Don’t Chuck Your Muck In My Dustbin

It’s a verse from the old children’s song Seven Bottles of Pop. My kids played and replayed that tape until I prayed it would dissolve inside the player. It didn’t.

I’m not sure what the muck somebody didn’t want chucked in their dustbin was that inspired this little tune, but I’m getting more than just a little tired of all the muck being spewed at me by every broadcasting means known to man.

I passed the fifty-years-old mark more than five years ago. I’ve known men who liked other men, men who wanted to be women, and I’ve observed folks who resorted to all sorts of creative ways to harm themselves. Ain’t nothing new there. This abnormal behavior has been going on ever since Adam’s son killed his younger brother because God wouldn’t change His rules to suit him. A casual review of history will reveal that every era and culture included some humans who ventured outside the lines of normal behavior. An occasional cannibal or real-life Tarzan stumbles out of the jungle every so often.

Call me an old codger, but I’m not buying the muck that our news media, so called, is tossing our way. I’ve lived too long to be sold the line that there is glory and courage in men pretending to be women. Those controlling the microphones that shape public opinion ought to be crying for these tortured souls to find help instead of exploiting them for ratings and ad sales.

Don’t chuck that muck in my dustbin.

The self-appointed elite in our country are so enamored with framed lambskins and their own voices that, completely void of common sense, they cannot discern the goofiness and hopelessness flowing from their own lips. The concepts they propose in the name of compassion, if embraced, will rob those they propose to help of any opportunity to find wholeness.

The idea that redefining marriage will bring equality and satisfaction to homosexuals is one example of their hopeless spiels. If marriage can be redefined, then it can be redefined whenever we want its meaning to change. If marriage is redefined to include same sex couples, then homosexuals have not advanced, but have only opened the door for every other group who wants their relationships to be listed among the marriages. (And somebody needs to introduce them to a good divorce lawyer.)

Just because a Supreme Court Justice writes words on a piece of paper does not mean that the universe is compelled to adjust to his or her decree. We can redefine the word sun to include all celestal lights so no star feels left out, but that big bright orange one will still outshine all the others.

Our liberal media and political elitists act as if the world has never had this discussion before. Again, a cursory review of a few history books will show that there has always been a small segment of the human family that has struggled with homosexuality. Those who advocate redefining marriage to accommodate the 1.8 percent of men and 1.5 percent of women in our country who are homosexual are attacking the one human institution that offers the most hope to every struggling person: the traditional, nuclear family.

And yes, I have friends and acquaintances who label themselves as being gay. But they don’t burn churches and demand that people make special exceptions for them. They are living their lives trying to find meaning and success like most of the rest of us.

Here’s the deal. Reforming the 97% of us who are not gay/lesbian is not going to improve the world for homosexuals. Whatever issues they struggle with are going to remain regardless of how we define marriage and write tax code. Politicians and social engineers cannot fix heart issues. Legislation, regardless of how well intended, cannot improve self-esteem or self-worth. If someone is unhappy, all of the rest of the world standing and applauding them is not going to make them better. Something has to happen inside someone’s heart and head for real change to occur, and all the politicians and talking heads will never make that happen.

When you can offer a solution that includes hope for the one suffering, then let’s talk. But until then, chuck your muck somewhere else. Life is too short and pain is too real to waste time listening to pious platitudes that offer no real solution.

Helping somebody cut off his arm because his mind tells him it isn’t his is nuts – not compassion. I’ve listened to the sobs of too many moms mourning aborted children to buy the empty promise that easy access to abortion has advanced the cause of women in our country. I’ve watched too many abused children become loving and contented adults to ever agree with the notion that they would have been better off having never been born.

When did we lose the ability to say that life is tough and everybody has struggles? When did the answer to I have a problem become let’s make sure everybody else suffers, too? We’ve grown so smart that, instead of trying to heal the one who hurts, we make everyone else feel his pain. And that somehow makes us all better?

Faux compassion may be in vogue, but it’s void of sustainable solutions. It makes the providers feel good about themselves, but leaves the suffering without any hope of meaningful change.

Change is a powerful thing. If what you’ve been doing and where you’ve been going and whose advice you’ve been heeding hasn’t solved your problem, you may want to change what you’ve been doing and where you’ve been going and whose advice you’ve been heeding. Don’t fall for the argument that the only way to make your life better is to make everyone else’s worse.

There is help and there is hope. It may not be dressed in the fancy garb that covers the latest psychological fad, but if lasting improvement is your goal, don’t let that fool you. Sometimes those old ideas are still hanging around because they are the only ones that really work.

Stop with the muck and bring us hope!