Off the hook

I have no idea how to start this post. I know where it goes. I know what needs to be said. But I don't know where it starts.

Yesterday both was and was not what I was expecting. After everything that happened Tuesday I decided that I was going to spend a pretty seriuos amount of time with God yesterday. Some of it was just kneeling before the throne and worshiping. Some of it was looking for answers. I kept asking what the next step is. I kept asking about specific things I could do next and then opening my Bible to see if God would answer. And the verdict? Well . . . there was some stuff that could have been, but . . . I just don't know you know.

I realized yesterday that I forgot to tell two things. One is that the other night while I was driving home I was wondering about if God was telling me how things would work out with Heather, why? So I get home and go to spend time with God and I open my Bible. I was in John 14, and the verse that caught my attention was v. 29: "I have told you now before it happens, so that when it does happen you will believe." Mmmmkay.

So then I had another dream, where Heather and I were reunited. Which wouldn't be interesting, except when Jonathan and I had lunch the other day he mentioned something. Which was that after his fiancee left him he dreamed about her almost every night. And I don't. I have only, only had dreams when I prayed about it before. And not just when I was thinking about it, because some nights I've laid there not able to get it off my mind, and no dream. But I just pushed those things out, like everything else.

Anyhow, last night I went back to GodWhy for the first time in two weeks. I enjoyed seeing Stephen and Adam but . . . I just can't help but have this feeling that I fit in less there than I do anywhere else. And not only that, but because of everything that had happened I was looking for God to speak there. After all, I'm looking for word on the next step. But nothing.

So I come home and find a message from Emily. It was slightly confusing so I said as much, and then went to spend time with God. I spent about an hour and a half worshiping and reading and praying and listening to a Kairos sermon. I was expecting to hear something. And maybe I did, but if so it just sounded too much like personal inclination. Should I call? "yes" well yeah sure.

I'm so close, but I still feel I need external revelation right now. So I repeated something to God I'd thought a few times that day. "What I need, is someone who knows nothing to just walk up and say, 'You should call. Ha, that was weird, I have no idea who you are.'" 'Cause that would be great.

I go downstairs and find another message from Emily. Basically telling me I'm an idiot if I don't call, excpet nicer. She did temper it by saying she had held off because she wanted to be giving advice from God and not from her own wisdom. But still . . . it was pretty close to what I asked for. And that's two people who've said it.

Not to mention . . . this makes two areas of my life where I think there might be a call, that have confirmations of negative reactions.

Negative reaction confirmation is the idea that one way to test whether something is God is whether or not you want to do it. For instance, when God called Moses, Moses was all like, "Nah man, I've got a speech impediment, and I'm already like 80, so . . . you know."

And when God called Jeremiah, Jeremiah responded, "Um . . . I'm just a kid, I think you have the wrong number."

I've been thinking about the idea of speaking at this service if we get it going and . . . I don't think I'm ready. I don't know what to say, I don't think I can do it like it needs to be done. And honestly, that makes me feel better about doing it. It makes it less likely that the desire is my own pride and not God's calling, because I think I can't.

And the thought of calling Heather is similar. When I think of it, all I can focus on is the negatives. "If she doesn't answer I'll be crushed, I won't know what to do." "If she does answer and is a jerk, that'll be worse." "If she answers and we mend, well . . . I'm happy with things now, I don't want her back." "And if she answers, I have literally no idea what I would say. To the point that I think I might say, 'I didn't call to say anything, I called because I was told to.'" And . . . it makes me feel a little better about it, but not much.

I almost called her last night, but I chickened out. And then I was thinking, okay, call her today. But I can find excuses. Not tonight because she'll be busy with women's bible study. Tomorrow night she'll be at work. Saturday night I can't be sure I could reach her. Sunday night she has Life Group. Monday night she'll have homework. I've got a million of 'em.

But then I get a text from Bonnie. Worship tonight at Brittany's. This is exactly what I need. And I start thinking, I'll know when I'm there, but I have to be ready to call her. So I'm pumping myself up, thinking God will confirm it while I'm there, and then a thought strikes me.

I don't have her number.

I deleted it from my phone because it hurt too much to see it and now I don't have it.

I guess I'm off the hook. Why do I just feel like a coward?

I want to take the next step . . . but I want it to be His step, not mine. That's all I'm waiting on. I know, that when I follow God I have nothing to fear, but if I take a step on my own . . . I've felt those consequences. I am terrified.

Going to war

I should have written last night. Because last night everything was fresh and it was charged up. Now its a little a little duller, and already I'm starting to doubt if what happened really did. But I didn't blog last night. I watched some stupid tv and scribbled some lyrics and farted around.

The last few days, since Sunday really, I've been struggling with this feeling. I wanted to fight. Sometimes it was physical, but if I examined it at all I'd realize it was more. I remember on Sunday, at the end of church I just had this thought of wanting to tear down and destroy every stronghold Satan has built. I wanted to reap destruction on his finite little kingdom. But as the days passed, I started to struggle with it a little. I felt like I was without a fight.

I prayed yesterday, asking God to give me the direction, to show me where the fight was. As much damage as I can deal physically, I wanted to do a million times more spiritually, but I just saw no outlet.

