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.

Happy 4th of July!

If you need proof that sin has truly infected this world, I've got some. My dog knows how to lie. How sad is that. He's a dog.

I was bringing him in from outside and after I'd let go, while standing there at the door, he turns and decides he's going to run. I try to catch him and end up pressing my hands down on his back, just in front of his hips. And he lets out this terrible little yelp/wimper and scurries on. I didn't have a good hold to stop him. I know there's now way that hurt. He puts more stress on himself when he lays down. Freaking liar. My dog.

In other news, July 4th was an absolute blast. Oh, bad pun. My apologies.

I went downtown with Awkward Jenn and her sister and brother-in-law. We got down there about 2 o'clock and spent the day listening to various talent levels of musicians play while finding other ways to entertain ourselves. Like playing Mad Gab. And stating how hot it was.

The fireworks were absolutely amazing. We were really about as close as you could get and the colors were incredible. And the noise, you could feel some of the fireworks. But about half way through the show, it started raining. But when I say raining, I'm not sure you'll get my full meaning. Giant marble sized drops were falling in thick sheets propelled by winds so strong I thought my borrowed umbrella would turn inside out. And I just started laughing. And I laughed most of the way through the rest of the show, and back to the car. I just thought the rain, on the 4th, with all those people out there, was hilarious. I laughed as Adam and I each used one hand to try to stuff a camp chair back into its bag. I laughed as we walked through mini-rivers running across 1st Ave. and I momentarily thought of splashing people. I laughed as I felt the poker tin supposedly keeping the phones dry vibrated with people calling to check on us. Pretty much the only time I didn't laugh was when we stopped to watch the finale. And when we got in the car I laughed because here, in the car, in the parking garage, it had quit raining outside. It didn't last, but the idea of it.

So, on to more serious matters, I really need to get a girlfriend. Now this phrase may seem overly desperate and also incongruous with my line of talk from my last post, but hear me out. One of my favorite bands is an Americana/bluegrass group called the Avett Brothers. A number of their songs are about love, and they were a band Heather and I both liked, so we listened to them a lot together. Tonight, for the first time since the breakup I actually caved in and listened to them. And I just don't think I can handle it. And yes part of me is pissed at her for this. More importantly I remember going through a similar, though less severe, period after my breakup prior to meeting Heather. And I couldn't listen to the Avett Brothers again until I met her. So now it stands to reason, I need to meet a great girl and get to some level of a relationship, if for no other reason than so I can once again listen to the Avett Brothers. I think about 5 dates should do it. More realistically, just reaching a point where we are in an established relationship. Finding a girl who was aware of the parameters of the relationship and was fine with them would be ideal, since that would keep me from being under obligations once I was able to listen to the Avett Brothers again. Don't laugh. A part of me is actually serious.

Now for some actual incongruity. My reaction to my conversation with Emily the other night has been predictable. I have prayed about it once, and I have not sought to hear from God in another way. In my prayer journal last night I actually told Him He'd have to do something if He wanted me to hear on this one. We'll see who wins that fight.

In the same vein, I've actually hit on two girls in the last two days. One at last night's Hendersonville celebration, and one tonight downtown. The result? I stopped very early on (like under 2 minutes) in each instance because I found out the girls were both named Heather. Yeah . . . that's histerical.

Unfortunately, since that conversation, when I have written in my prayer journal, or prayed, or read it has felt . . . better. Like whatever was in the way before was removed. I don't like that. I don't like what I think that means.

So now I'm listening to 3OH!3's "Don't Trust Me" trying to remember what else it was I wanted to say.

I still have to decide where I'm going to church in the morning, I'm considering giving Indian Lake another chance.

In other news, yesterday I got stung on the chin by a yellow jacket receiving my mp3 player from UPS, which now won't sync, so I can't put music on it.

I'm gonna go sleep.

I really do want to encounter God tomorrow. I'm willing. I just want Him near.

Be careful what you wish for . . .

Crap.

No, really. Crap.


Just . . . crap.

And really I wish that was a different word. It should be. How did we get here? Well let's go back.

Last time I wrote was Monday, so Tuesday I skipped Kairos. I know. I've explained it by saying it was a combination of Mike Glenn being gone and not having anyone to go with, neither of which on their own would have swayed me, but together, it was too much. In reality though, as I sit here and type, I think I was avoiding God. I knew He'd be there. Pradoxically, that also made me really want to go. I wanted to worship so badly. But at the same time, I just couldn't.

Wednesday was pretty interesting, the best parts of which were CAKE and hanging out with people afterwards, including a "new" friend named Awkward Jenn (real name). And a good Thursday started that night, with a text from a friend asking me if I'd ever done weapons training. And that made me giddy.

