[Skip to the last two paragraphs for the condensed version]
If rising of the sun could be equated with turning a corner, then Thanksgiving is right around the corner. Not that you need to know that - I just like to point out the obvious. Anyway, it only makes sense that I'd be thinking about thankfulness. I mean, of course I've thought of it in the past, especially around this time of year. But, for some reason, it has been different this year. A few thoughts have passed through my mind, and I thought I'd share a few of the discussions I had with them.
One of my friends wrote in her blog the other say, and one thing stuck with me. It was the idea of being thankful for the details, to really appreciate something in its entirety. It's another kind of thankfulness to appreciate something for even the oddities that make it unique. I'd like to be thoroughly thankful for the blessings in my life (even the little ones).
It's a Wonderful Life is my favorite Christmas movie. It has many of the elements I admire in a movie, one of them being the question, "What if I had never been born?" Any question that begins with "what if...?" is a question I respect. But a small thing that I enjoy about the movie is at the end, when George realizes how much he loves all the things that drove him nuts. I like that. So, I'm learning to be thankful for inconveniences.
A week or so ago, I heard one of the professors from my school speak in chapel. Now, I didn't catch all of it, because his voice is like warm milk. It's not that it's smooth or soothing--it's quite raspy, actually--but it tends to make me drowsy. What I did catch was what he said about food, which is supposed to be a theme this year at Cornerstone. One thing he said, in particular, caught my attention. It was that, though food is lacking in other countries, we shouldn't feel guilty about eating our food. Rather, we should be thankful for all the food we eat. Don't take it for granted. I need to develop an appreciation for the food I eat.
What all this led me to think is this: We treat thankfulness like it's a reflection or a thought. It's a state of mind to adapt every once in a while, something to ponder before and after. But maybe that's not what it should be. Maybe thankfulness should be an experience, an act of the present. Thankfulness is during the meal, when turkey rolls in your mouth and pumpkin pie slides down your gullet. When the birds sing and the sun shines on your face. When your car doesn't start or your computer freezes. We experience these things, but we tend not to be thankful until after they've passed. Our minds are preoccupied with the experience itself.
But what I wonder is this: How much better would that turkey taste if I really appreciate it in the moment? What perspective would I gain if I was thankful for my car's stubbornness as it resisted me? How much more beautiful would the birds sound if I consciously was thankful for them as they sang their melodies? Life is a gift, and it's meant to be lived. How can I adopt a living thankfulness? It's a fuller life that way.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
V & 1984: A Comparison of Evey Hammond and Winston Smith
(To be honest, I have only seen the movie of V for Vendetta; I haven't read the graphic novel. I have only read 1984; I haven't seen the movie. I'm disappointed about the former, but indifferent about the latter.)
There are a number of parallels between V for Vendetta and 1984. Both take place in a dystopian world (both in London, even). Both involve repressive/oppressive governments that monitor their citizens diligently, ferreting out any voice of resistance. Both governments control the media, and enforce their tyrannies with terror-inducing branches of themselves. And, most importantly, both involve an encounter with the horrifying that tests the value of truth. This is embodied in Evey Hammond and Winston Smith. In these two characters, the creator of each story reveals his opinion of the resilience of the human spirit and its thirst for truth. Like I said, there are many parallels between these stories, but it's the differences I find interesting.
The first difference I notice between the two is the intensity of each dystopian world. In V, the United States were in utter chaos and civil war, but that chaos was only just reaching London. In 1984, though, the world was in a state of constant war and living conditions were miserable.
The second difference between the two is the stage at which the government/society has taken control. In 1984, the government has developed to the point where it has eyes and ears nearly everywhere. In fact, its knowledge seems so intrusive that those that seek to keep any resistance in check have been dubbed "the thought police."And it is part of only three societies on earth. In V, it is just England that has dominated the lives of the characters, and "the Finger," while still intimidating, hasn't reached that almost omniscient status.
The final difference is a difference of emphasis in each story which deals with the resilience of human determination.This is typified by Evey Hammond and Winston Smith and their respective torture experiences. Winston, when tortured beyond extreme anguish, turned from what he knew to be true, going even as far as to turn against the one person he held dear. For him, what he faced was worse than denial. Evey, on the other hand, reached a point where her knowledge of what was right and true outweighed any torture or death she might face. For her, denial was worse than death or anything else.
Sure, one could argue that the first two differences were factors that added to her resolution. Or it could be said that her torture was not as severe. But I think it doesn't matter - to one author, all humans will give up on the truth when pressed. To the other, there are many who will hold onto it. In 1984, there is no hope of revolution. In V for Vendetta, the people rise against tyranny. So which is it? Is there hope for the will of humanity, or will we give in when faced with our own demise? How much does the truth really matter?
One reason this has occupied my thoughts is that, when I read that book or watch that movie, I get a gut feeling that I'll be in the same situation one day. To remain resolute or give in. And I wonder... does it matter?
There are a number of parallels between V for Vendetta and 1984. Both take place in a dystopian world (both in London, even). Both involve repressive/oppressive governments that monitor their citizens diligently, ferreting out any voice of resistance. Both governments control the media, and enforce their tyrannies with terror-inducing branches of themselves. And, most importantly, both involve an encounter with the horrifying that tests the value of truth. This is embodied in Evey Hammond and Winston Smith. In these two characters, the creator of each story reveals his opinion of the resilience of the human spirit and its thirst for truth. Like I said, there are many parallels between these stories, but it's the differences I find interesting.
The first difference I notice between the two is the intensity of each dystopian world. In V, the United States were in utter chaos and civil war, but that chaos was only just reaching London. In 1984, though, the world was in a state of constant war and living conditions were miserable.
The second difference between the two is the stage at which the government/society has taken control. In 1984, the government has developed to the point where it has eyes and ears nearly everywhere. In fact, its knowledge seems so intrusive that those that seek to keep any resistance in check have been dubbed "the thought police."And it is part of only three societies on earth. In V, it is just England that has dominated the lives of the characters, and "the Finger," while still intimidating, hasn't reached that almost omniscient status.
The final difference is a difference of emphasis in each story which deals with the resilience of human determination.This is typified by Evey Hammond and Winston Smith and their respective torture experiences. Winston, when tortured beyond extreme anguish, turned from what he knew to be true, going even as far as to turn against the one person he held dear. For him, what he faced was worse than denial. Evey, on the other hand, reached a point where her knowledge of what was right and true outweighed any torture or death she might face. For her, denial was worse than death or anything else.
Sure, one could argue that the first two differences were factors that added to her resolution. Or it could be said that her torture was not as severe. But I think it doesn't matter - to one author, all humans will give up on the truth when pressed. To the other, there are many who will hold onto it. In 1984, there is no hope of revolution. In V for Vendetta, the people rise against tyranny. So which is it? Is there hope for the will of humanity, or will we give in when faced with our own demise? How much does the truth really matter?
One reason this has occupied my thoughts is that, when I read that book or watch that movie, I get a gut feeling that I'll be in the same situation one day. To remain resolute or give in. And I wonder... does it matter?
Monday, October 24, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Whaddya Want?
I long for a simpler time, when I knew what I wanted and how I felt. When my plans and ambitions were solid, concrete. When what I felt was strong and stable. When options didn't exist beyond two or three. When the future was one road, not thousands. When I got excited, had crushes, felt sad, got angry. When bitterness wasn't something to hold onto for emotions' sake. When specialization was only a word to spell. When all scientists did the same thing. When everything was obvious. When this was right and that was not.
Things are complex now. I can't even figure out what it is I aspire to be. Or whether I want to be with someone, much less who that is. The people in the game of LIFE have it easy - the spin of the wheel determines everything. It's tough when you get to pick the card. "What do you want?" they say. But I don't have an answer. And I refuse to let the major decisions of my life be things that you just do - there's got to be something deeper. If love is just a choice, I want no part in it. I want a vocation that I'm made for, not one I settle into. Where's fate to tell me what to do?
I play my music on shuffle. I use Pandora. Which is closest? What haven't I tried? What makes sense?
I need passion. I need to know what I want.
Things are complex now. I can't even figure out what it is I aspire to be. Or whether I want to be with someone, much less who that is. The people in the game of LIFE have it easy - the spin of the wheel determines everything. It's tough when you get to pick the card. "What do you want?" they say. But I don't have an answer. And I refuse to let the major decisions of my life be things that you just do - there's got to be something deeper. If love is just a choice, I want no part in it. I want a vocation that I'm made for, not one I settle into. Where's fate to tell me what to do?
I play my music on shuffle. I use Pandora. Which is closest? What haven't I tried? What makes sense?
I need passion. I need to know what I want.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Hugs (are not as good as Kisses. Quite frankly, they suck. Because--let's face it--white chocolate is nasty with a capital N)
It didn't hit me until later the next day, but the other night I had a dream in which I got a giant bear hug form Ryan Davis. Ryan passed away, as you probably know, but I always looked up to him, even though I barely knew him. Anyway, the hug was one of those one-sided hugs that you rarely get anymore; it was completely overpowering. He picked me up, and I was helpless to do anything but hold on as he swung me back and forth.
That's the type of hug a kid gets, when you're embraced by someone so much bigger than you - you are really only receiving the hug. You get overwhelmed. In that moment, you know that person could take care of all your problems (and maybe even the problems of the entire world). And why would you think differently? You're just a child.
It seems like hugs like that don't happen anymore. They're always mutual and maintain a sense of independence. "I choose to display my affection and friendship to you, but I can handle my own problems, thank you very much."
I think there's something inside me that wants the former hug once in a while. To drop the whole independence shtick and completely depend on someone else. Someone I know will handle everything with my best interest in mind.
I guess I want my relationship with God to be like that. At least, that's what it should be like. I want a "Ryan Davis hug" faith. It's comforting and inspiring. And all I have to do is hold on,
That's the type of hug a kid gets, when you're embraced by someone so much bigger than you - you are really only receiving the hug. You get overwhelmed. In that moment, you know that person could take care of all your problems (and maybe even the problems of the entire world). And why would you think differently? You're just a child.
It seems like hugs like that don't happen anymore. They're always mutual and maintain a sense of independence. "I choose to display my affection and friendship to you, but I can handle my own problems, thank you very much."
