lounging in the hotel room. It’s vacation, so you can hide yourself away in the cabin all weekend if you want to, but why do that when there’s so much going on? You can choose between multiple camp activities like archery (which I avoided), kayaking, swimming, a ropes course… There are also different workshops. I think the camp staff deliberately set up the camp so you can’t do everything at once and so you must come back the next year.

I think it will work.

Anyway, Jeffery Core and I decide it would be fun to go on the canoe trip to the other side of the lake. There’s supposed to be a really good vantage point of camp from over there, and I’m always interested in pretty scenery. So we get on the canoe with about twenty other people, and then promptly learn that none of us know how to paddle as a team, so rowing in a straight line becomes a challenge of its own. You know it’s bad when the kayakers are doing laps around your canoe.

We take the long way to the vantage point, and from there it is a short hike. Now, I am a Southern ‘yote used to warm temperatures, and I walk several miles a day. A quarter mile walk uphill is nothing. It was funny listening to them all be out of breath.

The view was wonderful, too. No pictures, I am afraid; I did not want the camera to get wet. You just have to trust me.

After lunch that afternoon was a ropes course. The coyote does not like heights, and I am a firm believer that all four paws are meant to remain on the ground at all times. Nevertheless, I got all harnessed up, and I climbed up a tower of tires to a chair perched on the very top. Honestly the view from up there wasn’t all that impressive.

That was also the day I discovered the lake. There had been a game of watermelon football (I did not play this year, and based on how cold the water was I never wish to play), but since I did not participate I did not really know just how cold the water is. I am surprised there are no ice cubes in that lake. It is so cold it’s difficult to breathe, and it’s a workout just treading water. There’s no getting used to that temperature. Ever.

That night was the sponsor’s event. A lot of drinking in a very crowded room. Not fun, moving along.

Saturday and Sunday there was also a “backyard astronomy” session where we could look up and see lots of stars and satellites. It gets very dark at Camp Arowhon at night. Since that was also the first night I really slept, that was also the first night I noticed some animal sounds. Heard loons and wolves that night.

I also realized lying in bed that night that I had somehow managed to avoid almost all the staff that day. I had wanted to talk to them, and resolved beginning tomorrow to change that.

Feral! report -- Day 1 and 2

Well now. As it appears Jeffery Core has begun posting his report on Camp Feral!, it would appear I must do likewise, lest I appear to be a slacker. Besides, I am sure that one or two of you are curious to know what it was all like. Check his blog for the short version once you reach Friday morning.

My adventure began a day before the ‘fin’s, because I had the great idea to fly from Charlotte to Toronto the day before we were to take the bus to camp, so I would not have to get up early or make it from the airport terminal to Yorkdale at top speed, especially since I had to clear customs and all that. (As it turns out, that concern was for nothing.) Anyway, after dropping off my four-legged friend Virgil and experiencing separation anxiety, I made it to the Charlotte airport. Now, I always give myself a few extra minutes because I always opt out of the scanner, and the TSA always gives me the up-close-and-personal screening instead. You also immediately become their lowest priority when you do opt out. They make you sit there and wait for a while.

Finally get through security, force myself to eat a little bit of something for lunch (a hamburger that wasn’t all that interesting), and board the plane. All well and good so far, but once we taxi to the runway, we just sit there. When you have a connecting flight, sitting there is the last thing you want to do.

After a few more minutes of waiting and the coyote on the verge of panic, we finally take off, and before too long we’re at LGA. Maybe it was longer than I thought… I was reading Jeffery Core’s story at the time. Of course, when I land I learn that my plane to Toronto is in a different terminal, so I have to leave the secure area and go through my second TSA encounter of the day.

In the future, be very careful when you have a connecting flight at LGA.

I finally make it to Toronto and go through customs. They waved me through in a hurry, no questions asked. I was slightly surprised; most countries I’ve visited ask “Where are you staying?” at the very least. I get my bag, hop on the Airport Rocket from Terminal 3, and away I go to the hotel, taking the subway along the way. I like their subway; it is clean, if kind of old.

I do some sightseeing around the hotel, find food, and retire for the night.

