"Well . . . here I am."

Props to anyone who knows where the title comes from.  Its a brilliant moment that I hope I do not regret using here and not elsewhere.

So . . . I have not had a good night.  Nothing particularly bad has happened, but I've been listening to very bad music all evening.  Now this can be seen either as an effect, due to badness already existing, or could simply be the badness in itself.  I guess we'll never know.  Probably the former.

It started with me listening to Led Zepplin, which I don't include in the bad.  Far from it.  I'd say Led Zepplin would be in the running for my top band of all time, despite my deference for Christian artists.  Really its a toss-up between them and CCR in my mind, but I digress.

Then I started listening to the Foo Fighters.  That was my mood.  Their are not particularly bad, but not great either.  A lot of their music, the harder stuff at least, has not aged well, leaving just a few songs that I'll really listen to.

Then I had the urge to listen to Fall Out Boy, which in spite of its catchiness, is surely an affront to music.  And now, well for the last hour and a half or so I've been listening to techno/electronica on Pandora.  Which I'm surprised is not illegal.

BTW, apparently 99% of blog templates come in three types:  niche styles (like technology or baseball blog templates), extremely basic (not classy, boring), and the largest group, female-esque.  The few, let's say four, that I've found that I liked ended up not working.  Poor programming or something.  So . . . for now we remain disappointingly basic.  I'm still on the hunt though, this needs to look more put together.

And now I'm not sure I can avoid the meat any longer . . .

Except to say that reminds me that in high school I dated a vegetarian once, which I loved because it was really inexpensive to take her out.

So after all my complaining the other day, which I've removed from the blog, perhaps to be put back up in an edited form, but its doubtful, it happened.

Today Phil offered me the job as the Director of 912 Park.  So I have an opportunity to have one of my top 5 dream jobs, managing a concert venue.  And . . .

I'm not sure I want it.  Don't get me wrong, barring an act of God I'm going to accept, its just . . . .  I don't feel satisfied.  I'd like something that had less business and more ministry, or more business so I could do different ministry.  I'd like to be in a different place, geographically.  I'd like to have different church options/be set up.  I'd like . . . .   Peace.  I'd like to feel at peace.

But . . . I've prayed for this.  I should be excited.  There is good in this.  And there's not really many other choices.  Besides moving to Florida to work at Southwind . . . which now that I think about it . . . .

Anyhow . . .

Its been a few days since I've written a post, and yes I'm aware.  Its been a combination of things.  A lack of will, a lack of time.  At once I feel I've had quite a bit to say, and yet not much at all.  I've had, and have, lots I want to share about more intellectual topics.  I still haven't covered the nature of individualism and its effect on and influence by the church.  I still haven't talked about this discussion I had the other day on dispensationalism.  And I STILL haven't talked about that Arch of the Covenant book in depth.  Yet everything personal I had to say, really just seemed like old ground.  Covering old ideas with new words and peddling them just to put something out there.

Additionally, I'm thinking of instituting a new rule which forbids me from writing blog posts within a certain time limit of going to an MMA gym.  I typed one out the other night and deleted it.  Sometimes they come of as angry, other times as arrogant.  Either way, not delightful.

My dog is snoring.

So, not that I want to, but because its been a theme of the blog, and its part of my life/and heard no matter what I'd prefer, let's talk about Heather.

The last few days have not been any better in terms of missing/thinking of her.  I've tried to keep up the idea of praying for God to take it away, a tack that has yet to work.  And so out of sheer desperation, I have, of course, resorted to praying for reconciliation, which is a frustrating turn of events for sure.  But it does actually make the feelings/memories go away, at least for a few minutes.  As part of trying to rid myself of those by other means however, I realized something.  At some point I thought of it as a desire problem, so I treated missing her/having feelings for her as a temptation, and tried to combat it.  Unfortunately, every thought to that end is a product or producer of bitterness.  Whatever the actualities of all this are, apparently there is no peace of God in denying Heather's goodness and my desire for her.  Which is probably a reflector of what I should be doing.

Conversely, I've found myself at times wishing I'd asked that girl from Kairos out.  True I still can't help but find Heather a superior specimen of woman, so in a way it would feel like settling, and there'd be an inescapable rumble of disappointment underneath.  True, even if I could deal with that, the way I feel certainly makes it unfair for me to take someone else out.   [Insert hefty sigh].  Even so I wish I'd asked her out.  Call it wanting to force myself to move on.  Call it loneliness.  Heck, call it boredom.  I'm upset I didn't do it.

Unfortunately, it appears as though I may not get a chance in the near future to ask someone else out.

Tonight I was talking to my friend Amanda and she asked me when and why I quit fighting for Heather.  I started to answer, but realized I couldn't.  I had no real idea.  So I went back through the blog and my prayer journal trying to pinpoint it.  On the upside, I found the exact day, more or less.  Though there is a certain amount of fluidity to the whole thing, and though I was struggling within a few days of the whole process fighting, there is still a pretty clear line.  On the night of May 25 I was praying and God, showing patience with my doubt, told me again to fight for her.  And after that, there's one mention of it until the conversation with Emily covered in this post.  So that's the when.

As for why . . . I couldn't find a reason.  I suppose covering that was that a little over a week later I got interested in somebody else, and then God told me to ask her out, so I figured that was it.  But alas, even that doesn't necessarily mean what I thought it did at one time.  I can't remember who, but somebody said recently that going out with someone else could just show me how much I wanted Heather . . . and they didn't even know about Amber.  I really wish I could remember more of that conversation.

So that's when, and a very rough answer as to why, which doesn't make me feel very good.  So now I come back to a question I've been asking myself for the last two days.  Is God not saying more because He's already said it?  Should I STILL be fighting.  Crap.

But we see its been a month since that conversation with Emily, with no real progress.  In fact in some ways regress.  Now I have feelings for her again.  Now . . . blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.  More stupid crap that doesn't matter.

Also, Amanda happened to compare to Abraham leaving Ur.  Which Emily did not 4 days after I was told to fight for Heather to tell me not to give up.  And that was not Amanda's point, ostensibly, which leads me to wonder if it really was.

Not that it means anything, but how do I feel?  I want to be with her, I won't lie about that.  But there is no part of me that wants to go after her or fight for her.  I get angry when I think that I might have to humble myself and pursue her, letting her know how I feel, having a sense of how she'd react.  Pity, slight anger, regret over having been with me at all.  The result is that in a moment of either harbored desperate loss, or blinding clarity, I told God if He wanted us together she was going to have to be moved to contact me.  Oh yeah, this is all quite healthy.

Truth be told I doubt I'll do anything about any of this.  I'll just keep waiting for another sign.