I think there's something inside me that wants the former hug once in a while. To drop the whole independence shtick and completely depend on someone else. Someone I know will handle everything with my best interest in mind.
I guess I want my relationship with God to be like that. At least, that's what it should be like. I want a "Ryan Davis hug" faith. It's comforting and inspiring. And all I have to do is hold on,
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Bittersweet (But Not Sweet At All)
I generally am not the type of person to hold a grudge. But when I feel someone has wronged me in a particular area of life, I pick up that habit easily. That wrong injects venom into my opinion of that person until I'm flowing with bitterness. But I'm not overt about it. Everything seems fine, but I make remarks in a way I wouldn't normally, usually by slighting the person in a rather snarky manner. My bitterness becomes an infection that eats me from the inside out.
The only thing that rids me of that bitterness is confrontation. In order to repair such a relationship, I have to express to the person exactly how their actions/words made me feel (not an easy task for me, since I don't really have much experience in that realm). Only then can the venom be removed, although the relationship is never quite the same again.
"Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body. In your anger do not sin: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold." Ephesians 4:25-27
I've watched the sun set too many times.
The only thing that rids me of that bitterness is confrontation. In order to repair such a relationship, I have to express to the person exactly how their actions/words made me feel (not an easy task for me, since I don't really have much experience in that realm). Only then can the venom be removed, although the relationship is never quite the same again.
"Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body. In your anger do not sin: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold." Ephesians 4:25-27
I've watched the sun set too many times.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Defiant One
In Honors the other day, we discussed Montaigne and his opinion that the essay was the superior form of writing, when compared with the treatise. This led to dialogue about how research can often lead to a lack of original thought. Stevens mentioned that, even now, our idea of an essay is skewed. Rather than an exploration of the mind, it has become a gatherer of facts determined for others. Stevens proposed that we revive the essay, and I am in complete agreement.
For me, the essay represents something more than just a form of writing. It is one facet of original thought. Pondering, questioning, venturing--these things are no longer viewed in a positive light. In the essay, one speaks out of the gut. He materializes his thoughts, regardless of what others may think. In these days, group think suffocates originality and anything that threatens the status quo. And I believe that is an extreme injustice.
I watched Dead Poets Society last night, and that seemed to fit this theme. If you have seen the film, you understand what I mean. Robin Williams questions the conventionality of the time and place, particularly in the "marching scene." He illustrates that conformity often beckons us with a powerful and demanding voice. We follow others like mindless lemmings. Later in the movie, one character's inability to think in new ways leads to tragedy, and it leaves you thinking, "Why couldn't he just get over his way of thinking?"
This is why I appreciate Rob Bell, though I have yet to read his writing. From what I have heard, he uses questions to help people think in new ways. As Stevens said, Love Wins could be considered an essay. But what has been accepted as fact may or may not be correct.
When people shun the exploration of ideas, they chance eliminating a brilliant new truth. Galileo faced the same, as did many other conceptual pilgrims. The world is flat. The earth is center. The arts are inferior. These are the voices that have had commanding presence. But they erred and err.
I said recently that one word I could use to describe myself is opaque. Another would be defiant. Not in defiance of rules and structure that make things whole, but against those things which hold captive ideas, beliefs, and people that could otherwise have a healing touch on the world, if only ideologically. It's arrogant to assume that I know what is completely just and fair, but you have to act if something is wrong, right?
All I'm saying is that we need original and open-minded thought. Without it, we make no progress.
For me, the essay represents something more than just a form of writing. It is one facet of original thought. Pondering, questioning, venturing--these things are no longer viewed in a positive light. In the essay, one speaks out of the gut. He materializes his thoughts, regardless of what others may think. In these days, group think suffocates originality and anything that threatens the status quo. And I believe that is an extreme injustice.
I watched Dead Poets Society last night, and that seemed to fit this theme. If you have seen the film, you understand what I mean. Robin Williams questions the conventionality of the time and place, particularly in the "marching scene." He illustrates that conformity often beckons us with a powerful and demanding voice. We follow others like mindless lemmings. Later in the movie, one character's inability to think in new ways leads to tragedy, and it leaves you thinking, "Why couldn't he just get over his way of thinking?"
This is why I appreciate Rob Bell, though I have yet to read his writing. From what I have heard, he uses questions to help people think in new ways. As Stevens said, Love Wins could be considered an essay. But what has been accepted as fact may or may not be correct.
When people shun the exploration of ideas, they chance eliminating a brilliant new truth. Galileo faced the same, as did many other conceptual pilgrims. The world is flat. The earth is center. The arts are inferior. These are the voices that have had commanding presence. But they erred and err.
I said recently that one word I could use to describe myself is opaque. Another would be defiant. Not in defiance of rules and structure that make things whole, but against those things which hold captive ideas, beliefs, and people that could otherwise have a healing touch on the world, if only ideologically. It's arrogant to assume that I know what is completely just and fair, but you have to act if something is wrong, right?
All I'm saying is that we need original and open-minded thought. Without it, we make no progress.
Monday, August 29, 2011
The Fifth Corner
In my mind, things to which loyalty can be given are separated into four corners of likability. The first corner belongs to those things to which I am apathetic or neutral. I don't really care how the Atlanta Braves do this year. The second corner belongs to those things with flaws that are invisible to me. I don't see the downside of penguins, so I think they're pretty cool. (See what I did there?) The third corner belongs to those things which I like, and I refuse to see the downside. This is blind loyalty. I refuse to acknowledge that chili dogs are terrible for you. The fourth corner belongs to those things which I dislike or hate because of their flaws. I hate the Steelers because they are an unpleasant, dirty team. I see their flaws and recoil in disgust. The fifth corner, however, belongs to those things that have flaws of which I am completely aware, yet love and follow despite and even because of them. I see many of the problems with Cornerstone, but I am still loyal to it because it is my school.
The same can be said of people; they fall, for me, into the same five categories. (Although, few fall into the third category.) My opinions and relationships of and with them are similar to these five. But there's something rare and beautiful about that fifth category. It's unconditional love, something to which we Christians are called. Not blind love, but aware and forgiving.
I have experienced this to an extent in many relationships/friendships. It is mainly seen in my family. Despite what they do, I still love them. But their quirks still irk me. (I just did another thing.) There's only one person I have ever known with which I completely have this type of friendship. I am able to love them (not in a romantic way, mind you) for who they are, despite and even because of their flaws. I am very aware of the things that others might find distasteful, and neither do I think these attributes are good. But I can look at this person and see them as a whole, appreciating even the flaws. It baffles me. I want to understand exactly how it works and try to apply it to all my other relationships.
The same can be said of people; they fall, for me, into the same five categories. (Although, few fall into the third category.) My opinions and relationships of and with them are similar to these five. But there's something rare and beautiful about that fifth category. It's unconditional love, something to which we Christians are called. Not blind love, but aware and forgiving.
I have experienced this to an extent in many relationships/friendships. It is mainly seen in my family. Despite what they do, I still love them. But their quirks still irk me. (I just did another thing.) There's only one person I have ever known with which I completely have this type of friendship. I am able to love them (not in a romantic way, mind you) for who they are, despite and even because of their flaws. I am very aware of the things that others might find distasteful, and neither do I think these attributes are good. But I can look at this person and see them as a whole, appreciating even the flaws. It baffles me. I want to understand exactly how it works and try to apply it to all my other relationships.
The Last 10%
If I had to describe myself in one word, it would be "opaque."
By "opaque," I mean non-transparent, although some of its other uses might apply. I'm not a very transparent person. I may be vocal about my opinions and ideas for the most part, but when it comes to how I feel, not much escapes my filter.
I visited Frontline Community Church for the first time today. (I have an idea I'll visit again.) Before the sermon, there was a short clip about wearing masks for various reasons, utilizing the iPad in a clever if unoriginal manner. I was relevant because the pastor spoke about lying, and specifically why we lie. He said that sociologists have determined that we lie for basically one reason: to avoid pain. The pastor preceded to list the various forms of pain that we try to avoid by lying.
Pain of consequences, pain of embarrassment, and pain of two words that are currently blank spaces on that handy little handout. (See what I did there?) But what really hit me was the end, when he mentioned "the last 10%." He described it as being the little bit of truth about your life that you leave out. The last bit to make 100%. Then he asked three questions. "To whom are you telling the last 10%? When? Who are you letting tell you about their last 10%?" And that was when I realized: I have no answer for the first two questions. There is nobody with whom I share this, for various psychological and irrational reasons. I just don't. And that's a problem.
So where to go from here? I'm not sure. But I know that I at least need to become translucent, if not transparent.
By "opaque," I mean non-transparent, although some of its other uses might apply. I'm not a very transparent person. I may be vocal about my opinions and ideas for the most part, but when it comes to how I feel, not much escapes my filter.
I visited Frontline Community Church for the first time today. (I have an idea I'll visit again.) Before the sermon, there was a short clip about wearing masks for various reasons, utilizing the iPad in a clever if unoriginal manner. I was relevant because the pastor spoke about lying, and specifically why we lie. He said that sociologists have determined that we lie for basically one reason: to avoid pain. The pastor preceded to list the various forms of pain that we try to avoid by lying.
Pain of consequences, pain of embarrassment, and pain of two words that are currently blank spaces on that handy little handout. (See what I did there?) But what really hit me was the end, when he mentioned "the last 10%." He described it as being the little bit of truth about your life that you leave out. The last bit to make 100%. Then he asked three questions. "To whom are you telling the last 10%? When? Who are you letting tell you about their last 10%?" And that was when I realized: I have no answer for the first two questions. There is nobody with whom I share this, for various psychological and irrational reasons. I just don't. And that's a problem.
So where to go from here? I'm not sure. But I know that I at least need to become translucent, if not transparent.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Destiny (Part 3 of the Rapid Fire)
This is going to sound very narcissistic, but have you ever sensed destiny?
What I mean is, have you ever gotten the feeling that your life was meant for something big? We all have a destiny; God has a plan for all of us. But does it ever seem that your life is going to make a difference on a large scale?
Like I said, it sounds narcissistic, but I often get that type of feeling. I don't know what it means or if it's true. Maybe I just have delusions of grandeur. But I feel, deep down, that I'm going to make a difference, even though I have no idea how. I have a gut feeling that in the near future, America is going to change drastically, and the way American Christians live will change with it. So maybe that's it. I don't know, it's just weird.
