This just in: Obama not Jesus

Everyone blogging on this theme of what elections don't magically address, we get it. Everyone trying to manage our collective expectations, it's okay, we know this Presidency has challenges ahead. We hope but aren't sure that Obama-Biden will leave the country better than they found it when their tenure at the helm is up. Like promotions in the military are based on a confidence in your ability to serve at the next higher grade, an election is always a gamble. No one would have voted for Bush if anyone had the faintest inkling of how he and Cheney were going to hand the country back to us in 8 years. Yet while they were pursuing their agendas and committing the country's resources to wars, we were no less equipped to feed the hungry here at home, or share the gospel, or support our churches and communities in need. Yes, there is an abundance of sentiment and fervor at rallies and in general for Obama that made/make many Christians uncomfortable because they recognized, I think, people being touched in a way that inspired religious-like zeal and devotion. I think many Christians were kind of hating on that. Maybe even a little threatened like Jesus was the best band ever and was slipping in the charts to someone who couldn't even read music. Maybe even a little moved themselves in ways that threatened idolatry. It's easy to do and not wrong to warn against it. I'm just saying that perhaps there's a little more to those exhortations to remember in whom your salvation lies if we dig a little deeper or are a little more honest as individuals and as a Christian community about the place where those concerns spring from.

And finally to those reminding us that Obama isn't Jesus, that our hope does not or should not rest in any man but in Christ, we get that too. Anybody who doesn't probably isn't reading your blog.

The Afterglow

While my head is still spinning that I went to bed on election night and actually knew who my next president will be and while I am still relieved, elated, and inspired that it was Obama, I just wanted to get a few thoughts down.

I thought McCain gave a wonderful concession speech and it was good that Palin didn't talk at all though she appeared to be struggling to hold it together. It was the McCain that I saw tonight that as an independent voter I think would have been a strong contender for my vote had he not made such a troubling and bewildering choice in his running mate. Cest la vie, it is done and I'm elated with America's choice.

Now there are no more excuses. The man isn't keeping us down, he's not pulling strings we can't mount defenses against, whatever we fail to achieve as Americans, as blacks, as women, we have to own those failures as our own. Are there obstacles? People who deliberately advance agendas contrary to individuals and groups? Absolutely. But as much as I didn't cast my vote today to elect a black president, I am so ridiculously proud that my country did and showed that the primary consideration for the majority of Americans was who they thought was most qualified to lead our nation. Every single black person in America could have voted for Obama and that would not have won him the White House. I appreciate more than I or anyone of any color can convey what this means to our ambitions, hopes, dreams, and love for our country, but I'm not a fan of the race-centric discussions. Let him be our President first, a man of color second.

I also wanted to share how in love with my nation I am tonight. How in love with the thought that Americans and the world will get to know a black family that I identify with, that is not a caricature of black packaged and sold the world over. I am proud that they will be the ambassadors of both my ethnicity and my citizenry for this country and for the world. They inspire me to be a better public servant, and a more civic minded American. I am proud to work for the government and the challenge he has issued to roll up our collective sleeves and get to work inspires me to raise the bar on how I discharge the duties I've been trusted with. I told my mom earlier tonight, long before any projections were made that the thought of an Obama presidency made me want to work in Washington and work in the seat of government to facilitate the realization of the vision in 'Yes We Can.' It feels like a calling-so strange after the apathy of my adult voting life never feeling connected to the person who led our country, casting whimsical and arbitrary votes for a particular candidate because it was how my breakfast settled in my stomach on that particular day. It never felt like my vote mattered. I never felt I had an active role in shaping the future of my country. And now the work begins.

And on a slightly frivolous parting note, I'm happy that America will get to know a black woman. If Michelle starts an end-run on educated black women as desirous company and mates, that will be enough for me. I will finally get some play. I don't care if it's a fad. I'll finally be on the right side of one.

Seriously, what is the deal with the Fire Sale picture?

I can not imagine why so many people the world over are interested in fire. And why they come here to get it. I googled fire images and mine is on the third page of results. Getting kind of creeped out about what the world is up to in its quest for fire pictures.

Weirdness

Not sure what is going on in the world but I'm seeing traffic to my site all going to this post about my lame party plans aka, the fire sale. The picture is from photobucket which is where I get a lot of the pictures for this blog. Turns out it just easier to imbed pictures that way than it is to import them from my computer library to this site. Anyway, it's just weird.

America, please reject fear, hate, and division

A wonderful article. I've previously posted about my concern of the corner of American that is frighteningly excited about a Palin-McCain presidency (the order might as well reflect the preference). This article says it better. I've pasted the url below as well.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bob-cesca/the-mandatory-rejection-o_b_139062.html#comments

Note the new widget

I've added this cool feature (bottom left) that tells me when folks have visited my blog which is great. Even if no one comments, I can at least know someone stopped by to check out the merchandise. The problem is that I visit my own site quite a bit and it still counts me. It's the web equivalent of writing a book and then going out and buying a ton of copies so it looks popular. Totally lame.

This city

Sometimes it's the quaint cobblestone alleyway that reeks of dog urine that is the essence of this city to me. Sometimes it is the lights and the people of the city through the condensation on the large glass windows on the second floor of Starbucks on 19th and Chestnut. Sometimes it is the tart stench of garbage from the passing trucks and street after street of bags waiting to be collected that slow down our walk as my dog insists on inspecting them all for life threatening food. On weekends it is sometimes the Delaware river from Penn's Landing and the lights of Ben Franklin bridge. It is often my friends as I see them in things they would delight in through the many storefronts. I miss them a little then and wish they were here. During the week it is the Chinese food cart outside of work that is the best meal you'll eat for $3.80 in the city. Everyday it is the choking cigarette smoke--Philly smokes a lot. It is buses and trains, trucks, cars, and even planes. It is ninja footwork avoiding poop smeared sidewalks. It is Gabriel, the guy I've seen almost every day walking to work wearing all black and perhaps the same black every single day. I just learned his name yesterday. It's weird that of all the people I pass everyday, we end up talking and even finally exchanging names. No girls, he's not single. Once it was the specter of a homeless person crossing an empty street at 4am with a dark blanket draped over their head like a ghost. They turned to take in me and the dog and then continued on. It is watching a homeless person struggle against the whipping wind to arrange a small blanket to tuck under their body and cover their face as they sleep on top of a steam manhole in the center of the sidewalk. It is still more homeless at the bus shelters, park benches, and churches. It is all the random men who try to pick me up in the subways and streets-I do not understand why you can not make eye contact or even just say hello without having to make up a fictional boyfriend to keep things from going there. It is broken glass from beer and car windows. It is another person dining alone who didn't forget to bring something to read or write with like I did.