Ponderings

Mess Of Ponderings

I think I shall go buy a new wardrobe because the old one doesn’t suit me anymore. How cliche, money-wasting, and impulsive, right? Did I mention that, yet again, it is late and I am writing even though I have to get up at an udgodly hour for work? Old habits never change, do they? Nor do old sins. I struggle with the same things over and over, as any faithful reader of my blog would attest. Meanwhile, Christian movie reviewers at http://www.pluggedin.com condemn this film partially ( I get that there are other condemning factors) for its underlying theme–questioning people’s ability to truly change. I look around me and within myself and question too.

Anyhow, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is a thought provoking movie. Its premise has been the start of several fascinating conversations at work regarding whether or not coworkers would want any portions erased from their memories…when I get the chance to talk. Sometimes it feels like people only listen as a courtesy, and promptly butt in unleashing their problems as soon as a civil point for opening that topic presents itself. But I suppose I have no room to complain. Recently I went to my self-assigned honorary grandmother’s house (she’s a coworker). It only took a few caring questions, and then there was no turning off my babbling. I felt guilty after…but sometimes a person needs to just get everything out, you know? She thinks God wants me to stay at this job right now. I’m not so sure.

Speaking of needing to get it all out… I got a call while at work the other day from an elderly customer. She wanted to know about dog food, although she didn’t yet have a dog, nor any especially hopeful prospects of obtaining one. It ended up that we discussed much more than dog food, however. She told me of her heart problems, she has them like her dad did only worse. They didn’t have the money  to fix him, so his killed him, and her problems, well, they’re past the point that doctors can fix them even though she (apparently) has money, yet she is bound and determined that she’s going to go join the military. After all “Everyone in this town is a nutcase. Don’t you think so?” She ended off saying she’d pray  for me. She just needed someone to talk to. Sometimes I think I get along with the old and the young better than anyone else.

I don’t know where this post is heading or where to end. Nothing has changed since last post. I’m still drawn to the new, but allowing my comfort zone and financial state to hold me back. I thought recently of the title of a John Piper book I once read, though I didn’t particularly care for it:” Don’t Waste Your Life”. Much like the book trailer for Rosalie de Rosset’s “Unseduced and Unshaken”, his title drew me–the questions suggested by it are compelling–but I found the book to be an unsatisfactory answer. How does one go about not wasting his life? How does one gain the willpower to be unseduced and unshaken? Where is the key to fulfillment, and strength, and dignity? Most Christians are afraid to go at  those questions with anything less that Sunday School answers, so, I suppose, to these authors’ credit, at least they tried. Anyhow, I’m once again off topic, and the hour is late. Unfortunately, sleep is a necessity  as is my dull job, at least until I happen upon something better. I suppose this post is naught but a mess of ponderings.

Goodnight my friends.

 

 

 

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Restless

“I wanted to be a rockstar–sing for a living. I did for a while, I guess. I opened for a few famous bands…you wouldn’t know them. But hey, if that’d happened I’d never have gotten to work at this palace.”

Sarcasm runs thick in his last sentence. He works morning crew, up well before the sun to stock shelves; he sings for a local cover band on  weekends, always looking for a gig. He piqued my curiosity. I started asking others: “What was your dream job when you were younger?” She was hesitant to divulge.

“I don’t know…

“Come on there must’ve been something.”

“Well, I used to want to work at a bakery.”

You should. You would be good at that.”

“Oh, it’s too late now…”

Her attention to detail, the perfectly dribbled white chocolate accents on her once-a-year chocolate covered strawberries, her flawless fruit trays. On her off days she bakes cookies with her young granddaughter, then comes in showing pictures. (“Look how well she did for her age.”) Maybe it runs in the genes.

“I wanted to be a major league baseball player, but my realistic dream was to be a teacher.”

“What kind?”

“Oh, I didn’t have that nailed down yet…maybe History or Economics. A teacher and a coach.”

“Why didn’t you?”

My dad ran off with his girlfriend, and we were kind of backwards, you know…didn’t know how to get loans and stuff.” 

He would’ve made a great teacher and coach. He teaches in church now and again, using object lessons; he’s and umpire during the softball season in the effort to earn a little extra cash.