It's just that my life so far has been so freaking perfect. basically everything just lines up for me. It doesn't mean I don't work hard. But everything works out, almost too easily. Every job I've had has fallen in my lap. I ended up living at Cornerstone when I thought I would commute. And other things like that just seem way too coincidental.
Someone I respect once told me that I will have say no to a lot of things, that people will follow me. She told me that she would follow me. And that sunk in. Maybe that has inflated my ego's idea of the future a bit. But it didn't help.
I think when I started feeling this started when I almost died. To make a long story short (although the long story is pretty cool/funny, depending on how I tell it), I had an allergic reaction to a hornet sting and went into anaphylactic shock. If I had arrived at the med center ten minutes later, I probably would have made frog noises. But ever since that instance, I have thought about death differently. First, I view death in a better light. Death is just a door, and for a Christian that's good news; it's the finish line. I'm fine whether I have vital signs or not. But second, I figure that if I'm still alive, God must have a reason for it, whatever that is.
Everyone wants to feel important. Everyone wants to feel special. Maybe that's what this is. Maybe my ego has a Messiah complex and thinks I'm going to save the world. Maybe my feeling is right. But maybe it's not. Maybe I'll just be an average guy who makes an average impact on the world and lives around him. Either way, that's okay. I'm just excited to see what God has for me in the future.
What I mean is, have you ever gotten the feeling that your life was meant for something big? We all have a destiny; God has a plan for all of us. But does it ever seem that your life is going to make a difference on a large scale?
Like I said, it sounds narcissistic, but I often get that type of feeling. I don't know what it means or if it's true. Maybe I just have delusions of grandeur. But I feel, deep down, that I'm going to make a difference, even though I have no idea how. I have a gut feeling that in the near future, America is going to change drastically, and the way American Christians live will change with it. So maybe that's it. I don't know, it's just weird.
It's just that my life so far has been so freaking perfect. basically everything just lines up for me. It doesn't mean I don't work hard. But everything works out, almost too easily. Every job I've had has fallen in my lap. I ended up living at Cornerstone when I thought I would commute. And other things like that just seem way too coincidental.
Someone I respect once told me that I will have say no to a lot of things, that people will follow me. She told me that she would follow me. And that sunk in. Maybe that has inflated my ego's idea of the future a bit. But it didn't help.
I think when I started feeling this started when I almost died. To make a long story short (although the long story is pretty cool/funny, depending on how I tell it), I had an allergic reaction to a hornet sting and went into anaphylactic shock. If I had arrived at the med center ten minutes later, I probably would have made frog noises. But ever since that instance, I have thought about death differently. First, I view death in a better light. Death is just a door, and for a Christian that's good news; it's the finish line. I'm fine whether I have vital signs or not. But second, I figure that if I'm still alive, God must have a reason for it, whatever that is.
Everyone wants to feel important. Everyone wants to feel special. Maybe that's what this is. Maybe my ego has a Messiah complex and thinks I'm going to save the world. Maybe my feeling is right. But maybe it's not. Maybe I'll just be an average guy who makes an average impact on the world and lives around him. Either way, that's okay. I'm just excited to see what God has for me in the future.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Knowledge Versus Belief (Part 2 of the Rapid Fire)
One of the things Rene Descartes (possibly my favorite philosopher) is known for is coining the phrase, "I think; therefore, I am." He went into seclusion until he could prove that the world was real. He eventually came out, using this reasoning: I think; therefore, I exist. I cannot create the universe; therefore, there must be a God. God is good and He wouldn't trick us (a sneaky little trick - that assumes God is good); therefore, this world is real.
What I like about Descartes is the way he questioned reality; he took nothing for granted. He started with doubt.
It's this sort of philosophy that has made the statement, "You can't even know that the chair you sit on is real." I have heard Christians criticize this way of thinking as foolish. But I totally disagree and am slightly insulted; extremely intelligent people thought like that. And they were right.
If knowledge is defined as being completely and objectively certain through the use of flawless logic and irrefutable evidence, then there is no way to know that this world exists. You could very well be living in a world of your subconscious's creation. In fact (and other Christians will cringe when I say this), but there is no completely objective way to know that God exists. We can't be sure that there is a God. Any "evidence" you have that supports this could be a figment of your subconscious, or a lie handed to you by some being looking to deceive you.
People might freak out at this, but it's actually a very good thing. It's a good thing because it emphasizes even more the importance of faith. We live in a world in which we make many assumptions, simply to navigate reality. We sit believing the chair will hold us. We speak, believing the people who hear us are real. We pray, believing God is real and hears us. This may sound like heresy, but it's not. It is vitally important to realize that nothing you can do, none of the evidence you collect, can prove the existence of God. It's a matter of faith. If we can see that we need faith simply to live our lives, we can appreciate more fully the role faith has in our relationship with God. We choose, out of all the alternatives, to believe that the world is real, God is real, and His sacrifice was extremely real. We believe it, but we can't know it. Unless we redefine knowledge.
I read a book in Philosophy called Longing to Know. The woman who wrote the book compared "knowing" (mainly knowing that God is real) to getting to know and trust her mechanic. She de-emphasized evidence and facts, and instead highlighted the importance of trust and experience. Ultimately, knowing is a matter of belief.
I can't know that God exists. But I choose to believe in Him and His existence and goodness. Because, ultimately, I belief will be shown to be well-placed.
What I like about Descartes is the way he questioned reality; he took nothing for granted. He started with doubt.
It's this sort of philosophy that has made the statement, "You can't even know that the chair you sit on is real." I have heard Christians criticize this way of thinking as foolish. But I totally disagree and am slightly insulted; extremely intelligent people thought like that. And they were right.
If knowledge is defined as being completely and objectively certain through the use of flawless logic and irrefutable evidence, then there is no way to know that this world exists. You could very well be living in a world of your subconscious's creation. In fact (and other Christians will cringe when I say this), but there is no completely objective way to know that God exists. We can't be sure that there is a God. Any "evidence" you have that supports this could be a figment of your subconscious, or a lie handed to you by some being looking to deceive you.
People might freak out at this, but it's actually a very good thing. It's a good thing because it emphasizes even more the importance of faith. We live in a world in which we make many assumptions, simply to navigate reality. We sit believing the chair will hold us. We speak, believing the people who hear us are real. We pray, believing God is real and hears us. This may sound like heresy, but it's not. It is vitally important to realize that nothing you can do, none of the evidence you collect, can prove the existence of God. It's a matter of faith. If we can see that we need faith simply to live our lives, we can appreciate more fully the role faith has in our relationship with God. We choose, out of all the alternatives, to believe that the world is real, God is real, and His sacrifice was extremely real. We believe it, but we can't know it. Unless we redefine knowledge.
I read a book in Philosophy called Longing to Know. The woman who wrote the book compared "knowing" (mainly knowing that God is real) to getting to know and trust her mechanic. She de-emphasized evidence and facts, and instead highlighted the importance of trust and experience. Ultimately, knowing is a matter of belief.
I can't know that God exists. But I choose to believe in Him and His existence and goodness. Because, ultimately, I belief will be shown to be well-placed.
Indirectly Objective (Part 1 of the Rapid Fire)
Bias. It's there. And if we want to be fair, we try to avoid it. But what's with the push for objectivity? It's to put oneself aside and make the right decision, yes. But why? Why does it matter all that much? In my opinion, it gets to the very heart of our ambitions.
To be objective is to avoid bias, and a bias would be a conflict of interest. Bias is a flaw. So, to attempt to be objective is to admit something: I am not perfect. I make mistakes. My decisions aren't always right. Objectivity, then, is this: The counteraction of imperfection, especially in decisions. The objective of objectivity, in this light, reflects a sort of Platonic pursuit. Man tries to reach the form.
This is not always true, of course. People don't always attempt to be objective. But in this, they embrace a sort of selfishness that neglects such a pursuit of the form. But those who do understand that, in order to get closer to the ideal man or woman, they must cast off the things that cloud their judgment.
The problem with the pursuit objectivity is this: True objectivity doesn't exist. There isn't an instant in which a man can be completely objective, because he lives in this world. And living in this world causes his logic to be influenced by numerous factors. Because of this, two people who have absolutely no stake in a situation can come to two different conclusions regarding an action that must be taken. This is why a jury often argues amongst itself, as well as why it is made of more than one person. Objectivity cannot be achieved.
This doesn't mean that one shouldn't try, of course. Objectivity is still a noble pursuit. It whisks away a few of the clouds that have been cast over our judgment. It's still an attempt to counteract imperfection. But it is important to realize the limits of this pursuit. A belief that one is completely objective assures him or her that the surface under him or her is solid, when in fact it is not. This realization forces one to question his judgment, to check the ground. Because, we live in a subjective world where we make subjective choices.
There is one more thing regarding objectivity: I don't believe God is objective. Why would He be? If objectivity is an attempt to counteract imperfection and flawed judgment, God has no use for it. He is able to make decisions with complete bias and interest and make the right--the perfect--decision.
Objectivity is a myth, but one worth pursuing. It is our calling to pursue Perfection.
To be objective is to avoid bias, and a bias would be a conflict of interest. Bias is a flaw. So, to attempt to be objective is to admit something: I am not perfect. I make mistakes. My decisions aren't always right. Objectivity, then, is this: The counteraction of imperfection, especially in decisions. The objective of objectivity, in this light, reflects a sort of Platonic pursuit. Man tries to reach the form.
This is not always true, of course. People don't always attempt to be objective. But in this, they embrace a sort of selfishness that neglects such a pursuit of the form. But those who do understand that, in order to get closer to the ideal man or woman, they must cast off the things that cloud their judgment.
The problem with the pursuit objectivity is this: True objectivity doesn't exist. There isn't an instant in which a man can be completely objective, because he lives in this world. And living in this world causes his logic to be influenced by numerous factors. Because of this, two people who have absolutely no stake in a situation can come to two different conclusions regarding an action that must be taken. This is why a jury often argues amongst itself, as well as why it is made of more than one person. Objectivity cannot be achieved.
