The Sunny Side of Hell

It’s often said that anyone who willingly chooses to live in Phoenix in the summertime must be half crazy as Phoenix in the summer is a bit like living on the surface of the Sun. There’s a lot of truth to that because otherwise we wouldn’t be able to convince ourselves that although it’s hot “it’s a dry heat.” It’s also true that you can fry an egg on the sidewalk and if not an egg – your bare feet. Sometimes the sun feels so hot; you’d swear you can hear your exposed skin sizzling in the mid-day sun like a roasted chicken on a barbecue spit. At any given time over the course of summer most Phoenicians are in various stages of incubation for the common cold because our immune systems are constantly challenged by the warring factors of outdoor heat versus the arctic cold of air conditioning.

Being out in the heat is a constant drain on one’s energy level making even the simplest, most mundane tasks … difficult … to … com … plete. About the only thing that can propel us into action is the threat of an encroaching Haboob (a giant wall of dust preceding hail, rain, wind, thunder and lightning). Racing to secure patio furniture, beach towels and pool toys during a summer monsoon storm is the one outdoor activity we perform at superhuman speed in spite of the oppressive heat.

One of the few advantages to summer is that it affords plenty of opportunities to get caught up on summer reading and catching up on all my “summer filler” television shows like Masterchef, So you Think You Can Dance, and yes, I’m somewhat ashamed to admit it … The Real Housewives of Orange County. Although if I’m being honest, there’s very little that’s real about any of those housewives. Watching the OC Housewives is a bit like driving past a freeway accident. You want to look away, but somehow you’re drawn to it a sick, voyeuristic way.

I wish I watched more PBS or NatGeo rather than Bravo TV or the E! Entertainment network during the summer, but something unexplainable draws me to reality TV. It must be that reality TV and the Phoenix heat are both reminders to me that people who live their lives without Christ are damning themselves to an eternity in Hell – which coincidentally is a lot like Phoenix in late July and August.  After a few hours of watching the Housewives, it’s easy to believe that the OC is just a hop and a skip and a dirty martini away from Hades.

When it comes right down to it, the best reason for living in the desert in the summertime would  have to be that watching reality TV to avoid going outside is a great evangelical tool for saving the lost from the hounds of Hell nipping at our heels. We need to be praying for all the lost souls who don’t know Jesus. See – there’s always a sunny side of life if you want to look for it!

Blessings in Christ and as always … Happy Reading!

Kathy K. 

hell fire

 

desert mirage

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