I'd also been feeling this distance from God. Here are two prayer journal entries from Monday:

"I feel so far away from You. Its not what I want. Please God, make this right, whatever that means. Give me hope, give me pease, give me something." "Don't turn away. Please just show me Your love. I feel so far away."

So that's where I was yesterday. And then we go to Kairos.

We were already planning to get there a little early, and then made really good time, so when we arrived we grabbed seats in the second row.

As worship started I felt heavy. I wanted to be there, I wanted to be lost in it, but I felt this distance. And I couldn't seem to get Heather off of my mind. So much so that I grabbed my notecard and wrote, "Let it all go. Take it all from me. I want to worship with an undivided heart." It kind of worked, but not really.

When Mike began talking he was saying how we're always worried about what we get out of worship. And that was me. There I was, I'd come here for something, and I felt like it might not come. Turns out I just had to wait a little.

So what was the meat of the message last night? I'm honestly not sure you'll believe me.

Mike mentioned that when he first started teaching on Revelation, people would come up to him and say it was too big and too complicated and too metaphorical. And he'd just ask them if they ever felt the dragon lurking, waiting there to devour them. "And every one of you," he said. "Can feel him. You know he's there. You have a dragon chasing you."

He talked about the woman in Revelation 12. He talked about how we always view being in the wilderness as punishment, but its often protection and preparation. Yeah, another tie-in.

And then he comes to it. "Satan's mindest," he says, "is 'I will destroy His children. Because nothing will hurt Him more.'" "There is a fight coming, and you have to be ready."

Really?

A fight?

And that was the message. Mike talked about being ready for the fight. He talked about the necessity of remaining, no matter how much you wanted to give up.

This is wide-eyed wonder.

And yet . . . I was still holding back. I've realized now I'd built up this little wall, that even at that point, even as it struck me at my heart and hit me emotionally and I knew I had to fight . . . somewhere inside I said, "maybe its not for her."

Even so, I was a goner for the closing worship. I sand so hard. I meant it so much. At first I just closed my eyes and sat and listened. I thought about it all and prayed for God to prepare me. I stood with the tears drying in my eyes. The spirit of worship there at the end . . . everybody felt it. Everyone was effected. It felt like the whole room could explode at any moment. The Holy Spirit was there.

As we left we were in high spirits. The ride home was incredible. We all laughed so hard, just talking and joking and beatboxing and freestyling. Oh yes.

A little after I got home, Bonnie IMed me. "I'm caught up on your blog. After tonight I think you should call her."

And if I needed it, there it is. Its not just me.

I prayed. I prayed God would do something if I needed to be fighting. And here it is.

And yet I'm still trying to doubt. I'm still trying to tell myself that maybe its a different fight. Maybe its just my about my walk with Him. Or ministry. Or . . . whatever.

And now that I'm faced with the possibility of having to initiat everything . . . not only am I scared, I'm not sure I want to. I ask myself if I was really happy with her. If I really want to be with her. But finally, I know where those thoughts come from. This feels good.

Am I going to call her? Not today at least. I'm scared. I'm scared she won't answer and I'll struggle with that feeling. Just as much if not more, I'm worried she'd answer. I have no idea what I'd say. It'd be different if she called me. She'd have something to say, but . . . if I call her? What could I say?

But Bonnie said something that I had already realized, which means its something I have to stick to. It doesn't matter how this turns out. I can't think about it. I just have to do it. Even though I'm not entirely sure what it is right now. I don't know what the next move is. Do I pray for her? Do I write a letter? Do I call? I don't know.

But . . . as if I needed more confirmation, as I was thinking last night about how I needed to do this without knowing how it would turn out, I opened my bible. Hebrews 11. This passage was highlighted:

"By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going."

I've never highlighted anything in that Bible. Which means someone else did it.

And it all ties in. Emily talked to me about Abraham's faith when God just said "go." The message of preperation in the wilderness. And now the fight. I prayed for confirmation . . . and I really don't think I can deny it anymore.

But I'm not just going to fight. I'm going to war. Satan will tremble. For the Lord is mighty, and I am His warrior.

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.

"People want the truth but never want the scars"

The title comes from a song by a band named emery, whom I have liked for a while, but hadn't listened to in a long time, and it was a perfect day to listen to them.

Knoxville was killer. A serious blast. Hanging out with everyone last night was hilarious and refreshing and fun, and it made me aware of some things that are missing in my life, and have been, that I'm not entirely sure of how to fix.

I had this moment where I was driving along highway 11, both last night and today where I was seriously thinking about moving up there. I miss my mountains. I miss roads like that. I miss the way lakes form, and the way communities are built up there. I miss the way the sun shines there.

The Appalachians are home, but right now I don't feel necessarily called there. Then again I don't really feel at home in Nashville either. Maybe there's nowhere. Maybe my home is still dependent on a person.

One thing I really miss is people seriously living my life with me. Deep, obtrusive, intimate, sharing community. People who know how to finish jokes you set them up for. People you are so connected with you ask them how they are with Christ in the middle of innocuous joking.

Okay . . . I can't put this off any longer.

In my last post I mentioned how I was getting ready to leave, and was praying for God to give me a sign if it was Him laying it on my heart to fight for Heather.