This doesn't mean that one shouldn't try, of course. Objectivity is still a noble pursuit. It whisks away a few of the clouds that have been cast over our judgment. It's still an attempt to counteract imperfection. But it is important to realize the limits of this pursuit. A belief that one is completely objective assures him or her that the surface under him or her is solid, when in fact it is not. This realization forces one to question his judgment, to check the ground. Because, we live in a subjective world where we make subjective choices.
There is one more thing regarding objectivity: I don't believe God is objective. Why would He be? If objectivity is an attempt to counteract imperfection and flawed judgment, God has no use for it. He is able to make decisions with complete bias and interest and make the right--the perfect--decision.
Objectivity is a myth, but one worth pursuing. It is our calling to pursue Perfection.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
A Salute to Stevens
You're not officially a Cornerstone student until you've developed an irrational excessive admiration for one of your professors. For some, it's B-Shak. For others, it's VanDyke. Personally, I think Stevens is the man. Here's why:
A. Stevens is a genius.
One characteristic I value is the ability to think abstractly. Stevens invented that, I'm pretty sure. In one of his classes, you're sure to learn and develop insanely if you choose to be attentive. The way he draws connections, the way he conveys ideas--it speaks of his intelligence. I took Writing in Culture with him, and I learned very little about writing, but I learned soooo much just hearing him rant and rave, stuck on another rabbit trail.
B. Stevens is crazy.
Certifiable. It's fantastic. Sit through one of his rants or watch him throw a chair. Or a bible. Or a marker. He'll throw pretty much anything. You can see in his eyes that he could snap at any moment. In a good way, of course.
C. Smoking cat.
D. Stevens is passionate.
When the guy feels strongly about something, you know it. He's filled with pathos. Whether he's for or against something, his opinion is clear (although he never forces his views on you as if you must agree). The Red Light District sex trade is crap. Technology often enslaves us. Michael W. Smith really doesn't sound all that great. His arguments are compelling, and you're left sitting in your chair, wanting to agree with him.
E. Stevens is a huge part of why I'm me.
Something about Stevens--something about that class--changed a lot about the way I think, the way I view things. I think for myself, even more than I did before that class. I can appreciate that profanity can be used to communicate with precision. I am wary of what technology does to us (as I write on my blog at 1:44am). I don't know--I just figure he'll be one of those people that I will think of as formative in my life.
Helter-skelter. Uneven. No flow. That's what this entry was. But hey--it's the Stevens way, right?
F. Stevens reminds me of Mel Gibson.
A. Stevens is a genius.
One characteristic I value is the ability to think abstractly. Stevens invented that, I'm pretty sure. In one of his classes, you're sure to learn and develop insanely if you choose to be attentive. The way he draws connections, the way he conveys ideas--it speaks of his intelligence. I took Writing in Culture with him, and I learned very little about writing, but I learned soooo much just hearing him rant and rave, stuck on another rabbit trail.
B. Stevens is crazy.
Certifiable. It's fantastic. Sit through one of his rants or watch him throw a chair. Or a bible. Or a marker. He'll throw pretty much anything. You can see in his eyes that he could snap at any moment. In a good way, of course.
C. Smoking cat.
D. Stevens is passionate.
When the guy feels strongly about something, you know it. He's filled with pathos. Whether he's for or against something, his opinion is clear (although he never forces his views on you as if you must agree). The Red Light District sex trade is crap. Technology often enslaves us. Michael W. Smith really doesn't sound all that great. His arguments are compelling, and you're left sitting in your chair, wanting to agree with him.
E. Stevens is a huge part of why I'm me.
Something about Stevens--something about that class--changed a lot about the way I think, the way I view things. I think for myself, even more than I did before that class. I can appreciate that profanity can be used to communicate with precision. I am wary of what technology does to us (as I write on my blog at 1:44am). I don't know--I just figure he'll be one of those people that I will think of as formative in my life.
Helter-skelter. Uneven. No flow. That's what this entry was. But hey--it's the Stevens way, right?
F. Stevens reminds me of Mel Gibson.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
The Future
One <---(I wrote that word and got distracted. Now, I have no idea what I was going to say. But I'll leave it there, in case I remember.)
Oh, now I remember. One of my strengths in StrengthsFinder is 'Futuristic.' While I think it's a slightly pathetic strength, it fits me quite well. Often I catch myself staring into the distance, devising scenario upon scenario, imagining possibilities; I don't always live in the present. The future has always captivated me and my imagination. Time, in general, has always done that to me. It makes me muse.
The concept of 'the future' puts things into perspective. Life is fleeting, "a vapor" as someone in the Bible puts it. (I think it's Jesus; I'll have to look it up.) From time to time I look at the world as if I looked through the mind's eye of my future self, fondly reminiscing days gone by, people long since departed from my life. "Where will life take me? Who will I meet? What will I be? When will I die?" These are questions that send me into reverie.
See, this changes how you view... well, anything. Every person, every activity shapes your future self, for better or for worse. It's a terribly conceited thing, but I look at a person and think, "In what way will you shape my story, my future? What will I remember years from now when I think of you?" It's part of the reason I think I'll never marry. I can't form a mental image of myself with anyone. Which is exactly the wrong approach to that, but whatever.
I imagine the future will hold many wonderful things for me, but for now I can't just dream of it. It's the unknown, to everyone "the final frontier." In this way, we are all adventurers. So, I boldly go where no one has gone before.
Oh, now I remember. One of my strengths in StrengthsFinder is 'Futuristic.' While I think it's a slightly pathetic strength, it fits me quite well. Often I catch myself staring into the distance, devising scenario upon scenario, imagining possibilities; I don't always live in the present. The future has always captivated me and my imagination. Time, in general, has always done that to me. It makes me muse.
The concept of 'the future' puts things into perspective. Life is fleeting, "a vapor" as someone in the Bible puts it. (I think it's Jesus; I'll have to look it up.) From time to time I look at the world as if I looked through the mind's eye of my future self, fondly reminiscing days gone by, people long since departed from my life. "Where will life take me? Who will I meet? What will I be? When will I die?" These are questions that send me into reverie.
See, this changes how you view... well, anything. Every person, every activity shapes your future self, for better or for worse. It's a terribly conceited thing, but I look at a person and think, "In what way will you shape my story, my future? What will I remember years from now when I think of you?" It's part of the reason I think I'll never marry. I can't form a mental image of myself with anyone. Which is exactly the wrong approach to that, but whatever.
I imagine the future will hold many wonderful things for me, but for now I can't just dream of it. It's the unknown, to everyone "the final frontier." In this way, we are all adventurers. So, I boldly go where no one has gone before.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The AAABBBCCC's
Absolutely all atrocious alligators buy bright bowling balls 'cause cranky crocodiles call constantly. Dear Desiree, dial Doctor Dreyfus. Every elephant emits electrical emotions for feeling fantastic fiery fingers. Gorgeous, goofy girl gorillas guess how hilarious hippos horrify imps inside incredibly itchy igloos. Jolly jellyfish jokingly juggle kicking kangaroos. Kittens kinda like licking luscious lollipops minding multiple microwave munchies. Never, never, never, never operate on overly opulent orangutans. Potentially, purchasing pale purple paper quickly quiets queer qualms. Raising red roses requires really safe security sensors scattered scandalously. Two terrible toddlers tentatively totter toward twenty unbelievably ugly umpires under vicious vampire Valentine valances. Why would whiny white wusses want Xavier's xenophobic xylophones? Yesterday, YouTube yokels yelled "You're yucky!" Zany zoo zealots zap zebras.
Now I've said my ABC's... and I'll never do it again.
Now I've said my ABC's... and I'll never do it again.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Cynical
There are times when I just can't stand the way the world can be. Where I look at things and know it's just not right. I was listening to a Rooster Teeth podcast (a nerd thing, I admit), and they talked about that mom that, because of a falling-out between her daughter and the daughter's friend, set up a fake facebook account as some boy. To get back at the friend, she started a "relationship" with the girl that lasted for about a year before the mother tore the poor girl's world apart. The girl ended up killing herself because of it. As these guys said, "That was a c*** move. No, that was more than a c*** move. That was f***ing evil."
It's stuff like that that turns me into a hardcore cynic. Like when I visited the Flossenberg concentration camp in Germany. It made me think. It made me stew. How could someone do something like that to another? Mankind is screwed up. To kill someone, to make someone feel like they're worthless -- it's awful. Without God's intervention, we're screwed.
But then I look at the Christian community, and it's just as messed up! You've got "Christians" who do nothing to separate themselves through their actions--heck, half the time we look even worse. We're supposed to be a unity body of Christ, but all I see are dismembered limbs. It's in times like this that I long for America to persecute the American church. For something big enough to happen in our lives to see that all our differences are petty pieces of crap.
A couple people posted this link on facebook, which brought on my cynical state. Then there's that Kansan church that picketed Betty Ford's funeral. Classy. At what point is that cool? To cause so much division where there should be unity? To hate your brother? Jesus said to call your brother "fool" was tantamount to murder. So why do we ignore him? To be honest, God's the only thing that makes me want to stay a Christian. WhatThe church (.org, I guess) sure isn't doing much to help. I might as well hang out with friends who don't stab each other in the back.
But then there are times that bring me back to the good of the Church, where I see the Body as it should be. It's the simple things, too. Playing ultimate frisbee, watching a movie, discussing philosophy, talking -- I see the way it should be. So, for a second, my cynical vision is altered by the lens of how it could be. And I endure how it is.
It's stuff like that that turns me into a hardcore cynic. Like when I visited the Flossenberg concentration camp in Germany. It made me think. It made me stew. How could someone do something like that to another? Mankind is screwed up. To kill someone, to make someone feel like they're worthless -- it's awful. Without God's intervention, we're screwed.
But then I look at the Christian community, and it's just as messed up! You've got "Christians" who do nothing to separate themselves through their actions--heck, half the time we look even worse. We're supposed to be a unity body of Christ, but all I see are dismembered limbs. It's in times like this that I long for America to persecute the American church. For something big enough to happen in our lives to see that all our differences are petty pieces of crap.