I’ve been restless lately, itching to move on. I think it’d be fun to work at a zoo or as a truck driver, or something… Maybe it’s stupid to want that. My manager is amazing. He gave me two ice cream sandwiches today, slipped me money to take a coworker who’s been down out to eat last week.  You can’t put a price tag on that. Money shouldn’t matter, even if I could make more money working at McDonald’s than here, but, at the same time I don’t want to work produce my whole life long. I want to make a difference, see the world–but also watch my brother’s grow up. As usual I’m conflicted.

I don’t want to be a tragedy like their stories. Years go tricking by. I have enough dreadlocks to enjoy, but not too many to hide. Could I get hired? Do I want to? I’ve not always had much luck with that in the past, but now I can say I have some job experience under my belt. Even so, there aren’t many options for jobs around here, unless I want factory work. Or I could move. Now there’s a scary prospect.

These are the thoughts that occupy my mind, my time. Is this restless a prompting of God, or my own selfishness manifested? I’ve always been enticed by the idea of travel, being a vagabond as described by Robert W. Service in his poem The Men Who Don’t Fit In:

“There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
    A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
    And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
    And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
    And they don’t know how to rest.”
.

But that’s just the first stanza. The rest reads:

.

“If they just went straight they might go far;
    They are strong and brave and true;
But they’re always tired of the things that are,
    And they want the strange and new.
They say: “Could I find my proper groove,
    What a deep mark I would make!”
So they chop and change, and each fresh move
    Is only a fresh mistake.
And each forgets, as he strips and runs
    With a brilliant, fitful pace,
It’s the steady, quiet, plodding ones
    Who win in the lifelong race.
And each forgets that his youth has fled,
    Forgets that his prime is past,
Till he stands one day, with a hope that’s dead,
    In the glare of the truth at last.
He has failed, he has failed; he has missed his chance;
    He has just done things by half.
Life’s been a jolly good joke on him,
    And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha! He is one of the Legion Lost;
    He was never meant to win;
He’s a rolling stone, and it’s bred in the bone;
    He’s a man who won’t fit in.”
.

No matter what I do I’ll never fit in, but it seems to me that this is the part of life where I choose if I’ll go straight and (supposedly) far, or bounce around everywhere and get (supposedly) nowhere., My instinct says go roam, though my comfort zone holds me back. Any advice for someone on the brink? Any stories? What did you dream of being way back when?

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Falling apart

In the end everything always falls apart. It always hurts, at first as a sharp pain and later as a dull, ever-present ache. I’ve watched a couple of my friends, whose lives I used to joke were perfect in comparison with mine, go through hard times lately. It hurts to watch. I don’t believe in happy endings anymore. Or, maybe, in my head I do believe in them (I believe in Heaven, after all), but my heart contradicts that belief. I’ve watched every good, happy thing fall apart and injure those who cherish it; I’ve been through heartache myself. I cry a lot more than I used to. I read the Bible. I read about the righteous and the wicked, judgement day, repentance, hope…I listen to sermons.  I know that God can turn heartbreaking events into beauty, but it doesn’t feel that way. Yes, yes, feelings can be wrong, I know, but let me be raw and vulnerable, ok?

All around me there is so much pain…that I’m supposed to have the answer to. Another person trying to get by, get through another day. A few weeks ago, sitting in a parking lot waiting for my sister to get off work I overheard a tear filled conversation. “I’ll get through. I’m a big girl. Ok?” It was clear she was trying to convince herself as much as the person on the other end of the line. A conversation like that is only supposed to happen in a movie, a story that will be brought to a satisfying conclusion. But shattered people aren’t just in stories. They’re everywhere. Striving, sad, imperfect, struggling people fill the pews on Sunday, drive the streets, check out as I (just another person fighting through another day) bag for them at the grocery store, stand behind the register and check others out.

How can I, just another hurting member of the human race, help them? So often the broken don’t even want to heal, instead they embrace and work towards their own destruction. Maybe the only happy endings are the funerals of the saints, to which we wear black, at which we mourn. No surprise, humanity always seems to have everything backwards, from priorities to what we mourn. Here I stand, again, having exhausted my mind considering a question only to be still without answers. Any thoughts?

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Awakening

“I want to wake up kicking and screaming.
I want to live like I know what I’m leaving.
I want to know that my heart is still beating.”
~Switchfoot

I get so lost in the haze these days. Granted, I probably remember the past as being more simple than it truly was, but still… I’m looking for answers in what feels like a half-asleep daze, yet I dislike both those who claim to have simple, pat solutions and those who say “Your choice…I don’t want to sway you.” Why don’t we all come with instruction manuals?