Unfortunately my FM transmitter for my Zune crapped out just as I was getting on the highway. Okay, fine. I wanted to conserve funds by using my Target gift card to get a new one so I check the GPS. There are no Targets between Mt. Juliet and Knoxville. Welcome to Sucktown.

No kidding though, almost first thing some Christian song/speaker is on the radio, and I can't remember what I heard but I remember thinking . . . okay, maybe this happened for a reason. I never listen to the radio, ever, and maybe I need to. During the drive I flip through a few stations, and just as I'm going through Oak Ridge I land on another Christian station.

As I pull onto the surface street to Target a song comes on the radio. Its by Warren Barfield and its called "Love is not a Fight." Here's the first verse and the chorus:

Love is not a place
To come and go as we please
It's a house we enter in
Then commit to never leave

So lock the door behind you
Throw away the key
We'll work it out together
Let it bring us to our knees

Chorus:
Love is a shelter in a raging storm
Love is peace in the middle of a war
And if we try to leave, may God send angels to guard the door
No, love is not a fight but it's something worth fighting for

I pulled into the parking space and just sat there. I realized my hand was shaking, so I just shut the radio off and went inside to get my transmitter. As I got back on the road I told myself that it was just a weird coincidence.

Then as I was driving along Highway 11, finally listening to my new music I drove by a church with one of those stupid letterboard signs. The message: "A trying time is no time to quit trying." Crazy coincidence huh? I'm sure it means nothing.

What I hate about all this, and something that is present across the board in Christianity, but especially in times like these, is the loss of any hope of trusting yourself. You begin to worry that every single thought and desire and instinct you have are products of the dark passenger or the adversary. And suddenly you have almost nothing. You can't trust any of your thoughts. You can't trust anything you want to do. Its all sabotoge.

So how am I dealing with it? I said 1 1/2 weeks. I told God if I still feel like this I'll do something about it then. But I don't think I mean it. If I still feel like this next Sunday, I'll probably just say, "give it another week" "another two weeks"

The fact that I get to say the last two days have been spiritual "low points" or something like that is incredible. The fact that I've read the Letter and prayed as much as I have and still see these busy days as being so devoid of God speaks volumes of how much time I've really been spending with Him lately. And its so sweet.

I'm glad tomorrow is Sunday. I want to go to church.

"Are you there God? Its me, giraffe."

If you don't recognize the title, or even if you do then go here now. This video is hilarious, and will feature in later.

I'm trying to pound this out before I head to Knoxville, but there's some stuff I just needed to get out.

I recently gave in to a pretty strong urge and did some fighting. Which went okay but I became painfully aware of how terribly out of shape I've gotten. So today I decided I was going to go for a run and do some muscle building jazz.

The day was going okay, but not great. I had run some errands, and was doing stuff around the house, just generally feeling pretty okay. Most confusing was this really weird place I hit mentally. At some point I was thinking about everything, and over this thing Emily said once, about being able to feel if someone loved you or not. And I hit this place of just absolute assurance that Heather did not care for me at all, and regarded me as a mistake. And I was okay with it. Kind of. There was some unidentifiable feeling nagging at me inside:

"Are we getting somewhere? Are You doing something? I feel different but not necessarily right. Please Papa, show Your love show Your will. I want to hear You, I want to obey."

So I spent some time acquiring a decent amount of new music, and then went for my run. I could feel before I went that it was going to be tough, but that it'd be good time with God. As I ran I tried to just listen to Justice and clear my head. Just let everything go. As I rounded the bend down the street I became aware of this feeling in me. I've thought about this before. But here it was again, I was embarrassed that I was not fighting my hardest for Heather. I was ashamed. And I felt convicted that I needed to be. I pictured Heather hurting, wondering why I hadn't come after her, even if she wasn't admitting it. I mulled it over for a second, and started asking God if I should contact her. But then I changed my mind, my focus was still going to be on just letting it all go. So I prayed for God to take her off my heart and mind. But of course it all came back. So I prayed again. and so on.

As I came to the end of the run I started thinking about the stages of death video. At some point I realized I feel like the giraffe at the end. There's a slight recognition of how things could be worse, but its still a pretty desperate position and there doesn't seem to be much hope. Yeah.

I sat down for a minute to read my Bible in the sunshine before I took my shower. On a whim I decided to take God up on the feeling I had. I asked Him if He wanted me to contact her and I opened my Bible. I was on the first page of Hosea. I close the book without reading anything and hopped in the shower.

So now I'm ready to leave, just about. And I was thinking back over it all, wondering if I could still consider it all coincidence, if it was still just my own desires reading into things. So I told God if He wanted me to fight for Heather He needed to give me something more. I closed my prayer journal entry with this:

"I don't know what you actually want. I am blind and deaf. And dumb. And wounded."

Whatever, I plan on dealing with all of this by finding a cute girl at Zane's birthday party to make out with. (Not actually)

Here I go, with a nice batch of new music to scream my lungs out with.

