Newer Life

Today, I made beer with a good friend. A good friend who is on the "newer" side of my life.

Tomorrow, I will drive home and work on fixing my car with my dad. When I was growing up, I wouldn't be caught dead fixing my car with my dad. Somehow I thought I was too good for it, or it was too tedious, or it just wasn't pleasing. Right now, the idea of fixing my own car with the tutelage of my dad sounds like the best way to have a car be fixed. I'm looking forward to it. It will be fulfilling.
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A lot of things are on the "newer" side of my life. A lot of people that I spend the most time with now are not the friends I spent the most time with while in college.

A lot of the things I do in my spare time are not the things I did in my spare time in college.

I appreciate and consider my family and their place in my life now more than I ever have before.

The people I've known the longest are the people I seem to know the least anymore.
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I developed a strong attachment to nostalgia when I was in my senior year of high school. The sense of impending (and drastic) change created this self-awareness that the life that was most important then would not be important soon after. I knew, somewhere inside, that everything I was experiencing was soon not only going to be a memory, but it was going to FEEL like a memory. It wasn't going to be my life anymore.

And that's what happened.
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I moved away. I lost connections. I lost intimacy with nearly everyone I used to be close to. New things became important and old things became immature.

And I knew that was coming. I knew that the progressive characteristic of life was stronger than my nostalgia, so it was best served before the moment changed; in the moment where I could still appreciate what I was experiencing. People, places, conversations, passions, ambitions, jokes, events.
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Things seem to always be moving toward the next "newer." That isn't a bad thing, and most of you are saying, "duh!", but it is strange to wander into one of those moods where the pace that life seems to move at is so unstoppable and inevitable. I am obviously in one of those moods right now.

It is strange how life progresses, or has been progressing for me. Actually, it is only strange when I think back to some of my previous ambitions for how my life would be progressing. Where I thought I would be going/wanted to go isn't necessarily where I'm going/can go.

And that just makes me wonder. And remember.
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I remember when writing in this blog was one of the most important things to me. It still is. But it also isn't the same. It's meaning and place in my life has changed, in some ways out of necessity and others out of choice. But I remember how I used to think. I remember what this blog meant to me and where it meant I was going and what I was doing; this blog was the door frame that traced my height each week as I got taller, and taller, and taller. It was a marker, a measuring stick, an Ebenezer, that marked where I've been and where I'm going.

It was my little space that was proof that I existed and had something to offer the world in any way.

I remember that so clearly. And I miss it. It was fulfilling, it worked, and it was simple.
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When I look at this blog now, I feel a mixture of pride, guilt, sadness, and joy.

Pride that I was able to say things I believed and that meant something to me, and that a few people have found meaning in some of my words too.

Guilt that I haven't maintained it as what it used to be.

Sadness that the change in this blog suggests there is a change in me. Regardless of good or bad, this is a change I wish was different.

And joy that it is still here, even if less recent and full. It exists and can go with me as long as I'll have it.
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All this progress towards "newer" leaves so much behind. Not by choice, but by principle. "Newer" means that something current needs to become "older." People need to shift categories. Places, ideas, hopes, dreams, habits, books, movies, and almost everything else starts to shift categories just because one day ends and another comes.

And we can't take it all with us. We shouldn't. More importantly, we shouldn't want to. But isn't there a part of you that can appreciate the nostalgia you feel right now for the things that haven't even left yet? Because you know there are things you've left that you hardly miss, and that doesn't seem fair. You can't imagine that some of the things you have right now, the ones you know you won't have much longer, may one day not even be missed.

That is why nostalgia is most potent, for me, before something even changes.
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People are adaptive. I'm adaptive, you're adaptive, and the next person you think about is adaptive too. We progress into "newer" because it's the way the world is. It was made that way. And that is okay.

Good things come. Many of the best things in our lives are still far ahead of most of you that read this. Those of you who think that none of the best is still ahead of you, I bet you have a few surprises coming your way. And the same is true for me.
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I suppose the strongest nostalgic emotion I feel comes when I wonder which of my current motivating hopes or dreams will be the next I classify as "immature" or let go of. What is the next thing that plays such a crucial role in my life that will be replaced by something newer?
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I made beer tonight with a "newer" friend who is a great man. I live with a "newer" friend who is one of the most patient and calm people I've ever met. I'm dating a girl I barely knew till after my junior year, and she is wonderful.

