What You Know Can Kill You


Only let us live up to what we have already attained. (Philippians 3:16)

I know too much. About the God thing, I mean. I can’t play innocent. If I’m unsynced with the divine downbeat, it’s because I choose to be. Few inadvertent misdemeanors for me. Mine are premeditated crimes, felonies committed in the full light of day. Why worry about God’s judgments? I’m guilty of treason against my own lame convictions.

I wish I would have shut my eyes and plugged my ears the first moment I realized I had no intention of actually doing the stuff. Right after the Jesus loves and saves you bit, I should have peeled out of there like a bat out of hell and left it at that. Better a Biblical/spiritual illiterate with an all-clear card than a Jesus expert with his fingerprints on the murder weapon.

But no. I bought the scam. I thought that if I could just import enough religious information, if I could cram into my head enough plagiarized insights, pilfered maxims, and vicarious spiritual ecstasies, then I would end up a saint by osmosis, by mere association. Instead, the living water in which my lethargic froggy soul floated was, with each kelvin of Biblical revelation, slowly and imperceptibly warming. Now it’s too late. The water is beginning to boil and I can’t get out of the damn pot. The living water is scalding me. Yes, those sweet spoonfuls of spiritual sugar I swallowed caused the countless cavities of conscience that even clever consonance can’t cure.

So, you see, I don’t want to learn more about God. You can keep your Bible studies, your profound Jesus ya-ya books, your pastor’s enlightening blah blah blahs. You must excuse me from the latest conferences, and don’t expect me to listen to your latest spiritual illumination or babble about my own. I refuse to see or hear any more “cool” spiritual stuff. I reject additional religious learning of any kind. Look, I don’t need any more fuel for damnation, thank you very much. I already have more than enough self-incriminating kindling to keep my recalcitrant butt smoldering long after the lake of fire has guttered out.

Since I can’t erase my inner hard drive without detection, I’m pretty much stuck with what’s in there. Denial is futile. Rationalization is unconvincing. Repentance implies an unlikely course change so that’s out of the question. I guess I’m simply going to have to suck it up and take my hits at the great white throne. But then, after a good whipping, I’m going to sit myself down on the sidelines, nurse my bruises, and watch the rest of the hit parade.


2 Responses

  1. I am impressed you didn’t use the Matrix reference: “Why, oh, why didn’t I take the blue pill?”

    Loved the frog in boiling water metaphor.

  2. Weather’s got you down, doesn’t it?

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