I complain too much. I’ve got it good compared to many, both in mental and physical ways; to grumble about feelings of stagnation and apathy really doesn’t do anyone any good, but then what does? Someone told me “You did come with an instruction mainual– God’s Word.” It isn’t that simple. I don’t like change, but neither do I like rutstuckedness. I think I would take change over these feelings. Maybe I’ll meet God at camp and He will tell me what to do, but I have my doubts.

Doubts…I think I have all of the disciples’ weaknesses: doubting Thomas, impulsive Peter, wanting God to do what I expect is his plan and remove my troubles (for him the Romans) Judas. So many weaknesses and so few strengths. I wish I got directions in visions like Paul. “Go here. Do this.” But I guess we all have different versions of the thorn in the flesh to remind us of our humanness. That’s something I hope never to forget– my unworthiness and God’s grace. Our camp theme is going to be “It’s Not About Me”, something this grumbler could use to be reminded of. It’s about Him and His glory and His plan, even when I see no semblance of an organized plan in my life.

I need to get out of this fog. I want to wake up, know what I’m leaving, feel my heart beating, and really live, whether that means leaving the humdrum and mundane behind or learning to live voraciously in the midst of routine I do not know. I rather hope it is the former. Care to share any ideas of what has helped you to break out of spiritual ruts? I would love the help of The Body. Tell me, how do you keep from losing heart? How do you stay spiritually awake?

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The Definition of Friendship

 

I know a girl who, when she was in grade school, was asked to write down the name of her best friend in the class on a slip of paper. Her teacher instructed everyone in the class to…but she refused. That same teacher later called the

girl’s mother to tell her that out of all of the slips from the rest of the class the little girl’s name appeared the most; the girl who refused to choose one, to say one person as a best friend was a best friend to so many others. They called her their best friend. Maybe they didn’t have anyone else. Things are so simple in childhood, and yet they are echoes of what is to come.  That girl isn’t little anymore, she’s all grown up, and she feels so alone. Life is tragic, and so often I’ve found that though each of us are surrounded by people most of us feel alone, misunderstood, friendless… Through 7 cups, through everyday encounters in the workplace, in my people place (the school), on facebook. This truth keeps recurring–this overwhelming feeling of aloneness that overcomes the minds of individuals, despite our connected culture, despite our interactions, despite all the best friends catchphrases, and the images we paste on social media of us smiling and surrounded by people, I have come to the realization that most of us feel alone.

I wonder if this is different from, say, ten years ago when life was slower and connections, though fewer, were perhaps more meaningful with depth, or maybe this is an occurrence that has been as pervasive as now ever since man’s fall in the Garden of Eden? Do all of ya’ll have any thoughts on that? Loneliness will not exist in Heaven. What a sweet, relieving thought. But for now it must be dealt with in the long nights, yes, but also in the days when we paste on our happy face whilst surrounded by people, when we practice our small talk skills exchanging recipes and meaningless anecdotes in the attempt to make conversation, doing our best to keep deep or controversial things left by the wayside.  That’s a pet peeve of mine. What is the point of interaction void of meaning? It’s stupid. Chitchat is ridiculous. Let’s talk about the meaning of life not the salad dressing you made for last night’s dinner. Mayhap I’m weird, and thus alone. Depth scares people, I think. But I’ve found it can also attract them. Ask people about themselves and as they grow to trust you they’ll talk for hours. Ask about their struggles and their thoughts and fears. That, for me, is an engaging conversation, that is something worth taking time to talk about.

How do you make friends? How do you find friends? What are you guys’ thoughts on that? Do you feel alone? Do you have friends? Do you feel that most of the friendships in your life are one way, or that both parties are really making an effort? I really don’t have the answers on this topic, but I have lots and lots of questions. There are many friendship related experiences and stories jumbled up in my head besides the one I shared, but that doesn’t mean I know how to make them into a cohesive whole. By now you probably know that conclusive blog posts are not a specialty of mine. On one hand I suppose it doesn’t matter if one can pinpoint the moment when someone becomes more than an acquaintance, when they become a true friend, but on the other hand maybe it does… I suspect that each of us have different definitions for that word “friendship”; I’ve been told that my definition is a rather large set of shoes to fill. I guess we just all expect the other person to go to the lengths we would go, which really isn’t reasonable.  We don’t all speak the same love language, and even when we do love someone and try to speak their love language we are not fluent in it. That is a paraphrase of some of what she said in this post , which was specifically meant to address romantic relationships, but I think that thought applies to the topic of friendship as well. At least, I hope that you could say that your significant other is a friend of yours, if not maybe there is something wrong.

