I think sometimes I underestimate my love of music.
Now anyone who is close to me will be aware of how important language is to me. I don’t like the phrase “that’s just semantics” because semantics matter. The meanings of words and phrases are important, as are the understanding of their meanings in conversation. While this is generally true for me, its especially true as a follower of Christ and theologian. Because of all this there are certain words I use very sparingly. I don’t very often say I hate anything, and then the exceptions are usually intentional exaggerations. I’m far more sparing with how I use the words awesome and love. Every once in a while I’ll slip, but I almost never say the word love unless I mean it. I never say, “I love ice cream” or “I love that band/cd.” That’s because love is a very important word to me. So when I say that I underestimate my love of music, that very classification carries a significant amount of weight.
This has come to my attention in the past few weeks given a few things. One has been the plethora of comments I’ve received recently about the size of my music library. Another has been a few conversations I’ve had recently where I found myself speaking with passion and reflections about certain bands and cds that I didn’t even realize I had. I’ve also realize that in addition to how much I listen to music, I spend a lot of that time reflecting on the lyrics and the emotional tone of the overall sound. And how much I can respond to those feelings. I think I forgot my last and most important point.
I say all that to make one point. Since Monday night, the only music I’ve listened to is worship music (at Kairos and during my private worship time) and the White Stripes. I could wax on about why exactly I’ve come to enjoy their musical stylings, but I’ll skip it and just say that its amazing how well I’ve been able to recognize and respond to my present emotional considerations in their music. The reflective elements are of course found in many other songs I have, but I’ve been using them, and I’ve been thoroughly enjoying it.
As an oddly connected note I’ll go ahead and spill I almost killed the blog. The last week or so the constant visitor numbers for the blog have been pretty high, and somebody sent me an email saying they were submitting me to a friend for consideration as a blook (blog turned into a book). Now it seems strange since I also struggle with pride, but all that just freaked me out a little. I felt a little too exposed and thought of shutting it all down. But hey, this is not my project, and fear is not really my thing. So here I am, being vulnerable, to an extent. Soak it up.
The real point of this post needs to be prefaced, an odd thing considering how long its already taken me to get here.
The last few weeks (how often have I used that phrase in the last few . . . posts?), I feel like almost all I’ve been reading is early and mid 20th century theologians. H.R. and Rienhold Niebuhr. Spiros Zodhiates. Paul van Buren. Tillich, Barth, Finn. The amazing C.S. Lewis. And Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
Most of these people are irrelevant to our discussion now (except Lewis because he’s never irrelevant), but Bonhoeffer is of particular interest.
Bonhoeffer was born in Germany in 1906. Earning his doctorate in theology by the time he was 21, he quickly became a well known figure in theological discussion. He is relevant to our discussion here mostly because of how he died. After some traveling (through study and ministry) Bonhoeffer found himself back in Germany, just as Hitler and the Nazi’s were coming to power. In 1936 he was denied authorization to teach at the University of Berlin after being labeled “a pacifist and enemy of the state.” The really important word for us is pacifist. Because not quite ten years later he would be executed for his involvement in multiple attempts to kill Hitler.
Bonhoeffer’s story has always stuck with me, and this week it seems to have special significance. See his story is really one about learning the essence of submission to God. When Bonhoeffer first graduated seminary he was not that far separated from the developing liberal theologians of his time. But then he spent time doing mission work in Harlem. And as he moved from an intellectual pursuit of God, to an active devoted pursuit, he began to change. His submission comes across in intellectual ways, such as his most famous work, The Cost of Discipleship, which attacks the notion of “cheap grace.” But then, as he saw the devastation the Nazis were unleashing on the world, he faced a crises point of some of his most important beliefs, and his personal will. And he gave up everything, for what he understood as the will of God.
Earlier tonight I found this quote from Bonhoeffer, “To deny oneself is to be aware only of Christ and no more of self, to see only him who goes before and no more the road which is too hard for us. Once more, all that self-denial can say is: “He leads the way, keep close to him.”"
My gut reaction is to partially reject the absolutism of the complete denial of self. But in the end it holds true to what I must live. Even those parts of my self, in thought and in will, that stay, are maintained only because of their mirror to Christ.
The idea here is the denial of self Jesus talks about in Matthew 16:24, and Paul restates multiple times as death to self. This is where thoughts, desires and instincts are laid at the foot of the cross to be washed under the blood, and all that is left will be that which is worthy enough to not be destroyed.
And I’m experiencing that right now.
In reality it is something Christians should continually deal with, but it just seems something that is particularly on me now. I’ve written about it before, a few times I think, and I can still think of a dearly treasured email from Joy encouraging me to those great heights. But this week, its just spilling out.
This week I’ve had a number of situations where I had to deny my instincts, the very essence of what could be defended as just being my personality, and to choose that which is Christ. I’ve had the privilege to live not by what I feel, but by what I believe. To choose my principles over my instincts. And indeed I’m still in the middle of it.
God has given me a few tasks as of late, one of particular size and focus that I have very little desire to take on. But I have no choice. In John 6 we see Jesus doing this very thing. Submitting His will to that of God. And here I am doing that, again.
But this is not to say that all my desire is bad. I like this way C.S. Lewis put it in The Weight of Glory
“The new testament has lots to say about self-denial, but not about self-denial as an end in itself. We are told to deny ourselves and to take up our crosses in order that we may follow Christ; and nearly every description of what we shall ultimately find if we do so contains an appeal to desire. If there lurks in most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for the enjoyment of it is a bad things, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is no part of the Christian faith. Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.“
I say all this not as a complaint, but an expression. As much as I don’t want to do this thing right now, as much as it bugs me, I’m overjoyed at the essence of it. I am delighted in the concept of sacrifice. Sacrifice to God, and sacrifice to and for others.
This post is not meant to be exhaustive. Its not meant to fully explore the point intellectually or inspirationally. Its really just to tell you what I’m doing (ambiguously) and tell you how I feel about it. And perhaps you’ll be encouraged to do the same.
The flip side of all this is a concept of faith that I never tire of talking about, which is that our very identity is founded and finished in Christ. This is 2 Corinthians 5:17. This is John 15. This is the concept of striving not to kill myself for the sake of its removal, but its discovery. I am not what I came to Christ as. The true me, as God first made me, is without flaw. And that is the me to which I am called and to which I am refined. You do not know the true me yet, only what has been uncovered as I have undergone the sufferings of participatory crucifixion. It is in Christ’s death that we are able to give up what was never meant to be, and in His resurrection that we are able to achieve what was always intended. The true self.
Like C.S. says, “Until you have given up you self to Him you will not have a real self.”
And so I just keep submitting, and will keep on, until “what God requires, is what I desire.”
If I could but burn upon Your altar
The Feel Good Drag
Is a ridiculously good song by the band Anberlin. I recently made a new playlist with every single emery and Anberlin song on it. To give an understanding, if music made by Christians is the Bible, those two bands are kind of like Song of Songs. They deal with guy/girl relationships.
And indeed, when I started writing this post, that song had particular value. I was going to post the lyrics and everything. Blah. Blah. Blah. But it has been an entire week since I started this post. And even though the song probably fits better now, I care a lot less about that fact. Go figure. But the post is still named that because . . . well because it does still fit, and better now. And I don’t feel like changing it.
I suppose I should first apologize for not having done a post in the last week. I think eventually I’ll figure this “regularly” thing out. The only solace I suppose I can offer is that last week I was extremely busy. A fact which has twice caused some pretty interesting conflict that I’ll only tease you with instead of explain.
I get so frustrated with myself when I don’t post and then try to. Part of it is of course because of the fact I again didn’t keep up with it. But another is the effect that has on the conversation. The longer I go without posting, the more happens, and the more I need/want to say. So I either say it all, or do what I did last time and just talk about the most recent thing weighing. Neither is satisfactory. If I just talk about the one thing than so much gets left unsaid, and in many cases, unexamined because I never talk about it. And if I do talk about everything, I don’t remember it all and the ideas and the writing of the post suffer.
So last week was . . . interesting. For sure. I taught CAKE all by myself last week. Which was exciting, and quite a bit of fun. The word on the street is that I did well, so I’ll let it stand. The week also involved some great hang out time and some great discussions. A date on Friday night with some tacked on baking on Saturday and then the ubiquitous surprise party. This time for Jenn. It was a wig party, and therefore, pretty hilarious. The size/mix of people was pretty great because there ended up being lots of dancing/singing/noise/laughing.
And Sundays, gosh do I love Sundays. Although the last two I’ve taken to running 21-22 hrs straight, which is . . . interesting. I can’t say bad because its not, but at the end of the day I am pretty tired. Good tired though. Fortunately yesterday started later than 4:45, but not much.
iCampus was absolutely insane yesterday. It was the second week of the “What in the world are we doing?” series and the message had to do with poverty (globally and locally), its causes, and what role the church has in helping. And Jenn was fired up. I thought it was going to go nuclear a few times. It was especially interesting because we had a few visitors in for the first service, so there were 6 of us kicking this around in the tiny ibooth.