A couple people posted this link on facebook, which brought on my cynical state. Then there's that Kansan church that picketed Betty Ford's funeral. Classy. At what point is that cool? To cause so much division where there should be unity? To hate your brother? Jesus said to call your brother "fool" was tantamount to murder. So why do we ignore him? To be honest, God's the only thing that makes me want to stay a Christian. WhatThe church (.org, I guess) sure isn't doing much to help. I might as well hang out with friends who don't stab each other in the back.
But then there are times that bring me back to the good of the Church, where I see the Body as it should be. It's the simple things, too. Playing ultimate frisbee, watching a movie, discussing philosophy, talking -- I see the way it should be. So, for a second, my cynical vision is altered by the lens of how it could be. And I endure how it is.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Unpredictable
"I'm dishonest, and a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly. It's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly... stupid. "
Jack Sparrow's onto something. It's about unpredictability. Some people get the wrong idea about being unpredictable. They think that you need to do the unexpected at all times. But that's not quite right. Because, as Jack said, there comes a time where you can be expected to do the unexpected. To be truly unpredictable, you sometimes need to do exactly what is expected, because it's exactly what an unpredictable person wouldn't be expected to do.
This is part of the problem I have with people who do everything they can do to be different, unique. You sacrifice your unique tastes to for a sense of uniqueness that isn't entirely yours. Your taste is still dictated by the current trends.
It's similar with rebellion. So often, kids formerly under the authority (often strict authority) of their parents find the freedom brought by a certain age or situation extremely liberating. Seeking to throw off the vestiges of their parents' restrictions, they evaluate their actions through a lens of liberation. If their parents might disapprove of a certain action, they lean in that direction, even if their personal ideals or preferences would disagree with it. These people are delusional. They think they have found true freedom in identity, but their actions are still dictated by what their parents approve of.
To be truly unpredictable, truly unique, truly liberated in identity, it takes something different. To be unpredictable, you need to worry not so much about being unpredictable, but about what the moment dictates you do. To be truly unique, you need to do/wear/listen to what you personally like, even if that means your taste aligns with mainstream preference. To be truly liberated in identity, you must often do exactly what your parents or others would approve of.
Don't be so afraid of being what you don't want to be that you avoid doing what makes you what you want to be because it looks like you are what you don't want to be. Be predictable. It's unpredictable.
Jack Sparrow's onto something. It's about unpredictability. Some people get the wrong idea about being unpredictable. They think that you need to do the unexpected at all times. But that's not quite right. Because, as Jack said, there comes a time where you can be expected to do the unexpected. To be truly unpredictable, you sometimes need to do exactly what is expected, because it's exactly what an unpredictable person wouldn't be expected to do.
This is part of the problem I have with people who do everything they can do to be different, unique. You sacrifice your unique tastes to for a sense of uniqueness that isn't entirely yours. Your taste is still dictated by the current trends.
It's similar with rebellion. So often, kids formerly under the authority (often strict authority) of their parents find the freedom brought by a certain age or situation extremely liberating. Seeking to throw off the vestiges of their parents' restrictions, they evaluate their actions through a lens of liberation. If their parents might disapprove of a certain action, they lean in that direction, even if their personal ideals or preferences would disagree with it. These people are delusional. They think they have found true freedom in identity, but their actions are still dictated by what their parents approve of.
To be truly unpredictable, truly unique, truly liberated in identity, it takes something different. To be unpredictable, you need to worry not so much about being unpredictable, but about what the moment dictates you do. To be truly unique, you need to do/wear/listen to what you personally like, even if that means your taste aligns with mainstream preference. To be truly liberated in identity, you must often do exactly what your parents or others would approve of.
Don't be so afraid of being what you don't want to be that you avoid doing what makes you what you want to be because it looks like you are what you don't want to be. Be predictable. It's unpredictable.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Germany
I was struggling to find an intro for my portfolio project reflection paper (a Germany assignment due tomorrow), so I wrote down a bunch of things that came to mind. It explains things better than I could in a couple of hours.
What I liked about Germany: I experienced German culture. I got to hang out with a bunch of friends. I lived with my friends. I made new friends. I experienced what I learned in class. It was an adventure. I learned more about myself. I realized that I have a lot more to learn about myself. I came to love the Decemberists. I ate döners. I ate Nutella and apricot jam. I drank Mezzo Mix. I drank not a drop of drinking fountain water. I was free. It was an escape. It was a break. I worked. I studied. I washed dishes. 9-hour plane rides. 3-hour car rides. 10-minute bike rides. 5-minute walks. Coloretto, Pastiche, Resistance. I told the truth. I lied. I won. I lost. I felt death. I lived.
What I liked about Germany: I experienced German culture. I got to hang out with a bunch of friends. I lived with my friends. I made new friends. I experienced what I learned in class. It was an adventure. I learned more about myself. I realized that I have a lot more to learn about myself. I came to love the Decemberists. I ate döners. I ate Nutella and apricot jam. I drank Mezzo Mix. I drank not a drop of drinking fountain water. I was free. It was an escape. It was a break. I worked. I studied. I washed dishes. 9-hour plane rides. 3-hour car rides. 10-minute bike rides. 5-minute walks. Coloretto, Pastiche, Resistance. I told the truth. I lied. I won. I lost. I felt death. I lived.
Brain Crack
So, there's this guy on YouTube, and he mentioned an term this other guy devised: brain crack. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24prm3XjVgk
As he mentions in the video, brain crack is when you have an idea, especially one that you really like. However, rather than getting it out of your head and doing it, you turn it over a million times in your head, trying to perfect it. You do this so much that you end up becoming addicted to this "brain crack" and never put your "perfect" idea into action. Huh... creativity coming back again. Potential video for the class? B-Shak might like this.
Anyway, I think I might be addicted to brain crack... big time. So, in an effort to recover from my addiction (and at the same time getting my fix), here's a question for you: Is it better to live in a reality which you know to be false than to take drastic actions to discover a reality that will, in essence, send you into non-existence?
This has been shifting in my head for quite a while now. It's an idea for a story I have. Originally, it was going to be a story in which the characters gradually recognized the existence of the author and begin to rebel against him/her. But, over many fixes of brain crack, it changed into something entirely different (though I still like the other idea)--a story in which a character lives in a reality that is actually unreality and his journey to discover actual truth/reality. It draws on ideas from Descartes and the skeptics--all those who said we must start with doubt--as well as The Matrix, Inception, The Truman Show, 1948, Fahrenheit 451, and a host of other sources.
My basic point is this: When confronted with the truth--that reality is not reality at all--a person will strive to find true reality. It's the basis of a lot of movies. In Inception, the question of whether the totem topples or not, and whether that matters. In The Matrix, it's choosing the red pill. That Neo somehow always knew that things weren't right (that's a topic you see in a lot of places). The Truman Show and his similar search for the "real." 1948 and the importance of truth.
What I really want to drive home is the idea that the truth is of extreme importance. That one will go to great lengths to know it. I also want to include an aspect a lot of sci-fi shows and movies have used--that the character somehow knows things weren't quite right, and that it mattered.
Maybe one day I will be rehabilitated, saved from my addiction to brain crack. But it means failure. It means letdown and disappointment. But it also means progress. Bring it on...
As he mentions in the video, brain crack is when you have an idea, especially one that you really like. However, rather than getting it out of your head and doing it, you turn it over a million times in your head, trying to perfect it. You do this so much that you end up becoming addicted to this "brain crack" and never put your "perfect" idea into action. Huh... creativity coming back again. Potential video for the class? B-Shak might like this.
Anyway, I think I might be addicted to brain crack... big time. So, in an effort to recover from my addiction (and at the same time getting my fix), here's a question for you: Is it better to live in a reality which you know to be false than to take drastic actions to discover a reality that will, in essence, send you into non-existence?
This has been shifting in my head for quite a while now. It's an idea for a story I have. Originally, it was going to be a story in which the characters gradually recognized the existence of the author and begin to rebel against him/her. But, over many fixes of brain crack, it changed into something entirely different (though I still like the other idea)--a story in which a character lives in a reality that is actually unreality and his journey to discover actual truth/reality. It draws on ideas from Descartes and the skeptics--all those who said we must start with doubt--as well as The Matrix, Inception, The Truman Show, 1948, Fahrenheit 451, and a host of other sources.
My basic point is this: When confronted with the truth--that reality is not reality at all--a person will strive to find true reality. It's the basis of a lot of movies. In Inception, the question of whether the totem topples or not, and whether that matters. In The Matrix, it's choosing the red pill. That Neo somehow always knew that things weren't right (that's a topic you see in a lot of places). The Truman Show and his similar search for the "real." 1948 and the importance of truth.
What I really want to drive home is the idea that the truth is of extreme importance. That one will go to great lengths to know it. I also want to include an aspect a lot of sci-fi shows and movies have used--that the character somehow knows things weren't quite right, and that it mattered.
Maybe one day I will be rehabilitated, saved from my addiction to brain crack. But it means failure. It means letdown and disappointment. But it also means progress. Bring it on...
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Rainy Daze
"Jordan's not on the bus today." Those were the words I heard another student say while I was standing at the back of the bus, just before the third stop. That was my stop, and I was, in fact, on the bus that day. Being the assertive Kindergartner that I was... I sat back down. I sat the entire rest of the bus route without saying a word. When the school bus driver had finished his route, he was surprised to see a child all by his lonesome still on the bus. By the time he dropped me off where I belonged (at least half an hour later than usual), it was pouring rain and my mom had gone to the school, concerned about my absence. The door was locked, so I sat on the steps inside my garage for fifteen to thirty minutes as my mom made her way back home, listening to the rain fall outside.
Ever since then, I've loved the sound of rain. Not just the sound of the rain--I enjoy the feel of the air when it rains, the smell of the rain (though that's likely my imagination), and the way it looks as it drops to the ground. The sound of the rain completely mesmerizes me. I've often had to shake myself back to reality and away from the dreamland to which rain's melody takes me.
That's all. Go outside, sit under an awning, and listen to the rain the next time you get the chance. It's worth it.
Ever since then, I've loved the sound of rain. Not just the sound of the rain--I enjoy the feel of the air when it rains, the smell of the rain (though that's likely my imagination), and the way it looks as it drops to the ground. The sound of the rain completely mesmerizes me. I've often had to shake myself back to reality and away from the dreamland to which rain's melody takes me.