Next day I get up rather early (I tend to do that) and did some more sightseeing, walking from the hotel, to Queen’s Park, to the CN Tower. Along the way I stopped at Tim Hortons for breakfast and also exchanged some of my American money for Canadian at the bank. By this point I am not running late yet, so I check out of the hotel and get on the subway to Yorkdale.

Then an announcement comes over the intercom: the train I am on is being taken out of service, so everyone must get off at the next stop. So we do, and we all wait for the next train. That one actually made it all the way to Yorkdale though.

I know Jeffery Core is waiting for me somewhere in Yorkdale, but first I have to find my way around. The layout is actually rather simple, but it was still enough to be disorienting and I wanted to make sure I did not take a wrong turn. When he and I finally meet, he’s been waiting for about a half hour. Don’t feel too bad for him, though. I was a few minutes late, yes, but he was also early. We embrace, find food at KFC (it wasn’t wonderful), and meet up with a few others going to Feral!. We walked with them to the meetup point which was in a residential area, and kind of hung out until the bus pulled up and everyone was ready to go.

While I enjoyed Feral! and appreciate the work the staff put into getting everything organized and ready, I must tease them for a moment. While waiting for the bus, I began developing an idea of what I called “Feral! time,” which I took from my trips in Latin America. That’s when you say one time, but you really mean some indeterminate minutes later. The bus was supposed to leave at 2 PM sharp… it was more like 2:40 PM dull. The Canadians talked about how hot it was, but this Southern ‘yote was quite happy in the mild heat. Maybe it was a little on the warm side, but surely they were exaggerating.

After about five dozen head counts, we were on our way. The ‘fin and I talked for a bit, but he was tired so he tried to nap. Others successfully napped in very awkward positions on the seat; how they did it is anyone’s guess. There was quite a bit of traffic between Toronto and Barrie, putting us even more behind, but we did eventually make it to our Tim Hortons stop. They gave us 15 minutes. About 40 minutes later we’re all back on the bus and ready to keep going.

We go farther and farther into the wilderness, and finally we arrive at Arowhon. It’s gotten noticeably cooler as we’ve traveled, so I’m beginning to wonder just what the weekend will be like. It’s fine though. We stand in line to get our badges (they got my species wrong! : ( ) and sponsor bags, and then we eventually find ourselves in a cabin.

The cabin hunt is a story all by itself.

We drop off our things, we have supper, get acquainted with the grounds and some of the campers, and then it’s time for sleep after a snack, and a late-night talk with Callaster Nightwings. Well, try to sleep. It’s hard to get to sleep the first night someplace new, especially when the beds are a little harder than you’re used to.

Thoughts on Aurora, Colorado

A friend of mine, IantheGecko, was kind enough to join me for a brief talk on the Aurora shooting, and we talked a little bit about one of the most important questions to answer here: “Where was God in all this?”

God was the same place on Friday morning as He was on Thursday morning, of course.

I encourage you all to listen, and comment if you will.

Thank you.

Link to recording:  http://bryandavisfans.com/AuroraEdit.mp3

Be perfect

Do you know why I insist so strongly on preaching the message of holiness? It is because this is one of those doctrines that is not a pet subject. No, it is one of those teachings that is very important to get right. So important, in fact, that to deliberately reject it is to heap destruction upon yourself in the end. To miss out on this is to miss out on a key element of the faith.

Invariably people are going to ask, “Levi, why is it you always talk about this? Why, of the hundreds of messages you could give, do you always return to this one?”

The reason is simple. It is vitally important and few are giving it.

It is my discovery that many people don’t know what to think when they first hear about holiness or perfection. A lot of this is because it has never been adequately explained, as most denominations don’t really emphasize it (and even those who do are error-prone). How can one understand what one has never heard of before? It’s senseless to expect understanding in this case.

The fact that people have a weird view of both “holiness” and “perfection” does not help. So, a couple definitions. “Holiness” means “the quality of being set apart for God’s use.” By this alone, all Christians are holy, as God has done a work in their life for His benefit and has instructed them to do His will and equipped them to be able to do so. “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.”

The other difficult word is “perfection” or “perfect.” (It is important to know what these mean because God expects us to be perfect.) “Perfect” does not mean “totally flawless in every way, unable to make any mistakes.” God created us human, He created us to be limited beings who will never know everything and will never be like God in every way. He doesn’t want us to be that. God wants us to love Him without competition with the world. God wants us to love our neighbor and enemy without partiality. That is what it means to be perfect.