For me, I have found that most of my friends walk a very different path in life than I do. If I’m honest, many of those I talk to on a day to day basis (mostly via social media, though I have met most of them) are not Christians. One that is has drastically different theological views on the topic of predestination and such than I do, another that is is a Catholic who was recently confirmed in the church, but I’m not sure how much she applies of what she knows about God. Judge those things as you will…They know I am Christian. I know people who say your best friends should all be Christians, but I ask them: What happens when things don’t quite work out that way? To a point, yes, you can choose your friends, but most Christians I know are too busy to have time to invest in a friendship with me, and I take what I can get. If “what I can get” is nonChristians is that a crime? Are they somehow lesser friends? I think not. They know my faith and they respect it, some come to me with questions and struggles, some are even yet hesitant to open up. Many of my friendships could be considered one sided…I know a lot about my friends and invest in getting to know them and they don’t know a whole lot about what I’m going through, but part of that is my fault. On one hand I am vulnerable and open, but on another I suppose you could say I’m a hard egg to crack. I like that I confuse people sometimes, I like having an air of mystery, so my aloneness may be self imposed. Maybe that is the case for others too? In any case, this post has gone on for long enough. I’d love to hear your thoughts.

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Two

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Two potential blog topics have been bouncing around in my head. Honestly, they don’t mesh well, but I think I’ll have a go at conjoining them regardless.

~~~

First (and I know I’ve said this before); It isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that I’m saved and not my nonbelieving friends. If our roles reversed as far as upbringing I’m nearly sure that our beliefs would switch as well. If you aren’t a Christian by your late teens, statistically the chance you’ll become one decreases sharply.

Also, some of them have tried. Nearly all have appealed to God at some point, put their money on Christianity… Over and over I hear “It didn’t make a difference.”, “God didn’t answer.”, “I didn’t feel Him.”. I get that God is not a genie. I understand. But that does not mean I don’t hold out some anger, some resentment. I know of those who tried God, got their ‘sign’, and are with Him today. Why didn’t my friends get answers? “Do not test the Lord your God.” Yes, yes I know, but…I’d give anything for the many I care about to have found Salvation. Seasoned skeptics let down by God and the church discourage me more than most anything else. There, I said it–I have a grudge against God.

If anyone decides not to shun me they can read on now to hear my next non-original thought. That is that there is a reason for God’s rules. We break them in search of temporary happiness or satisfaction or pleasure, and we get burnt, short term or long term, sooner or later.I’ve discovered this in my own life, but also on 7 cups. Open relationships aren’t Biblical; they don’t work. You get hurt, wonder why your significant other doesn’t trust you… Call me a simpleton  but to me it’s obvious. I hold my tongue there and try to sympathize a bit more, of course. After all, don’t we all break God’s law only to discover why it was there in the first place? Maybe not. Maybe I’m the only one who learns most things through mistakes. Ah well, I can serve as a counterexample for the rest of you.

~~~

Anyways, those are my two points; that is my poorly written blog post. Now I’m off to hopefully get at least five and a half hours of sleep before work in the morning. Goodnight.

 

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Fulfilled

I’m too tired to write a compelling blog post, so I don’t know why I’m trying. I guess it’s because days pass in a blur, and I realize it’s been a while since I’ve written, and that bothers me. Old habits die hard. Since I wrote here last I’ve discovered this website called 7 Cups of Tea, which I’m devoting a lot of my time to. I’m an active listener there. I meet people at their darkest points and try to help them. . Sometimes I get to share God. It is really fulfilling–helping me to add more people into my produce centric life. Sometimes I exhaust myself trying to balance to two, but it’s worth it.

I’m also trying to keep up with my real life people–people who live close to me, those I know. There are four I’d like to take on some kind of coffee date when I get the chance. Talking life, and struggles, and God in person can be helpful. Plus, I’ve had requests for another campfire when the weather clears. What better way to tithe than to buy hot dogs and s’more fixings for my people? Bring them here, let them feel loved…And, I’m having my second sleepover this month coming soon. Deep topics come up at 2 am. I hope I’m coherent enough that the words I say make enough sense to make a difference.