That's all. Go outside, sit under an awning, and listen to the rain the next time you get the chance. It's worth it.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Sin: Not a Mistake?
Just some thoughts of mine:
Omniscience. Omnipotence. Omnipresence. It's something most (if not all) Christians believe about God. If they were not true of God, He wouldn't be God, right? But what happens when you follow the rational course they present? I don't think many think about this.
"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Generally, I feel people use this according to specific situations, the "It'll be alright" verse. But can it be a little more universal? How far back can you take it, and how far forward?
God's omnipresence, omnipotence, and omniscience say this: God doesn't make mistakes. A simple statement, right? But take that far enough, believe it enough, and you get into some stuff people aren't too fond of. Christ's death - not a mistake. It's the foundation of our faith, after all. The choosing of Israel - not a mistake, for all its rough points. The promise to Abraham - definitely not a mistake. But take it way back and things get messy. How about the Fall of Man through Adam and Eve? Or how about the fall of Satan (whenever and however that was)? Kinda dicey. Because if you still believe that God doesn't make mistakes, that in all things He works for the good of those who love Him, you have some stuff you have to wrap your mind around.
You have to say that the creation of Satan was according to plan, not a mistake. My personal assertion, and the assertion of others, is that heaven will be a perfect--the most perfect "perfect"--place. And God's plan to get us there is also perfect. But if, as I just said, God's creation of Satan was not a mistake, then that means the fall he caused (both in humans and among angels) was also foreseen by God. Now, why would an omniscient God create Satan and man, knowing that both would be the cause of a lot of sin and death. My belief--and this is where things get offensive--is that a reality in which sin, pain, hunger, and death had been present is ultimately better--more perfect--than one in which they were not. In the end, something better comes out of pain/sin/death.
People don't like that. They take offense to the idea that their pain and suffering is part of some cosmic plan. It makes these things seem "good." It doesn't necessarily make them good, though. It's still not what it should have been, would have been; it's not what God intended (but at the same time, it is). It certainly doesn't make God the creator of sin, but I think He uses it as a tool, turning Satan's own game against him. It does fit into His perfect plan. If something else would ultimately have been more perfect, He would have made it so. No?
I'm no theologian. I could be way off. But I see this as a way to reconcile God's omniscience and omnipotence to the problem of sin. He certainly didn't cover his eyes and spin a top. He's got a plan. It's going to come together. And I love it when a plan comes together.
Omniscience. Omnipotence. Omnipresence. It's something most (if not all) Christians believe about God. If they were not true of God, He wouldn't be God, right? But what happens when you follow the rational course they present? I don't think many think about this.
"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Generally, I feel people use this according to specific situations, the "It'll be alright" verse. But can it be a little more universal? How far back can you take it, and how far forward?
God's omnipresence, omnipotence, and omniscience say this: God doesn't make mistakes. A simple statement, right? But take that far enough, believe it enough, and you get into some stuff people aren't too fond of. Christ's death - not a mistake. It's the foundation of our faith, after all. The choosing of Israel - not a mistake, for all its rough points. The promise to Abraham - definitely not a mistake. But take it way back and things get messy. How about the Fall of Man through Adam and Eve? Or how about the fall of Satan (whenever and however that was)? Kinda dicey. Because if you still believe that God doesn't make mistakes, that in all things He works for the good of those who love Him, you have some stuff you have to wrap your mind around.
You have to say that the creation of Satan was according to plan, not a mistake. My personal assertion, and the assertion of others, is that heaven will be a perfect--the most perfect "perfect"--place. And God's plan to get us there is also perfect. But if, as I just said, God's creation of Satan was not a mistake, then that means the fall he caused (both in humans and among angels) was also foreseen by God. Now, why would an omniscient God create Satan and man, knowing that both would be the cause of a lot of sin and death. My belief--and this is where things get offensive--is that a reality in which sin, pain, hunger, and death had been present is ultimately better--more perfect--than one in which they were not. In the end, something better comes out of pain/sin/death.
People don't like that. They take offense to the idea that their pain and suffering is part of some cosmic plan. It makes these things seem "good." It doesn't necessarily make them good, though. It's still not what it should have been, would have been; it's not what God intended (but at the same time, it is). It certainly doesn't make God the creator of sin, but I think He uses it as a tool, turning Satan's own game against him. It does fit into His perfect plan. If something else would ultimately have been more perfect, He would have made it so. No?
I'm no theologian. I could be way off. But I see this as a way to reconcile God's omniscience and omnipotence to the problem of sin. He certainly didn't cover his eyes and spin a top. He's got a plan. It's going to come together. And I love it when a plan comes together.
Friday, June 3, 2011
The Unwritten Heresy
Okay, so it's not that bad. But sometimes, it seems like it is. Confused? I would be. Interested? Probably not. Going to read anyway? Eh, you've got nothing better to do. (That's a lie.)
"You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an image.... You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God.... You shall not murder. You shall find for yourself a spouse as soon as humanly possible." Wait, what? Where'd I read that, again? Once again, it's really not as big a deal as I'm making it, but it gets under my skin sometimes (which is why I make it a big deal). People seem to be in such a hurry to get married, or "unsingle-ized," to use Link's vocabulary. Particularly in the church.
It's one of the things that's emphasized often in our churches (or at least the churches I've been to)--that marriage is the ideal, and anything before that is just a temporary state, a cocoon following adolescence and preceding married life. "You can't be a butterfly unless you're married" is what I hear (non-verbally, of course). You hear all this "When you get married..." or "When you have kids..." or my personal favorite: "When you get married, Lord-willing...." I get kind of sick of it. Like it's a bad thing to be single or something.
Thus we have singles' groups, eHarmony, blahbity-blah. Not that I'm trashing marriage, of course. It's a wonderful and sacred thing, I'm sure. I just hate getting these vibes that say, "Uh-oh, these people are single. Let's fix them." Luckily, I'm only 20 right now, so I can avoid being pitied for my unfortunate circumstances. But a few years down the road, and the story will be different. Then it will be, "How can we help you get married? Because, as you know, marriage is a prerequisite to a fulfilling and complete life." Stop feeling bad for singles. Because unless they're looking and longing for a partner, you're just being annoying. And there are few things worse than being "set up." Your intentions are nice and all, but think of the message it sends. "You're obviously not happy right now, or at least not as happy as you could be. You can't find love on your own (you'd be in a relationship now if you could) and I know you well enough to choose for you, so I'm just going to partner you with this one here. Now get along, get married, and get 'having children.' No thanks needed."
That's the unwritten heresy I'm talking about. If you're not married, you're outside the will of God. Nobody would say that, of course, but it's subconscious. In the church, (Am I repeating myself? I guess rants are like that.) marriage is idealized so much that people seem to tune Paul out. "It's better to be single" goes in one ear and out the other. Someone I who spoke at Cornerstone once (Christopher Yuan) put it well. "People are always saying, 'Okay, you can live the single life, but make sure you're called to it.' I would say that you should be even more sure that you're being called to be married." Thanks, Chris. I'll be a heretic with you.
This is the part where I realize I've gone overboard and reel things back in, making apologies and whatnot. But you know what? Screw it. I deserve to be cynical once in a while. I can indulge in an unorganized rant from time to time if I want to. So I'll remain a heretic for a little while longer, until the inevitable comes to pass and I'm turned from my evil ways.
"You shall have no other gods before me. You shall not make for yourself an image.... You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God.... You shall not murder. You shall find for yourself a spouse as soon as humanly possible." Wait, what? Where'd I read that, again? Once again, it's really not as big a deal as I'm making it, but it gets under my skin sometimes (which is why I make it a big deal). People seem to be in such a hurry to get married, or "unsingle-ized," to use Link's vocabulary. Particularly in the church.
It's one of the things that's emphasized often in our churches (or at least the churches I've been to)--that marriage is the ideal, and anything before that is just a temporary state, a cocoon following adolescence and preceding married life. "You can't be a butterfly unless you're married" is what I hear (non-verbally, of course). You hear all this "When you get married..." or "When you have kids..." or my personal favorite: "When you get married, Lord-willing...." I get kind of sick of it. Like it's a bad thing to be single or something.
Thus we have singles' groups, eHarmony, blahbity-blah. Not that I'm trashing marriage, of course. It's a wonderful and sacred thing, I'm sure. I just hate getting these vibes that say, "Uh-oh, these people are single. Let's fix them." Luckily, I'm only 20 right now, so I can avoid being pitied for my unfortunate circumstances. But a few years down the road, and the story will be different. Then it will be, "How can we help you get married? Because, as you know, marriage is a prerequisite to a fulfilling and complete life." Stop feeling bad for singles. Because unless they're looking and longing for a partner, you're just being annoying. And there are few things worse than being "set up." Your intentions are nice and all, but think of the message it sends. "You're obviously not happy right now, or at least not as happy as you could be. You can't find love on your own (you'd be in a relationship now if you could) and I know you well enough to choose for you, so I'm just going to partner you with this one here. Now get along, get married, and get 'having children.' No thanks needed."
That's the unwritten heresy I'm talking about. If you're not married, you're outside the will of God. Nobody would say that, of course, but it's subconscious. In the church, (Am I repeating myself? I guess rants are like that.) marriage is idealized so much that people seem to tune Paul out. "It's better to be single" goes in one ear and out the other. Someone I who spoke at Cornerstone once (Christopher Yuan) put it well. "People are always saying, 'Okay, you can live the single life, but make sure you're called to it.' I would say that you should be even more sure that you're being called to be married." Thanks, Chris. I'll be a heretic with you.
This is the part where I realize I've gone overboard and reel things back in, making apologies and whatnot. But you know what? Screw it. I deserve to be cynical once in a while. I can indulge in an unorganized rant from time to time if I want to. So I'll remain a heretic for a little while longer, until the inevitable comes to pass and I'm turned from my evil ways.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Hands, Wings, and Apple Pie
American Christians have too many right hands.
Yes, this is about Osama Bin Laden. I am contributing to the next Love Wins, I know. But I've thought about it for quite some time now, so I feel justified.
I just feel that American Christians feel the default political affinity for Christians must be Republican. And while I often would align with the Republican side of things, I still say some attention needs to be paid to the left. Having American Christianity saturated with right wings is, in my opinion, not a good thing. You need someone to hold you accountable, especially with the lack of objectivity that seems so prevalent today. Don't immediately jump to the Republicans' aid (or vice versa).