And that, my dear friends, is a collection of things I wish I could go back and erase.  I wish I'd never written it.  I wish I didn't have anything to say or think or feel or remember about her.  But I do.  And it has to be put down here.

I am seething frustration.

So, now on to stuff that really matters.

I'm still screwing around about finding a church for Sundays or just going back to CIL.  I blame it on helping with the renovation, which is taking forever, which I do, but . . . I know I could get out of it.  Its a good excuse.

And its not like I'm not getting fed.  I've got Kairos on Tuesday nights, which is incredible, and I've still been praying and reading the Letter everyday.  But I am missing community, even one that wasn't that deep.

Now, another product of my conversation with Amanda, and another recent conversation with someone else, is the realization that apparently I need to make a clarification about the blog.  A number of the things mentioned here are not constant thoughts but rather mobile thoughts.  Some I fight against, if I have God direction heading the other way.  Some just go on their own.  Some I put here as interactive conversation pieces, and some I make knowing that the opposite is really true, using them as a literary device to better explain my state of mind.  Not literally but through more intricate exposition.  This blog uses many different literary elements.  It uses narrative.  It uses internal display.  It uses intellectual/spiritual discourses.  Sometimes I provide stories.  Sometimes I provide answers.  Sometimes I ask questions.  And sometimes I just show you the ugly innards of process.  This is high-minded writing.  Remember that.

In other news, two times this week people have come to me seeking advice and have thanked me after I tried to keep from giving any.  I just asked some God questions.  What's interesting is the essential subject matter.  Staying true to the course.  In one case trusting God while facing troubling and uncertain times.  In one case following God's will as it has been revealed, despite present circumstances that seek to draw you elsewhere.  And those sound so familiar.  I'm tempted again to relegate them to pieces of the past.  Or places where lessons learned are past on.  But I can't help but wonder if they should apply to the now as well.

Tomorrow will start early, end late, and be exhausting in between.  Nice.

Here's hoping I didn't forget anything.  Here's praying I draw nearer to God.  My one and only.

Suggestions?

I'd like to jazz up the blog, so I'm looking for templates.  Any suggestions?

In Place Of Hope

Haha.  Wow.  That was incredibly predictable.

I got a text today telling me to be at a certain place at a certain time for an interview for the job I was whining about last night.  Of course I'm going.  I'm tempted to say I was being childish somehow, but on second thought . . . .  Is it being overly sensitive and finicky to expect integrity from others?

Also, my desire to remain single lasted about a day.  On the upside I thought about Heather considerably less today than in days past.  On the other hand little stupid things happened like hearing a song she used to sing to me, and seeing a truck from her hometown while stuck in traffic.  Stuff that happens all the time.  Or . . . never.

Because of the traffic I got to Kairos late, again by myself.  It was so crowded that I stood.  In the back.  At the top of the stadium seating.

And here's where things get even more predictable, and ridiculous.

I had walked in the door and realized I wasn't going anywhere, so I just leaned against the door frame and stayed put.  A few minutes later this very attractive and well dressed young lady comes in and has nowhere to stand but next to me.  I forget about it and listen to the message.

Whereas last week was about men of God, Mike did this week on women of God.  So on and so forth.  All good stuff.  Not as many notes because it wasn't quite as applicable to me, though there was good stuff in there, from a ministerial/academic standpoint, and a personal one.  And I was standing.  Its harder to write standing up.

Anyhow, at the end, Mike has all the guys stand up again, and tells us to pray for the girls.  The girl I was standing next to was kneeling down.  So I knelt next to her and put my hand on her shoulder (we were told to) and I prayed for her.  Rise, closing worship.  As we're leaving she grabs me and thanks me for praying for her.

So here I am.  In a situation reeking with coincidence, which doesn't always mean randomness.  I'm standing face to face with an extremely attractive young lady.  I have a perfect in to talk to her.  And I just say some nonsense about it being no trouble and she walks on, with me falling in to step a few feet back.

And now here I am, 2 hrs later, wishing to heck I'd just asked her if she wanted to grab coffee or something stupid like that.

And that's me in a nutshell.  No real direction.  No guidance.  Constant inconsistency.  Which is tantamount to predictability.

Its almost like I can determine how I'll feel or what will happen tomorrow but what I say in the blog tonight.  Which would be fantastic if the changes actually meant something.  But they don't.

On the similarly crazy side I'm going to Godwhy tomorrow.

My problems there are actually more than what I said yesterday.  A few weeks ago Jenn decided that Wednesday nights would take a more focused platform with more Bible and a little more related academics.  There is only one problem with that.

Most of her Biblical history follows the liberal (see academic mainstream) view.  Case in point, recently we were discussing the Gospels and Jenn mentioned the idea of "Q".  For those who are uninitiated, "Q" is the needless and silly idea that the Synoptic Gospels were at least partially copied from another source.  I have trouble deciding which of element of this is most ludicrous.  The idea that the same Gospels accused of being historically inaccurate due to discrepancies are also accused of being so similar as to be copied?  Or the idea that no contemporary non-canonical writings make reference to such a work?  Or the idea that three authors, one of whom was being paid upfront to conduct his research, would feel comfortable to copy from a source, in a small, highly knowledgeable, and rabidly faithful community?  In my mind the most ridiculous idea is that while the writings of the New Testament have more surviving manuscripts of closer historical origin (modern dating of writing in comparison to occurrence of events) than any other ancient writings, despite repeated efforts to completely destroy the writings, there is no physical evidence for a "Q" source.

The idea of "Q" as well as post 70 A.D. dating for the Gospels, and a hundred other ideas are are not historical ideas.  They are almost universally modern creations.  In most cases its the result of spiritually faithful people wanting to appear academically acceptable by such positions, or in fact thinking that such non-traditional approaches are more academically sound, by virtues unknown.  Regardless, at best, every idea of Biblical history I've heard that countermands tradition is unprovable.  And most are quite easily dismissed, at least by people who pay attention.

So what's my point in talking about so much crap most people don't care about?  Every week for the last few weeks there's been some kind of mention of an idea like this.  What is troubling about it is that Jenn, as the leader, presents the ideas as fact.  No, these ideas are not ultimately harmful to the faith.  People can believe them and still by followers.  But their just not right.  At best they are theories.  And in a time when the church needs to push for greater Biblical literacy among believers, teachings such as this are . . . .  I don't know.  Their not harmful per se.  They're just not right.  And that bugs me.

I was doing some evaluation on the way home and I had some realizations.  The other day, after the rafting weekend, when I talked about not wanting to date some one, what I really didn't want was being close.  Talking on the phone.  What I'm itching for is some companionship.  As constancy I'm not sure.  I know I want a best friend.  Some guy I spend more time with than the people I do know.  Someone here that knows what's going on with me.  That here's me say the things I write here.  But I'm back to wanting a date, and episodes like tonight don't help.  I'm not sure how much the latter is a result of the former, I just know its there.

