"Bicyle...BICYCLE. I Want to Ride My Bicyle; I Want to Ride My Bike...." (Thank you, Queen.)

My bicycle sits in the spare bedroom of my house, the bedroom that my mother keeps trying to turn into a baby nursery. But there it sits, out of the weather, unbothered by nature, the fluctuating Louisiana temperatures, and the guy who stole my last bicycle right off my front porch. I’m sure it was a guy. I don’t have proof, but girls are the only ones who understand that bicycles are the mother ship of all that is pure and good. Riding a bicycle is the equivalent of flying a kite, roller-skating, or eating ice cream. They remind you of the little girl that lurks beneath the surface of your adult pretense. Every girl in the world is aware of this fact, which is why a girl would never steal a bicycle.

I’m saving up fifteen dollars to have the professionals repair the inner tubes. I used to keep my bicycle on the front port, but the tsunami-esque rainfalls made their way into the tires, rendering the bicycle unusable. I discovered this tragedy the last time I rode. I was so busy daydreaming that I wasn’t aware of the fact that pedaling had become twelve times harder than the previous time until I had biked a couple of miles. My friend Amy laughingly pointed it out to me from behind. The ride home was treacherous, but a nice lady who was in her yard gave me some free air, which made riding more bearable for at least a half-mile or more, enough time to firm up the noodles that my legs had become.

Taking the bicycle out again will be a turning point in my life. I long for that day. By then, perhaps, Cody will have bought his bicycle. In the meantime, I’ll be telling him of the wonder and magic of owning a bicycle. But I think I’ll leave out the part about the little girl lurking beneath the surface.

Tevia, You're Not the Only One Who Wants to Be Rich

My husband and I were riding home last night from his hometown Jena, a town about an hour and a half from where we live. All of a sudden, I gasped, “I have a great idea for an invention: battery operated coffee mugs that will keep the coffee warm the entire time you’re drinking it.” The idea seemed so fresh, so right. With a subtle smirk, I leaned back in my seat; closed my eyes; and envisioned a luxury kitchen with stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, and a convection oven that we would soon be able to afford because of my invention. Earlier that day we had complained about our coffee getting too cold too fast, but in a matter of time, we would be cashing in on the most brilliant idea ever to be introduced to modern day society.

To be certain that someone had not already thought of my idea, I took my husband’s phone and Googled “Battery Operated Coffee Mug.” But to my dismay, someone had indeed beaten me to the gold mine. There it was. Plain as day. The patent on MY invention.

Suddenly, my visions of a luxury home dissipated into a vision of a tiny, one-bedroom shack. I stuck out my bottom lip, much like a kid at Wal-Mart who didn’t get that toy, and said, “I want to be rich.”

“I don’t,” my husband responded. “I just want to be comfortable.”

I stuck my lip out even further. “Well, I do.”

Is it wrong to desire wealth? Should we feel bad for wanting to be prosperous? I have always believed God wants us to live meek, humble lives, without any material wealth or societal status; but let’s look at the matter more closely. In Mark 10:35, James and John approach Jesus and ask him to place them in a position of high authority and status. Jesus does not respond to their request “You fools, no one shall be prosperous…EVER!!!” His response is quite the contrary. He explains that he is not in the business of awarding places of honor and that only through servanthood will people earn these places of respect.

After reading this passage, I began to question what that could possibly mean. I have always been told and preached to that this means that we should “be servants” in the church by picking up trash, cleaning toilets, washing the cars of various preachers, running errands for the pastor, and the like. But doing this in the church suggests that there is a church hierarchy that people should aspire to climb. And I personally don’t believe there is such a hierarchy. Who’s to say that the pastor of a church or a member of the board is any more vital to the kingdom of God than the person who keeps children in the nursery during service and vice versa? By nature, we humans place these roles on a hierarchy, but I don’t believe that God does the same.

So what was Jesus talking about? I believe that he wants us to be servants of the lost, the hungry, and the hurting, not servants of those who have already achieved great wealth or those who are already saved.

To be considered great among people, we must be the servants of those people. We have selfish human desires to be great. The desire for greatness will never go away, but it’s important that we channel those ambitions in the right direction. We must ask ourselves whom we are trying to impress. Are we trying to look good in the eyes of corporate executives, church board members, or any other given “who’s who” figure? If so, then we’re trying to impress the wrong people.

Jesus sought to impress the lost. He wowed them with his miracles and offered them mercy that was both undeserved and uncommon. Believe it or not, he was indeed impressing these people. He didn’t worry about what any of the “who’s who” had to say.