But I feel this is just a part of a larger problem. Christians in America can't seem to make the distinction between their faith and their political alignment. We're so "Go America!" that we lose track of our identities. We should be, first and foremost, Christians - followers of Christ. Jesus didn't bleed red, white, and blue all over the cross, if you remember. He didn't break apple pie at the Last Supper.
Now, I'm not anti-America--I happen to enjoy living in this country, in fact, and would serve the people in it--but we need a reality check. America is not God's country, no matter how you swing it. The Founding Fathers were not necessarily Christians (a few, including Jefferson, were deists). In fact, the ethics of the American Revolution itself is questionable from a Christian perspective. So remember that before you go all gung-ho about America's supremacy.
Like I said, I love this country and the people in it. In fact, my dream career would involve working long hours for this country. But my ultimate loyalty is to Christ, not America. And I would serve and die for this people, not the red, white and blue. But I realize my identity, I know my home. And it doesn't fly the American Flag out front.
So watch baseball, eat an apple pie at a picnic, and fly our nation's colors in your front yard. But realize who you are--not an American, but a Christian. If we do that, maybe then we'll be able to evaluate events with an objectivity worth our thought.
Yes, this is about Osama Bin Laden. I am contributing to the next Love Wins, I know. But I've thought about it for quite some time now, so I feel justified.
I just feel that American Christians feel the default political affinity for Christians must be Republican. And while I often would align with the Republican side of things, I still say some attention needs to be paid to the left. Having American Christianity saturated with right wings is, in my opinion, not a good thing. You need someone to hold you accountable, especially with the lack of objectivity that seems so prevalent today. Don't immediately jump to the Republicans' aid (or vice versa).
But I feel this is just a part of a larger problem. Christians in America can't seem to make the distinction between their faith and their political alignment. We're so "Go America!" that we lose track of our identities. We should be, first and foremost, Christians - followers of Christ. Jesus didn't bleed red, white, and blue all over the cross, if you remember. He didn't break apple pie at the Last Supper.
Now, I'm not anti-America--I happen to enjoy living in this country, in fact, and would serve the people in it--but we need a reality check. America is not God's country, no matter how you swing it. The Founding Fathers were not necessarily Christians (a few, including Jefferson, were deists). In fact, the ethics of the American Revolution itself is questionable from a Christian perspective. So remember that before you go all gung-ho about America's supremacy.
Like I said, I love this country and the people in it. In fact, my dream career would involve working long hours for this country. But my ultimate loyalty is to Christ, not America. And I would serve and die for this people, not the red, white and blue. But I realize my identity, I know my home. And it doesn't fly the American Flag out front.
So watch baseball, eat an apple pie at a picnic, and fly our nation's colors in your front yard. But realize who you are--not an American, but a Christian. If we do that, maybe then we'll be able to evaluate events with an objectivity worth our thought.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Unbounded Love
Christ loved, went the distance (in the fullest sense of the phrase possible), regardless of reciprocation. Crap... I guess that means we're called to the same level of sacrificial love. We're screwed...
What does that look like? I, personally, I am hesitant to make any sort of gesture if I feel it won't be reciprocated, especially when the risks and associated emotions are high. But if I am to imitate Christ, I am required to go out on a limb in sacrificial love, even for those I hate. Love my enemies, even when I know they will still hate me. No reservations. I have a hard enough time loving my friends like that, let alone those that irk me.
What I need to do is to keep sacrifice, unbounded love, in the forefront of my mind. Embrace the concept that I am only a peripheral character in somebody else's story. This is my calling. Not on my own strength. Heck no. I suck at this. Denying self and loving others is only something I can do with a divine intervention.
What does that look like? I, personally, I am hesitant to make any sort of gesture if I feel it won't be reciprocated, especially when the risks and associated emotions are high. But if I am to imitate Christ, I am required to go out on a limb in sacrificial love, even for those I hate. Love my enemies, even when I know they will still hate me. No reservations. I have a hard enough time loving my friends like that, let alone those that irk me.
What I need to do is to keep sacrifice, unbounded love, in the forefront of my mind. Embrace the concept that I am only a peripheral character in somebody else's story. This is my calling. Not on my own strength. Heck no. I suck at this. Denying self and loving others is only something I can do with a divine intervention.
A Change
Finals are right around the corner. The school year is drawing to a close. Life moves on... And I'm ready for a change of scenery. I don't know what it is, but I'm just ready for something different. Germany won't come at a better time. Three weeks away from most of the people I know best.
Don't get me wrong, I love those people a ton. But for some reason, I'm just in this state of mind where even the smallest idiosyncrasies get on my nerves for no reason at all. And I'm hoping that a change of pace will help me to adjust, whatever that looks like.
Last year, at about the same time, I went to Mexico, and it was one of the most formative experiences of my life. It shook up my thinking quite a bit. But I also became cynical about... well, about a lot of stuff. That cynicism faded in and out, but after the wear and tear of the year, it has come back in full force. And I'm hoping Germany will reverse that effect to some extent; I want Germany to be another formative experience.
I guess what I'm saying is that I need a change. A change before I come back to weddings, work, and [insert alliterating "w" word here]. And I just hope Germany will do that. My only worry is the effects of such a change. I have this (seemingly unfounded) worry that I'll come back a person my friends don't fully recognize. And I'm not sure if I'd be okay with that. Oh well, we'll just have to see.
P.S. If you want to get a look at the way my 15-year-old mind worked, or are simply looking for some cheap amusement, check this out: http://georgian-von-strangleheimer.xanga.com/
Don't get me wrong, I love those people a ton. But for some reason, I'm just in this state of mind where even the smallest idiosyncrasies get on my nerves for no reason at all. And I'm hoping that a change of pace will help me to adjust, whatever that looks like.
Last year, at about the same time, I went to Mexico, and it was one of the most formative experiences of my life. It shook up my thinking quite a bit. But I also became cynical about... well, about a lot of stuff. That cynicism faded in and out, but after the wear and tear of the year, it has come back in full force. And I'm hoping Germany will reverse that effect to some extent; I want Germany to be another formative experience.
I guess what I'm saying is that I need a change. A change before I come back to weddings, work, and [insert alliterating "w" word here]. And I just hope Germany will do that. My only worry is the effects of such a change. I have this (seemingly unfounded) worry that I'll come back a person my friends don't fully recognize. And I'm not sure if I'd be okay with that. Oh well, we'll just have to see.
P.S. If you want to get a look at the way my 15-year-old mind worked, or are simply looking for some cheap amusement, check this out: http://georgian-von-strangleheimer.xanga.com/
Saturday, April 9, 2011
I Just Want a Brain
There's such a rift in college between the different realms of education. The Math majors scoff at the Philosophy majors, saying "You don't know anything." The Philosophy majors chuckle and reply, "You can't know anything."
Seriously, though, there's such a disconnect between thinking concretely and thinking abstractly in college that it's difficult to get a well-rounded education, if that's what you're looking for. It's always business majors vs. humanities majors. Math majors vs. linguistics majors. Not necessarily that there is tension, conflict, or animosity between the two, but I feel that different majors and departments have a sense of superiority over the others.
But that drives me nuts, because I have an obsession with balance. Not only that, but I sincerely enjoy both ends of the spectrum. I want to read literature and dig into philosophy, while at the same time computing depreciation and learning business strategies. But I feel that I can't have the kind of balance I want.
I want math, and I want art. I want to reach in both directions and pluck knowledge from both trees. But it seems that they're planted so far apart, that I can't get one without the other. I can only have one cake. And I don't like that.
And my preoccupation with balance extends out of the realm of education, too. In personality tests, I don't enjoy being on either of the poles--I want something in the middle (in the Enneagram, I'm either a 5 or a 2). I recently took a test that determined whether you make decisions intuitively or logically, and I got the same score for both.
In arguments, I generally end up in the middle. "Why can't it be both?" I ask. At the very least, I want objectivity. Take the Rob Bell controversy. When I talk to and regard those jumping to condemn him (though even they aren't sure what that means), I tend to say, "Slow down, now. Don't be so quick to jump on him. Think it through." But when I talk to people that instantly side with Rob Bell, I say, "You slow down, too. Don't align yourself so quickly. Watch that bias of yours and look at the facts."
Even in video games, it rears its ugly head. To choose between fast and strong, or between long-range and short-range is always a problem. I want both.
All that to say I want balance. I want both. I don't like the idea of being either left-brained or right-brained. I just want a brain.
Seriously, though, there's such a disconnect between thinking concretely and thinking abstractly in college that it's difficult to get a well-rounded education, if that's what you're looking for. It's always business majors vs. humanities majors. Math majors vs. linguistics majors. Not necessarily that there is tension, conflict, or animosity between the two, but I feel that different majors and departments have a sense of superiority over the others.
But that drives me nuts, because I have an obsession with balance. Not only that, but I sincerely enjoy both ends of the spectrum. I want to read literature and dig into philosophy, while at the same time computing depreciation and learning business strategies. But I feel that I can't have the kind of balance I want.
I want math, and I want art. I want to reach in both directions and pluck knowledge from both trees. But it seems that they're planted so far apart, that I can't get one without the other. I can only have one cake. And I don't like that.
And my preoccupation with balance extends out of the realm of education, too. In personality tests, I don't enjoy being on either of the poles--I want something in the middle (in the Enneagram, I'm either a 5 or a 2). I recently took a test that determined whether you make decisions intuitively or logically, and I got the same score for both.
In arguments, I generally end up in the middle. "Why can't it be both?" I ask. At the very least, I want objectivity. Take the Rob Bell controversy. When I talk to and regard those jumping to condemn him (though even they aren't sure what that means), I tend to say, "Slow down, now. Don't be so quick to jump on him. Think it through." But when I talk to people that instantly side with Rob Bell, I say, "You slow down, too. Don't align yourself so quickly. Watch that bias of yours and look at the facts."
Even in video games, it rears its ugly head. To choose between fast and strong, or between long-range and short-range is always a problem. I want both.
All that to say I want balance. I want both. I don't like the idea of being either left-brained or right-brained. I just want a brain.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Confessions
I'm sorry.