Hearing Mike talk about Godly women.  About what they are like, about the beauty that comes from them.  About the love and beauty that overflow from a heart seeking Christ.  As he said it, as he talked about a woman like that, I could feel that desire swelling in my heart.  And, I felt I'd seen it before.  Seen that beauty that comes so much more from within.  So now I'm stuck wanting that, and feeling that I've been there before and lost it, and want it back.

The worst part is that even as I wish I'd asked that girl to go to Fido with me . . . I still think Heather is a superior woman.  She's more attractive, has a better voice, radiates God's love more readily, and. . . .  What ridiculousness.  Not only am I saying all this crap, I'm saying it in the present tense.

I still wish I'd asked that girl out.

This is predictable insanity.

This is constancy in place of hope.

This is continuous shifts of feeling and conviction and belief.

And I know this inconsistency, is surmountable.  I've done it.  But right now I have no truth to hold onto and ride out the opposing waves.

On the upside, the last song of tonight talked about God rescuing us, which is a word I've been using with regularity in my prayer journal, so that could be a good sign right?

I finally got my Zune back (the second time) and its now working, so that only took, one month and one week from when it first broke.  Anyhow, today on my way to Kairos I was listening to Showbread and I heard this line that just clawed at my heart.

"Whisper something to me, so I can hear Your voice

I'm pushing You away, my will be done, it is my choice"

Yeah.  That's me.  Wanting so desperately.  Knowing its right there.  Knowing I'm the reason I can't hear, but not even sure what it is I'm doing.  Everything I hear right now I just suppress, call it my own heart, call it temptation.  Call it anything.  Would it help if it were louder?

I think I'll head to the gym in the morning.  Nothing empties out your head like a little violence.

Removal

I think I have to move.

I'm not sure where. I'm even less sure of how. I just think this might be the case.

Yesterday didn't go quite as expected . . . which was a high estimate of improving somewhat, and a low estimate of at least not getting worse. Well . . . you can always dream big right?

And now I'm sitting here forcing myself to pound this stuff out, as a last resort means of not completely retreating. Excellent.

Maybe I'll move to Long Island with Glenn.

And . . .

Two days have passed since the last post and my thoughtlife situation has grown increasingly disquieting. Rather than decreasing, my thoughts of Heather have been increasing. Indeed today I felt sexual desire. For her. After not seeing or speaking to her for 4 months. Where does that come from. Despite constant prayers to have her removed from my heart and thoughts. Nothing. Finally exasperated I took a rather abrupt change in tactics. So I started praying for us to be reunited. And then the thoughts abated. I suppose I would find that frustrating but I really don't care. I was just glad to be rid of her. To be rid of those memories. If I knew exactly where to "accidentally" knock my head with the right amount of force to purge myself of all that, I would.

Alas what was holding me back before was the spiritual insights I gained from the whole exercise, but now those are increasingly difficult to hand onto.

On the subject of more good news, I'll have to start with a precursor. After things ended with Heather I, of course, did some self evaluation. One of the things I considered was the fact I felt I'd become soft, though to what extent exactly I'm not sure. Certainly it was not her fault, and I think there were a multitude of factors, but it was such. The way I took to describing this was that I had, "lost my teeth", a phrase tying in my fascination with lion imagery and association.

So last night I had a dream. I can't remember the surround details, some sort of trip, with people I knew, nice but old surroundings. And then my teeth fell out. I looked down and saw them, discolored, with the insides looking like pieces of cardboard. I tried shoving some of them back in, and for that effort I experienced a new sensation. Pain, in a dream. Pain so real it made me sure I was not experiencing a dream. I looked down and saw the blood running out of my mouth into my my hand, touched my gum and felt the stinging pain. Never before.

And I've made another decision I'm sure I'll stick with until I get a conflicting urge. Suddenly I'm steadfastly sure I just want to live the rest of my life alone. It is mostly this quiet feeling at the pit of my stomach and in my heart that when I ever I consider a female I compare her to Heather and find her lacking. So the idea is just to gird up now. Settling would just be idiotic. As would doing essentially anything but nothing in that area.

On the upside this is pushing for a kind of honesty with God. There are no niceties in our conversation right now. I'm barely holding onto the precepts that maintain faith in these dark times, but our interactions are . . . one sided and reeking of desperation.

But such is the nature . . . if you hold on, and trust, and pray, eventually He comes through.

Right?

This is how you spell disaster

Rafting was great, thanks for asking.

I'd like to write a nice long post, realizing that last night I completely forgot my original point about the whole gay article, because I got lost in its relation to the devotional I read.  My original reason for wanting to write about it was because of the author's examination of the press of individualism in America and what the church has to done to contribute to it.  Interesting stuff right?

But I'm tired and I'm determined not to be exhausted tomorrow, so here's the what:

Today I've been singularly incapable of getting Heather off my mind.  Its been in tons of external reminders and little nuggets, some mundane, some bordering on miraculously unfortunate (oxymoron?).  But I doubt I'd need them at all.  The majority of my prayer journal entries today (and I'm so glad I'm back to having multiples per day, ever since Tuesday) have been some variation of, "Please Lord, take her off my heart.  I don't want to think about her.  Its making me sad.  And it won't go away on its own."  Yeah . . . this is great.

But that's enough to make a stink out of is it?  I'm feeling extremely restless tonight, so I should spend time with God, but why, instead, am I on here writing a post?

I was trying to unweave some of the craziness that is my brain and my thought process and here is what I stumbled upon.  Yes, I love Heather.  Yes, I still want to be with her.  But I'll be darned if I'm going to do a gosh darn thing about it.  I said it the other night, I love her, I just don't care that I do.

Now in partial defense of myself, I'm truly believe I don't have enough, or good enough, signs to determine that my feelings, or actions based on them are God's will.  And that is a perfectly legitimate reason for my commitment to inaction.  However, I recognize the presence of a pretty decent collection of potential signs of present, and significant, though now in doubt, signs of the past.  So I do realize I'm playing a dangerous game.  I can feel that I'm about a hair away from putting my foot down to God and telling Him I just won't do it.

The good news is, I'm invariably His man.  Despite my rhetoric, I will do whatever He wants.  But if that's it, its just gonna take a serious bit of convincing.

But what would be enough for this muddled and overactive mind?

At least my intentions are good.  I truly and honestly just want to do the right thing.

Then again perhaps the "lack of clarity" is indeed the answer I'm not willing to see.

Ugh.  I really hope tomorrow is a good day.