"No one dies in the last gust of the storm" (part 2)

I have a confession to make before I continue. I don't really like watching TV, but there are a few shows I really enjoy, and one of the is a FOX show called "Fringe." Its kind of dumb, and a little campy (a little bit of iffy sci-fi and some overacting), but its very entertaining. The main characters are all likable, and it has a great plot, which is engaging enough to make the show more than mindless escapism. I was watching the most recent episode, and one of the characters was ruminating on his father having gone crazy. "I always looked at my father's mental illness as something he did to us. I never though of it as something that happened to him." Hmmm. I think that fits somewhere in my life.

So what about today?

Today has been a very interesting day. I awoke finally feeling like I wasn't completely under a cloud, but pretty soon I could feel it looming, so I committed myself to a prayer project. I wasn't going to think about Heather at all. I wasn't going to miss her, I wasn't going to work through anything, I wasn't going to figure out if and what God was telling me about how it will turn out. Whenever anything remotely resembling one of those thoughts was in my head I was just going to pray until it was gone. And it kind of worked. There was a somewhat interesting consequence though. Whenever, and I mean every time the thoughts came back, they were always positive. They were always, "Oh, you weren't wrong" "She will be returned" so on and so forth. And then I just prayed those away. I really can't afford to think about it, at all.

And yet I don't feel like I can stop. If God is really telling me what is coming, if He's saying we will be reconciled, or that we won't, there is a reason for it. And I want to be in on it. But right now my eyes are murky and my ears just ring. So I have to ignore it until God gets fed up and clobbers me over the head. Or at least that's what I was thinking.

I am so incredibly thankful for Bonnie. She is an amazing person and has done more than I can say to make me feel a part of the CIL young adult group. And tonight was no different, though there were points that shook me up pretty good. I'll get to all this in a minute, let me walk you through it.

Last night as I was getting out of the car I told Nick that if we didn't meet with Aaron today God really might kill me. So as we were leaving from disc golf he tells me we're meeting Aaron at 5. Now I'd already been feeling like I needed church and worhsip instead of my GodWhy small group tonight, and already being over at CIL made my decision easier.

The meeting with Aaron went really well. I told him about God calling me to Bangladesh, and what we were thinking for the trip, and we also talked to him about the worship service idea. He was really supportive on both accounts but told us to play it cool and take our time with the worship service. After that Nick and I made a "to do" list for Bangladesh and divied some responsibility.

Worship tonight was more subdued than what I've grown accostumed to lately, but that was great, because it got me thinking. It got me thinking of what my best worship times ever were, and I realized a lot of them happened at Lake Champion, surrounded by 50 people I loved with Christ, with just a guitar and maybe a jimbay. No chairs, so you stood or knelt or laid down and cried out. And I got to thinking about the Thursday night times we did in college, and I had this thought. The success of the service we're looking at doing will everything to do with the presence of the Holy Spirt. It will succeed or fail based on God's work, and how much we chase Him in doing our part.

And as soon as that though hit me I began to recall what Bonnie and Rachel had said the night before. They felt like the needed it now. So if the need is there. If there are people who want to worship. If there are people who want that service, and a God who wants it to be, and people who want to bring those things together . . . why wait? Why not do it and let it grow, or stay and thrive, on nothing but God's blessing? Good freaking question.

After the service we were sitting around talking, kind of waiting until everyone got motivated to go hang out elsewhere, and I sit down and chill, and a few people come over, and then get up, and then its just Bonnie and me. And Bonnie tells me she has a confession to make. She's been reading the blog. She said she felt guilty after I'd mentioned no one around here reading it and said if I didn't want her to read it she wouldn't. But I've come to realize this isn't my project. God wants me doing this. So its not up to me who is a part of that.

A few of us go have dinner together, and then Bonnie gives me a ride over to the park to play four square. But we head to the wrong park first and kind of get talking, and then she misses the turn and we keep talking. And she was asking me about things with Heather, and the like. At one point she just has this rush, and as she fights back tears she talks about her and her ex fiancee and how sure she'd been, and this revelation she'd had. It was about how she knows she wasn't wrong, but that there could always be more. That now there was another path. At first she seemed to be saying one just led to the other, but as she talked more it came out as the path being adjusted.

When she first spoke I was really struck. I had this sinking moment where I was thinking, "Alright . . . that's it. God spoke and its done." I mean here this message just comes out of nowhere, to the point that when Bonnie was done she was surprised with herself for having said all of it. And it shook me. But as I thought more about it I had a realization, one of the type that involves something you already knew. God is never surprised. He didn't spew root beer all over when Heather dumped me. "Well crap . . . didn't see that one coming." Before He said "let there be light" He knew how that day would happen. And God's while our choices can equate to a different plan, God never says what will come and then changes it. Now I've come to realized I couldn't have been wrong about Heather. There's no way. There was too much stuff shouting and I was too with Christ too have messed up everything from when we met to when I moved out there. So what does that look like now?

Here's I see it. 1) Nothing's changed, this is just a season of our relationship that will end in reconciliation. 2) Nothing's changed, she was a path to get me somewhere else. This is the least likely because it asserts God essentially lying. It would mean that God says, "Here, this is your intended" knowing it isn't true. 3) Something has indeed changed.