I'm a narcissist. I'm sorry.
I'm insincere. I'm sorry.
I use people. I'm sorry.
I live a life full of hate. I'm sorry.
I despise people over petty things. I'm sorry.
I'm arrogant. I'm sorry.
I'm avaricious. I'm sorry.
I say and do things to make myself feel superior. I'm sorry.
I spew venom from my mouth. I'm sorry.
I ignore your needs. I'm sorry.
I think I know what's best for everyone. I'm sorry.
I'm prideful. I'm sorry.
I'm self-righteous. I'm sorry.
I take my blessings for granted. I'm sorry.
I don't act like I love God. I'm sorry.
I act as if God doesn't exist. I'm sorry.
I walk on the other side of the road. I'm sorry.
I'm very proud of myself for writing this. I'm sorry.
I'm trying.
I will know that you are more important than me. I'm trying.
I will say what I mean. I'm trying.
I will be sacrificial. I'm trying.
I will return your love and love you for who you are. I'm trying.
I will realize the little things are stupid. I'm trying.
I will know I'm not that big a deal. I'm trying.
I will give freely. I'm trying.
I will allow myself to be inferior to you, because I am inferior to you. I'm trying.
I will speak soothing words. I'm trying.
I will listen to and see what you need. I'm trying.
I will understand that I don't define your needs. I'm trying.
I will count it all as loss. I'm trying.
I will see and live true righteousness. I'm trying.
I will count my blessings. I'm trying.
I will show that I love God. I'm trying.
I will believe that God exists. I'm trying.
I will take you to the inn at my expense. I'm trying.
I will look at this and feel shame for my filth. I'm trying.
He can.
Though I try, I will fail. But He can succeed for me, has succeeded for me.
It's not about me. I am a peripheral character. He can use me as a peripheral character.
I can't do it on my own. He can win for me. He can love others. He can draw me to Himself.
He can.
I'm a narcissist. I'm sorry.
I'm insincere. I'm sorry.
I use people. I'm sorry.
I live a life full of hate. I'm sorry.
I despise people over petty things. I'm sorry.
I'm arrogant. I'm sorry.
I'm avaricious. I'm sorry.
I say and do things to make myself feel superior. I'm sorry.
I spew venom from my mouth. I'm sorry.
I ignore your needs. I'm sorry.
I think I know what's best for everyone. I'm sorry.
I'm prideful. I'm sorry.
I'm self-righteous. I'm sorry.
I take my blessings for granted. I'm sorry.
I don't act like I love God. I'm sorry.
I act as if God doesn't exist. I'm sorry.
I walk on the other side of the road. I'm sorry.
I'm very proud of myself for writing this. I'm sorry.
I'm trying.
I will know that you are more important than me. I'm trying.
I will say what I mean. I'm trying.
I will be sacrificial. I'm trying.
I will return your love and love you for who you are. I'm trying.
I will realize the little things are stupid. I'm trying.
I will know I'm not that big a deal. I'm trying.
I will give freely. I'm trying.
I will allow myself to be inferior to you, because I am inferior to you. I'm trying.
I will speak soothing words. I'm trying.
I will listen to and see what you need. I'm trying.
I will understand that I don't define your needs. I'm trying.
I will count it all as loss. I'm trying.
I will see and live true righteousness. I'm trying.
I will count my blessings. I'm trying.
I will show that I love God. I'm trying.
I will believe that God exists. I'm trying.
I will take you to the inn at my expense. I'm trying.
I will look at this and feel shame for my filth. I'm trying.
He can.
Though I try, I will fail. But He can succeed for me, has succeeded for me.
It's not about me. I am a peripheral character. He can use me as a peripheral character.
I can't do it on my own. He can win for me. He can love others. He can draw me to Himself.
He can.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Contendedness
"I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." Philippians 4:11,12
Now, Paul's talking about material needs here. But I feel that in America, we deal a little less than he did in material need. The concept of need and plenty materially isn't always as strong for us. However, emotional and locational need and plenty is something I believe we struggle with often. I have a hard time being truly content with where I am at this point in time. I constantly strive for that "when...", the thought that there is a point where I'll be where I need to be. Until then, I'm just on my way there. It's tough to be content.
I feel a lot of this has to do with a misunderstanding of contentedness. It's not being just okay with where you are. That's more like complacency. True contentedness is feeling sincerely joyful about the point where you are in this moment, joyful for the present, while looking to the future with similar joy and anticipation.
There are so many pressures that we feel. The pressure to achieve, to succeed, to graduate, to get married, to find God's calling for your life. Especially that last one. There's so much language about finding God's place for you in the world. And this is good. But I believe it is taken too far. We can't be so concerned about the future that we take our minds out of the present. At the present, what is God's will for you? You should strive to be where you are, and make the most of it. The future will come. It has to.
To be honest, I've felt content for the first time in a long time lately. Don't get me wrong, I haven't felt upset about my situations (well, not most of the time), but I haven't felt that present joy that contentedness brings. It has been mainly complacency. And if not that, I'm looking to the future for my "then." But lately, I've been able to look at my life and say, "This is the way it is. I love it. I wouldn't change it. And I'm excited for what will come." And it has been so freeing.
Not to say I don't plan. I do like to have an idea of what I would like my future to hold, but it's really no big deal. Things work out. But for now I live for today, and tomorrow I'll live for tomorrow. The horizon doesn't distract me as much any more.
So, I guess what I'm trying to say is: Look at your life. Are you content with where you are? Does your current situation fill you with joy (contrast with happiness)? If not, just ponder this for a while. I hope you can find peace through this.
Now, Paul's talking about material needs here. But I feel that in America, we deal a little less than he did in material need. The concept of need and plenty materially isn't always as strong for us. However, emotional and locational need and plenty is something I believe we struggle with often. I have a hard time being truly content with where I am at this point in time. I constantly strive for that "when...", the thought that there is a point where I'll be where I need to be. Until then, I'm just on my way there. It's tough to be content.
I feel a lot of this has to do with a misunderstanding of contentedness. It's not being just okay with where you are. That's more like complacency. True contentedness is feeling sincerely joyful about the point where you are in this moment, joyful for the present, while looking to the future with similar joy and anticipation.
There are so many pressures that we feel. The pressure to achieve, to succeed, to graduate, to get married, to find God's calling for your life. Especially that last one. There's so much language about finding God's place for you in the world. And this is good. But I believe it is taken too far. We can't be so concerned about the future that we take our minds out of the present. At the present, what is God's will for you? You should strive to be where you are, and make the most of it. The future will come. It has to.
To be honest, I've felt content for the first time in a long time lately. Don't get me wrong, I haven't felt upset about my situations (well, not most of the time), but I haven't felt that present joy that contentedness brings. It has been mainly complacency. And if not that, I'm looking to the future for my "then." But lately, I've been able to look at my life and say, "This is the way it is. I love it. I wouldn't change it. And I'm excited for what will come." And it has been so freeing.
Not to say I don't plan. I do like to have an idea of what I would like my future to hold, but it's really no big deal. Things work out. But for now I live for today, and tomorrow I'll live for tomorrow. The horizon doesn't distract me as much any more.
So, I guess what I'm trying to say is: Look at your life. Are you content with where you are? Does your current situation fill you with joy (contrast with happiness)? If not, just ponder this for a while. I hope you can find peace through this.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Where He Takes Us...
Sometimes, I'd rather be blindfolded when being led by the hand. The fog conceals the future, while the present is muddled, but clear. It would be so much easier to go through life unaware of all the twists and turns the God brings you through. No attachment, no unfulfilled hopes, no empty dreams. Just where you're going and God holding your hand. Instead, we let our hearts run free, holding onto something, though there lies an unseen turn just ahead. Then the turn comes, and what you thought was part of your final destination fades into the fog behind you, forgotten. So you decide to live unattached, without hopes, dreamless. Taking what comes along without putting stock in it. And you avoid pain and separation... for a while.
Then there comes a particularly unexpected twist. So unexpected, in fact, that all evidence points to this, a revelation from God--it's part of your destination, what you never saw coming. So you slowly, hesitantly grab hold of this new thought. At first you reject it. Then you consider it. Then you pursue it, but with caution. Then, you become attached to the point of pain, and something occurs to you--"If my hand gets pulled in the opposite direction, this will hurt." Because what was once felt like a nudge in that direction was nothing more than a casual bump. And you dread that turn, long for that detachment, because the turn would have come so easily, so unhindered had you just walked by, emotionless.
"But would it have been worth it to pass on by?" you wonder. "Had I not felt that nudge, made myself vulnerable, would I be as complete a person as I am now?" And you think, just maybe, even if you go through extreme pain at the turn, that the pain will have been worth it. It was a nudge, and you followed the signal. You were led through it, not past it. And you might never know, but you follow anyway. Led through the fog and the pain, holding onto what you know matters most beyond the shadow of a doubt, trusting that you aren't being led to your downfall. So just hold tighter. Don't let go. Be ready for the turn. But be ready to embrace what lies in your path, despite the pain that might ensue. And we continue on, for we are Followers.
Then there comes a particularly unexpected twist. So unexpected, in fact, that all evidence points to this, a revelation from God--it's part of your destination, what you never saw coming. So you slowly, hesitantly grab hold of this new thought. At first you reject it. Then you consider it. Then you pursue it, but with caution. Then, you become attached to the point of pain, and something occurs to you--"If my hand gets pulled in the opposite direction, this will hurt." Because what was once felt like a nudge in that direction was nothing more than a casual bump. And you dread that turn, long for that detachment, because the turn would have come so easily, so unhindered had you just walked by, emotionless.
"But would it have been worth it to pass on by?" you wonder. "Had I not felt that nudge, made myself vulnerable, would I be as complete a person as I am now?" And you think, just maybe, even if you go through extreme pain at the turn, that the pain will have been worth it. It was a nudge, and you followed the signal. You were led through it, not past it. And you might never know, but you follow anyway. Led through the fog and the pain, holding onto what you know matters most beyond the shadow of a doubt, trusting that you aren't being led to your downfall. So just hold tighter. Don't let go. Be ready for the turn. But be ready to embrace what lies in your path, despite the pain that might ensue. And we continue on, for we are Followers.
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