Until what God requires is what I desire

I sincerely hope I don't get overly esoteric during this post. I can guarantee that I will try not to. Ever since Dr. Dawsey got onto me my sophomore year about writing more plainly I've done my best to write in a more easily accessible manner when discussing theological issues. It helps when I place it in a more practical framework, like my little rant on grace a few weeks ago, but its there, and its tough to overcome.

What I find really interesting about this, though it won't have nearly the same impact for all of you, is how this post, before I even started writing it, moved from a place of abstract theological examination to one of personal issues as well. So where did it all start?

Late in the day, while already considering that I should look at going to bed since I have to be at GodWhy at 6:45 for another rafting trip, I had the urge to . . . do more than what I was. I'd worked on the loft (the room over our garage we're renovating) all day and then spent the evening reading. I decided to finally check my email and just felt . . . kind of compelled. So I went to ChristianityToday.com. I was intending to do the daily men's devotional but whenever I go I go through the main site so I can see if there are any features or other articles I want to read. The only one that caught my attention today was titled, "Is The Gay Marriage Debate Over?" Having written my final paper in my favorite college course on the subject of homosexuality (as an archetype for a Christian approach to socio-political issues), the pervasive nature of this discussion in our society, and my experiences with current and past gay friends, the article naturally drew my attention.

An interesting subject in its own right, I judged it bordered too closely on politics for me to feel comfortable talking about given my new stand-off approach. But then I read the men's devotional. The title was "Reducing Temptation's Pull" but the grander point was about submitting to God's will. Indeed the response prompt is where I drew this post's title, "An instance in which what God requires has become my desire is . . . ." Indeed I see a pattern here.

I am about to say something unpopular.

There is no way to reconcile  homosexuality with a Biblical worldview.  At least not one that is consistent.  Sorry if that bites you hard and you're angry now.  It just is.  I won't go into reasons, but suffice it to say, there'd be a long way to go to convince me otherwise, during which you'd have to simultaneously invalidate a number of other sins as from being characterized as such.  So we'll take it as a foregone conclusion, because it is, and move on.  Because that's not really the point.  Don't get caught up here.

See I haven't always felt that way.  No, no.  When I was in high school I was about as liberal as they come, including believing that we should abolish monetary units.  Yeah, no money.  Brilliant.

Anyhow, my real point here is that when you come to Christ, you agree to give up everything.  Whether you know it or not, whether you do it or not, you are saying that everything you think and do and believe is now under His purview.

If you ever want confirmation of an idea from a Christian viewpoint, expose it to secular society.  In my senior year of college I took a class called "Mediated Consumption and Personal Identity" which attempted to examine and explain the development of human personality and behavior.  I was the only Christian in the class.  And one of only two conservatives.  Due to the nature of what we studied every single day was a potential battle, which sometimes I chose to engage in and others I just had to pray.  Towards the end of the class I remember having nearly everyone in the class agree that it was wrong for me (i.e. Christians) to vote based on their religious beliefs.  Mind you they weren't saying we didn't have a right to vote, simply that our vote shouldn't be a result of our beliefs.  I'll point out the absurdity of trying to enforce and idea like that, as well as how it reflects many people's view of the Constitution merely for the sake of humor.

That right there is all the confirmation I need for an idea that should be so intrinsic to faith yet is shockingly common.  Christ will not stand for compartmentalization of faith.  "If you want Me, you get the whole thing."  Christ Himself was not immune from this.

John 6:38

 "For I have come down from heaven to do the will of God who sent me, not to do my own will" 

Jesus, even as God, was subject to the Father's will.  Should we expect any less for ourselves?  Should we expect that any part of our lives should not be the domain of the vine from which we draw life?  Is it even possible to truly take from God and yet close off parts of our hearts or minds?  When you give your life to Christ, you give it all.

And yet I can see where I compartmentalize this very idea itself.

See there were a few things I left out of my post the other night.  Nothing truly intentionally.  Some of it was not fully formed yet, some of it just didn't seem important enough, or I just forgot.  But given the raising of this issue, they have become important.

I failed to mention the other night that after a hiatus who's length I'm rather fuzzy on, I have begun dreaming again.  None in a way I'm anywhere near ready to describe as God breathed, well, perhaps one, but its the idea itself.  That I had stopped for a while, and then on Tuesday night, started again.

Where this ties in is how I woke up feeling after my last post.  As I laid in bed that night I thought back on my non-interactive episode with the blonde.  And I remembered how truly, though certainly not deeply, upset I'd been when I realized I could have talked to her.  Mind you I become physiologically uncomfortable with the notion of approaching a girl, more so with one I don't know, and even more so in public.  And I'm 75% sure she didn't know Jesus.  And I strongly prefer brunettes.  And yet this very night I lamented that I'd not tried to set up a date with her.

Which reflects the way I woke up the morning after my last post.  Indeed since its been difficult to shake the desire to date.  Someone else.

Somewhere inside I'm vaguely aware of what that should mean.

And I remain unconvinced.

So what brought this all up?  I got to talking to my friend A-Phil tonight, who asked me how things were.  And despite being in fairly high spirits the last few days, and today, I responded with a terribly melancholy discourse.  I feel like I have millions of pounds of needing crushing down on me, with what seems like zero direction from God.  And what I do get, what could be interpreted as from Him, I don't even want, in one case.  And in the other I want it so much that I refuse to believe the collusion of His will and my own.

So here we see my unintentional hypocrisy.  I fully recognize the importance, no, the necessity of complete internal and external submission to God.  Yet refuse to do so.

Perhaps oddest of all is that I don't feel I'm being inconsistent or lying when I say I'm not hearing anything from Him.  I truly feel like I'm not being guided or spoken to, in a time I need it desperately.

Yet I know I can draw near Him.  I know that regardless of whether elements of it were true on Tuesday, I couldn't have imagined speaking this way.

And now that I've written this all I'm not sure how much I mean of any of it.  I'm leery of posting it for fear of people reading it and thinking that I am in this place this makes it look like I am.  Because I'm not.  Am I?

How do I know.  All I know is that I'm going to pray tomorrow.

I need the Lord to show up soon.  I was under the impression that no one died in the last gust of a storm.  If so this is an unimaginably long gust.  If not . . . than what am I waiting for?

Recovery from death

I think that might be a good name for a Christian metal band.  Or some variation thereof.

Alas it coincides with this song I've been kicking around in my head since last night.

"So this is how it how it feels to be alive

This is how it feels to breath

Oh God how could I forget

being raised from death"

Something like that, I haven't put any of it down on paper.

Well . . . I know its not exactly couth, but I have to admit I rather like doing this:

I told you so.

Oh yeah, that feels good.