I used to never want to work with my dad on my cars. The "newer" me finds that experience invaluable.

I wonder what's next.
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Peace.

Rest & Progress

As I lay in my bed staring at my alarm clock radio that is playing classical music fron NPR, the digital numbers change from 10:19pm to 10:20pm, and I think to myself "another minute of this life I can never get back." Then my glance shoots over to my movie poster of Donnie Darko and I daydream about the film I am working on with some friends and think about all the work that needs to be done and how unfulfilled my days seem right now and have seemed over the past 3 or so months. I think about how much more I want to do with my life and all the things I wish I was doing and making and creating. I think about the legacy I am not building.

10:21pm. And I lay in bed.
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First of all, I have to confess that my bed isn't really a bed-bed. It's a futon with a thick mattress that I never fold into a futon. I just thought it wouldn't be fair for you to be daydreaming about my current environment and have that detail be all wrong.

Secondly, I find myself constantly reverting back to a desire for progress.

I want progress in my life. I need to feel like I am going somewhere, like I am doing something larger with my life rather than just sitting and going about my routine while missing all the bigger things I could be a part of.
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I think some of this comes out of a recent narrative theology that I really like to think about. I only call it recent because it is something I came across about 4 years ago, although its been around for decades longer. Basically this theology says that we are all part of the story of this world and that the main plot is about God creating this world and everything in it (like us) and how the world didn't obey God so it got all mucked up. Then God sends his Son to the world to fix it once and for all through a sacrificial, not disciplinary way, and now the world is slowly being fixed through its own efforts, but those are only possible because of what God's son did. And the end of the story is that someday God's son will come back again and really fix everything once and for all and all the progress we will have made will be peanuts compared to what he will do.

Peanuts. All our progress will be peanuts.
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I am caught in between these 2 ideas. This idea that we all play an, all things considered, very small role in the story of this world but it is our role and we must play it. And that is a role where we move in ways that reveal who God's son is and show people what he has done.

But that isn't the only story we think about.

As a matter of fact, it is probably not even the story we think about most often. The story we think about most often is the one where we are the main character. We live that story every moment of our lives, so it is no surprise that it is a big deal to us.

Now, isn't it interesting to think that there are basically 2 billion people all over the world all thinking the exact same thing as us? We have 2 billion people all thinking that the most important story is the one about them. 2 billion more-important-than-everyone-else's stories.
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This blog isn't to talk about how our stories aren't the focus of our lives. I think that is true, but the question that inevitably comes is, "well then how do I live my story in meaningful ways that contribute to the larger story of God and this world while also feeling like my story is worthwhile and fulfilling?" The reason I won't talk about that is because it is going to be very different for every person and there are other people who have written better answers to that question than I could ever dream up.

No, this blog is about rest and progress. Yes, we have work to be done and yes we may always feel like we are not doing all that we should (especially if we are unhappy and antsy in our current stage of life). At the same time, I have found it helpful to think about the way God created us.

Don't worry, this isn't the part of the blog where I start quoting Lady GaGa (although she is awesome).

Just think about all the options and choices God had when he made us. God chose to make us beings that get tired. He chose to make us beings that need sleep every single day. He chose to make us people who needed rest and who couldn't just work and work and work and build and build and build. We get to points where we must stop and our bodies demand rest.

If progress was all that mattered to God, then he could have made us differently.
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There is something to that, I think. There is something that is important to understand that sometimes the clock might just tick and tick and tick and that is okay. Just because we can see the clock ticking doesn't mean we have done something wrong or aren't doing something right. Sometimes it just means that it's bed time. Or it's nap time. Or it's the weekend. Or Ghost Whisperer is on and there are another 14 minutes until Without A Trace comes on. You get it.
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This is not a blog to encourage sloth. Laziness is a captivating and evil little guy that only grows worse and worse until we somehow pull ourselves out of it and feel the sunlight and recognize the err of our ways. All I want to say is that there are seasons in life just like there are seasons in the year and their are different times of day. Some of those seasons may be slow, but just take that to mean that other parts of your story are right around the corner. And I bet you that coming season will be a little more exciting than where you've just been.
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Remember, God rested on the 7th day.