Now, there is another sense of “perfect” that the Scriptures speak of. This is a perfection none living have obtained, because it involves knowing Christ fully, which Paul said could not be without also knowing His death and resurrection personally, not just vicariously. So we are never completely mature in the sense of knowing Christ while on this earth. This is something we always work toward. Do keep in mind, though, that the same Paul who said, “not that I am already perfect” referred to himself and the others at Philippi as perfect just a few verses later in the exact same chapter, because he was talking then about the perfection in love that is expected of us and that we are able to do.

You have noticed by now, if you read my other journals, that I assume Christians are able to love God without wavering. Others who call themselves by Christ make a similar claim, but they do not go far enough. They have a tendency to immediately follow up these exhortations with a reminder that they are bound to waver at some point or another because they are still in the flesh and they still have a “sinful nature.” I do not waffle in this manner. Yes, it is possible for a Christian to sin and fall away, but the Bible gives us no reason to believe that has to happen, so I do not teach it as inevitable.

The thing is, this is not a doctrinal difference that is secondary. It cannot be brushed aside under the category of “Non-essential to the faith.” The difference is in fact so strong that the holiness-minded gospel is not the same as the you-will-sin gospel. One says the victory is certain, and experienced day by day through the grace of God, who gives us the strength to honor Him and love Him at all times. The other teaches a gradual victory peppered with defeat, where God is dishonored by His children and, what is worse, does not see the sins His people commit.

Now it is absolutely true that growing in the faith is a gradual process. I mentioned this earlier, but I will mention it again because it’s important. In Philippians 3, Paul talks about this. He said he was not already perfect, or not already mature, because he had not experienced death and the future resurrection himself, as Christ had experienced death and His resurrection. So far, we only know it vicariously, but some day in the future we will know Christ fully. So we know in that regard we still have a long way to go, and every day we should learn more about who God is. No one expects us to know everything right away, and God certainly does not demand it of us.

This does not mean, of course, that one need know what the holiness doctrine is in order to be saved. For that matter, the very name “holiness doctrine” makes a simple element of the gospel sound like something extra, something secret. That is not how it should be. What matters is that the Christian live out his faith.

As a side note, don’t be misled by an ill-approached “faith alone” version of justification. We are justified by faith apart from works of the Law, but we also see that “man is justified by works and not by faith alone.” (James 2:24) The Law itself is unable to save, so works of the Law do not lead to salvation, but we cannot have a useful faith that does not also have works accompanying it. Saving faith always leads to works. If the works are absent, then so is the saving faith. You CANNOT dedicate your life to God once and then go back to the way things used to be, and assume all is well. It will not be.

So the consequences are severe. If you do not abide in God, then you will not see the kingdom of God. Do not let that be you.

Thoughts about VOM

This was not a post that I wished to make, nor was it something that could be written in a hurry. It takes time and prayer to make sure what is being said is what should be said, and to know that is the case. 

Nevertheless, I will begin.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, Voice of the Martyrs is an organization dedicated to raising awareness of persecution of Christians all around the world. They are faithful to tell the stories of those who are suffering, but also to provide means of providing support for them as best they are able. As far as this goes, it is a good thing that they do. Vital, really.

And yet, there was a tragedy in Voice of the Martyr’s not too long ago, but the tragedy extends beyond what VOM wishes to acknowledge, and probably the majority of Christians do not wish to go this far either. However, for the sake of keeping the reputation of the Church pure, this is something that must be made clear.

Nearly a month ago, VOM’s executive director Tom White was found dead in a warehouse at VOM’s headquarters, and it has been deemed a suicide. Prior to his death, he was being investigated for possibly molesting a child. Now, to my knowledge he has not been found guilty of any wrongdoing in this, so for now the allegations must remain that – allegations. I am not interested in speculating about those here. Let that wait for the proper authorities to determine.

So while it cannot be said that he was a child molester, there is something that he certainly was: a murderer.

Please do not get me wrong. I do not like to declare this. It would be wonderful if I could join the chorus of those honoring his memory and all the good things he did for the kingdom of God… but to do so does not bring honor to God. Rather, it dishonors Him by saying that His Spirit dwelled in a sinner. The only response the Church can make is that White was a sinner who did not know God.