So what, you may be asking, did I forecast that then did indeed come to pass.  At the end of my last post I said that I could feel the turn around coming.  I said that the next day, this attack would be conquered and I'd be back on track with Big J.  Don't go back and look, just trust me.  Okay, so I stopped short of that, but that's how I felt.  Anyhow.  It happened.

Some time after noon yesterday I finally cracked my prayer journal for the first time, which was earlier than I'd been in there for at least the last two weeks.  And I wrote this:

"Please Lord, don't make me do this without You.  Come back.  Rescue me and lift me up."

Depressing right?  So roundabout 5:30 yesterday it becomes apparent that Nick and Rachel are not going to be able to go to Kairos with me.  And I had a few minutes where I tossed over going.  But really I know how stupid it would be not to go.  I knew how much I needed it.  So I went.

I got there a good while early and took some time to walk around the cafe, my first time there.  Just looking at people, checking the place out.  I took some time to peruse the bookstore as well.  Then I meandered into Wilson Hall and sat in the middle floor section, four rows back from the stage.  And I sat there and waited.  Just, wasting time.  No one really sitting close enough to start a conversation with, and everyone who came in was already engaged.  So I just sat and waited.

When the music started, I stood to worship.  I sang and I focused, but I just felt . . . bound, I wasn't really there, doing what I should have been.  And I never felt a change come.

Before Mike started speaking he took just a few minutes to do some prayer time, getting people ready.  I leaned over and closed my eyes, as I heard him tell us to take whatever we were holding and just give it up to God.  So I did.  As that time finished I raised my head.  I didn't know it yet, but things had changed.

Not 5 minutes into Mike speaking I knew something was different.  Not with Mike, not with the message, not the surrounding.  It was me.  See, I've never stopped taking notes there, every time I've been I've taken notes.  But the last few times, probably since the Revelation series ended, my notes have been . . . sparse.  (Aside: does anyone pick up on the significance of that timing?)  There was a night that I think I wrote down one thing.  Which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing.  Except I knew I should be getting more.  I knew there was more there to get.  It wasn't that the messages were less meaty, or less aimed right at my heart, it was really like I just wasn't listening, like I wasn't fully engaged.  But last night, I scribbled all over my little card, actually having to double up on the space between the lines just so I could fit it all.  And when I started writing things down, right at the start, that's when I knew.

Mike's message last night was directed towards the guys, about being men.  He started talking about the abolition of man by feminism, religion, public schools, and even public policy.  Then he moved on to an example of a man from the Bible.  Interesting tidbits include the difference between righteousness and "right and wrong".

Then he said something that really got my attention.  See his example man was Joseph.  A pretty good one all things considered.  I mean, this was the guy found righteous enough to serve as the earthly father of God Himself.  Pretty good endorsement.  As a part of Mike's examination of Joseph, he talked about Joseph's dream, and how it kept him from divorcing Mary.  But what he said next, near as I can tell, had no bearing on the rest of the message, but it was essential none the less.

Mike next talked about how easy it must have been at first.  But then, Joseph had to spend nine months watching his young fiancee/wife grow with this baby inside her.  Nine months of hormonal changes.  Nine months of people talking.  And as it came closer, Mary talking of feeling the baby kick and turn.  And all Joseph had to go on during that time was one dream.  Mike described Joseph laying down at night, praying to God for the dream to return or another to reaffirm him, but nothing.  But Mike never made a comment about a point there.  About fortitude in manhood or dedication or anything.  He just let it stand by itself.

And the timing of it . . . certainly strikes me as odd.

And later Mike pointed out how Joseph was found as righteous and then richly blessed and given his mission.  His point was about preparation.  He talked about how Jesus, Moses, and David all spent time alone, in the wilderness, in preparation.  And I think I remember hearing that before.

At then end Mike had all the guys in the place stand and told all the girls to pray for us and for us to pray for the guys around us.  And it was just incredible, to see all these guys being touched by God.  To see men crying and to know there are good women out there and to see them love their men and pray over them and pray over other guys they didn't know at all.

As if there were any doubts about how surely the spirit of the Lord was in that place, when the worship team came back out, things exploded.  You could feel the energy and the love in both directions in that place.  And I worshiped like crazy.  One of those times when everything  disappears and its just you standing there before Him on the throne, singing to Him.  But when you open your eyes, you see all these people, hands raised, hearts wide open.  All of them praising.  And there's blessings in the private and in the corporate and you wonder if anyone in that place is managing to escape the spirit of the Lord.  And I hadn't felt that in so long.

And it kept up.  On the way home I destroyed myself screaming along to Underoath.  And I can't tell you how long its been since I've screamed along to my music, or to stuff I've written.

What I can say is . . . all these absences, all this death, has all been going on for approximately the same amount of time.

Fast forward through late night Wii after Kairos and meeting some new people, through today, with its mess of familial tension.  To CAKE.  Subject:  relationships.  Specifically the passage was Genesis 2:18, where God decides to make a "helper" for Adam.  The rest of the night was talking about relationships and lots of caveats there of, but a lot of it just washed over my brain.  For two reasons.  One is that Mike went over parts of Genesis 2 last night, not all, but some of the same ones that were used tonight.  And two:

The Hebrew for "helper" in 18 is EZAR, a word more accurately translated as "lifegiver" or "one who actively intervenes on behalf of".  Every other use of this word in the OT is God saving someone.

And the only other person I've ever talked about that idea with is Heather.  I'd just finished Wild at Heart at Lake Champion and Heather was a fan of Captivated and we discussed that word and concept in a few letters.

I only believe in coincidences to a certain extent.  And yes all these things seem to have rather interesting time, with little additions like seeing the name Sennacherib appear at near random in the Tom Clancy book I'm rereading, or parking behind a car with Kansas plates when John, Jeremy, Clay, and I went down to watch "Moon" tonight.  Yet I don't think I'm sold yet.

I've admitted something to myself sometime during the last two days.  Really last night at Kairos, sometime during the prayer time, and tonight when Jenn was talking about marks of a healthy relationship.

I love Heather.

And I don't mean that in the mourning way of "oh I'm still so broken hearted and I can't let go."  I'm not distraught and broken hearted.  Its just . . . I think of her in my head the same way I did when we were together.  I keep thinking of all these great memories and all her fantastic qualities.  Its just like . . . it feels just like love.  That feeling that those of you who are there know.  And there's just no other way to describe it.

And I hope it goes away.

Tonight after I got home I was thinking/praying some and I was realizing how much things have kind of stacked up in regards to this question of whether I gave up or was called on.  And honestly decided that all this probably means I should still be fighting for her and could still be meant for her.  But I didn't really care.  I'm not planning on doing anything about it, at least not at present.  If its true, there's a level at which I really don't care.  But also, I'm not sold yet.  I realized that I'm okay with screwing up in one direction.  I'm not okay with needing to move on and still chasing after/waiting for her.  But I am okay with being called to keep her on my heart/pursue her, and not doing so.  Waiting until God gets angry and gives me something bigger I can't ignore.  I'm okay with that, and I told Him as much.