So Thursday morning started way early at a karate dojo nearby. Now Karate is for little kids, and that's it. But that's where this guy was, who was doing a special thing. So we did some knife work, which I had done before. And some katana work, which was killer, and some staff work.

Blah, blah, blah more stuff happened. Time with Nick, who just got back from Florida. Time with my moms. And then I'm drifting, and I kind of want to watch tv/play videogames, whatever. But . . .

And here I reach a problem. See I'd like to talk about what happened at Cake, and the things it got me thinking about. I'd like to talk about how today I was thinking about the blog in my head, and I don't think its as funny as it used to be. I have this vague sense that I can be substantially funny, and the blog used to impart at least a little of that, but I don't think it does any more. And I want to talk about why and if there's anything I can do. I want to talk about this book, and how whereas before I had trouble putting it down, now I have to force myself to pick it up. And some of the deep things its gotten me thinking. But . . .

While I'm thinking of finishing a movie on tv, I seriously have this thought, "well you need to clip your fingernails, and if you do it in there, you can be near the computer in case somebody IMs you." Now before you accuse me of being pathetic, just wait because, 1) I've been on Facebook chat like, three times in the last month, and 2) see where this goes. But tonight, I was waiting (in my defence, I was also watching a movie on Hulu).

So then Emily IMs me. And real quick we dive in, she asks me how I'm doing and I explain a little bit. And then she asks me if she can ask me a question. Which makes that two questions, and is really an odd convention. I mean, functionally I understand it, its a way to get permission to ask a difficult or personal question, but I feel we may be better off by being more forthright with that.

Anyhow, then she says it:

"Why did you give up on Heather?"

Crap.

No, really, just . . . crap.

See, earlier today I asked myself that same question.

I really, really, really wish my belief in coincidences was far more sweeping than it actually is.

I'd seemingly tossed all this off for a few weeks, but as you know, the last few days she'd been on my mind again. And then today, thinking about where I was with God, and some of the things I was feeling, and some things that had happened, I just kind of wondered, "Should I still be fighting for her?" And then Emily and I talk, for the first time in at least a month, probably more. And not 5 minutes into the conversation, she asks that question. Crap. I was having such a good and easy going day.

So I tried to respond a little. I mentioned how I'd really lost the desire, and I pointed out that God had pretty clearly told me to ask someone else out on a date. But even as I said it . . . I wasn't convinced. At the end of my explanation I just said I didn't really have a good reason. I just stopped. To some extent it really is because I just didn't know what to do, or have anything to do. But, even that is kind of a flat response.

Emily and I then spent a long time talking. She asked me more questions and said more about the whole Heather thing, and partially as a result ended up telling me a more in depth version of how she and her husband got together. All I will relate from her story is that Andrew is an incredible guy and the way he acted during everything made me feel . . . embarassed. Like I was doing something wrong.

At the end of my conversation with Emily I felt in turmoil. I still do. I wasn't, and am not ready to say that I've messed up and that I should be fighting. But I'm also fairly well aware that I have been lying to myself. Everytime I mentioned wanting a girlfriend or my wife in the blog, that thought started with a thought about Heather. And the timing of my conversation with Emily, who is often a member of non-coincidental God actions for me. And some of the things that struck at my heart while we talked. I'm not ready to say I should still be fighting for her, but I feel like a liar saying it. I feel like I'm burying my head in the sand. Like I'm covering up, trying to change things. Maybe it will go away? Time, right?

And this is still a relatively short post for me. I could go on and talk about all those other things I mentioned earlier. Or other things on my heart. But really I just want to go to bed and hope the morning brings clarity. It won't, only God will. But honestly, I'm a little worried to seek Him right now.

So the title . . . well . . . I'd been wanting and praying about hearing from Him. I've been praying for a job. I've been praying for some other things. And now these things pop up, and the more real they look . . . the more they scare me. I thought I was over this. Didn't we cover this weeks ago?

But alas . . . God is good. He reigns. And though made a co-heir, I'm a servant. All I have to do is tune in. Find the frequency and hear the voice.

At least I know what to ask. Pray I hear . . . and that I have the constitution to obey.

"Oh my God, we cannot hear, the sounds too loud, we drown it out"

I've had the editing window for this post open for a good 25 minutes, with nothing to show for it.  I've done absolutely everything else I can think of to occupy my time, and now I'm stooping to getting this started, by telling you I'm having trouble getting it started.  Yeah, this'll be a good one.

Its not that I don't have things to say, I'm just not even sure where to start, or how to get them out at all.