Today was crazy in its own right. Due to various things, I got in 6 arguments today. Only two of which involved me operating with any modicum of grace. In one I lost this grace, and in the other I handled it about as well as I can imagine. The second one involved the girl from the date, so you can get a sense of how that is going. (I haven’t been putting more in the other blog, but check it tomorrow for more information on that aspect of things.) So I suppose you could say today was not the best day I’ve ever had.
I imagine by now you’re wondering what this post is “about.” And I guess that means its time to talk about it. In part I’d like to talk about some very general things I’ve learned/thought about Christian dating lately. But I think those will have to wait, so really I’d have to say this is about listening and assumptions.
Today this big realization hit me. I’m not sure how long I’ve missed making a bigger deal out of this, but its really been a big issue the last few weeks. I’m not sure how to most succinctly describe/complain about it, but it comes down to this weird dichotomy. Even as I’ve noticed people shying away from confrontation and truth by relative thinking, they also breed contempt and derision by assumptive listening.
Studies have routinely shown that when engaged in conversation, people spend most of the “listening” time waiting to or planning to speak. A rather troubling dual cause-and-effect of this is that people assume they know what the other person is thinking, or means by what they say. We assume that our understanding is definitively so. And we then act on that assumption, either confusing the discussion, or angering the other person or people involved.
The best example I can give is this ongoing discussion Jenn and I have been having about personal faith vs. kingdom faith. I hold that the individual relationship with God is of primary importance, but Jenn says that the outward portion is most important. So yesterday in the ibooth argument, Jenn and I talked about this again, and at some point I realized she misunderstood my position. She was viewing what I said as an exclusive, or absolute. And instead of asking me if that’s what I meant, she went with it. This example is meant in no way to disparage Jenn. I respect her and don’t this to come across as a castigation. Unfortunately for her, its just the best example I can think that I’m willing to share here. But its happened a number of times in the last few weeks. And it never turns out well. Sometimes terribly.
If somebody says or does something that bothers you, you should be willing to talk to them about it. And that should start by being willing to make sure you understand the situation.
This is unwelcome pessimism.
::sigh::
More posts coming soon, count on it. There is a lot to say. Including a serious encounter with God.
Psalm 33:5
“His delight is in righteousness and wisdom; the earth is full of the mercy of the Lord.”
The Theory of Gravity
I, am so tired.
I should really be in bed, resting for a rather long day tomorrow. And yet here I am. Keeping a promise to you. Doing something that helps me in my walk. And doing something else.
See the thing is, I got up at 4:45 this morning. It wasn’t an intentional thing, for certain, but there it was. I tried to go back to sleep, but as I lay there I found myself in a conversation with God. I’d quickly come to think I was awake because of Him, and so was wanting confirmation/a sense of why I was missing another hour and a half of sleep. Considering that the rest of the day was quite filled and busy, with a general absence of naps, and I think I’m nicely coherent for 21 hrs running.
Wednesday went rather well, or so I was told. I enjoyed it, though I could certainly sense some at-hand objection to my method of ordering the Wesleyan Quadrilateral, and therefore Outler’s, Wesleys’, and most of the famous historical Christian figures’ ordering. While I certainly expected such resistance, and was rather pleased with how it played out, I think I’m well justified in regretting that their positions were generally rather defensive, and certainly arguments I’ve heard a number of times. Kind of reminded me why theological discussion is confined to certain levels of education/experience. I feel like I understand, at least in part, why Luther tried to keep his complaints behind closed doors. Because questions like, “wait, what is the Sermon on the Mount?” tend to slow down progress on whether or not dispensationalism accurately accounts for the character of God. (it does not, btw)
So then this morning I woke up far too early, and found myself rather excited that I’d be able to get in some private worship, seeing as its been a while since I’ve done so. But first I went outside to help my brother get ready for the second free track day on the Nashville Speedway Road Coarse, where I put in time yesterday morning helping an old friend test a car.
As an aside, I could really use a massage. I went to the gym two days in a row (Wed and Thurs) which combined with a pretty heavy body resistance workout regimen and a pretty silly mistake during a sparring match has led to some strained muscles in my right mid-lower back. Anyone?
After helping my brother I came inside and finally spent some good time with Big J. Normal routine, some worship music, reading the Letter, and a little prayer (speaking and listening). But, it’d been so long. It was absolutely wonderful, and I plan on making that a more regular habit again.
So now we come to a theme I’ve noticed since Wednesday, or perhaps before then. It seems to be some strand of denial, sometimes to the point of belligerence. Now when I say denial, understand that also encompasses, or at least can encompass, elements of fear and placation.
Though it may have easily begun beforehand (depending on one’s understanding of my discussions with Jenn) it really came about there on Wednesday night. its the frustration of knowing you’ve stated a well reasoned and solid case, of which you covered every angle you could conceive or encounter with the time and format available, and yet still you can feel people just naturally disagreeing with you. Because they don’t like what you say. Which is the essential truth. We do not come to Christ asking Him to mold Himself and His kingdom to us. To our thoughts and theology. To our politics and morals. To our behaviors and instincts. To our broken and fallen nature. Rather we come to Him saying, “All is laid at your feet my King. Make me righteous.”
It reminds me of the story of Kevin Roose. Roose had a book published not long ago called “The Unlikely Disciple” which is a clever though ultimately slightly misleading title. Roose was a fairly staunch liberal and atheist student of Brown University who decided to spend a semester studying abroad. At Liberty. The book is a good read with many great moments/points, but one of my favorite things is that at then end Roose talks about why he still doesn’t consider himself a Christian. He mentions that he simply can’t buy into things he still objects to, and in doing so mentions his two gay aunts as a reference to not being able to reject homosexuality. While I feel sorrow at Roose’s rejection of the far more essential truth, I cannot help but admire something he understands, or rather potentially embodies, that most Christ followers do not. He understands that faith should, in a sense, be taken very seriously. That all previous attachments must be laid upon the alter. It is less oft cited part of 2 Corinthians 5:17. For the new to come, the old must go.
The premise was easy: experience is fallible, tradition is flawed, and reason is but a tool. While Scripture remains supreme, eternal, and constantly reflected as true.
Yet there I was. Exactly as I’d expected. Not upset, not feeling weighed down or defeated. Just feeling . . . like I’d laid a portion of my weight upon the table, and people had found it intruding. Just a little sad.
And over the next few days there was a strand of this I’ll come back to in a few minutes, but then it came again today. As I was doing the iCampus this morning, I encountered a few small, but significant events furthering this feeling. Which all involved elements of obstinacy or avoidance.
Following this was a “to-the-car” conversation with a guy who was at CAKE on Wednesday. He had joked just a few minutes prior about me being wrong. As we walked he said he was just kidding and that everyone was right, because everyone was entitled to their opinion.
This is me surprisingly not rolling my eyes. Thank you love of Jesus enabling truth.
“People are entitled to their opinions,” I responded. “And polite discourse on the differences. But that doesn’t make them right. It’s very simple. If you say everyone is right, and I say I am, and you aren’t, your position is immediately bogus. Those positions are mutually exclusive.”
And he just went on. Like I hadn’t said a thing. Changed the conversation. Moved along. ::sigh::
But there is no better way to framer the argument. God, the Bible, the very concept of logic assert absolute truth. God, through the Bible, expresses the desire for the faithful to understand that truth, which is ultimately Him. And His nature, and all that He desires for us to know of Him. Avoiding those discussions is in the end rather cowardly, and unChristlike. No better than belligerent authoritarian assertion of the possible positions.
Can our love for each other not withstand disagreement? Can our devotion to God not withstand a truth with which we disagree? Or have we become so misguided as to think we can love God without knowing Him?
I refuse to buy that. God is perfect and eternal, which separately and together point together consistency. And we wants us to love Him, requiring knowledge of Him, which means such a thing is attainable. Meaning there is static truth that is learnable. And I can’t really think of a better place to find such things than the sweet love letter He wrote us.
Follow up post completing the thought and giving some other info. What a great day.
This is my garden. Take account.
"If you're allergic to the truth then I suggest you keep your distance"
Oh heck yes. The blogging is on. Let us begin.
So why have I been gone so long? It started out practically. I was trying to edit this (the new) blog, to take out certain "objectionable materials" to make it more widely acceptable. In a sense. It was kind of connected to a narrow angle job search, but that wasn't all of it. To a certain extent I've done that, but I'm kind of over it. What's here is here.
The other part was that eventually I didn't want to. Not really in a palpable way. Not anything easily identified or described, but surely there nonetheless. It manifested in just doing other things. But now that's done to. Blogging will begin in earnest. Just try and keep up.
Now, the story for how I'm coming back is understandably predictable, and yet somehow still unexplainable. It has something to do with discovering the coverage I could get by networking this blog into Facebook. When I did so and just linked it in my profile, I got an absurd number of hits. To give you a good idea, it was more than 10% of my friends list. Which is, ridiculous. To be honest it kind of scared me. I wasn't sure I wanted that kind of exposure. But alas again, who the heck cares.
So what are we talking about? Good gosh, what aren't we.