The only times in the Bible God's plan changes is when people are punished for sin. And the only real example I can think of is Moses. Moses was supposed to enter the promised land, but he screwed up, and got kicked out. So . . . has my inheritance been taken away because of my sin? Because of hers? And if any of this is true, does it mean anything has changed?

And does any of this make a difference? No. After going through all that my mind is still pulled in every direction, and is no closer to seeing God in one. That we will be reunited and that will never speak again are both possibilities that I cannot grab to and recognize as truth.

But coming back around full circle, I was discussing what I mentioned earlier with Bonnie. One way or another is looks like God is trying to tell me where this ends up, which means He wants me to be doing something about it. And I was saying at the bottom of it, it really seems God is saying its not over. But that I couldn't give myself to that idea. Bonnie asked me why. I told her because I was scared it was my own desire, but deep down she'd struck a nerve. I can cover it up and say that, if God wants to heal me and move on I don't want to delay that, but what is it really?

I am afraid.

"You have to learn to never be afraid again."

Yeah. I am not there yet.

But how can I be? My assuredness of knowing God's will has been soiled and stolen. If I go against that will, surely there will be consequences. So I'm right to fear. Right?

This is the disaster that is my brain.

So what's the controlling thought?

Do I really trust God? I mean really, really trust?

I'm not worried about money. Sometimes I do, sometimes I cry to God about when He's going to step into that part of my life, but its not a constant worry, its not even common. I trust He will be there. I don't care about my credit score, I don't care about how big everything looms, my God is bigger.

But underneath it I can't shake that feeling . . . like there's something I'm missing. Is it that I'm not hearing Him? Is it that I'm not trusting? Is it that I'm not doing what I know I've been told to? Maybe its my unmedicated OCD. Maybe its not.

Through it all Job did not sin against God and praised His name. Will we be these people? God is great and mighty and good. When the sun rises tomorrow, there will be worship. Are you going to be a part of it?

Update: Another terrible post. Most of the points are not fully flushed out and overall its very disconnected. I want to beat the living bejeebees out of something, maybe I'll go spar tomorrow.

"No one dies in the last gust of the storm" (part 1)

That phrase came back to my mind this morning. And I'm not sure what to make of it. I received it what feels like a long time ago . . . and it feels like I'm still waiting to see the shore.

I should have gotten on here and written last night. I really should have. But I didn't, and so now I have a lot to say, and less clarity than ever. Kind of. Which is the story of my mind right now. My brain has no permanent residents, just thieving tourists. Jerks.

I didn't write last night because as I walked in the door I realized everything I wanted to write was depressing and miserable. So I didn't write. And I didn't worship, because I'd done that already and I was pissed at God for giving no visible comfort. And I didn't do much of anything. And as a result my mind just raced. And when I finally went to bed, I couldn't sleep, because my mind just kept going, and going, and going. When I transferred from private school to public school my teachers had me tested to be put in the gifted program and my IQ tested at 163. Average is 90-110 and Einstein was estimated at 171. Not only do I not feel like that is accurate, I feel like whatever is there is never good for anything except meaning it never stops. There's always another thought. Always another angle. It just never stops.

So what happened yesterday. I think it actually should have been a good day. I think I should have had wonderful things to write. I was feeling a little zapped from my sinuses and the medicine, so the day was a drag mostly set to the sounds of Before Their Eyes while rereading my favorite parts from Mutiny on the Bounty and Far From the Madding Crowd (perhaps the best fiction book ever). My mind was a mess, and my prayer journal reflected it. I won't go over the ground, its all been said before. Misery, blindness, supplication for comfort, for anything. Nick and Rachel pick me up a few minutes late and we swung by to get Bonnie on our way to Kairos.

I sometimes get upset with people because our society has lost its sense of wonder. People, myself included, pride themselves on a particular type of humor that involves understating or being unimpressed with an impressive feat. Historians find it impossible to believe that Xerxes could have had an army of 2 million soldiers, or that a few hundred Spartans could really have faced such overwhelming odds. Because we have changed our minds to reject what is astounding. By and large I thought I avoided this pitfall, but it turns out I am very wrong. I think my sense of amazement has died in the last few weeks.

Why do I think so? Sometime Sunday or Monday I was thinking of how I'd been looking for confirmation on some things, and it seemed God had not provided. And then I had a mini-revelation: I wasn't giving it enough time. So I said well . . . just wait and see, you don't need answers right now. Then on Monday night I felt it the first time. It was like I could hear it. "Tomorrow night at Kairos . . . there will be something." Now I'd also been struggling with wondering whether certain Scriptural revelations could really be considered interpretive. I mean, some things seem pretty clear cut right? And then on Tuesday I could feel it all tying together. "Go tonight, all these things will be spoken to." So I went.

After the singing portion, how did the service start? Mike brought up a young man whom God had prompted to leave his job and go serve. And the guy told a little of the story, and then Mike gave everyone the guy's email, and then he told us why. "Because at some point, he's going to doubt he heard right, and he needs to be reminded." I leaned forward in my chair when he said it. Really? I thought about dismissing it, but that nights entire message was about the supremacy of the Word. The reading was again from Revelation, the next sequential part, where John eats the scroll of scripture. That was the message. I wrote down this "quote": "Reality is not determined by how you feel, or circumstances, or what everyone around you does or says. It's the Bible." That's two weeks in a row God told me what was going to be talked about at Kairos before I got there, because they were things I needed to hear. The first because my heart was clinging to sin, and the second, ostensibly, because I was doubting and needed encouragement. But do I listen? Am I amazed? Am I struck by the awesomeness and left with nothing to do but adhere? No. I have lost my sense of wonder.