I went to see the movie Do You Believe? today. I’m not a huge movie fan, but this depicted the people in such a compelling, true to life way. I saw my people…the cutters, the suicidal, the soldiers, those who’ve given up hope, those trying to prove themselves, those lost in grief…I saw them and I cried, and I hoped others would leave the theater and act on their professed belief, realize that such people are real, and that they’re starving for love. I cannot singlehandedly save the world, as my mother likes to remind me. But there is so much need…The days fly by, and I hope I am making enough of an impact with my one, short life. For now I need to sleep. Fight hard my comrades in arms. There’s a world out there  starving for meaning and searching for genuine love.

Categories: My Life, Ponderings | 1 Comment

My People –Character Sketch

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAWho are we? The broken youth, simultaneously seeking and avoiding meaning, altogether wary of anyone who claims to know purpose and hope, convinced that truth can be neither easy nor complex. Oh yes, we’ve sat in the churches of our parents and grandparents. We’ve seen the shams of both our forefathers and our peers who claim the title “Christian”. Claim religion Sunday mornings and live the opposite every other hour of the week; pray when life gets tragic. Does your god hear you? Do you even really, fully believe he exists? There are some who follow the rules the rest of the week too, but even they are empty. Will they be saved by doing good?

ΞΞΞ

No, spirituality, and Wicca, and Hinduism, and Native American beliefs are much more appealing. I’ve never been sold on the ritual and tradition and rigidity of the church. Time to try something else. Positive energy, oneness, gems, karma, incantations, incense, symbols and nature are much more compelling then a regimented system of belief derived from an ancient book. Connect with what I feel, with my emotions, and I’ll be much more convinced. Explain the vibes, the spirits, tell me of the goddesses and fables. Let’s connect with what I feel, with the mystery of the universe. That appeals to me.

I casually study herbs and purchase pendants with deeper meanings on my electric device. I’ll research crusades which led to the brutal death of many. I’ll read of witch trials conducted by the ancestors of those who taught me their Old English hymns, and the cynic in me will be even more convinced. I’ll strive for Nirvana. I’ll light a candle in my dark room–fire, a basin of water for liquid, an open curtain–air, a bit of soil sprinkled about. Life essences. Or how about a traditional dagger for my ceremonies? Lead me on with the tangible in my search for meaning. Maybe I will find my way.

ΞΞΞ

These are the stakes. This is the mindset of my people. How do we defend the truth? This isn’t a system, this isn’t about fighting the people, this is about fighting the darkness. Mark Twain said “It is easier to fool people than to convince them they have been fooled.” Pulling back the curtain of lies of the Serpent is next to impossible. In ways I’ve had very little success, so I’m probably not one to give suggestions. But here are my thoughts:

  • Be genuine
  • Know apologetics
  • Be accepting
  • Share (food, etc.)
  • Truly listen
  • Don’t disregard their beliefs
  • Don’t disregard their pain
  • Try to be like Jesus

 

 

 

 

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Lines and Labels

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERABreaking news: I’ve discovered yet another line in Christian culture, and now (of course) I must decide which side I am on! Because obviously we can’t all be on the same side, and (of course) whichever side I pick will be Jesus’ side, because, y’know, He always sides with me, and speaks plainly to me about what is His good and perfect will. In addition, He always cares about every facet of Christian culture, because our varying opinions on baptism are totally a significant reason that we cannot possibly work together to feed the destitute. Yada, yada, yada. You get the point.

Sarcasm aside, I did find it slightly ironic when both this and various articles from this website came into my facebook feed on the same day. Disregarding that specific topic (No, this is not another persuasive essay about 50 Shades. You can breath a sigh of relief now.), I feel that that incident points to a bigger disagreement that has been forming in my practices over the last few years. Allow me to clarify. I grew up on Moody radio, rather conservative sermons, Brio magazine, and the purity culture whose effects are being dissected and debated quite a bit of late. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve also come under the influence of another, somewhat more liberal branch of Christian thought. I’ve been a fairly faithful reader of Deeper Story  for several years, I followed Prodigal Magazine back when it was a thing, and, I can’t fail to mention Jamie the very worst missionary. Who knew that actual missionaries could swear? I thought that was, like, pretty much impossible. Granted, I don’t agree with everything I’ve come across on any of those websites, but neither do I agree with everything I’ve heard on Moody, or in sermons, or in purity culture. Yet, I also can’t say that I know exactly where I stand in between these two extremes.