First things first. This blog is "new". Which is to say that its an edited version of a still running nearly identical blog whose address is now only available upon request. I'm moderately happy with wordpress, though I have some minor complaints, such as the small number of themes, and specific problems with the available options. The writing window is also pretty unappealing, which make sit difficult to pay attention while writing.
The picture you see above, legit right? Its a fairly famous statue that I'll give mad points to whomever can identify it and its location.
The good news with it being nearly three weeks since I last posted, is that I can't even begin to bore you with all the things that have happened in the mean time. Let it be said its been a lot. Going to Kairos. Telling a lovely young lady I was interested in her. A few parties. A race at the Nashville Road Course. Lots of work around the house. Lots of reading. Going to Northeast. Blah . . . blah . . . and so on.
I don't even feel like going into how I've dealt with the subject matter of the last two posts over the last few weeks. What we'll do instead, is deal with large themes that have stood out.
The first is that God has kept up His insistence on giving me informal ministry opportunities. He just keeps placing me in situations where I can serve do to nothing but natural relationships. And it feels great. That being said I can definitely recognize the absence of deep community on a mission.
Second is the issue of prayer, and God's will in general. A few Sundays ago my men's small group discussion was on prayer. That, in combination with everything that has been going on has led to a rather essential quandary. I am stuck wondering where the intersection is between God's will, and our prayers of petition. The existence of, "rightness" of, and God's own endorsement of each are clearly evident in Scripture, leading me to wonder how they play out practically.
I believe emphatically that God has a will, for my life. One possible dead end of this, is that this will involves few, if any practical elements. In this scenario the extreme option is that God's will eventually resides only in our relationship to Him. Therefore if we have been reconciled, and are living by faith, His will has no other constraining elements.
Another adaptation of this is the possibility of limited practical induction. This itself has two variants. One is where God has a few large points where His will intercedes with our direct living. Things like CERTAIN jobs, who we marry, or what our ministry focus is, though obviously, His concern for each of those areas is debatable. The other option here is that He has a practical will that is very general, wherein He gives us gifts, talents, and desires and sets us loose to apply them to the Kingdom. Ultimately I find all three of these options lacking, however, because God just doesn't seem that hands off.
We can see it in how our ultimate purpose is wrapped up in our daily sustenance. We can see it in how the Letter speaks to concerns of very real and constant life. And we can see the statistical difference faith makes in things like grief recovery, drug treatment, and oddly enough, sexual satisfaction in marriage.
So the question is where God's practical, rather than ultimate, will for our lives intersects His insistence that we bring Him our requests. And I just don't know.
That is especially frustrating given the absurd number of choices I've seen come up in my life recently. As well as seemingly complete lack of God speaking in my life. Didn't He used to do that all the time?
However, one of the points of a book I read recently is that we Protestants have forgotten the concept of "sins of inaction". As a result there are areas where I'm just pushing, and being willing to make mistakes and be wrong, just because something has to happen.
Now, as for the title of this post. I've been listening to rap/hip hop nearly all day and this is a line from one of my favorite groups, Mars Ill.
It struck me tonight while I was getting ready to start this post because of how much this idea has been on my mind lately. It started months ago when I first began musing on how concerned Christians/churches can get with being attractive to unbelievers, and how genuinely unChristlike that is. He loved everybody. He wants everybody. But He's readily admitted most people aren't going to make it.
Combine this with my rereading a book examining the exemplary masculinity of Christ, and His insistence on never holding off on the truth, and sometimes being harsh. The result is a pretty severe case of turmoil.
I love unbelievers. I walking with them and being Christ for them. I love showing them love and talking to them about my faith. I love seeing them get interested and not just write it off. But where does that intersect not slacking off a bit of truth?
In personal interactions, its quite easy. A case of things easier done than said, something almost exclusive to following Jesus. But as far as how you institutionalize such a dichotomy, that is a giant can of worms. And its especially poignant because I'm experiencing that dilemma right now.
I'm co-teaching this Wednesday at CAKE with Jenn, and I'm worried that the overall tone will be a message I don't agree with. And I don't know how to settle that.
As if I needed more reason for this issue to be on my heart, tonight I made somebody very angry because I was answering a question honestly. I'm not exactly proud of it, but I'm not ashamed either.
In the end I know the answer of how this plays out in my life, and how it will play out Wednesday. I just have to love Jesus and be with Him, and the overflow of that love will produce exactly what it should.
As long as I don't try to stop it.
Post Delay and New Link
Sorry its been so long everyone, and alas, this is not a full blown post. This is an apology. And an explanation.
I've been applying for some ministry jobs (yeah or bleh I'm not sure) and I've decided to include my blog as a part of that. As such, I've been working on setting one up with some of the more personal elements removed. I'm setting up a nearly identical blog on Wordpress (even the same name).
You don't need to read both. Everything I post there will be here, but there will be some of the more personal or heavier elements that appear here and not there. I'm telling you all for a few reasons.
1) Is that I've been editing old posts on the Wordpress account, which is why there's been no new post in a week.
2) I'll be changing my Facebook link to the new one, just want to make sure everyone knows, in case that will effect you. But it shouldn't.
Back soon!
Walls
I'm sitting here listening to bluegrass on Last.FM. For the last 45 minutes or so I've been trying to remember what it was I wanted to talk about in this post. I promised you guys doing more, and I'm committed to it, so I was really trying. After a good bit of procrastinating of course.
Alas I'm pretty sure I finally remember what it was.
I'll begin it, and therefore finally actually writing this post by putting up some lyrics. "Walls" is the name of a song by Emery, one of my favorite bands. Its from their first album, titled The Weak's End.
"Are you listening?
we write a thousand pages, they're torn and on the floor
headlights hammer the windows, we're locked behind these doors
and we are never leaving, this place is part of us
and all these scenes repeating are cold to the touch
my hands seem to deceive me
when I'm nervous or when I'm healthy.
the scenery's all drawn.
they hang here from the walls dear,
painting pictures, bleeding colors,
blanket the windows.
sometimes it gets so hard to breathe.
your eyes can see right through me.
these fights with your arms left beside.
one thing and one more says goodnight.
you've got the map come get to me.
these knuckles break before they bleed.
tear out these veins that own my heart.
this skin that wears your lasting marks.
i've built these walls come get to me, come get to me.
is this your lesson, a slight discretion,
the lines that keep you, the lines that sweep you.
lock the doors from the inside.
your face is so contagious, it wears announcements,
it leaves me breathless, i won't forget this.
let the walls have their say.
there's no conversation, words without remorse
and this television drowns the only source
wake from these dreams of you in my arms
to the staircase where you hold my heart
this place, these walls mean everything to me."
Can anyone see where I'm going with this?
Lately I've noticed that there seem to be walls everywhere. I think where I first became aware of it is an article I read a few weeks ago. It was an article some woman wrote for a single's ministry website. The article was entitled something like, "Not Shopping for a Husband" or some stupid crap like that. The article was pretty much crap. The author was pretty much saying that she used to have a list of hopes or expectations for her future husband. But she'd recently come to believe, through seeing one of her friends do it, that she should abandon that list. Now in principle this may sound good, and in fact in a few minutes I'll be arguing in partial favor of it. It bugged me initially, but then the author related the story of her friend. Her friend used to have a list. Her friend also had a guy whom was a good friend, but certainly did not match the list. At some point the friend realized what a good guy this fella she said she'd never date was. How much he'd been there for her and so on. And decided to marry him. Or something. Here's the principle problem I see.
I like spiritual attraction as much as the next God fearing cat, and I believe in the rightness of a God-centered refining life whereby we constantly move towards a greater likeness of God. If my "dating pool", in a theoretical sense, is only of like minded people, then all such girls should be expected to possess similar qualities as found in the guy from the story. If we jettison lists and only go based on spirituality and a person's goodness in their behavior towards us, or as may be the case, the motivating affection, our future spouse then becomes an interchangeable proposition. Think on it. If we really draw our lines so far back, what's the point? Suddenly "everybody" is game. And though "everybody" is a fairly small field, I believe, personally and theologically, that its simply way too big. Imagine marrying someone you find annoying and don't like being around, because they love Jesus, and have always been good to you. It may be extreme, but it puts it in perspective.
Now out present time, it would actually do me good to discover a God who would completely overcome any of my personal expectations and deliver untold happiness in a significant other. See even tonight, I found myself thinking about . . . her. Unfortunate and distasteful as I find that. Even if I, by way of internal conviction or Godly devotion, find myself devoid of actively feeling for or missing her, I can't forget the objective joy of being with her. When I think of meeting someone, I invariably find myself wanting qualities Heather possessed. And not just surfacey things, though I did find myself both yesterday and today remarking she is still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Its deep things, like how much she loved books and reading, even more than myself. How much she liked art. Poetry, which I personally dislike. She favored music I found difficult to listen to, and now I find myself envisioning someone else, exactly like that.
This is embarrassingly pathetic disclosure of the heart.