Another thing stuck out to me from the message, Mike touched on what he had talked about last week and a thought struck. The warning signs. God gave me warning signs about what was coming with Heather. He gave me multiple dreams. Were they indeed warning signs, meaning He didn't want it to happen, or were they visions of an inevitable. To Him those things are the same, but to me . . . its the difference between something that can be set right, and a consequence which may have no end.

The last point I want to bring up from yesterday should also be a reason for amazement, yet it only barely gets at me. Mike mentioned Jeremiah again. He was talking about how implementing the Word is hard and bitter, and how just like Jeremiah, you'll often find yourself as the only one. The one preaching against, to a nation full of people who don't want to hear it.

The other night, when God led me to the intro of Jeremiah, and told me I was reading about myself as well, there were two thoughts I had but didn't share. And one of them is relevant here. It was that same message of preaching against. And here it is echoed. Here there is confirmation. But what do I do with echoing and confirmation these days? Dismiss it. Its too loud to hear, and too bright to see.

On the way home I was fairly absent from the conversation, I was trying to keep my head in that place. I was trying to listen, I was trying to hear what was meant for me and what was my own creation. As we got near to dropping her off Bonnie gets my attention and says, "Don't worry, you'll get through this." All I can think when she says it is, "is that what I want? No. I don't want to get through this." I wasn't thinking I wanted to be crushed under the weight, just that . . . I didn't want to be on the other side of this and not have Heather. And that's how it sounded to me. What made that worse was that earlier in the day I got a message from Jill saying the same thing. "This is normal . . . after the miserable period it gets better?" Gets better? These things . . . all we are talking about is things being made better by the passage of time. Not God's miraculous touch, not restoration, not new 'wealth.' I don't want to get by. I've never wanted to get by. I want to thrive.

I'm still hurting because I love(d?) her deeply and its normal and it should hurt but . . . getting by? I heard the messages of the storm and the fire. I'm mining this for every bit of purpose and potential its got . . . and the past few days, since Sunday, its just felt done with. Like it had just become heartache with no purpose, and yet no healing.

Titles are important to me. For the songs and poems I write. For papers. For blog posts. So I was putting a little too much effort into summing up everything I was going to say in this post in just a few words as a title. And in doing so I went back through this notebook I do all my rough writing in for lyrics and poetry. Some other stuff is in their from at Lake Champion, but nothing big. Except. As I'm flipping pages I noticed a few lines in quotes, on a page all by themselves, so I stop and read. What I was looking at was a record of one of the many times God spoke through Heather through glossolalia and I understood. Part of it was speaking to her, to insecurities, and part was to me, a promise. That she was indeed mine. Great.

Harder

Things seem to be getting harder for me, which is rather interesting considering the promise I got the other day.

I didn't tell anyone but the other day I thought I might be dying. I was watching the show "House" and my ears perked up when the patient had a set of symptoms identical to things I was experiencing. I won't say much more, but it was a fairly upsetting day. I dealt with it for a while, but then decided to look it up and realized there were perfectly simply combined explanations that did not lead up to a life threatening condition. So that's good.

But now I'm having my regular sinus trouble, which I put up with in return for never actually getting sick. Last night it was so bad I was dreaming I was lying awake coughing and tossing and turning. Then I woke up and took some medicine, just so my throat would not hurt so bad I couldn't sleep.

Writing the blog is getting harder. I don't really feel like doing it, but I make myself because I always feel better afterwards.

And the circumstances of my life are getting more difficult to handle.

Still I worship. Still I praise. But I wrote in my prayer journal tonight during my worship time, that I'm not sure I can continue to live like this. Its hard and it takes a toll. And it just doesn't seem to add up.

All of today was just up and down. So many twists and turns, and I felt like my brain went everywhere and ended up nowhere. I kept missing Heather, and I kept praying for it to go away, and it didn't. There was a point where I felt like contacting her, so I turned to God, asking if it was Him, got nothing. We'll see.

I found myself in a crappy state of mind, so I went to God again. I spent about an hour 1/2 in worship tonight. I listened to music for a while; singing along, reading the Word, writing in my prayer journal. Then I went back and listened to the first sermon I heard at Kairos. There were two moments where my eyes shot open. One was where Mike mentioned the book of Hosea, and his efforts at redemption. The other was where he mentioned Jeremiah. Yeah, as if I hadn't seen that book enough lately, now I realize it had already come up. So what did He say. The book of Jeremiah is where God promises "restoration" to His "children." Why did he phrase it like that? Why did he use that word that's come up so much? Why did he say "children," which ties into a message God gave Heather and I together? Or is it nothing?

I realized the worst part of all this, is the death of my ears. I can't hear God. Everything I hear I doubt. Every though that comes into my head is dismissed for one reason or another. Everything is suspect. I'm so used to hearing. I'm so used to Him telling me what to do.