And that's really my plan.  I have a good feeling about it.

Alas, it means that even that really attractive blonde eyeing me so intently from the next restaurant over that Jeremy noticed can't garner my attention.  Let's say I was the kind of guy to approach girls.  Let's say she was receptive.  And by those axioms there was then some possibility of establishing a date.  Too bad.  I'm in love with someone.  I'm in love with someone I haven't spoken to in months.  And that's all that means to me right now.  The close down of dead end opportunities I wouldn't take anyways.  Let's face it, if I was the kind of guy to go up and hit on random girls, I probably would have done so anyways.

I get the feeling I don't like this feelings.

So there it is.  I'm 70% sure that I told God to bring it on.

Things didn't used to be like this.  I used to be so much better at hearing His will, at sticking to it once I had it.  And I haven't lost everything.  I still don't care about consequences in regards to following Him.  I'll do anything He tells me.  Recklessly.  I just need to hear.  And I just wish that was easier.

I leave you with this:

Oh you nations,

lift your hands, lift up your voices

Praise the Lord.

He is worthy.

He is mighty.

The Lord is salvation.

Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet (part 2)

"So when did you figure it out?"

Well, as I already said, I don't know.  But . . . I do remember on Monday, being over at Jeff's and just, feeling like a total passenger.  Feeling like I wasn't really there but I was watching someone else be there.  A very odd feeling.

"Do you know why you were under attack?"

No.  Due to the speed and severity with which it arrived I'd sure say it had to do with something I had started doing.  The only two possibilities aren't things I'd like to attribute it too.  One of them is the whole thing of still fighting for Heather, which I can't really sell myself on the idea of that being it because at every turn I just keep telling myself that's just my own desires talking.

And it sucks how I'll be sitting around and have these wonderful memories leap to mind, and then recall I shared them with her.  And how I'll just think of great things about her, like how she'd say or do something.  And I felt happy.  That's crap.  I can't feel that way.  I shouldn't.  And I pray and nothing.  And I just keep telling myself, this is loss, this is grief, this is mourning, this is a broken heart wanting someone back.  But it just feels like love.

I want to get my face punched in.  I want a black eye and a bloody nose.

"You know that sounds insane right?"

Yeah.  Its like . . . I think its like . . . I hate the fact I feel that way, or think I do about her.  So I want to punish myself for it.  Hope it gets wiped out.  Cause until I know what's real I just want to live like nothing's there.  Like I don't have a heart, at least not for anyone but the lost and my friends.

"So what about the comment?"

Right, that.  Well, on the real I was kind of irked over it.  You really have to understand that I have a fairly sharp wit, and I've struggled a lot with how that fits in my new creation, because mainly how it comes out is wanting to make mean comments.  And by and large its gotten really great over the last 6 years.  But when stuff like that happens I just want to tear someone to shreds.  Its tough.

I don't know who left it, but I've got an idea, not that it matters.  Based on the phrasing I'm pretty sure its a girl.

But here are my reflections:

Calling me self-centered in regards to the points you make brings up a fairly troubling trend in modern church discussion.  It has become fairly common in the more with-it Christian circles to speak of the incorrectness of being dissatisfied with the particulars of church services.  Mike Glenn, who I respect greatly theologically, even made comments a few months ago about the improper nature of approaching worship with a "What did I get?" mentality which is closely related to this question of whether someone "gets something" out of a pipe organ or electric guitar church service.  But I find this kind of reflection far out of place.  Yes worship is an offering.  But its also part of the systematic discipline of maintaing spiritual health.  If you're not getting something out of worship, you're not encountering God.  If you're not encountering God you're not growing spiritually.  And if you're not growing spiritually, you are in the wrong place.  Geographically (particular church) or personally (personal disciplines - quiet times and prayer).

 I never complained that the churches I was involved in weren't meeting my needs in general.  Rather I expressed some concern that a very real need of my spiritual health was not being met and I was considering ways to address that.  I've had hardly anything but praise to give the churches I've been a part of since I started going there, especially in regards to the worship and preaching at the two churches where I attend those services.

And I'd hardly call looking at something like that self-centered.  I can't imagine calling someone who was concerned with having a well balanced and healthy diet self-centered.  And eating is a time-honored and common spiritual metaphor.  Is it really self-centered for someone to be worried about being well fed, physically or spiritually?  Is someone wrong for wanting to make sure their church community is a place where they are being fed spiritually?

I think the church would do well to take a more introspective look at the "What did I get?" question.  Because that's what the church is there for.  To be a community of believers spurring spiritual growth and the spread of the gospel.  If someone isn't getting anything out of church, its not working.  But it could be their fault.

And I have struggled lately with not being active in ministry.  It has weighed on me and I've spent some good time praying about where I needed to be, and whether I was ready.

It seems to me that one of the many terrible products of the social justice gospel movement has been a focus on out-centric faith.  If you love Jesus, you have to go do.

I used to tell me Young Life leaders, and then my church volunteers:  "If you're not spiritually healthy, if you haven't gone to church this week, and done quiet times, and been in prayer for these kids, don't bother showing up.  God and I don't need you.  We're better off with 3 people overflowing with God's love than 10 people who just wanted somewhere to feel important."

And that's the real point there.  You, along with many people, feel you've stumbled on this obviously higher plane of spiritually enlightenment because you bring up the very important point of servitude.  Of offering back time and talents.  But I'm sick of 60% turn over rates with church ministries because people show up to serve, and haven't made sure they have anything to give.  We need to be producing a mature church that understands missions, serving, ministry are down out of the overflow of our relationship with Christ.  We have to be fed to be of any use.  And I'm not sure I'm ready.

Along the same lines, I think churches would do well to take a more systematic approach to participation.  The value of letting new people get involved cannot be overstated, but having people rush into ministries without knowing if they really fit there is not smart.  Its damaging to sociological stability and it is ultimately a waste of time.  Now this is clearly all from a leadership standpoint.  From a participant perspective the only limitations should be ministry borders (i.e. young adults in a young adult ministry, teens in a student ministry).  But as far as leadership is concerned, some sort of graduated or step-in program seems to make far more sense.

The previous issue of spiritual health in regards to ministry leadership is prone to a huge issue known as "burnout".  And when the issue of rush entrance into leadership is added, we end up with an ineffective and ultimately unloving system.

In the early church people served as candidates for two-three years learning Christian theology and history until they could undergo baptism and become members.  And that was in the 2nd century.  I'm not saying we need something like that, but . . . we need to really look at these things.  Spiritual health, and proper use of gifts in regards to leadership in ministry are huge issues in churches.  And they are far more real than "enlightened" grumbling about self-centered mentalities.