So here I find myself in a quite interesting proposition. The grander elements are my inability to lay feelings for her to rest, and the possibility of God's role in that. The solid desire, again by God or by actively denying Him, to be head's up in term's of girls, while contemplating the very nature of dating. And wishing, fruitlessly, to be rid of thinking about any of it at all. So if I actually manage to convince myself that its just me and I need to move on, and I begin thinking about the awkwardness of wanting to date someone again, I find myself in a rather precarious position. Because if I consider girls without qualities I found, and so deeply enjoyed in Heather, I can feel the impending sadness. The knowledge that sometime, some little thing will happen and you'll just feel that deep seeded knowledge that you're not happy. Which for a bit more circular thinking leads me back to, "why did God ever set us up?"
But my theology does not come from personal experience. Its comes from Scripture, interpreted through tradition, understood by reason, and vivified by experience.
What I'm then left with is a set of questions, or perhaps just one. I was talking with a friend about this article, and our own struggles with singlehood and expectations and keeping people out, and we reached a point where we had to wonder.
When does having expectations become building walls?
Even if I can't recognize them it seems rather immature to think I haven't constructed rather serious barricades as a result of splitting with the woman I still know God told me to propose to. It ends up being an issue of what walls I've built, vs. what role I'm really supposed to play in God's selection of a mate for me. The phrasing of the second part is important because it cuts off cries of "well you just trust God." But its like in selection of careers. God gives us gifts and desires, and part of being fulfilled is recognizing those and letting God advance the kingdom through them. But sometimes that is proactive, and that means knowing and obeying.
I really freaking hate talking about girls and Heather. Seriously. Hate.
Fortunately, though ultimately rather unfortunately, I can see where this applies to other areas of my life. Take for instance where I find myself right now. I don't have those desperately necessary close male relationships. Because through my own wall building and others these relationships haven't reached their full potential. They're not ripping at the fabric of our souls to make sure its pure. What a tragedy.
It happens when I'm struggling with God too. I just want to push everyone out and feel that pressing weight. Not because I really want to, but that's the dark draw. The push from the dark passenger. The self that refuses to die. The remnants of a man covered in sin clinging to the life of a man born of blood.
I can see it in my relationship with God. It seems as though I'm not hearing from God, but that's idiotic. Even if He's just saying "I love you" He's always saying something. Always. Through any avenue He can. Speaking directly, speaking through The Letter. Using other people. Nature. Music. But I can't hear Him.
That means I've put up walls. Walls between my heart and its only substance and necessary sustenance, which are the bloody love of the sacrificing King. What can I possibly be thinking? I want Him there. Desperately.
I don't even recognize what the walls are. All I know is that I want them gone.
Dear God, tear me down that you may build me, exactly as You wish.
100th Post!!!
Dear readers,
Say hello to post #100!! Here's to many more. Thanks for reading, and remember, this should be a conversation, use this as a launching point to talk to me.
Tear my heart out, with wood and nails
Note: I had to go back through this post and edited out the cursing. Some of you know I'm kidding. Some of you know I'm not.
I've noticed a pattern in how I title my posts. If I know what I want to say, I can label them right off the bat. Perhaps I've known what it would be called all day. If, however, I know what I need to talk about, but not what to say, I end up writing the title afterwards.
Well it happened again. Bad this time. I went to Kairos (after a number of errands) and sat surrounded by good looking women. Behind me (diagonally included), in front of me, and on both sides. And not just one, but at least two deep every way. What sort of spiritual twilight zone is this crap from?
So I'm sitting there before the service wondering what the heck my problem is. Mostly because to my left is a rather striking brunette. Dressed and proportioned in ways I would describe as ideal. And I don't even really say hi. So we sit for a few minutes in uncomfortable silence. Just sit. As I think of turning to talk I go through everything in my head. "You're not that guy, don't be that guy. / But she seems approachable. / No, she seems shy, that's why you want to talk to her. / I can't anyhow because I'll be that guy. / And even if I got over it, and even if she's receptive, you can't ask anyone out because your are jobless. / Ah yes, the area of debilitating stress. / And even if you got over that, you're still in love with Heather. / Am not. / Right. / Like you'd know. / Can't we at least be nice and make small talk?"
Instead I texted Glenn:
"I think I may need serious mental help. Sitting next to a gorgeous girl, not even making small talk. Pretending I have good reasons." - Though looking back I should add some of my reasons are valid. To an extent.
I'm sick of putting stuff like this in the blog. God can we please move on? You're going to drive all my readers away. Or maybe its me. But I've been looking for you to show me all along.
This week I actually participated in the greet your neighbor question thing, met everyone around me, made silly small talk. That's a step somewhere, right? Get's me back to wondering how I ever asked Heather to dance when we first met. I tell myself I wasn't wounded then. Not sure whether or not I believe it.
Worship was flipping sweet by the way. Total abandon, and mad hat singing. I think it was some of the most unburdened I've felt during worship in a long time. Everything just disappeared and it was just me and Jesus. And the band and 1200 other people, all joined in it.
There was a guided prayer time between worship and prayer. During it Mike first pushed us to ask God to remove whatever was heavy on our hearts. Then he talked about struggle and fighting, at the top I remember thinking it was really relevant to me. I was even at the point that when he started the message I was determined to contact Heather, because I knew I had to. By what Mike said, by what I THOUGHT God said back. But that's gone now.
It turns out last week did not start a series on Isaiah, but rather whole personhood in Christ. Last week was about worship, and this week was about worldview, interesting since I'll be teaching on that in a few weeks. The scripture was Matthew 11:28-30. Mike used it to talk about Jesus desires for us, and how life with Him puts us under workings that don't even seem like work, because we were made for them. Which just tore at me. Oh how I long for purpose. How I used to see it, and remember things, and sometimes still feel pulls, but ultimately I'm left wondering. Do I know and I'm forgetting? Do I know and I'm not following? Or are you just making me wait?
Excellent relatable point here. Mike talked about how we take life coaches. People of one sort or another who end up teaching us things. He then related how we'd never think of hiring a piano teacher who couldn't play the piano, but so many people take up these coaches who don't know life. Not like Jesus did.
Now, I woke up this morning overcast. And while it was convenient to match the weather, it was unsatisfying. The reason was that the last dream I had was about Heather. We were talking and all this crap, and I went after her and it was just ugly and had no effect.
I only mention this because at one point during the message, Mike blows my mind. He starts talking about how his mom taught him that God uses dreams and even waking imagery to bring people to mind we should contact. So that's twice in one service I get "absolutely convinced" I need to contact Heather. I'm not sure why its gone now, but I think I'm glad. Who knows.
Before the service this guy who does business/missions work in India got up and talked. He did a Q&A session after the service that was pretty phenomenal. He talked about the Caste system and conversion and the growth of Christianity and all these crazy things. Almost had me wanting to go there, and it was certainly very enlightening.
Also there was this girl there, the only girl I've seen multiple times at Kairos, whom I met the first night I came (remember the table with the girls and Forest Gump).
And here I am again, wanting to be oblivious.
The long and short of it is that I seemed to have noticed something. If I have an idea, or make a decision, or become convicted of something. I have pretty much only to wait a while, until I sleep at most, and it will go away. In some ways its a comfort, and in others an outrage. Its because I don't know where God wants me. Where He wants me to go and what He wants me to do. So I have no cause to hold on to anything. And I'm not close enough to Him, or I have residual issues, so whatever He does say, I just dismiss as me or whimsy. Crap right? I don't even know what I'm doing wrong. Or maybe I do and I'm just denying it.
More posts are coming soon I promise. I'd go ahead and do maybe another two right now if if weren't so late.
Be of good cheer, the Lord gave Himself for you. That you might live. That He might be with you.
Ketchup . . . Catsup
TTTTTTTTTTTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEE for a post I say. But oh how do I begin. I'll be experimenting with a different structure, or maybe not. And does anyone still read this thing? I used to know who all the regulars (that I knew in real life) were, but I quit using my visits tracker and I'm not sure who all I've lost. Sad days. I'm working on doing more posts, and doing shorter ones. We'll see. Anybody want to recommend me to any companies as a blook?
Its really been a week since my last update. How do I let this happen? I promised no more right? I promised I was going to do more stuff. Grr. This time its for real.
So what's been going on? What a big question.
Friday I went out, by myself, in the vain hopes of finding one of the girls (types, not specific ones) I've become recently enamored with dating. One is that the other day I was convinced I needed to find me a nice, hot black girl. And the other was a redhead, but that was all about this dream I had, crazy right. I don't think anyone believes this paragraph. I really did have the dream though.
Saturday was Clay's going away party. It was supposedly a combined 50's and WWF theme, but only two of us dressed up, so that part of it was a little disappointing. But I went all out for it and so did Holly. There is a picture somewhere. As a whole the gathering was good, but a little off putting. I ultimately felt out of place, leaving me to wonder if I'll ever not feel that way.
