There's a topic sure to grab a lot of readers... Reminds me of Reverend Lovejoy's sermon on "The Nine Tenants of Constancy" on the Simpsons. But it's something that has been troubling me lately. I grew up in a world that was rooted in consistency. It was very important to be true to one thing anytime you showed your face. Of course, this mostly revolved around one's commitment to faith. There was almost more judgment for a person who was duplicitous in his faith, easily morphing from Saturday night hedonism to Sunday morning sainthood, than there was for the person who consistently rejected a confrontation with God.

It became very important for me (and the judgmental streak I was to develop in my youth) to live consistently one way - to be always concerned with the same things, to carry on the same conversations from place to place, to look the same way Saturday night as I did on Sunday morning. This was no easy task for someone with a proclivity toward mischief who (not so) secretly enjoys watching the fallout from broad, polarizing statements that unsettle the status quo. But I managed - and quite well. I was a master of consistency.

But here's the thing. The consistency in which I was brought up was concerned mainly with the appearance of things. In truth, one could have as many inconsistent worldviews, lifestyles, and Saturday night romps as you wanted as long as they were well-compartmentalized and hidden from view. In that way, I was able to maintain consistency, or the appearance of it, while my alter ego dabbled in things that my Sunday self wouldn't dream of exposing! I stopped just short of actually developing a second personality. Each of my selves were true, or consistent, to the expectations under which I had placed them.

So this is where my gauges are now madly spinning and I'm unable to settle on a reading: my world today is one of inconsistency. Spiritual friends will jump from church to bar to community service to racy movie back to church again - all very publicly, in full view of anyone interested enough to watch! Conversations can turn on a dime, from sanctimonious to salacious, from excellent to X-rated. And I find myself merrily joining in, happily going along, and deeply troubled by a fear of being exposed as inconsistent.

There is a residual effect happening here in my life. Something leftover from days when I dreaded being seen as anything less than vigilant. It seems scandalous to be so cavalier about hopping from devout to degenerate in the same breath. But the reality of it is that, if I'm honest, I've been doing just that for most of my life. Just not in public. It's really the removal of walls that freaks me out. It's the exposure of what I've always believed should be hidden. It's the carnal no longer bowing to consistency. But who is really consistent? The ones without scruples or the one who just keeps it secret? Are my friends more authentic than I am? Am I simply being a hypocrite? (It wouldn't be the first time.)

I like to think I've long since stopped being a judgmental fool. There's no part of me that wants to call out my friends for their "inconsistency." But my biggest problem right now seems to be judging myself. I'm doing myself a great disservice by masking my own unholy ambitions in the name of "consistency."