Lastly, since you posted your concerns in public, without leaving your name, my ultimate conclusion is heartache.  You obviously weren't truly concerned for my spiritual well being and whether or not I was acting out of step with the path I've chosen.

And that's enough of that.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Yeah, lets face it.  I think this post started out well, but now I'm exhausted, and surely I forgot to say most of what I meant to, most of what was important.  And what I did say I'm sure I did not get across properly.

The important thing is that I'm back on the wagon right.  I'm writing.  I know I need to step things up spiritually.

Let's see how tomorrow goes.

Which to Bury, Us or the Hatchet (part 1)

In the grandest tradition of works like Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov, and as a way to take a minor structure detour for the sake of breaking up monotony, today's post is presented as a conversation.  The unnamed and unrepresentative will be in quotations and bolded, while my responses will appear without.

 

"Where is the title from?"

The title is a Relient K that I've been almost completely incapable of not listening to the last few days.  There is something in it.  It could be the incredibly poignant nature of the lyrics in relation to STILL relevant events in my life.  Maybe.

"So, before we get meaty, what are you planning on re-opening with?"

Well, what do I say now?  How do I write a blog post?  There are things to be said, for sure.  But its been so long.  And while there are things, its like none of them are worth saying.  That'll come up again later, I'm calling it now.

But I'm doing it.  Here I am writing again, after nearly two full weeks.  So, why?  Well apparently taking such a long hiatus from cataloging a rather dull period of existence, at least outside my head, qualifies as grounds for a death threat.  And a death threat is, I believe, sufficient motive to do something so simple as writing a blog post.  So part of the answer is found there, that on the same day multiple people contacted me to see what had happened.  And the other is, if I don't do it, I don't know when I will.  So we hop back in.

"Now that I've asked the questions out of sequence to satisfy for your obsessive need for "proper" structure, let's ask the real, burning question:  What did you have for dinner?"

Ha, well at first it was junk food over at Jeff's, but I got proper with left-over Sicilian style pizza at near midnight with some apple slices and caramel.  Thanks for asking.

"Okay, really though, why has it been so long since you've posted?  Where have you been?"

Wow, well . . . the simple answer?  Busy.  No, really.  My family has decided to renovate the room above the garage, which has meant work days sometimes in excess of 12 hours, in an atmosphere actually worse than being outside, while we were having 90 degree days.  Add in a reading streak that included polishing off three 600+ pages books in 2 days, and so much page turning two of my fingers actually turned black, and you start to get the picture.  Add in regular jaunts with the movie club (now over sadly) and Kairos, with a racing venture on Friday night and an ill-conceived party attendance on Saturday and you've got a good picture.  The good news is that the party yielded a fantastic quote:

"C'mon, Zach, let's take off your pants and dance."

"Please don't touch me." - delivered as serious as I could manage

"Haha.  Really?"

Um, yeah.  But you probably shouldn't ask questions like that.

"Why?"

Well, seeing as how you are a figment of my imagination and therefore you already know the answer, its kind of a waste of time.  So we can just streamline everything by knocking off questions like that.

"But questions like that help "sell the sizzle" of this presentation method that is my entire reason for being used.  I mean, that's what makes it real."

*uncomfortable silence while staring ensues*

I wish I had imagined someone significantly less annoying than you.

"So did you know this girl?"

Yes, we hooked up in high school.  No, I really did not want her touching me.

Being chaste and a non-drinker made me quite the oddity that night, so much so I thought of charging admission to see me.  Yet there must of been some sort of odd appeal.  Dave ended up making me a sign that said "celibate" to keep me from unwanted attention.  Though I imagine most of those girls would have trouble with that word sober.  Why did I go?

"Great question, consider it asked."

pcchhh.  Evangelism.  Boredom.  A friend asked me to DD and was too cheap to spring for me to go watch a movie.

What's really important is that it demonstrates something I talked about with Nick the other day, which is my utter inability to meet someone in whom I'd be interested without the intervention of Christ.  See the paradoxical puzzle is this:  I'm outgoing, but typically standoffish with girls, call it intimidation, fear of rejection, call it I'm just not the go start talking to a random girl type.  I did it in high school all the time, but since I started following the Lord, well, ya know, personality overhaul.  Heather's the only girl I've ever done that with.  Those two Heathers from 4th of July weekend, they both started talking to me.

So the paradox is, I'm not the type to approach girls, certainly not at random and only marginally more so when I do know them.  And the kind of girl I am interested in, is actually something of the shy/initially quiet type, so it stands that any girl who approaches me, is not what I'm going for either.  And there's the paradox.

And yet none of that matters.  Because I know where it ultimately comes from, but I don't know how I ultimately feel about that whole area of my life.  Yeah, I started looking for something from God last week.  Don't feel like I got much out of that.  And internally, as bad a compass as that tends to be, I have no idea.  Sometimes I feel I can't wait for something to happen.  Sometimes I can't stand the idea of being with anyone, even though its in an obvious abstract.  And sometimes I can't imagine loving anyone more than I still love Heather.  What a load of crap.

"Going way far back though, you said that was the simple answer.  What's the complicated one?"

Well . . . it kind of goes like this.

There was a very odd collusion of events.  After my last post I did Kairos the next day, blah, CAKE the next night, with some odd news that's really been more of a roller coaster than the amazing news it should have.  So that night or the next I realize someone had left this fairly disagreeable comment on a recent post of mine.

I talked to the venerable Brian about it, who gave typically sage advice, "pray about it, see if there's any truth in the criticism, then deal with that."  Brain's so great.  I tell him the things I can't tell you people.

Then that weekend I put on my big girl panties and went on the CIL young adult whitewater rafting trip.  Yes, I had a great time.  No, I'm still not sure I feel like a part of things there.

The whole way down for some reason I was contemplating the abstract of having a significant other, and I couldn't stand the idea.  It sounded like such an annoyance.  The idea of having to talk to someone regularly.  Of being open like so, of gentle and vulnerable and dependable.  Of constant and shared.  Of so many other things.  Made my skin crawl.  And then that night, Nick and Jonathan and I stayed up til past 4 talking, like some middle school girls.  And it was an amazing time.  And I wanted someone in my life.  And none of those feelings really count for much.  Which is good, because they don't make any sense.  But then again, this is me we're talking about.

So then Sunday I think was when things actually broke.  For reasons I choose not to expound on, I ended Sunday in a pretty funky mood.  And despite a great time at Kairos on Tuesday, I couldn't seem to shake it.  And at some point, I'm not even sure what day, it hit me.

You sir, are not alive.