I started going back over things I knew to be true and I thought on the three messages I heard at the churches I'm currently involved with. The first was Aaron's message at CIL, "God hears your cries." The second was Mike at Kairos, which has many layers. The third was Jennifer talking about commitment at GodWhy. And that one keeps sticking to my brain. When I first wrote about it I talked about feeling like it was meant for her, not me, but now . . . I'm wondering. Was God telling me?

And it seems that as many things as God has tied together in my life, there are just more. Mike talked about Noah during the sermon, which is something Emily mentioned to me with some significance lately, and I've been thinking about it a lot since. And she mentioned Abraham as well, which was a reference in a New Testament passage I was reading tonight. Both talking about faith.

I love Heather. I miss her. I don't miss the life I had. I don't miss the way we were. I really miss her. Who she is, the way she . . . does everything. Does that mean something?

I wish I had more to say . . . but God has to move. He will.

Update: I went back over and read this for editing, and I have to say it is definitely the worst post ever. Its rambling, disconnected, and lots of other bad things. Including not really getting out things I wanted to say. Please forgive me. Please keep reading.

Volcano

The title is a Damien Rice song I've been listening to a lot the last two days or so. "What I am to you, is not real." So right.

Anywhos . . . I realized I forgot to mention a few things in yesterdays post. Fairly important things.

One is that when God was speaking to me during my prayer time the other day He told me to "go." Where, I asked. "Go home." What the heck? The only home I have right now is Heaven, so I'm still not sure what it means.

Also, I realized I never talked about why I chose the title I did. The other night while I was doing my private worship time I opened my Bible to read it and fell on the intro of Jeremiah. I read it and was struck by a few things. Jeremiah was this incredibly tough and solid guy who stood up to a lot of crap and did it pretty much without flinching. But privately, and before God, he wept over the task he'd been given. Not so much of having to do it, but that it had to be done at all. One line from the intro sticks out to me. "He had a gloomy message, for a gloomy time." I'm not entirely sure why or how, but while I was reading it I understood somehow that God was trying to show me similarity between Jeremiah and myself. I'm not sure exactly what they are, or where they end, but its there. One I am aware of is that rugged solidness that is quickly and easily stripped under the right circumstances.

I said in yesterday's posts I had been thinking a lot lately about my sin, and how I recognize God is punishing me in this time. What I forgot to mention were two important scripture passages He has given me about that. The first was Ezekial 20:27-44 where God declares His judgement against Israel, but promises restoration. I'm not sure it would have caught my attention quite as much as it did if it had not used that word. "Restoration" Why do I keep seeing it? One interesting part of that passage comes towards the end, where God tells Israel "Then you will know that I am the Lord . . ." Why so interesting? Because God seems to be saying, "I don't blame you for not knowing now, but let me show you some love and you'll remember real quick. I am what I said, because I am." There's a lesson in there somewhere.

More importantly was what He lead me to yesterday while I was praying and worshiping. God led me to read all of Isaiah 40. But the truth of the message is found in the first few verses.

"Speak tenderly to Jerusalem and proclaim to her that her hard service has been completed, that her sin has been paid for, that she has received from the Lord's hand double for all her sins."

I don't quite know what is coming, but it appears the time of punishment and refinement could be drawing to a close. I'd sure appreciate it.

But then today sucked. I mean really.

I skipped church because mom's sisters and their friends were in town, and they needed to get out early. So I went to spend time with all of them and deal with that whole mess. And I don't think I made the wrong choice, but I really missed church. I'm so sad I didn't go today. But its alright, I've still got another 3 or 4 services I'll be making it to this week. What a wonderful way to live.

No formal young adults tonight, but we all met over at Dan & Alissa's again and played games and watched a movie. I don't know how to say it, but I felt out of place. And I hated it. I thought this was done. I thought . . . I don't know what I thought. But I think it was worse tonight than it ever has been.

Is it that I didn't spend enough time with God today? I hope not, I'm living hand to mouth as it is. So what? Why do I feel this? Why am I moving backwards?

I hope God comes soon. My praise is true as ever, but my heart is weak. Soon He will have to deliver.

"See mother, I make all things new."

a figure of bronze, dissolving into tears (part 2)

I grabbed my prayer journal:

"I am going to pray. And I'm going to read my Bible. And I'm going to worship. Because those are literally the last things I feel like doing."

So I did just that. I turned some heavy music up very loud and started reading the Letter. After a while I grab the pj and fill about a page talking about how abandoned I felt. Yet still I praised Him. Still I recognized how good He is. Then I heard Him calling me.

I got down on the floor and played the guided prayer time from Kairos the other night. I cried so hard, but I wanted to see Him. I wanted to see my Jesus, bearing my sins. To talk to Him and tell Him my heart. And to hear Him speak. So I did. And when Mike said, "What is He saying to you?"

And there in the nothing I heard Him.

"Seek me."

Oh my Jesus, I have questions.

"Ask"

Did I hear you right about Heather? Is she the one?

"She is"

Where do I look for a job?

"Look here"

Nashville?

"No, look here."

How long God? (To what, I'm not sure, both questions weighed on me.)

"I am coming soon."

