And maybe there is nothing

I feel like I have a lot to write, and yet I feel like I have nothing. And this is me.

I love Sundays. I love going to church. I love doing whatever in the afternoons. I love knowing that I'm going to have good fellowship and feel blessed those nights. And today was just one of those days that confirms those things in a quiet way.

Worship was pretty fantastic. The songs were just pretty jammin, and there was this general good feel going on that was really sweet. Every body seemed to have that same feel. Then they had the prayer team come up, and opened up the communion stations and played a modified version of "Freedom Reigns." I love worshiping down on my knees, and I just couldn't take it anymore. I got down on my knees between the chairs and put my hands over my head and just sung my heart out. I kept praying. I kept saying, "God, set me free."

I prayed to be released of sins that plague me, like judgement and pride. I prayed most to be released from all this with Heather. To just have her wiped off my heart. But it didn't work. She was still there. With this quiet assuredness. With this desire to contact her. With this lack of despair about it. And more so, I had this moment where I just knew that what didn't fit about this place was that she's supposed to be here. That she's never been to a church like this and worshiped likes this and she needs to be here because she'd love it. That she needs to be a part of this group because I'm enough of a background here she wouldn't be intimidated, and she'd laugh so hard. That she's supposed to be here. And I just wanted all of that to go away.

I just wanted to focus on Jesus. I just wanted to be free of it all. But no matter how hard I prayed, it never left. No matter how much I tried to turn my heart to nothing but Him, the more I found her there. At one point I thought it had worked, I thought it all left. But as soon as I tried to worship, I just realized I'd numbed myself out from everything, and then it was back. Great. I'm not sure what to make of it, but I'm trying to not make anything.

The message was good, and I feel like it should have shot right into my heart. Aaron was talking about wisdom, and seeing God clearly . . . but I just kind of glazed over.

Sometimes I feel like I've gotten a handle on it. Sometimes I get my mind to a place and I can convince myself, "don't dig up in doubt what you planted in faith." "Everything that stands against is circumstantial, and here's everything God has ever done to say she was it. How can you deny?" And yet I do. But my memory lasts about 10 seconds.

If I think I'm suppose to contact her, all I can think is, "She hates you, you'll just embarrass yourself." or "If its ever going to happen it has to be her." I'll admit it, I'm scared. But part of me is . . . part of me is happy like this. On Friday night I was so happy not only that Heather wasn't there, but that I didn't have that attachment. But I can't be alone forever, and I can't even make my heart go anywhere else. I try. I try to develop crushes and . . .

I wish I could never talk about this again.

I've had a lot of time to think over the last few days, and time to listen to some great music, a lot of new stuff.

I was thinking of God showing me Jeremiah so much, and telling me I was looking at myself. I remembered this conversation I had last summer with this girl. She yelled at me and told me that I was a "breaker." That all I did was break things down and hurt people. And there's truth in that.

And some of its good. Some of it is just saying what unpopular but needs to be heard. Some of it is telling a friend that he's way out of line and needs to get his act together. But some of it is bad.

Tonight Randall Goodgame and Amy Stroup played at the church, to help the Mocha Club. After it we went out to Cheddar's and then came back to play wonderful Four Sqaure. At some point I realized I felt out of place. Not in the way I typically do. But more like something was wrong with me, like I was putting everyone off. I thought about it as I squared away when I got home. I remembered this conversation I had with Jill last summer.

I don't remember where we were, but I think it was the picnic tables behind the dinning hall. And we were talking about senses of humor. We both had committed to positivising our humor during the month, and whenever we said bad things we'd slap each other's wrists. It was a good decision and it was fun and it worked. But we were talking about whether or not we were taking it far enough. We started talking about sarcasm and whether or not it was ever a good form of humor. And I'm starting to wonder. I'm starting to wonder if I like any joke I ever make.

This weekend I met this girl I won't name. Long story short it became apparent that she was a feminist. And I, having a ridiculously irreverent sense of humor, don't even think twice about messing with this girl I've just met. She, of course, quickly decides that even if I'm not an outright chauvinist, I'm at least subconsciously patriarchal and disrespectful towards women. And since she decided this, she also decided I must be an idiot. At one point she mentioned the novel 'Pride and Prejudice' and then, without really pausing, she turns around and says, "you know, Jane Austen." And then she pauses for just a second, looking at me. "The famous novelist." Another half a breath. "Oh nevermind." I think she may have supplied my half of the conversation. I wasn't even aware I was supposed to say anything.

I thought of sticking up for myself. I thought of saying anything. But I didn't, resigning myself to, "What do I care what she thinks?" But then today I was thinking about it again. What if I write a book one day and she tells her friend what a stupid woman hater I am? Does that matter?

Anyhow, that and how I felt tonight just combined to put me in this place of wondering. Do I like the jokes I make? Do I like the way I treat anyone? Should I change? Can I change?

But reflecting on my interactions with that girl this weekend, and some interactions tonight gave rise to another thought. And this one relates to my shifting mind with Heather and my constant deafness to God. I wrote the beginnings of a song in my notebook I have no idea how long ago and it goes like this:

"I am just a surface, nothing more, no sweeping depth
I will shift and bend and break
rest assured that nothing lasts
I stand on sand, it gives and sinks
but if you wait and watch you'll see
there is no difference between that sorry, shifting sand and me."

I don't know. Sometimes I feel like that. Sometimes I don't. Sometimes . . . if I really steady myself I think I can get a handle on it. In part I'm incredibly simple and easy to understand, but in part there's just no hope you've ever got me pinned.

At the heart of it all everything I am comes down to Christ. If you want to know me, just go there, because that's what I'm reaching towards. That's what I want to look like. That's what I want to define me. And ultimately it does. There's no area of my life left untouched by it, and even though I'm not perfect at it, nothing matters more.

Then again, there are particular elements of the man He is making me. And sometimes I just have to wonder if anybody knows me any better than that girl from this weekend does. And sometimes its my fault. And sometimes its just because there's too much. I am not so straightforward. There's all these dichotomies you never see together. I've worked as a river guide and yet I'm probably the only guy under 40 who uses a dresser valet. Those things don't belong together. I'm glad I am this way, but its kind of confusing.

I took the long way home tonight. Just driving through the still night air and listening to my music. I was practicing screaming and have started to get a pretty good handle on changing pitches, which is pretty encouraging.

I kept listening to this set of four songs on the way home. "The Messenger" by Thrice. "Desperate Times, Desperate Measures" by Underoath, and "After The Devil Beats His Wife" and "You Think You're Nickel Slick" by emery.

And its more than just how incredible those songs are musically. There's something in the lyrics. They speak to where I am right now, though I'm not always sure of how.

Amy Stroup introed this song tonight where she talked about cathing a rythym with God. Not trying to see to far ahead and yet not resting back and going to slow on what you've been given. And I realized I'm not quite there. I'm not hitting my rythym. I'm actually failing on both sides. And as I sit here I don't feel close to Him. Kind of far away actually. And I don't like it.

I'm going to go read the Letter and pray and worship. You should probably do the same.