I think about theology too much. I know, I should be posting this at www.AwesomeBrewers.com but that site is temporarily down. Once I get Awesome Brewers back up, I will re-post this there,http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif since this story is actually about beer.

I had an hour and a half drive from the customers location to my hotel by the airport today. That, combined with the techno station on XM, and the beautiful Connecticut countryside, is a formula for theological pondering. I spent the whole drive refining my heretical philosophy of moral evolution.

It goes something like this. Moses, Abraham, Issac, and Jacob were retarded. Lets not even go back to the time of the Judges, Cain, or Adam. SRLSY, these people were so mentally challenged that they could not hold down a job at McDonald's. Before you think I sound all high and mighty, let me remind you, yes, I have read "The Horse and His Boy." I don't want Aslan to tear the shit out of my back. I get the whole "pride" issue. That is not what this is about. I envy Cain and Moses. I wish I could look at a field of barley and see a miracle, instead of thinking about genetically modified 6 row versus traditional 2 row grains. But that is not what this post is about. This is a beer post, not a theology post. To make a long thesis short, it goes something like this: As humanities intelligence grows and evolves, so does the moral standard that God holds us too. What is a sin now, was not necessarily a sin 2,000 years ago. As we grow, the need for divine intervention decreases. Theologians replace prophets, acceptance of medicine and science replaces miracles, and reasonable atheism replaces golden calves. Free will is the only gift God gave man, and He wants the choice to choose Him to be just as neutral today as it was thousands of years ago.

Sorry! This really is all about beer, I promises!

I only told you that story so I could tell you this story:
I had just come to the end of a long drive. My mind was a whir with deep (to me) theological musings. I stopped at a gas station to top off the rental car before I returned it. On the other side of the gas pump was a mid 90's Mustang Cobra. The body was beat to shit, but it had nice tires. The teenage couple leaning on the classic American muscle shuffled, and looked me up and down. As I started pumping my gas, the chick approached me. "Hey, we need help. We drove to a beach camping trip and then learned, on the way back to Massachusetts, that the fuel gauge is busted. Can you spare a dollar to help us get back home?"

I looked over at the dude, and he looked down at his shoes in shame. "Seriously?" I replied, "How old do you think I look? I have to get going."

She stomped closer, "No one wants to help us because they think we are druggies! Look!" She showed me her forearms. "We are not on drugs, we just need to get home." I snorted. "Really? I know a thing or two about drugs. Just because you don't have track marks does not mean that you are not looking for your next fix." Her boyfriend looked up, "no, man, it's not like that." His girl shushed him, "I am for real. We just need a few gallons to get back home."

Then I started thinking. Joy and I recently had a good laugh at first world problems. I had just spent an hour and a half masturbating my Christian faith, and here were a couple of stupid 17 year olds asking me for help. I was 17 once. I am stupid now. How can I fault them for doing both at once? I reached into my wallet and gave them a dollar. On my way to the front desk, to pay for the gas, an old black man walked up to me. "Hey man, I am a Vietnam vet. I need some money for food." I heard the roar of an American V8 and looked back and saw the young lovers pealing out of the parking lot.

I hesitated for a second. "No man, I am for real! Here," He pulled out his VA ID card. "I am homeless. I just need some change for a dollar burger." Shit, I thought, he pulled the VA card.

If you don't know, my wife makes her paycheck by helping to perpetuate war, and I make mine by helping to clean up afterward. I felt like I owed the vet something, so I looked into my wallet. I had a twenty and a single. SHIT, I thought, this is my beer money! It's kinda hard to expense "random, needy people in a parking lot." I gave him a dollar.

As I drove away, I thought about that. It is all good and fun to theorize about heretical theologies, but what does it mean if you refuse to live by the most basic Christian principals? What right do I have to question the status quo, if I can't even live up to the quo? How can I say that we are held to a higher moral standard if I can't even care for my neighbor? I was not ready to go to bed, so I went to a hole in the wall liquor store. I was looking at "all the beers." Coors, Miller, Bud. They also had all the indy beers like Boston Lager and Mikes Hard Lemonade. Then I saw something in the corner of the cold case. It was behind a 12 pack of Mad Dog. There it was, a six pack of Lagunitas Little Sumpin'. I wanted to ask the proprietor about this diamond in the rough, but he was from India and didn't speak any English.

I love Lagunitas. I pray that Awesome Brewers will, one day, be like them. I pulled into the hotel parking lot and turned up the radio. Liquid Metal on XM was doing a melodic medal set. I could not turn off the radio in the middle of that. The parking lot overlooked the Bradley International Airport and the sun was setting. It was beautiful. The combination of nature and architecture was somewhere between Ayn Rand and C.S. Lewis. Combine this with the fact that I realized that my seat belt clip could open beer bottles, and that explains why I spent almost an hour in my rental car in the parking lot.

I just popped the top on another amazing 64.2 IBU, 1.076 OG, tasty beverage. I only have two questions:
1. What right do I have to call myself a Christian?
2. Do I always pick yeast that attenuates too far?