Yet what followed was more doubt:

"Oh God, have I heard? Have I ever heard anything. I cannot see for fear of my own heart. Here I am, afraid You are telling me what I want to hear. And I doubt."

I listened to the song "Times" by Tenth Avenue North about 7 times in a row. Just crying and reaching out for my precious Jesus. Picturing Him there on the cross. So sorry for all I've done to put Him there. Then I slept.

The next morning was a disaster. I felt rotten when I got up, and my mom was in a foul mood (she took the day off work to clean up for her sisters who were bringing two friends to visit). Before 15 minutes had passed in my day I had written an entire page in my pj, two separate entries. And the day didn't get on much better.

As the day continued I thought about some of the scripture passages God had led me to. And I realized I was being punished. My heart had become black. My sin had become pervasive. And I wasn't living for Him. That's why everything was so wrong. That's not to say Heather was right, but that God used it as a part of something bigger.

I recalled this morning that I had prayed for it. I had prayed for God to do anything to change me and bring me closer. This is me held to the fire. "You will look like Me," He says.

I don't know when we got home, but I didn't want to do anything. I felt just as bad, if not worse than I had the day before, so again I worshiped. I spent from before 10:30 pm until after 2 am just singing along or listening to worship songs, and praying, and writing, and reading my Bible. It was such a wonderful time.

There were hard parts. I prayed asking God whether or not I should ever let my heart move on from Heather and I opened my Bible to the Sermon on the Mount, first section heading on the page, "Adultery." I wrote in my pj, "Its hard to trust You like this. Everything is truth and everything is lies, and everything is just nothing."

I read a lot of Job, even copying some of it into my pj.

"Naked I cam from my mother's womb, and naked I will depart.
The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away;
may the name of the Lord be praised."

I spent a lot of that night asking God to forgive me. I was led to many Psalms to that effect, and I read them aloud, crying from my heart.

I spent the last hour just in worship and prayer. It started with this entry in my pj:

"I don't feel like worshiping. My heart is broken. My stores are empty. My health threatens to fail. All You have given You have taken.
Still You are worthy. Still I praise."

So I did. And I loved every minute of it.

After I was done I caught Cannaan and Zane online. They both asked me how I was and I told them,

"The last two days have been miserable. Nothing has been right, outside or inside. And nothing has improved at all. But I am so joyful right now. I've spent at least half my waking time the last two days in worship and prayer, and I'm not sure I've ever been closer to Christ."

Cannaan asked me how I was handling everything with Heather and looking for a job. And then I said something I've been waiting a long time to hear.

"It sucks. I hate it. But I wouldn't change anything if it meant I'd lose where I am with Christ. I wouldn't trade this for anything."

This is me thankful for the storm.

And it continued today. I spent most of the day alone. In prayer, in worship. Listening to prayer times and sermons from Kairos. Listening to a playlist I compiled of very, very mellow and soft worship songs. Things for private, deep times. And I'm so joyful.

The last three days, I've learned so much about my relationship with Christ. So much about how to rely on Him. How to be in hard times. How to come to Him. How to spend free time even.

When everything sucks and you don't feel like worshiping. Do it, because that's when you need it most. That's when your relationship comes down to commitment and promise. You don't do it because you want to. You don't do it because its easy. Its hard as hell. But you do it because you said you would, no matter how bad it hurts. This is what you signed up for. Didn't anyone tell you about the cost of discipleship?

Tonight as I was spending my time in worship I grabbed my Bible to read it. When I looked down it was at Song of Songs 5. I didn't even acknowledge it. I just flipped for a new place to read. I don't make anything of it. I won't unless one day she contacts me. Except . . . there's one thing that haunts me. While I've been doing this I've been looking forward, knowing I have to learn how to live like this. How to hold on in the toughest of times.

I've been thinking of how I would act when I got upset when I was with Heather. I wasn't upset with her, but sometimes she'd feel that way. But all this . . . . I've seen part of the man I really am. That when things are at their worst I don't need to get upset. I don't need to push her out and be fussy. I need to grab her and say, "Things suck. Let's worship." And turn down the lights, and put on some music and hold hands and bow down on our knees before the Lord.

And I try to picture that scenario with anyone else. From this girl I saw at Kairos the other night, to a faceless substitution of the unknown future Mrs. Frank. Trying anything. And without her. Without Heather kneeling beside me. Her little hand in mine. Her soft sweet voice singing quietly. There is no picture. Nothing forms. It just dissolves. And maybe its just that I can't picture it now in the wake of my broken heart. But its depressing. And honestly I hope its real. I don't want to be so naked before anyone else.

My thirst grows daily. I desire the Lord worse than the deer pants for water.

Hear and trust. No matter what. God is good.

In Revelation, as all hell breaks loose on earth, worship continues in heaven. And the faithful left alive on earth remain so. And as the God-less cower and ask for the rocks to hide them from the wrath of the Lamb, those with the seal of God come out to worship. Can we be so? Are we prepared to worship as the world crumbles? As the very foundations shake with earthquakes, and war and famine and disease spread? What about when we are given to defeat by the dragon? Will we be able to stand and worship?

If not we need to get ready. God is good. He is worthy. And He never, ever changes.