6 Flags was an absolute blast.  It was a small group, and I'd only spent more than a few minutes with one of them, and I don't think I was alone in that.  Despite this, we gelled really well and ended up having a fantastic day.

I got home relatively early (9:30-ish) and spent a few minutes talking to Celia, and then I tried to will myself to stay awake reading and playing videogames (alternately, not at the same time).  My brother was getting his race car ready for another day of racing and came in and asked me to test it at about 11:30.  So of course I did.  And there I was, going inordinately fast, on a public road, in a marked race car.  I think my whole life used to be like this.  Moments that seem too big or too crazy to be real.  I'm very upset they have become so infrequent.

Saturday was . . . interesting.  But not impressively so.  Which I mention mostly as a literary element, a segue to the next section.

I skipped church on Sunday.  And that's the first time I've missed a Sunday somewhere in 3 months.  In the strictest sense it was intentional, but that doesn't tell the whole story.  As of Saturday night, I had every intention of going to church the next day.

Now to fully frame this I have to explain that I stayed up way too late on Thursday writing a blog post.  And then got up at 7 to go spend all day running around in the sun at an amusement park.  Despite being pretty wiped out I stayed up relatively late on Friday helping my brother, and then got up early on Saturday to go to a local MMA gym.  I spent Saturday afternoon doing quite a bit of intense yardwork, and then stayed up late again reading this book that has me totally fascinated.  Despite all that I set my alarm and went to bed expecting to have a typical Sunday.

When I woke up the next morning I was exhausted.  I tried to tell myself that I needed to get over it, that church is more important than any of that.  But then a thought hit me.  I remembered how I'd felt last Sunday night.  I remembered how I hadn't heard a peep from anyone but Nick and Rachel all week, despite a number of reason I knew I should have.  And I just realized I didn't want to go to CIL.  I didn't want to be there, around those people, feeling fake and unconnected.  Had I bothered to reach this conclusion early I could have found somewhere else to go, even if I figured I wouldn't be crazy about it.  But as it was, I just went back to bed.

I truly was intent on spending time with God on my own, but . . . I didn't.

Now this brings up a number of points:

1) No one from CIL has contacted me about not being there Sunday morning or Sunday night, so I really think that seals the deal.  I'm pretty sure I'm done there.  This is a very scary prospect.  It means I have to find a new church, which is quite a daunting idea.  I could try GodWhy, but from everything I've heard, I just think I need to be somewhere else on Sundays.  Remembering my previous canvas of local churches does not bring me much hope.  I really can't think of anywhere else close that seems appealing to me.  And I can't afford right now to go far away to church. And even if I could I don't like the idea, that makes it harder to easily live with people, which brings up another element.  The people from CIL were the ones I had been spending the most time with, so as it stands I've lost most of my friends, with few prospects for quantity replacement.  Maybe I should move.

2) I've mentioned it before, but I'm absolutely sure I'm not as gentle as I used to be.  I've become much gruffer lately, if only in my thought life, and I don't care for it at all.

I could have easily skipped the gym on Saturday morning and slept in, but I didn't.  As you'll recall I'd had a few "fight" themed dreams the previous week and watched Fight Club on Thursday night.  I was raring to go.  And Saturday mornings at local MMA gyms are a buffet for a guy like me.  The gyms are full of over eager, over egoed weekend warrior types who think a few training sessions make them skilled fighters and that fighting is a great way to complete and enrich their empty soul sucking lives.  And people who don't know much about fighting think everything is determined by size.  Some of these guys don't even ask what training you've been through.  Its almost too easy.

And that paragraph right there explains most of the problem.  I don't like thinking like that.  I don't like that I wanted to go at all.  I don't like how I framed those guys, instead of just recognizing them as in need of Christ.  This is why I often think of giving up fighting and never going near it again.  And other things, just . . . ways I recognize I use to be gentler.  And I don't like it.

3)  This book I'm reading about the Ark of the Covenant is stealing my time and attention.  I'm hoping to write a little bit on it soon, as well as the other book I just finished that was great.

4)  Most importantly, I'm not where I need to be with God, and this made me realize it.

Why didn't I spend time with God on Sunday?  Why wasn't I doing everything I could to make it happen?  Why am I nervous about finding a church?  Why am I freaking out about money and a job and everything other thing under the sun?

Because I'm disconnected.

I don't know how it happened.  Functionally everything is pretty much the same, its like just the depth is missing.

And today was interesting.  I was doing more yardwork before I went over to Jeff's and I was thinking about all these areas of my life that I just feel completely lost in, and I realized I'm not sure the last time I heard from God.  And all this stuff is weighing on me, there are all these questions.  And I haven' heard anything.  I should.  And I know its my fault.  I don't know why it is, I don't know what to call it, but even as I sit here I don't want to go spend quality time with Him.  What a freaking disaster.

