The room was filled with chatter, anticipation and a certain aloofness, a stench, that left me feeling the need to shower. If a thought bubble loomed over my head it would have simply read, “what in the actual hell is happening right now?”
The gallery, full of spectators on what was to be the last of the 2016 legislative session at the Georgia State Capitol. The Senate was in session for Sine die. On more than one occasion, the gavel came down to attempt to restore some semblance of order to the 56 members of the chamber who share in the responsibility of creating laws for over 10 million Georgians.
I found myself wanting to distribute a Roberts Rules Of Order book, but I imagined that too, may have been lost in the shuffle of amendments that were never given, yet the demand of a decision was before our Senators. An ill-informed vote will apparently, suffice. After all, it was late, people were tired and ready to hit the parties where more fraternizing would occur. The celebrations that afford a time to reflect on how great some think they are and what a detriment others are to the cause. The cause of Legislative Greek Life.
There seemed to be a pending legislative hostage crisis occurring right before my eyes, it was after midnight and A LOT of visits to the stage were afforded the audience. A glimpse into the process of epic theater otherwise known as, the legislative process. Chaos attempting to create order has a predictable outcome.
I was amazed by the audacious sporting that occurred so openly. It wasn’t as back office as I had originally thought it might be. NO. The negotiations with others’ lives were occurring in plain sight, but most of the room was too busy or numb, to notice. I was astounded. It was a little like what I imagine a swinger’s club would be like. The lewdness, disorder, posturing and seduction all in one location was too much for my whimsical expectations to incur at one time. I digress.
Now, let’s get back to words. Because they make the world and legislation go round. Words are what all wars are predicated upon. Let’s observe the word MEMBER (I’ll spare you the other definition of ‘member’ that was listed here too and apparently worn in our state legislature many moons ago leaving some of our female reps a bit defiled… some of you more worldly types, will get it) it’s an interesting term for those elected to this position of speaking on behalf of 10 million Georgians.
There were many times throughout my virginal Sine Die experience, I found myself reminiscing about the countless frat parties I visited during those formidable college years and here’s why. Let’s look at the term member:
member
ˈmembər/Submit
noun
1.
an individual, thing, or organization belonging to a group.
“a member of the drama club”
synonyms: subscriber, associate, affiliate, life member, card-carrying member
“a member of the club”
a person formally elected to take part in the proceedings of certain organizations.
noun: Member; plural noun: Members
“members of Congress”
2.
a constituent piece of a complex structure.
“the main member that joins the front and rear axles”
synonyms: constituent, element, component, part, portion, piece, unit
“a member of a mathematical set”
Belonging to a group. A member of a club. A member of a Drama club. Yesssssss. This is exactly what i witnessed. It beat many of The Fox Theater performances I’ve seen over my years as an Atlanta resident. No kidding. This isn’t a criticism as much as absolute awe and shear disappointment. I felt like a voyeur at an event that would directly impact me, yet I now, had no say so over the outcome.
The jesting, the joking, people at the microphone completely silenced by a defeaning disrespect you would expect in a prison yard. Only a few kids allowed to encircle the President with complaints, concerns and an evident prejudice. The room was also occupied by unruly guests who would regain momentary composure only to be scolded with a half-hearted suggestion from the pulpit. The gavel, only as respected as the authority weilding it. It was surreal for that which I held in such high regard with respect and honor. Our legislature. The inmates seemed to be running the asylum.
Now listen, I was raised in the South. We are born and bred with a respect for authority, but all the yes ma’am’s and no sirs in the world couldn’t redeem what I had the displeasure of witnessing. But one thing came out of that entire performance that left me with a gaping wound that I believe resonates with many of my listeners. I was heartbroken. I felt despair and an overwhelming desire to say, screw. it. all.
I realized just how much hope I placed in the arm of man and thus began my own unraveling. As someone hoping to draw Georgians out and more specifically, Christians, to engage in the political process, I feel I was subjected to that night for one reason: to set my own heart and mind in order.
The parallels the Lord began to weave in my spirit regarding the State Capitol and the Temple and the money changers will forever be engraved on my mind. The temple we all look to for the appropriation of our Constitutional rights, economic growth, and security as residents of Ga. A place where in place of 12 simple commands we have erected over 1500 new introductions, just this year alone, to add to and to take away from, God’s Word. A place where money is exhanged by an unyielding god named mammon in exhange for our liberties.
A place where man maligns and aligns with reason and prosperity over empirical truth, wisdom and proper governance. A place where the chosen leaders, the Pharisees of our time, convene to burden the people with frivolous laws in a vain attempt to re-create order, create a systemic chaos with no measurable sustaining life force for the poor and uneducated. A place where the ignorant are redeemed by what man determines is repudiation for the sins of the past and a debt that can never be repaid by creating more policy and perpetual victims.
We do it all so well. Like Southerners do, dressed in our Sunday best, we begin our political journeys with good intentions. We want to serve and make a difference. Only, we can’t. Not really. Not until we ask what difference is it that we are really trying to make? The same floor arguing over an adopted dog as the State Mascot, (which in all honesty, is appropriate for us as Georgians, since the prevailing spirit residing over us seems to be one of an orphaned people) is the same assembly tasked with protecting the very infrastructure of Ga, constitutionally. The seduction of the common man or woman to think their voice is solely represented in this temple, is as dangerous as the man who lies with a whore and expects a road to life.
I could imagine Jesus standing up in the middle of this human charade and wiping every table clean of the pink papers strewn about the room. The papers representing weights and chains and nefarious underpinnings of humanism set to perpetuate the poverty of an otherwise abundant society, HE left behind. We have the mind of Christ and Jesus ain’t poor.
No, we are not called to abandon the ‘process’. We are called to our knees first. Representatives and residents alike. We are called to remember that in satan’s best attempts to erect himself through man, there is only one true Representative of the people. One you can call without leaving a message with staffers.
We are called to call upon GOD for order and to order our steps in alignment with one precept: Freedom. I didn’t say love. Love in today’s terms is a homogenized version of milk with no sustenance. Your flag, irrespective of the array of colors, does not represent love when it represents bondage. God IS love. And Freedom is birthed from His loins.
I had to repent and remember who is sovereign during these times of high treason. Times of entertainment, confusion, co-dependency with false doctrine and lust. I struggle alongside you. As we attempt to do away with brunch bills, let us become keenly aware of the more dangerous drunkenness that abounds in our Temple Of Ga. We are drunk on the blood of worldly prosperity, power and the guilt that drives us into further fornicating with lies shrouded in the word “love”.
We are a state attempting to pour new wine into old wineskins. We are bursting at the seems with filthy lucre and guile. All while being held hostage by the fear of abandonment by the likes of men in tights, soft drinks, building materials and a mouse that now holds us by our proverbial members, spitting on the graves of those who fought for our liberties and the ONE who gave us the idea to begin with. FREEDOM 101
I took one main thing away from this night: Government makes a horrible god.
An election year. Don’t bow out. Bow down. HE will exalt us in due season.
Blessings,
Monica
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