And darn me if there's not this girl who's doing her darnedest to get me to like her (intentional or not I don't know). Anyhow, the number of reasons I should not be interested in her is about as long as they get, with the only notable absentee being faith, which I think is somewhere near level. I suppose I haven't bothered to really find out, but what I have supports that hypothesis. Regertless, it makes me long for complete obliviousness. I long to not thing about girls and relationships, to not notice them, especially to not have Heather still so irrevocably upon my heart. Perhaps that most of all, but oblivious is oblivious. And despite how I act, and can be, Its not where I want it. [Warning: Watch for recurring themes]
Speaking of de girls, I had that dream, but I can't remember when. I dreamed I started a relationship with a redhead. There were also car chases and fights and a huge house/university, but lets ignore the insanity. So after the party, or rather, while it was still going on, a few of us, Clay included, left to go to Climb Nashville. Which is an indoor climbing thingie. I had no clothes or shoes other than my 50's outfit (idiotic, I know), which could have worked considering you rent shoes and Jeremy had shorts, but I just wasn't up for it. On the way down we kept singing "Don't Stop Believing" which was especially funny because it never played. Lauren just started it. So once there, Lauren and Clay and I sat on a bench talking, watching Jeremy and Devon boulder. A good time was had by all.
Afterwards we stopped by this frozen custard place across from Centennial Park and Vandy's Stadium. And working inside was a very cute redhead (the first one I'd seen since the dream). AND . . . "Don't Stop Believing" was playing on the radio. I took it as a definite sign and got ice cream. Dutch chocolate with Heath pieces. Delicious.
Sunday was rather interesting. It was my first day as an iGuide for the iCampus at Godwhy. Its sort of like a moderator/participator/question answerer/discussion mover for the chatroom that accompanies the online service stream and pre-service show. I had an absolute blast with the other iCampus people. I'm pretty sure we laughed the paint off the walls of that little room. It was also great to participate in the chat. The first session involved a non-Christian throwing some hard ball question, which was a challenge and a huge blessing to be able to encounter. The second session had a lot more people, but the one's who participated in the discussion were all church members who couldn't make the service for various reasons, so that chat allowed for some different work. Their discussion was less skeptical, but still there were questions and hard issues.
As a whole, the experience has just made me a lot more interested in the potential of what Godwhy is doing. The iCampus can serve as a connector to people who can't be there (Mary joined us while at work) but there is another possibility there. The iCampus is a way for non-church people to safely check out Godwhy. From what I understand, they still mostly see people moving from churches to there, but the potential is huge, and the reality isn't bad at all.
Thank God For Wednesdays
Dear Wednesday,
I think we need to talk. Knowing you all this time has been great. You're a blast, and you've always been there for me. I treasure your friendship.
But lately I can't help but find myself attracted to you.
Okay, I was planning on riding that joke out longer, but I think its had its time, let's move on and explain.
Yesterday was a pretty great day. I got up butt early and dragged myself to a gym I don't usually go to, because there was a weapons instructor teaching Eskrima knife techniques. Sweet right?!
Blah blah skip time to meeting with Jenn at 1:30. We ended up spending about 10 minutes covering what happened with my old job and all that ridiculous crap, and then spent the rest of the two hours talking theology and ministry. Oh how I wish I got to do stuff like that more often.
We talked a little about the future of CAKE, and possibilities of what's happening there. She lamented about the decline in numbers from a year ago. She said that at the Thanksgiving celebration last year they had 120 people. That's huge.
At some point while Jenn was talking, I had the sudden urge to be more involved in CAKE. I just felt it as this sudden draw, which I decided to ask her about since I'd never really felt the urge to do much more there than go on Wednesday nights and hang out with people. So I asked her about it and we both agreed to be in prayer. We'll see where that goes. She also asked me to lead at least two Wednesday nights coming up in the next little while. One will be on H. R. Niebhur's Christ and culture types, and the other will be on the Wesleyan Quadralateral. I'm very excited about it, and have already started looking for my books, all three of which have been lent and dissappeared, so I'll be getting new copies.
Similarly, I still don't know where God wants me, but I'm getting ideas. This place still does not feel like home, but I'm thinking of chilling and putting in for Vandy div, 'cause that's still pretty snobby right? It could work. And they have some program.
I also sometimes think of just trying to move places where I know people I love are. Like moving wherever dear Glenn is, because he's great. Or others.
So what this kind of looks like is me going ahead and starting down the road of teaching, even though I'm not sure I'm ready yet, in terms of actually being able to get hired. But hey, community colleges suck, so maybe I could teach at one of those. I've also become fairly enamored with my big writing idea. Like to the point I'm looking over old papers to see what I can submit to certain magazines (Christianity Today and . . . what else I'm not sure).
So then last night I showed up at CAKE, and as soon as I'm in the door Adam grabs me and pulls me out in the hall. He invites me to be an iguide. Godwhy does this thing called the icampus, which is a way for people to be involved in the church, without being there. While there are some obvious glaring problems with that, it does have a lot to offer. It begins with a 30 minute show before the services, and then the services are run streaming online. During all this there is a chat room up and running. The iguide is the Godwhy representative there to help moderate the discussion and answer any questions that people have. Needless to say I'm very excited about being a part of that.
Then last night Luke grabs me after CAKE and invites me to go with him and Tyler, after our first venture dead ended due to an early closing, we decided to go to a local coffeehouse. Earlier in the night Luke told me how he'd recently met someone I'd gone to high school with. Luke mentioned that he knew me from church, which surprised the guy. He said I'd never seemed like the church type, and always seemed like a "smart-ass" in high school. So true.
Anyhow, turns out this guy, whom we'll call Brice, was there last night. He and I got started talking and almost immediately he said he'd heard I had become "a big Christian bible guy." Luke turns and laughs and says, "hey, I just told him you and I went to church together." So I knew it was going to be an interesting conversation.
His first question was to ask me what had happened. I'm fairly sure already this guy is not a Christian, and so I've got a choice about how I handle it. How much do I say? How religious do I talk? And then I just went for it.
I told him about having gotten hooked up with a church my freshman year, but how it didn't mean anything to me. And then the summer before my senior year of high school I was on a trip and I heard God speak to me and call my name. And I just said it like it was nothing. To this presumably hostile atheist. Word freaking up for the big brass ones eh?
So we end up talking for at least an hour or so. Talking about how he lost his faith, and what had happened in his life. He reminisced over what I was like in high school, and I had to inform him that bad as it was, it wasn't even everything. Told him what all that was too.
It was so good to connect with this guy. To talk to him and just let him see something different, in so many ways. It was good to get him laughing and to hear about where he'd been and how it effected him. Mostly it was good to know he was seeing something he hadn't seen before. And to really mean it.
And that, my friends, is what awesome Wednesdays are made of.
So what now? Well, lots of stuff. I feel great, but I still have areas where I'm waiting on God to reveal Himself and call me and say "come here, go there, do this". But I'm happy. I'm practicing spiritual discipline in terms of private study and worship. Things are good.
Heads up, I'm going to start doing some of those academic posts I promised. I promise.
She smelled like beef jerky, and she had a beautiful singing voice
Alright, I'll admit it, I need to get back in the habit of writing more often. I'm so far behind its not even funny. Let's get it on.
I really should figure out a way to take advantage of this gift I have. I showed up to Kairos a little bit later than I like and chose a sit still down in front, but off to one side. So I'm sitting there by myself, being a putz and not talking to anyone. And time keeps winding down. And then this ridiculously attractive blond walks up and says, "Hey, is anybody sitting there?" pointing at the seat next to me. Well no, the whole row is available. Nearly the whole section is, so I politely reply. "Well good, then I'm gonna be your buddy for tonight." She then introduces me to her two friends, and I'm really not sure which of them was most attractive. Is it really any wonder that I haven't sought out anyone to go to Kairos with me? This happens every single week. Unfortunately there wasn't much going on there. This girl kept checking her phone every ten minutes, in her active sports top and Von Dutch hat. Clearly not my type. But its the idea of it. Its like a law of nature. If Zach Frank goes to Kairos by himself, attractive girls will sit next to him. And possibly in front of and behind as well.
While its enjoyable at a certain level, and I feel there is some potential of making money from it, it is ultimately dissatisfying. I'm still praying to end up with a tight group of guys. And I'm still just not the type to go hitting on random girls, or even only partially random ones. I suppose it could be worse though.
Perhaps the most interesting part however, is that as soon as this girl walked up I could smell this very distinctive smell. Beef Jerky. And good gosh do I like beef jerky. I was really kind of mystified as to how this was possible. I decided to text some of my funniest friends to see what responses I would get, and to let them know. So here's how it went down:
My original text: "Sitting next to a really attractive blonde who smells a little like beef jerky."
1st response: "ask her what's for dinner"
2nd: "maybe she's a sales rep for Slim Jim"
3rd: "marry her"
4th: "find a dog and see what happens"
Brilliant.
So on with the meat. Tuesday night was great. For the second week in a row the worship and the minor prayer interlude had me in light tears. Which is absolutely amazing. Reaching that kind of closeness and openness with God. Not really sad tears, just . . . tears.
Mike began a series on Isaiah and . . . . I just stopped to back over my notes because I couldn't remember the main point of the message. And while I can kind of tell you what it was, that won't tell you anything. He was talking about worship, and three of the elements of story arches with God. And its crazy, because I took pretty good notes. I listened the whole time, and I was engaged and feel like I got a lot out of it. But I can't really tell you what the unifying message was. Rest assured it was good. There are lots of little element points I got out, but in the end it just was.