To make matters worse, I've had dreams about Heather three of the last four nights.  Thursday and Friday night I had dreams where we were reunited, so real that when I woke up I was surprised to remember reality.  And then last night I don't even remember, I think it was an argument.  The important things in all this are the effects.

Chiefly, I don't trust my dreams anymore, perhaps even my spiritual ears at all.  Specifically in regards to dreams though, it just seems I've lost whatever gift I had.  Sucktastic.

Also troubling is that I've found myself thinking of Heather recently.  Even when I told Lauren and Katie the whole story on Friday night, I was fine.  (I did think it funny they both said she'd call).  And mostly it was a passing thing.  But today . . . I feel like I've missed her and longed for her and thought about her all day.  And I hate it.

I am sourceless raging self-anger.

Seriously, I'm not in a bad mood.  I think I just need sleep.  Really I know better.  I need to spend time with God.  I need some answers.  I need some provision.  I need to hear His voice.

I'm not there yet.  I hate that I still get afraid of things.  I hate that I don't live completely on love.  I hate that I don't like any route I see and I still keep hoping and yet I doubt at the same time.

"In all things" right?  Let's get this show on the road.

"God can you hear me . . ."

I've been writing more lyrics lately, which is good because I went through a bit of a drought there. Now if only I could actually will myself to pick up the guitar and put them to something. Or find my keyboard I'm pretty sure I gave away. Having that would be a help.

I should really be in bed. Getting up at 7 for 6 Flags is gonna kick my butt. I feel so old sometimes. I didn't use to need this much sleep did I?

I got to thinking today, with good reason, about whether or not new readers, who seem to keep cropping up, will fully understand certain things I write. Ideally everyone who starts reading the blog should go back and start from the beginning, there's a lot contained there. While some of the elements have played out now, some things have lasting significance, sometimes in ways I don't even mention (props to anybody who can come up with one). The particular element I was thinking of was my mention of the dreams. The spiritual importance, or lack thereof, of dreams has been a concept in this blog almost since the beginning, but without knowing that, some people could just find mention of the dreams . . . odd at best. I was wondering if there was anything I could do to counter this, and I thought perhaps linking to relevant posts, or using the tagging system I did at the start might help. Any thoughts?

BTW, I've never gotten far into that book I started reading on spirituality and dreams.

Today I was thinking more about my second post last night, partially in response to a discussion I had with a friend this morning. While writing last night, I really just kind of flowed from all the things I wanted to say in a message/sermon. And in the end there was one essential element missing. I didn't fully discuss the subject of need. I'm not necessarily pointing this out as a bad thing, I'm simply . . . making the point. That an essential element to the topic of grace is the fact of need. We screwed up. We all chose hell. We have all needed to be rescued. Now there is certainly a lot more to say on this topic, I really just wanted to point out that I was aware of it, and you should be as well.

My talk this morning also involved some back and forth about whether or not appealing is even a good strategy in regards to witnessing. The question is whether or not it is right (not good) to make any attempts at a softer presentation to spread the gospel. The opposing reasoning is indeed sound.

Consider: Jesus was perfect. He was sinless. He was unbelievably likable and good with people, so much so that He could call someone out for their sin, and have them thank Him lovingly. And yet He was killed, for rightly saying He was the Messiah. By the very people who were expecting Him.

And I found myself wondering today, as a result of my talk, why should we expect any different. Now I don't believe this means we shouldn't reach out. It doesn't mean we should abandon culturally relevent presentation. But it does beg the question, is there ever a reason to "hide" or "sugar coat" certain elements of the truth, in order to get someone to listen to another part? When I put it like that, the answer seems obvious, but its not. We obviously can't expect everyone to listen to the truth, even if we get them to hear it. Jesus said people would hate us on account of Him. And we have to be uprgith in regards to the truth, we can't budge because the truth isn't up to us. Its not ours to change. So where is the intersection? And what does this look like practically? Does it even matter, or is it something that only serves as a comfort?

There's obviously an example, which is Christ. Our model for everything. The idea in which our very name is found. Christian. "Little Christ" "Christ Ones" That is what we strive for, and this is no different.

But for some reason, that answer doesn't feel complete, and perhaps it isn't. Maybe their is no magical formula, but rather knowledge of the quesiton itself settles it. "As long as you remember the interplay of those forces, you'll be fine."

Alright . . . so who's gonna hook me up on a date? And do I even want to go?

I'm going to bed, my brain makes me tired.