I don’t have a set, writ opinion on feminism, or even necessarily on the gender of God. I refer to Him as masculine because the Bible does, but really I think Johnny Cash captured it best when he coined the title “Father Hen” without attempting explanation. I have friends who’ve courted and dated specifically for marriage, and I have friends who’ve lost their v card, some of whom don’t regret it. I have friends who basically abhor swearing, and never associate with people who curse; I have friends who swear like soldiers. And you know what? They aren’t terrible people any more than we all are. I love both groups just the same. I know folks who’ve marched in the march for life, and I know those who vehemently believe that in many circumstances abortion is the most humane option. I socialize with Christians who drink or smoke and also those from the polar opposite camp. I could go on…

But essentially, I guess this boils down to that I don’t know which side I’m on, and as much as I dislike labels, they are a part of being human. I gain security, and self worth from knowing who I am. Also, I think a crux of all of these issues is how I choose to view grace. The first of the extremes I’m caught between easily morphs into old testament legalism, and the second into a grace happy, sin and you’ll be forgiven existence. Legalism repels me, so often I lean towards the second, but the first somehow comes with me, and I’m seen as quite conservative by my “living in the freedom of New Testament grace” friends. Bottom line? I don’t fit. Which is nothing new. I should be used to this by now. I just wish I could pinpoint where I stand…

*footnote: Camp conservative is having a hard time stomaching the idea of me in dreadlocks (which I plan to get this June). For now my appearance allows me to group hop. Maybe then I’ll be stuck in the one extreme.

 

 

 

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Ramblings of the Unwell

“I’m not crazy; I’m just a little unwell.”

The words from the popular ’06 (I think?) song ring true often. Matchbox Twenty’s one big hit…songs get big because they’re relatable, y’know. Those words fit me now as well as ever, but I’m getting tired of writing about me. I haven’t been writing many posts lately, but the ones I have written are just different takes of the same picture. Maybe I’m stuck. I was talking to a friend last night, and he said “I try not to live in the past.” I laughed. Yeah, that’s the polar opposite of me.

I mean, I think about my now a lot too, but I never come close to figuring it out, and the future is intimidating. On the bright side I don’t lie in bed replaying the faults of the previous day, year, or more accurately decade over and over in my head so much anymore, what I shoul’dve said or done differently… That’s the good part of no longer being the one with insomnia. And besides, when I do randomly wake up at one in the morning I have two friends who haven’t been able to get much sleep lately that I can talk to. Gone are the nights of lonely overthinking, writing, praying, wrestling myself in the dark. Thank you social media. Honestly I don’t know if now or then is better. It’s hard to watch others inexplicably deprived of the slumber they chase.Would it be better for them to fight with themselves alone or to talk? Another relatable lyric, this one from a Noah Gundersen song which should be more popular: “I’ve got a lot of good friends keeping me distracted, keeping my sanity safe.”

The balance between alone time and connection time is tricky, and, while I’m generally good at balancing things in the literal sense, balancing on the mental or spiritual level is not my forte, so I guess it makes sense that I’m at one extreme or the other. Before I was alone, and now I am not, and somewhere in the middle would’ve probably been best. In some ways I’m an extremist, in some ways I’m a go getter, yet I’m also timid, and comfortable, and rut-stuck. I mean, look at me now, writing another post about me after having said that I’m sick of writing about myself. Maybe I’ll cut myself some slack because I’m human, and we as humans tend to go back to what is routine, and comfortable, and normal, and easy. It takes a whole thirty days to form a new habit, so maybe I shouldn’t be expected to write about something else for a month. (Just in case you didn’t detect it, there was more than a hint of sarcasm in that last sentence.)

I could start now, and write about something else for the remainder of this post. Something like sin, or the Bible, or both. Maybe something uplifting. Have you ever read Hebrews 12? Here’s two pieces from it in The Message translation that have been challenging to me lately. I’ll end with them.  First, a word about Jesus’ life as it relates to ours:  “When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls!” And secondly a warning: “Watch out for the Esau syndrome: trading away God’s lifelong gift in order to satisfy a short-term appetite. You well know how Esau later regretted that impulsive act and wanted God’s blessing–but by then it was too late, tears or no tears.” I guess I’m ending on that note. Feel free to share some relatable lyrics or challenging scriptures of your own in response.

 

Categories: My Life, Ponderings | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

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