::sigh:: Okay, let's talk about the obligatory Heather related crap, for which I apologize. So since I last wrote things had just pretty much continued, really missing her, blah, blah. Almost crying over dinky stupid stuff. It seemed that almost every night I was fighting back tears as I lie down to go to sleep. Fan-tastic.
So the other night it was just miserable and I remembered I had this old cheesy book called "When God Writes Your Love Story." Yes, the authors are nerds. And nerdy ones at that. Yes its cheesy both in content and tone. But for some reason I just needed to read it. So I started. The real theme of the first 3 chapters was pretty simple. Just turn it over to God. Which is . . . so simple and obvious that you'd never think to do it.
So I just did it. Which is odd because I'd really thought myself in that place before. But I think while I was ready for wherever God led it, I wanted to be doing something, or having something happening. What they authors (husband and wife team) were suggesting was a completely hands off approach. I'm still not totally convinced, but I'm doing it, and I'm experiencing some form of peace. Certainly far more than I was before. So that's good.
The only mitigating thing left is something that's happened the last two weeks at Kairos. During the guided prayer times there's been a portion where we were supposed to listen to God. The first time we were told to imagine ourselves before the throne. So I did. I pictured myself kneeling there right before God. And much to my surprise, I saw her kneeling beside me, holding my hand. I tried to dismiss it. Tried to just be alone. No dice. Tried to replace her. Didn't work. So I just forgot about it. But it happened this past Tuesday again, during the guided prayer time. Same kind of thing. I won't even repeat what I thought I heard 'cause its just ridiculous.
So I've given it all over. I'm hands off unless I'm told to do otherwise. But I've been here before and I know how it turned out, so we'll see. Conversely, since this I've found myself attracted to these two girls. Neither of which I can have anything to do with. We'll see how that works out. I just want to be an oblivious stoic. Oh well.
And right now that's where everything ends up. Just keep remembering Jesus is on the throne. Just keep putting Him back there if you ask Him to move. Its the only way to get anywhere.
That By Which We Live And Die (part 2)
I'd like to go back and address my struggle with God's character, which also requires jumping back in the Kairos timeline. See just after Anthony finished his rousing encouragement I needed, the started in to a song that I love, but can't for the life of me remember. And I had a realization.
Even if God never delivers me a good thing from here on out. Even if good things do come, and then only add more pain, it doesn't matter. God loved me so much he endured the cross and the bearing of all sin to be with me. And that means He doesn't have to do anything else to be good to me. That offer right there, to bear my punishment for my sins, so He could be with me, is all it takes. And if nothing goes right for the rest of my life, I have reason enough to praise Him and trust Him. That's all it takes.
That being said, I hope that's not it.
So Mike went on, and as I mentioned before expressed an idea that I'd always felt, convincing me its not wrong to so strongly associate worship with the singing of praises. What is wrong is thinking that's all worship can be or has to be.
The longer I spend being introspective (see: since I met Heather) the more apparent it becomes that my spiritual health can probably well be tracked by how much I scream. Because when I left Kairos on Tuesday, I rawed out my vocal chords on the way home. I abused them mercilessly. Screaming along to my favorite bands, trying some of my own lyrics to see how I liked them. It was wonderful.
I came home all jazzed up and ready to blog. But as soon as I walked in the door I knew I'd lost something. I'd lost that feeling. When I left Kairos I was sure and steadfast in God's faithfulness. I was convinced I'd let myself burn for Heather as much as I could, and that my order to fight still stood. And as I sat down at this computer, I could remember why, I just couldn't feel it anymore. So I waited around, killed time, and ended up writing nothing.
The next day was a busy fest, and things just changed more. From the time I woke up I again found myself praying to not think about Heather, since all free time and space in my mind (even while I was reading, or hanging with friends) was found with traces of her at best, and often more than that. So I just put it off, and quickly found myself back to where I'd been before. Even at my busiest she's still there. And the only way to not have those feelings be semi-positive is to make them extremely negative. I've started internally only referring to her by a curseword preceded by a definite article. In order not to want her I have to either remove all though from my brain, or produce what can only be called hate. I keep telling myself if I can just find some job, or combination of job and ministry to occupy me mind it'll go away. But I've been there, and it didn't happen. Yet I still think it can, maybe. I'm not sure anymore.
As for God, I haven't moved back to rejecting Him, but I haven't been disciplined either these last two days. So what we're left with is . . . I don't know.
The product of it all is I don't know I'm supposed to do. I have an idea of where, in the long term, God wants me, but I can't do anything about it now, and might do best either way to put it off another few years. So I'm left with no idea of the intervening time. What occupies is the memory that my plan was to just find some job, do great ministry and be a fantastic husband. But now I'm left with a vision of long term purpose (which admitedly God might change) and haunting memories of being with someone I still want to marry, but wants nothing to do with me.
What I'm left with is still wanting to serve God, but wanting nothing to do with females. At some level I've convinced myself its really over with Heather, while still not totally believing it. And I'm well aware that unless I decide to settle I won't be happy with someone else. Even if it turns out well, there will be things. There have to be. So I hate the idea of females and marriage.
I find myself considering carriers with high divorce rates, most of which also have relatively high mortality rates. My favorites are epidemiologist and some form of law enforcement. Last I heard I couldn't join the military for medical reasons but I've thought of giving that another look. Maybe they have lower standards for Chaplains, I heard they don't even do regular boot camp.
Last night as I rode back from Nashville at horrendously late/early with some friends I sat thinking. I realized I like being a tough nut to crack. Being unknown and difficult to figure out. I like frustrating females interested in me. I like that stuff, even as I hate it.
Ultimately I don't know how much I mean of any of it. I'm terribly unsure of what God wants, and where He is.
But still, I keep telling myself, "you're waiting, and He WILL come."
That By Which We Live And Die (part 1)
Oh the terrible dragging lathargy that is trying to start a blog post. Especially after long periods of time. Especially with lots of disconnected randomness to get out, a good deal of which you wish you didn't have to say.
My last post was almost two weeks ago. I've gone longer stretches without writing, but never with so much hassle for it. I was received a fair number of contacts a few days ago chirping at me to get my butt in gear. Obviously its not the riveting nature of the introspective narrative, its about me as a person. But still.
The Monday after I wrote that post I received an email from my boss. I was fired. Reason, I was busy the day before and hadn't responded to three text messages, mostly because I didn't touch either phone until about 10:30 that night. So that was cool.
What that started was a terrible system of entanglement. I was so frustrated. So frustrated with so many things, God being one of them. I remember yelling at Him. I spent a good two pages complaining in my prayer journal. Expressing feelings that seem to have come and gone consistently the last year and a half or so. Coming to doubt the very character of God. You see I seem to have kept hitting these places where absolutely everything was broken. And I began to wonder, three or four times over the course of these 18 months if God was really looking out for me. It seemed that every good thing that was introduced was only for the use of adding great suffering.
Let's use Heather as an example. She is without a doubt the most wonderful person I have ever met. She's funny, intelligent, humble, crazy in love with Jesus and blah blah blah. Despite three months of dedicated work to eradicate her from my heart and go elsewhere, it hasn't happened, and no one measures up. But I'm not with her. And given my recollection of how things happened, and the things which have, or more accurately have not gone one, since make it fairly evident that is just done.
And as I looked back over my life I could not find a single sustaining good things. All good things that have come to me have later become sources of suffering. I go there because I cannot deny the existence of God. I simply know to much. Left without that response, His character is all that is left. But I'll come back to this later.
What's crazy about how the loss of that job effected me is that I didn't even like it. Mind you there were things I liked about it. It had lots of freedom to it and that's something I would give up a lot for in a job. It had the potential to be fun job in a few months, and it was great to tell people what I did. And there was a ministry side I lost sleep over I was so excited to see it come about. But ultimately I didn't like it. It all rests upon the owner. Everyone who knows him says its nearly impossible to have a conversation with him, so you can imagine what working with him was like. I'd gotten to the point I was making daily entries in my prayer journal for "a job I didn't hate." But I did have a job. Which meant I had money coming in, and having a job makes it easier to find one. So now I'm back to stressing about money and have a pretty spotty employment history. With no idea what comes next.
As for how the job effected me, that is something I surely wish I didn't have to tell. Put as shortly as possible I spent the intervening time being as foolish and self-destructive as possible. On the side of what I can tell I'll say I pushed out every person and relationship. I lost interest in just about everything. I wrote in my prayer journal three times over the next 8 days, only one of which was substantial. It went something like this:
"August 30, 2009-
I'm doing this more of habit, desperation, and loneliness than anything.
I'm not sure what I think of You and the idea of whether or not You care about me or would help me.
I keep waiting for You to show up. To do something. To save me from this hell and give me life."
And yes I'm well aware how pathetic that is. For a man like myself to end up thinking in a place like that. But this isn't about being pretty. Its about honesty and the depths of a man's heart. And this is where men can end up. And if you think you're immune, then you should devote some time to avoiding this very stream of thinking. In our perceived strength we make stands without the strength of the almight God. And we fail. My good friend that I don't talk to enough Al is the person who first introduced me to the relevant Bible verse here. 2 Corinthians 2:19 - But he said to me 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me."