Let’s make something clear: suicide is a form of murder in which the aggressor and victim are the same person. So emotional attachments aside, anyone who commits suicide also commits murder. The thing is, in John’s first epistle, John wrote that no murderer has eternal life abiding in him.

The tragedy is that a sinner took a position of authority in a church ministry and remained a sinner. The tragedy is that he never turned from his sins, but even in the end committed an act of extreme selfishness. (Even VOM’s response speculates that he took his own life rather than face the allegations.)

Remember that people are known by their fruits. Not just that, but good cannot produce bad, and bad cannot produce good.

“Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves. You will know them by their fruits. Do men gather grapes from thornbushes or figs from thistles? Even so, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Therefore by their fruits you will know them.”

This is not to say that evil people cannot do good things, because they can. Those who hate God are quite capable of giving to the poor and helping their neighbor, for example – and they do these things. Rather, it’s different from that. You cannot just look at the outside, and we cannot know their motives all the time (although sometimes it is evident).

But self-murder shows quite firmly what camp he was in.

Christians, please do not further insult God by claiming White was one of His. Recognize what he was, speak against it, but continue the work of VOM, even though VOM’s credibility is also at stake. They have shown a distressing lack of discernment lately.

Easter Weekend

Easter weekend was a welcome opportunity to see family I have not seen since Christmas as well as meet the Korean exchange student my parents have “replaced” me with. (He was staying with another family, but that didn’t work out all too well and since my parents have an extra bedroom now, they took him in. He’s doing better now.)

Anyway, Dad, Sung, and I left for Alabama on Saturday morning. Our destination? Collinsville Trade Day. I was going to provide a link, but their site died. For those of you who don’t know – I presume that is anyone reading this blog – Collinsville Trade Day is basically an outdoor flea market. People come from all over north Alabama and Georgia to sell or buy their junk.

And in many instances it is in fact junk. Today I saw, among other things, a bathtub and slightly used shoes, alongside the typical rusted out pieces of scrap metal. There are useful things too, such as knives and guns, some homemade crafts, and also produce (I purchased a quart of honey today), but a lot of the time you go there to laugh at the people and chuckle at what people think potential customers will buy. It’s also fun to talk to the vendors, if they’re willing to act like proper Southerners and carry on a conversation.

And since it was the day before Easter, there were quite a few chicks and bunnies for sale. I don’t know how many were bought, but I can imagine that the number of purchases made is proportional to the number of parents who will regret said purchase come Monday morning. Besides, after Easter most of the kids will no longer be interested. What do you do with a chick besides raise it for eggs or eat it, honestly? There were also a number of free puppies, as well as goats, guineas, ducks, and turtles for sale. I know at least one who will want to know there were also geckoes today. That was a first.

It’s the kind of event that someone should go to at least once in his life. For locals, once a year is enough, maybe twice. Furries should not announce their presence as such.

Following that, we navigated Lookout Mountain and stopped by Dad’s relatives. Many on Dad’s side were there… and about as many as were there were strangers to the coyote. As is typical, they knew who I was but I did not know them.

Lastly before leaving we stopped by the mill hole. Years ago, a mill stood in this spot, but now there is nothing but the foundation for the building, and a waterfall into a wide, clear pool. People still swim in it to this day, although it’s not the sort of place I would want to venture into without shoes or thick-skinned pawpads. There’s no telling how much broken glass or metal cans have accumulated over the decades. (For the record, I have never had the opportunity to swim in the mill hole, although this is something I strongly wish to remedy.)

My apologies for the lack of pictures, because I know my words formed a report and painted no mental images for you. To do that would require pages upon pages.

That Obligatory Furry Dream

It is not altogether unusual to hear my fellow furries describe fandom-related dreams they have experienced, often with some sort of transformation theme. Until this week, I had experienced exactly two furry dreams in my life, and both are from high school.

And then this week was the super-rare (for me) transformation-related furry dream. In keeping with many dreams, none of the events actually happen to me; I am an observer and nothing more. In the dream, a husband and wife explorer – at least I think they were husband and wife – end up being a little more feline than they were anticipating. Why feline I’m not sure, considering I’m not overly fond of those. But that’s what they were.