I believe that the spiritual side of the issue is quite similar to the secular side. If we are good stewards of our time, money, and resources, then we will be more deserving of wealth and success. God is not in the business of helping us to win the lottery. He is in the business of awarding good stewardship. When Jesus healed or blessed people in the Bible, he always required an action of some sort beforehand or he petitioned a particular behavior after their interaction.

So I will probably not attain wealth by inventing the next greatest thing. I know that some people do attain wealth this way, but Jesus points out that this goes to people’s heads. But perhaps I will attain wealth by taking care of what God has given me, working diligently, and honing my God-given talents.

"I'm more spiritual than religious": The Return to FernGully

I often sat on the stone covered bench in the garden outside my house at the age of 13, or maybe I was 14. Either way, I was probably a little too old to be sitting around in fairyland, pretending to be in a rainforest. When no one was watching, I would make my way to the alcove in the woods where I would sit on the ground and allow the curtain of leaves to engulf my body. I remember the perfection of the leaves and how they made it possible for me to hide from those who would ridicule me for pretending. Directly in front of me was the living room whose walls were not entirely perpendicular to the ground. The wall of leaves casually met the ground without any regard to symmetry or adherence to architectural standards. There could be a sarcastic, gaping hole that would permit weather, both good and bad, to enter at will. Most of the time, it would be sunshine peeking through, contributing a sweet fragrance to the moistened iridescent leaves. In my living room, the people had no character flaws; they never spoke at all, for that matter. But their presence would often remind me of the laundry that needed to be folded in the next room. The laundry here was invisible, along with the dirty dishes and the laughter of close family.

I don’t remember what I was trying to escape. Perhaps the desire to escape family is only natural for adolescents, but I do know that I longed for a place with no rules, no order, and no noise. I was indeed in search of a great abyss, a place of nothingness, a place where I could enjoy the serenity of isolation.

Oftentimes Christians find themselves in this same desperate state, a state where they become disillusioned by some of the tragedies that lie in the Church, and they begin to search for their great abyss.

A few years ago, I heard Jennifer Lopez’s character in the movie Monster-In-Law say, “I’m more spiritual than religious” when giving her rationale as to why she didn’t want to be married in a church. Since then I’ve heard this statement a number of times, usually from a celebrity who’s tired of “religion as usual.” But I’ve noticed that it has become trendy and hip to denounce one’s religion (while sipping on a cappuccino) in order to embrace the abyss of spirituality. When people denounce their religion in order to seek spirituality, one of two things has happened: Either they have been really hurt by a person or organization within the Church or they’re tired of all of the rules and protocol that is associated with the Church. Many feel that if they claim to be spiritual instead of religious that they rid themselves of any obligations or duties.

This new spiritual lifestyle sounds appealing, especially when many churches are littered with hypocrisy and political protocol. It’s easy to embrace the trend of spirituality when the pastor of your church is oblivious to social injustices or when the Church is more concerned with selling peanut brittle than with feeding the homeless people on the church steps.

In the midst of this unsettling reality of the Church, it’s tempting to be charmed by the current trends that bombard us in the media. It seems that anyone with a voice is proclaiming, “I’m more spiritual than religious.”

The problem with this practice is that it is quite deceptive. It is a notion that a person can embrace a lifestyle that is devoid of rules, regulations, hypocrites, Pharisaical maniacs, and traditions. Although this is the case for a while, that great abyss of nothingness lasts only for a season. By nature we need rules, consistency, and stability; and eventually, we will be searching for something to bring us those things.

When I was a kid playing in the woods, although I was trying to escape the responsibility, the pain, the rules, the obligations, I sought for yet another household to fill that void. I tried for a while to sit in my alcove and allow nothingness to fill my mind with peace. Instead, I found myself turning my space into a house, imagining my own living room, bedrooms, and family. After a period of time, I could no longer sit in woods and think of nothing. I had to fill my mind with something.

If we choose to leave the Church and embrace a “spiritual” lifestyle, we are not headed to a place devoid of the negativities of the Church. Instead, we are headed to a blank slate, a fairyland that is vulnerable to the lies and deception of the enemy. Once our minds become bored with the abyss, we will begin to accept ideas that do not align with the Bible and begin to build things in our lives that aren’t even real. We will create an invisible living room with invisible people who are reminding you to wash the invisible load of laundry.

It is important to seek truth wholeheartedly and seek to change the face of religion by creating a climate in your own house of worship or meeting place that is socially conscious, nonjudgmental, and open-minded, as opposed to running from a religion that could serve as the doctrinally sound source of your livelihood.

No longer should anyone view spirituality as an escape from religion. Since when have the terms been mutually exclusive? I've had more spiritual experiences when I've embraced my core belief system than when I have allowed myself to become cynically detached from them.