But unfortunately that's not everything, and well just have to leave it at that. At least I didn't do anything I haven't done before, so if I ever go weak and completely idioic and fall in love with a woman and decide to get married I won't have another bag to check. Hello silver lining. Although I'd say that's more of a bronze.
What's weird is I knew it wouldn't last. I knew it was all crap and I knew it wouldn't last. But I was trying to so hard. I wanted it to go one. My ideal was to be able to one day point to the 2-month bad period 7 years into my walk with Christ. I made it 8 days. And somewhere inside that still bugs me.
What ended up breaking my glorious revery was Kairos. Now I wasn't sure about going. Deep inside I wanted to. At the root of my heart I wanted to connect with God and be pulled once again from the depths. Or more accurately, to have my eyes uncovered and realize where I already was. But I wasn't sure about going. I was looking for excuses not to.
I ended up going because I got pressured into it. Not by friends who were going, but by my brother and my mom, avid non-church goers. The both asked me if I was going and I didn't want to explain why I wasn't. So I went. I supposed I could have gone somewhere else, but I don't like lying, and beneath it all I didn't want to be anywhere else. And so I went.
The service was unbelievable. All the elements were of the normal quality. And my desperate need for what was happening left me breathless at how I was able to draw near to Papa in that time. But it wasn't all gravy. There I was after considerable absence from nearness with God. 3 weeks if you really want to look at it. Desperately needing the communion. Desperately needing guidance. And to my absolute horror I could not get Heather off my mind. But alas that was nothing new.
Its very easy and certainly accurate to say that part of my drive for my little life hiatus was the desire to wrench my feelings for Heather out. I'd become so convinced that it was painfully obvious that I needed to move on, and for reasons unknown I simply could not. It had gotten so bad that I found myself fighting back tears at the most innocuous things. For instance, on the way in the door to Kairos I actually had a tear break loose because the girl in front of my looked to much like Heather. But she didn't look anything like Heather. And the other day I say the reference initials of the Kansas City airport and almost lost it. I could perhaps expect such behavior were I closer to the time of separation. But we're 6 months out here. I've been on dates. I've come close to going entire days without thinking about her. And here I find myself regressing. I've been moving in the wrong direction. Despite prayers for the removal of such feelings.
So there I was, wanting and needing worship and finding her inexcerably on my mind. I prayed for her to be removed. I pleaded with God. But I don't think there was a full minute of that hour and a half where she wasn't on my mind. Since the prayers didn't seem to be working I just pushed it as far back as I could and made sure God was my only intentional thought. And in the end I got some great worhsip out of it, if slightly distracted and ultimately troubled by the tag-along.
Anthony was leading worship, and he's a fantastic guy. Before the last song he started talking. Right to me. Not overtly, but through the content. He started talking about being in a period of waiting. And he new how it was to have things be bad, and to feel like you were waiting on God and you'd never get any relief. How you heard promises of things God would deliver, and grow dull waiting for them to come. He recited a passage from Isaiah 41. "Be silent before me, you islands! Let the nations renew their strength!"
I was fairly shamelessly crying at this point, stuck between the attractive young blonde on my left and the attractive young brunette on my right. I was standing there listening to exactly what I needed to hear, from the voice of God Himself. "I have not forgotten you. I will come. Wait. I will renew your strength."
And then a thought hit me. Over the last few months whenever I've actually gone to God and prayed about the Heather situation, I'd usually find my Bible open to a particular passage. I always dismissed it because the passage heading was "The Helper of Israel" and I was always mistakenly remembering the chapter of Isaiah the prophecies Jesus. But it turns out no less then ten times I found myself looking at Isaiah 41, not knowing I should read it. So that was unexpected.
Then Anthoany went on, as the music kicked back up he said, "And while we wait, we worship." Which was by itself beautiful and wonderful. It called me faithfully back to that place, instead of elsewhere. But then another thought rushed my mind. A quote from Mike came back from a few months before. "Our weapon is worship." Our weapon . . . is worship.
Well Mike Glenn was off this week, and speaking in his place was the worship leader, also named Mike. He opened it up by apologizing for not being the other Mike and making a few jokes. Then he informed us he was going to be talking about worship tonight. He began talking about the importance of worship in general and then made a very convincing case for the associate of worship so heavily with music/singing elements in a service. He explained that singing was a spiritual discipline and went through a rudementary exposition of its importance in the Bible.
As a demonstration he told a story. He related how he had proposed to his wife. Imagine my horro that the story was nearly identical to how I proposed to Heather. For those of you who are unaware, that is no mean feat. I'd wager that perhaps as much 15% of proposals contain a similar central element, but the overall package? I'd guess fewer than 1% of proposals would be similar enough to make an impression. Reason being: I proposed to her with a song, that I wrote for the purpose, on stage, at a world famous music venue in front of a live audience. You just don't see a lot of that. I imagine songs figure in to perhaps a good number of proposals, even ones written personally. But the nature of that combined with the public proposal, to girls who are extremely shy just . . . . I found it rather depressing. I'm proud of that proposal. I think it was fantastic. That's still one of the best nights of my life. I loved it. I have no doubt I did the right thing. But now, it does sting. All that joy, which is still there, is backhanded. I sat there alternating between seeing it as a sign that I should still hold her in my heart, and wondering how I could ever be satisfied with a different proposal.
You should really go do something other than read this post. Seriously.
As I finally begin writing this post, a joke keeps coming to mind. One which is best rendered in person, but must be told here nonetheless.
A rather large grizzly bear walks into the bar. He sits on a stool and rests his arms on the old wood. He looks at the bartender.
"I'd like a . . . . . . . . .cold drink."
"Sure," the bartender replies, "but why the big pause?"
I'm sitting here wondering if I could really feel less like writing this post. And I'm fairly certain the answer is no. Which seems to be a common theme with posts that come after long breaks, this one coming after 8 days. Speaking of which, I'd like to see a long pause in my writing here that wasn't caused or connected to . . . ickyness.
I suppose I should go ahead and warn that this post will be far from coherent, which might be why it is generally framed with more formal and structured writing than I typically try to use. I'm hoping that ties it together. On the upside I believe this will be a short post, so that's a plus.
Skipping over the typically cursory examination of why I'm writing again (because I've said it all before) I'm tempted to move on to why I skipped even though . . . well . . . I've said it all before. Which, interestingly enough, is the reason I took the break. I suppose it started with something else. Something more mundane, or more interesting depending on how you look at it. But really that's why nothing happened. There was nothing to write.
Things happened, of course. Feelings shifted. Revelations were had. Possible signs were experienced. Frustrations occurred. But in the end, none of it produced anything new. Nothing was worth writing. Worth asking people to read.
Nowhere is this more evident, more upsetting, and less productive the with the issue of Heather. I could here voice my dissatisfaction about how after nearly 6 months, its still something which bears such relevance as to appear in every post. I'm still praying with disconcerting regularity for such feelings and memories to abate, still with no reprieve. At times I've actually been moved or just desperate enough to pray in the opposite direction, a fact reflected in my prayer journal perhaps a half dozen times. The first time I did it I chastised myself rather strongly. I was even left wondering why I'd reacted so strongly, and why I continued to push in such a direction. And I think it comes down to moving on. Just squaring myself with that reality and sticking with it no matter what. I believe it has to come, surely as my next breath of air, and seemingly with the same circumstances of relief from the need.
So we'll skip over the one decent quiet time I actually had in the last 8 days and its concomitant passages, mostly doing so because I don't trust anything anymore. So then today I was thinking about healing and moving on and all that crap. And I got a hopeful spark of something. Perhaps all these feelings are just because they were never properly dealt with. Maybe I stowed them to quickly, didn't let them . . . . Predictably, I committed myself to just feeling the feelings and doing nothing about them. More predictably, that doesn't really work either.
I read this devotional tonight, about living in the now and the storm and God standing there to rescue and all that crap. And regrettably, it did nothing to make me feel better. Quite the opposite. This just isn't right. Not that it matters. Not that anything is going to change.
All of this is really just evidence of two things. The first, and perhaps ultimately most important, is that when everything is possible, nothing is real. So there are all these feelings, all these routes, all these potential signs. And because they are all there simultaneously, the end up meaning nothing. Nothing is real and nothing can be acted on, because nothing can be discerned. Which is most troubling since that's typically a spiritual gift of mine.
The other is something I'd like to write more on, but in its shortest, is duplicity, which is of course directly related to the first. I cannot surmount the constant wavering of thought lines. Determination not to date, followed by overwhelming desire to do so, followed by panic stricken reluctence to follow up, followed by lightly bitter complaining over the lack of suitable possibilities, followed by the return to desire . . . well lets just stop there.
Indeed, I wish I could put all such discussion behind me. How much I'd like to not talk about Heather, or dating, or more accurately the associated nothingness. And there I go repeating myself.
As a minor upside I do have something else to talk about.