10:44pm. Sweet dreams.
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Peace.

The Christian's Goal

I have often misunderstood what my goals are supposed to be since I have been a Christian. At one time or another, all of the following have been my goals as a Christian: tell others when they were doing something wrong, get others to follow Jesus, be as pious as possible, be nice to others, get to heaven when I die, and help change the world.

I’m sure there are a host of others I was hell-bent on, and to be fair all of these goals are still goals I have in my faith in some respect. They are a lot more complicated to me than the simple list you just read, but they still exist in my faith in and are priorities. I think a problem arises when these smaller tangible goals become paramount and the primary matters in our faith.

We start detaching these little goals from what I believe the real goal of being a Christian is: to present Christ to the world through your life.
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To be fair, in some situations that will mean telling people when they are doing something wrong, or very directly telling a person about who Jesus Christ is, or simply being kind and graceful to a person who needs to be treated that way. All of those goals I listed are actually just little practices that are part the larger goal of showing the world who Jesus is.
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My biggest stumbling block hasn’t actually been being stuck on one of those smaller goals I listed above. My hang-up has been that I have become short-sighted with my own change as a person. I started to believe that the goal of being a Christian was becoming more of who I am supposed to be and less who I am.

Although the process my sanctification and redemption is very important, it shouldn‘t be what my faith is all about.
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We don’t love the process for the process’ sake (although we do start to really enjoy its challenges and rhythms). Instead, we change who we are because we want to point to Christ. Think about what you would feel when someone, anyone, Christian or not, gets a clearer vision or experience of Christ because of something you were a part of.

You will feel joy.

This is the realization that I think fuels the writers of the New Testament; the same people that urge us to endure, to hold on, and to rejoice in our sufferings. It is not only because of a reward we will receive for ourselves later, but also because we truly believe we are doing a service to Christ and others. We are helping restore the most important relationship that could exist; we are restoring people to see Christ.
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I’ve always marveled at the people whose faith has seemed so strong and consistent that they carry this sense of peace and joy with them no matter what. And I wonder if those things come out of a very clear sense of what they are doing, why they are doing it, and how they feel about what they are doing.

And don’t misunderstand me to be using the word “doing” to mean any kind of specific task or project. I mean the way people live their lives holistically. I’m sure there are some very specific things they are involved in or practices they faithfully keep, but I am talking about the way these believers do everything.
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I, for one, have become guilty of being really enamored with the beauty of what I consider the personal process of being a Christian. The subtle, slow, graceful, sometimes painful, sometimes reliving process of being restored and renewed and reclaimed as something I was meant to be. It brings me to tears to think about the memories I have of specific moments where I suddenly became conscious that it was happening in that very moment. It is a beautiful process that I have fallen in love with.

Even still, that process can become so romanticized and euphoric that it is almost like a drug. And when the process is more painful and than relieving, we are stranded on this isle of dissatisfaction looking at the coast wondering where all the joy went.
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That is a malformed lens to see our faith in because we have made it about us (making our faith about us is something we are incredibly good at). To have the source of our joy be our mission to point to Jesus makes it less about us, more about Jesus, and more about others. If we can have confidence that that is why we are here and what we are always working towards, then perhaps our joy won’t be so fleeting. Perhaps, as well, we will be more able to see ourselves as part of something larger than our own salvation; we can choose to be part of the redemption of everything in this world.

Now that is a joyful thought.
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Peace.

New Sel(ves)

Transitioning out of college has not been the smoothest thing for me. By no means has it been awful, but it has been a substantial adjustment. It has been a challenge to find the best ways to invest myself and find a healthy rythm that is feels more life-giving than life-restraining.

Part of this grew out of some serious faith questions I was trying to reconcile in my mind and my life after being more aware of the way scripture came to be the authority in a faith that existed 300 years without it. And now it has become such a trump card in some conversations that I just couldn't shake my discomfort with that kind of dynamic for a long time.