I can understand to a point why these dreams are enjoyable. Because I am a writer and storyteller, a dream like that is amazing for me, because the dream presented itself in story form, almost as if I were watching a movie of the event. As is typical for the coyote, there were some skips in the scenes and a moment or two replayed itself, but it told a cohesive story.

If only I could write it down. I tried to earlier this week, and the attempt simply was not vivid enough. I’m not good at writing about expeditions in strange places, apparently.

Nearing Easter

We are nearing the end of what is often referred to as Holy Week in the Church. This was the most climactic week of Jesus’ life, without doubt. The crowds already know who he is, and many of them are still hyped because of the miracle they had witnessed not far from Jerusalem – a man who had been dead for four days was walking and talking again, healthy and alive. So a few days later when Jesus stages his “grand entry” into Jerusalem, naturally the crowds are enthusiastic. They are waving palm branches and hailing the arrival of their king. They are celebrating. He is teaching in the temple or outside Jerusalem every day. The people can’t get enough of him.

And four days later they are calling for his death. After being falsely accused of sedition and experiencing a mockery of a trial, and scorned by the rulers of the day, he is finally taken to be scourged and killed in the most painful and humiliating way the Romans could imagine.

They missed it. Their king had come to them, although they were looking for someone else. Someone who would overthrow their oppressors and deliver their nation back to them. Although, if they had been paying attention…

The Messiah was presented to them on the 10th day of the month, just before the Passover, when the sacrificial lamb was selected. The lamb had to be without blemish, and after its selection it was to be out for all to see until the time of sacrifice. And then, on the 14th day of the month the Messiah was put to death at the same time as the Passover lamb, according to John. So on Sunday the Messiah appeared to the people, and on Thursday they killed him.

He spent three days and nights in the tomb, and sometime Saturday night he was resurrected. When women came to the tomb on the first day of the week, he was already gone.

Jesus’ death and resurrection are the two pivotal points in history upon which all else hangs. Jesus bore our sins on the cross (it was not technically a payment for our sin, which I’ve mentioned in the past but that’s a topic for another time). He was the sacrifice for our sin, our Passover lamb (1 Corinthians 5:7) and the last sacrifice that would ever be required (Heb 10:10-12). Because of this sacrifice, we can be justified before God. We can be forgiven and be spared the wrath of God. We die with him, to use Paul’s terminology, and so we live with him. We are set free from sin and made free to live holy lives, since we have been cleansed of all sin.

But his death would not have meant as much without the resurrection. Indeed, had it not happened, we would be the most pitiable of people. For all that, we would still be doomed to die, because even God would not have been able to conquer death. If he cannot, what hope do we have? If he is not raised, we are all still in our sins. We are all the same way we were when we came to God, and He has done nothing to help us. Thanks be to God that death was defeated that day! We do have hope. We are assured the victory, because it is God who works in us and equips us every day.

On Passion Plays

This afternoon I went to see a passion play put on by a local church. I’d heard about it because a member of the church I go to had told me about it, seeing how he had a part in the play and all that. So he had dual reasons for telling me about it. Now, I’ve seen and been part of multiple passion plays over the years, put on by different churches, so I know more or less how they go and how different churches emphasize different events in Jesus’ life and especially His final week.

This could also mean I’m a little biased when it comes to them.

But I went.

And not ten minutes into it I was thinking, “Oh. My… What. On. Earth. Am. I. Seeing?”

I know plays like this are low-budget. The same goes for the bulk of other Christian performances (such as the woefully inaccurate Tribulation Trail / Judgment Journey events that pop up around October) and movies. I know not to expect a huge blockbuster performance out of them.

But come on. You’re presenting God’s truth to the lost – at least to the lost that the saved drag to these sorts of performances. Can’t you at least make it compelling and interesting, and not laughably bad? The play today was so horrendous that more than once I considered getting up and walking out in the middle of it. That really is not good. I know that as a writer and an amateur performer I can be more critical of others’ work, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re losing at least one audience member. Do you really want to take the chance of alienating those who need to hear the gospel, but who are too busy laughing at your sorry attempts to convey the message to actually hear it? I know the message is the most important part, but if the execution is terrible…

The script today was good, by the way. It could have done without Satan’s evil laugh, because that made Satan look more like a child’s villain and less like the enemy of all of us, but aside from that it was good.