I'm not close with God right now. In terms of discipline I'm still keeping things going, mostly. Its just . . . there's no intimacy. Its like He's at arms length. Really it feels like that's where everything is. It feels like having turned my heart off. Like nothing connects. Which brings us back to duplicity (i.e. realize have to go through the pain to get over her, vs. the shutting it out because I want her and further shutting it out because I don't want to want her because I want to get over her. Are we confused yet? I thought I said this was unrelated).
But back to feeling like God's not close and discipline. Still been praying, reading the Bible, reading/doing devotionals. All of it feeling empty and devoid. Seemingly pointless. Realistically leading nowhere, because there is no direction, and no . . . comfort, provision? I don't know. So this past week for three nights in a row I felt restless, two of them after rather fun filled and late outings. The last two nights of the stretch I had nearly identical dreams. I realized the significance when I woke up in the middle of the night after the second one.
In both dreams I found myself in a setting that I cannot recall, but was surely similar enough to be the same in the dreams. Due to circumstances I understood at the time, for some reason there was turmoil. I was placed in a situation both times where I had to fight. But instead of being confident, I was terrified. I knew I couldn't win the altercations, and worse, I didn't. So each time after quite a long set of circumstances, I escaped outside. In both dreams I turned my head to see a woman. Somewhat young, with a face I couldn't see, but her hair was short and dark. The first night she was a lone and the second night she carried a baby. Both dreams ended with a car trying to run me over.
Holy crap this post is depressing. And its redundant, both in subjects and specific content. I'm ready for all this to be by the wayside. I want to start a recurring post series called "lessons from:". Of course I still haven't written any of my other academic dream children. And they just keep stacking up.
Babar the Elephant
Warning: this post contains a fair amount of history, but if you read, it should be well worth it. If you don't want to read it all, skip down to the bullet points at the bottom.
Is everyone familiar with the rather popular children's character Babar the Elephant? If not I suggest you take a look at this commercial because Babar is the subject of this post. Babar is a fairly old cartoon, first appearing in book form in 1931 and spanning many years and many different forms of media including television series and movies. A new book was published as recently as 2008, and a new visual production is slated for 2010, though its not clear if it will be a movie or a series. Babar has been translated into many different languages, and has remained popular since his introduction.
I was rather surprised then to come to the realization that Babar the Elephant was, and to some extent remains to this day, a propaganda vehicle for promoting puppet colonialism.
Allow me to explain.
Earlier this evening I was watching a movie on television that I'd previously seen when it was in theaters. The movie is called The Last King of Scotland and is based on Giles Foden's novel of the same name. The story is semi-historical fiction, using the actions of the fictional Scottish physician Nicholas Garrigan (loosely based on English doctor Bob Astles) as a way to explore the very real dictatorship of Idi Amin Dada. Amin initiated a military coup in 1971, establishing himself as the ruler of Uganda after deposing Milton Obote. Amin was a harsh dictator who committed a range of nefarious deeds. As the movie portrays, he shared many traits with African dictators (and even modern bureaucrats). Such traits include favoring lies, even obvious ones, over any truth they think outsiders, and particularly non-Africans might look down on. Similarly common is personal hyberbole including a multitude of ridiculous titles (like Amin's "Conqueror of the British Empire") and insane assertions like the inability to be killed, which at some level the men actually believe.
So I'm laying there watching this great movie, and watching the Garrigan character first get enraptured by Amin's charm, only to quickly realize his darker side. During a commercial I start flipping through channels and happen upon an episode of Babar. And the wheels started turning.
I'd already found it funny that Amin was overweight, since that is relatively uncommon in Africa. And then I see elephants which only come in two variates, African and Asian. I assume them as African (due to the large ears), and associate them with the overweight Amin. Then I notice Babar is wearing the crown, and it all starts to make sense. Here we have an elephant wearing a crown, and appearing delightful, charming, and intelligent. Kingship is a decidedly non-Asian concept, further convincing me I was dealing with an African elephant, and one perhaps far more sinister than his demeanor intoned.
See, Amin was helped in to place by the British, its a long story as to how, but trust me, it was pretty clear. And something about that, something about the African dictator taking power with backing by the former colonial power of that country, and being at least superficially charming just made it click. I was now very suspicious of Babar the elephant. I suddenly assumed him to be a similar colonial plant. But I wanted to do some checking first.
I got online and did some quick digging. Turns out Babar debuted, as earlier stated, in 1931 as a children's book character. My first big kick here was that the author was a Frenchman named Jean du Brunhoff. Most of you should recognize that France was a serious colonial power, beginning to take holdings as early as the 17th century, though with failed attempts starting as early as 1555, and continuing rule as far as into the 1970s. Their colonial turnovers even set up the Vietnam conflict. And not only was Brunhoff French, but he'd also served in the French military in World War I.
This held particular significance. Though holding together mostly until serious troubles during World War II, the period after World War I saw the introduction of widespread anti-colonial thinking. This thinking developed not only in the colonies, but in Great Britian and France as well. And during this time Brunhoff marries a woman named Cecile, and they have some babies. And as they grow up, Cecile starts telling the younger son these stories about this elephant, which Jean later published as the world's introduction of Babar.
But I hear the grumblings. Right now all I have is a presumably African elephant king created by the citizen of a colonial power. Okay, let's kick it up and take a closer look at the story of Babar.
Babar is happily plodding along through the jungle one day when his mother is killed by a hunter. Seeing this from a distance, Babar flees the jungle to an unnamed big city. Here Babar is meets an old lady who buys him clothes and sends him to school. Babar later returns to the elephant realm where a council of elephants approach him, asking him to be king. They point out he has been educated in France, not previously mentioned, and that this education and introduction to civilization make him an ideal choice for the new king. Babar marries his cousin Celeste and founds the city of Celestville. Notice the French ending there. He then introduces many cultural and structural reforms with western, and particularly French influence, like wearing clothes. Convinced yet?
A young African elephant heads to a civilized place to be educated, and returns to be installed as king and introduce reforms to "civilize" country. Well it sure sounds like post-colonial puppetism. As the colonial powers lost their grip, they made attempts to maintain some vestige of control. Most often this involved choosing the new "independent" government. Sometimes behind the scenes, sometimes openly, but always with someone friendly to the former rulers and usually someone educated there. Need another little push, there is a Babar story arc where an assassin tries to kill him. Sound incongruous with his image, and the fact that its a children's story?
Still not convinced? Go back and watch the video. Notice the elephant who asks Babar to be king. Wearing a clearly early 20th century Western style suit and glasses, and a hat. Go ahead and say it.
So by this point it was pretty clear to me what Babar really was, and perhaps still is. He began as an attempt to teach children, and potentially their parents, that the local populations of France's colonial holdings desired, were thankful for, and certainly needed the benefits of French civilization.
Being pseudo-intellectual wannabe, I was ultimately consumed with the question of whether Babar was based on a real colony or person. Low and behold, not only did I make a potential connection, it helps strengthen the case for Babar's real purpose.
I'm now fairly sure that the elephant kingdom represented in Brunhoff's Babar stories was based on the area that has become the modern Republic of Cameroon, and that Babar himself represents Charles Atangana.
Cameroun was a part of French Equatorial Africa, a large federation of colonies in middle Africa France grabbed during the late 19th century African colonial scramble. Due to some interesting circumstances, France ended up ceding part of Cameroun to Germany who then took protectorate possession of the entire holding. Atangana was growing up in the territory at this time and due to his relationships with foreign priests and dignitaries, recieved a combo French-German education in Cameroun's fairly modernized capital. After World War I, Atangana fled to France because of his association with the ousted Germans. Shortly thereafter, the League of Nations redfined Cameroun's status. It did not re-enter the FEA and was instead set up as a protectorate of France. Under such a system France provided Cameroun's military and police, but a local political system ran all domestic matters.
After some initial distrust, France selected Atangana as the paramount chief of Cameroun. This essentially made him the countrys ruler. See Cameroun had essentially two different ethnic groups, all with different cheifs, and one had to be selected to head the government. Atangana used his position to espouse loyalty to the French and introduced a plethora of reforms aimed at westernizing Cameroun.
Sound fairly similar to Babar right? Including Babar's monkey advisor (representing the chief of the other "ethnic" group), and the fact that the old lady comes to live in the land as an honored guest.
So let's surmise:
- Babar was a young elephant who fled the jungle (a symbol of either Africa or Asia), and was subsequently educated in a civilized big city (representing Europe, and France in particular) with the aid of an old lady (representing "more advanced" Westerners).
- Barbar is later convinced to return to his home country (the conolonial holding). Upon returning he is asked to be the new king by the elephant council (the provincial government), clearly influenced by an elephant far more Westernized than Babar himself (the colonial power truly running the puppet elephant council).
- Babar agrees and assumes control, weiding clearly autocratic power, with a virtually limitless reach.
- Babar pushes his learnings of civilization on the other elephants, including clothes and houses, all in vaguely French style.
- Despite his good nature, and universally wise decision making, Babar has opposition elements, including a potential assassin.
- Babar works with other ethnic groups and invites the old lady to be a resident of the country.
And there you have it. Babar the elephant, the beloved children's cartoon character started out as propaganda piece to advocate colonialism through the establishment of indigenous puppet governments.
I wonder what else like this is lurking out there.
