idol

I didn't want to be the typical teen idol. I didn't want to be Leif Garrett. I didn't want to be Shaun Cassidy, David Cassidy or Parker Stevenson. I wanted to do my own thing.

Everybody is a teenage idol.

I was a teen idol and that has a short shelf life.

And one fine day the goddess of the wind kisses the foot of man, that mistreated, scorned foot, and from that kiss the soccer idol is born. He is born in a straw crib in a tin-roofed shack and he enters the world clinging to a ball.

The ball laughs, radiant, in the air. He brings her down, puts her to sleep, showers her with compliments, dances with her, and seeing such things never before seen his admirers pity their unborn grandchildren who will never see them.

You blast me open and then You stand back and watch My feeble attempts To deal with myself. Where do I turn In my now desperate need for love? You are not there. There is no one else to turn to For I have made you my Everything. And in my exhaustion From my desperate moments,I slip into myself And there I find God waiting for me To love Him to love me to love you Because you are the matchmaker. I thought He was leading me to you But, surprise surprise, You were leading me to Him.

Left to our own devices, we will make God in our own image.

The moon rose up that evening and shot her silver arrows at the house under the artu tree. The house was empty. Then the moon came across the sea and across the reef. She lit the lagoon to it's dark, dim heart. She lit the coral brains and sand spaces, and the fish casting their shadows on the sand and the coral. The keeper of the lagoon rose to greet her, and the fin of him broke her reflection on the mirror-like surface into a thousand glittering ripples. She saw the white staring ribs of the form on the reef. Then, peeping over the trees, she looked down into the valley, where the great stone idol had kept it's solitary vigil for five thousand years, perhaps, and more.At this base, in his shadow, looking as if under his protection, lay two human beings, naked, clasped in each other's arms and fast asleep. One could scarcely pity his vigil, had it been marked sometimes through the years by such an incident as this. The thing had been conducted just as the birds conduct their love affairs. An affair absolutely natural, absolutely blameless and without sin. A marriage according to Nature, without feasts or guests, consummated with accidental cynicism under the shadow of a religion a thousand years dead.

Seems hats have been on topOf all the stages comings and goingsHelping us remember heroes and idols

You confused your father with God. You never saw him as a man with a man__ heart, and a man__ failings _ I__l grant you it may have been hard to see, he makes so few mistakes, but he makes __m like all of us. You were an emotional cripple, leaning on him, getting answers from him, assuming that your answers would always be his answers.

External beauty is certainly cool to admire, but when worshipped - it eclipses internal shine.

Where am I?_ you ask. Where you are is where the things you__e denied worshipping have taken you.

You don't really get to choose. We worship you, and that makes you our God.

When did a free country start to mean free enterprise? Who sold Democracy out for a golden calf we got to idolize?

The point that I think myself to be so terribly clever is the precise point at which I am beginning to think myself to be god-like, which causes me to become God-less.

Their Bibles had become an idol before God. That the cross, as a symbol, was an idol, even their own self-image was an idol before God.

Whatever thing a man gets quickly enraged about is his idol, and whatever thing he makes his idol becomes his religion.

If you make anything a higher priority than God, you are worshiping it and not God.