I was retreating from all human relationships.  I was completely devoid of any introspection, leaving all of my thoughtlife unexamined.  I was passing through days without ever feeling like I accomplished anything, wondering what had happened.  Feeling curtained off from life.  Feeling drawn toward sin.  Completely uninterested in reading the Word or praying.  And all that still doesn't quite describe the full measure.  I just knew.

This is what it feels like to be dead.

I was under spiritual attack.  And I never even saw it.  And I certainly wasn't ready.  And to be honest I still haven't dealt with it properly, more just recognized it.

"Wow, that's pretty serious."

Are you still here?

"This is running long, lets take a break and start another post."

Honest to goodness, one of the worst posts ever.

So here I am, knowing I need to write, and even what I need to say, but not knowing where to start. Maybe I try to put too much effort into this. But I can't stop. This is where my heart comes out. I don't have those outlets right now to be having this as real conversations, so they take place here. I pour my heart out for myself and for you and then, hopefully, get emails and such that help keep us connected in the unraveling digital age.

Apparently the last post was decently funny, though none of you would know that anyone else thought so because almost no one ever leaves comments. Though that's partially my fault. Al did the other day and I never responded. Sorry, dude.

So let's talk about something I really, really don't like, which is revisionism. I hate it when people go back and cover over history to suit their own purposes. This has always been something that's bugged me but a few things lately have made me acutely aware of it.

For a few days I've had small periods of time where I kicked around this notion of Heather changing the history of our relationship. Everything she said when things went south, and the very little since, had a very distinctly different view of our relationship than what was there.

But what kind of pushed this from a realm of being a line of thinking I was trying to suppress, to something I was willing to talk about in the blog, both as an abstract, and the specific relation, was having a family night last night.

Last night my family sat around and watched tv together, because that's as real as we get with each other. So anyhow, because most tv is crap, and especially because it was Sunday night, the best thing on was a crappy NBC production about Merlin. Now when things got really bad, was when they introduced Gwenevere. She was black! I mean, really probably mixed, but you could tell. And then later they had an Arab guy as one of the knights. Whether they were trying to be equitable about acting jobs, or they were intentionally trying to add diversity, either way its crap. Guess who was in England in the 12th century. White people. And a whole freaking lot of them. They were everywhere. And they were pretty much the only game in town. It's like when they were talking about building the memorial to the firefighters from the 9/11 attacks. They wanted to build a statue of the firefighters raising the flag. And some moron actually suggested they should make the figures of different ethnicities. To change the reality of what happened to suit their purposes and send a message. "Hey, you don't like the way things happened, just change it." "Oh man, you don't believe God is real and you can choose hell, just deny it." You can't rewrite history. Well, you can. You shouldn't. You definitely can't change truth. Freakin jerks.

And now I'll be completely incongruous.

I spent time with God last night. Just me and him. People who've been reading for a while or have gone back over everything will probably have realized its been a long time since I quoted from my prayer journal or talked about doing a private worship time. I was just in a different place with God. But ever since my conversation the other day with Emily . . . well. Things have been different. I don't like what it might (see: probably does) mean, but I do like the effect. Which is that last night I put on music and sang and prayed and drew near to God. Just the two of us.

It started because I was feeling restless, and we all know what that can mean. I opened with my pj,

"Okay, I'm restless. So here I am. I want you. And yes, I want answers, or a step, or a direction to look. I'm listening. I'm ready to be near you. Let's go."

But I took my time. I sang a little and then prayed and opened my Bible. He led me first to Psalm 93, pat of which I copied into my pj. Then I prayed for Him to lead me somewhere. And I opened my Bible to Isaiah 38, a passage where God heals Hezekiah, sparing his life and promising him 15 more years. And I thought it was interesting. But then I remembered something.

Around the time I kind of gave up on the whole fighting for Heather thing, I remember spending a few nights praying and seeking an answer from God. Something had happened and I was going back and double checking. I was asking God if I should be fighting. And He kept leading me to 2 Kings 20. It happened with such frequency and such ambiguity as to the meaning that I forgot about it. And a few weeks later, when I opened my Bible to spend time with God, and just asked Him to lead me somewhere to speak love to me or teach me, I went to 2 Kings 20 again, and really thought it must be a coincidence. A place where the pages stick together. Or a certain way I hold my hands.

And then last night He lead me to Isaiah 38. Where He heals Hezekiah. And the section heading for the first 11 verses of 2 Kings 20? "Hezekiah's Illness"

Well . . . okay.

So I decide I'm going to spend some time just trying to listen. I put on some good prayer music and then just laid there, trying to hear God's voice. Almost immediately I hear things. Things I won't even bother to put here I'm so unsure of them. But some of you can probably guess. And when I tried to argue, to say I must be hearing my own heart, or craziness, then I heard this:

"I am the Lord your God. Hear and obey."

And still I resisted. I wrote:

"Speak, oh God, to Your servant, Your son. Speak clearly."

and in response,

"I am the Lord your God. You have heard."

And still I tried to quiet my head and lay there, trying harder to listen. To empty my own thoughts. But then a clear thought, "there are no more answers here."

So I got up. I wrote in my pj asking God to give me signs of confirmation, saying I didn't have enough to go on.

So tonight I was reading that book, called "The Sign and the Seal." Its a book about this guy's search to find the Ark of the Covenant. Now at this point, more than 3/4 of the way through the book, he is going back and looking for every instance in the Old Testament where the Ark is referred to, but not by its name. Rather by unmistakable phrases or behavior solely associated with the Ark. Reason being, the author was looking for information about the Ark after Solomon installed it in the temple. He'd already scoured for explicit references (those by name) and so was now going by associated phrases or behavoir.

Out of 7 references, two were from the Psalms, and therefore irrelevant since they were written in pre-Solomonic times. Three were found in Ezekial and were irrelevant for a number of reasons.

The last two, however, were from Isaiah 37 and 2 Kings 19. Anyone recognize 2 Kings 29? If so its because I've referenced it before in the blog in this post. I didn't even recognize the connection until the author made it for me. I didn't remember that post. But both Isaiah 37 and 2 kings 19 deal with Hezekiah facing the Assyrian Kings Sennacherib who wants to capture Jerusalem. And strikingly, that's exactly where I was reading in this book tonight.

Quite the coincidence on that timing.

I make nothing of it.

I'm waiting for something else.

So much so that tonight I had a conversation with a friend about what kind of girl they should keep their eyes open for on my behalf.

Sometimes I think I've learned it all. Sometimes I think I haven't learned anything. Most of the time I just try to keep from thinking.

But . . . I really want to go read my Bible right now.

And the timing of that feeling returning just bothers me.

Even so, tomorrow's gonna be a great day. You can just feel it.

Go read Paslm 93.