I know people are saved as a result of these events. This is undeniably a good thing, and I will not dare to suggest otherwise. But that does not mean there is no reason to change. Lest you think that the play need not change because it is leading to what God wants to do, also keep in mind that God works in our weaknesses.

And I think, a lot of the time, that is what He is doing.

But is it really so hard to come up with a good, low-budget Christian performance? I know I have seen several. These are the groups that spend weeks on end preparing and working with what they have, refining it until it is as good or better than many other plays. Even little things like keeping the performers from being anachronistic (no glasses or watches, no obvious microphones) goes a long way. You are wanting to present the gospel to many people. This is good, and admirable. But you are also choosing to do it in the form of a play. So please, make it good. You don’t want people laughing at your inability to act or keep a crown of fake thorns on your head while the Messiah is being beaten nearly to death.

Encounter with TSA in IAH

Part of my line of work involves traveling about once per month, and my destinations are distant enough that I just about have to fly there. Setting aside for the moment the often-unpleasant experience of flying economy for long distances, I would rather mention another domestic problem.

See, I am not the world’s most submissive coyote when it comes to not just air travel but a number of other interactions. So sometimes there is friction. But I discovered something last week when flying out of Houston Intercontinental Airport.

Apparently the TSA this airport has started the new procedure of requiring would-be passengers to give them their name when the traveler gives them the usual documents (boarding pass and ID). It’s funny because the person covers up the ID and gives you a blank stare – probably the only one they’re good at – while you state the obvious. And then when you show the TSA that you passed kindergarten, they let you through to be strip-searched or groped.

But I was unaware of this new procedure, so I did what any reasonable person would do, something the TSA cannot stand: I asked, “Why?”

It is an odd question of theirs, considering my name and photograph are prominently displayed on my driver’s license and I bear a remarkable resemblance to myself. So I asked, “Why do you ask? It’s right there on my ID.”

Apparently that was the wrong response. I dared to Ask a Question, rather than Submit and Obey. The old, sunken-eyed blueshirt I had to deal with didn’t care for it. Shocked at my willingness to challenge their rule, she jabbed a finger toward the side and shouted, “Go stand over there! I don’t have time to deal with people like you,” as she radioed her supervisor. I waited a few minutes, so I kept asking her about the procedure, which prompted her to plead for her supervisor again.

Eventually he came. He explained that it was something they only did at this airport, and those who weren’t willing to comply could stand outside until they cooled off and were willing to Obey. I asked him who had come up with the policy, and why they had implemented it. Aside from saying it was standard operating procedure, he said he couldn’t tell me why.

In other words, there is no reason. This should be no surprise to anyone.

After a couple minutes I did give my name. It was displayed for anyone to see, so it was not exactly a secret. I will give them information they already have. Besides, I wanted to go home.

And of course later I politely declined the scanner, so they politely groped me. I have to get the full experience, after all.

They probably don’t want me to come back. I can’t say I particularly want to return, either.

WagzTail 2.0

Those of you who have not forgotten this blog exists might remember a couple years ago when I linked to the WagzTail podcast. As it turns out, that particular incarnation kind of fell to the side for an indefinite time, because people were otherwise busy (life has a tendency to be that way).

But it has re-started! WagzTail 2.0. We are still the Christian Furry Podcast People (that's not going to change), and we actually have plans to maintain weekly episodes this time!

Anyway, all podcasts are available for download on the web page: http://wagztail.com/ Go have a listen! Unfortunately you can no longer take the podcast quiz announced on certain episodes. Those have expired.

But there will be others in the future!

The world-traveling coyote

Well, I mentioned posting some on the blog, and what happens? The coyote goes and does things that are not blog posts. Unfortunately you’ll not see what he was working on for quite a while.

Anyway…

The coyote has been traveling the world lately. Not a whole lot, just a few days in Colombia on business. The stay was pleasant, although the trip down was long and the return was simply terrible. I don’t want to go into a whole lot of detail on that, though. It’s really late here in South Carolina.

Suffice it to say that I have several ideas for posts in my mind, now, and if I get the chance to this week, you’ll see the first one this week. If not you’ll have to wait.