Combine that with being put into (in my opinion) a hyper-Christianese and Christian subculture environment where theological and moral conservatism was the well established norm for the first 2 months after graduation, and a jaded apathetic 22-year-old is what you are bound to get. And that is what I was and am slowly moving out of.
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I am now slowly trying to reinstitute habits and disciplines that I have been frustrated and antagonistic with for the past year or so. Principally, this includes reading sections of the bible and trying to let the teachings on morals and conducting life offer me advice that I will take seriously and not simply turn a cold shoulder too.

I'm trying to let the love that motivates me to live again in the place I first discovered it.

That can be a tall order when you have moved beyond that for a substantial period of time.
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I have been pleasantly surprised with how seamlessly I seem to have been able to step back into feeling motivated and convicted by scripture. I am in no way depressed about that or anything of the sort. Actually, I am just very glad that my response hasn’t been cynicism. I have been in times where I really enjoy and like being cynical because cynicism is deceptively satisfying but even more so it is secretly corrosive.

I started reading Colossians because it seemed like a small commitment incase my ability to ingest Scripture hadn’t returned yet and I wasn’t going to be running into any ridiculous culturally relative ideas that were going to tire me out and give me an excuse to side-step any kind of ideas of relevance in the text.

As I read, everything felt familiar just like the years old pen marks of underlining and bracketing certain sections and phrases that were once newly profound and freshly perspective-changing. It felt familiar but challenging because of how much I had forgotten.

I had forgotten the sterness and the urgency with which Paul (or a compadre) would write. I had forgotten about the earnestness and the sense I got that he wanted things to be better for me and anyone else who read his words. I had forgotten the ways his sentences would remind me of the unhealthy and deplorable ways I was thinking and acting throughout the days. I had forgotten what it was like to want to become the way those words described a person who loved God with their life.
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In Colossians 3, the terminology of new self and old self comes up. The idea is that we are new when we believe and have faith in Jesus and the old self is a process of removing. Piece by piece old attributes of our personalities and desires flake away as new values and actions are molded and welded to us like an armor that cannot be removed.

I thought about how I sometimes go through stages and seasons where I feel renewed and different and like there is a new motivation in life thrusting me forward. In some ways, that seems really flippant when I think about what Paul is talking about here.

Ultimately, I should be new in permanent ways since I was about 15 or 16-years-old (when I became a Christian) that are unlike my “old self.” And I think that has happened. I think there are a ton of worldviews, mindsets, practices, demeanors, and overall character items that have been stripped away from me and that I have little engagement with anymore.

At the same time, I recognize my ability to become overwhelmed in different periods of time with the situation at hand and really do become a different form of myself. I become altered in my behaviors and thoughts and priorities because I haven’t set up a foundation that doesn’t shift with the changing times. And that is my mistake.

I recognize that putting on the new self is a life-long process and I am beyond thankful for that. Still, I think there is something to be said for striving for a solid consistency in practice and personality that transcends who we are because of what we believe. And that bedrock is what I am looking to create and foster now. Better late than never.

We are part of a never-ending growth process while always being the same new self. What a challenge.
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Peace.

Faith By Faith

Sometimes I really struggle to define what it is within me that makes me a Christian; what it is inside of anyone that makes them a Christian.

I say "inside" or "within" because I certainly feel as though I have moved beyond the idea that anything can externally make someone a Christian.  You are not a Christian because you have a cross tattooed on your arm.  You are not a Christian because you sit in a pew on Sundays.  You are not a Christian because you buy organic foods, or because you vote Republican, or even because you listen to Christian music, read Christian books, or have Christian friends.

Being a Christian is an individual stamp that lies on the hearts of those who have it; it isn't something you get simply by being in the right places at the right times with the right peoples.  It is something that is specifically true or not true of YOU.

Now, I want to just be clear that people don't mistake what I'm saying here.  I do not want to suggest that community is unimportant to Christianity or Christians.  Actually, I passionately believe the exact opposite.  But my point is that although community and others can introduce you to the Church, its members, its practices, its beliefs, and even its savior, it is not up to them whether or not you become a Christian.

Others cannot do what it takes for you to become a person of faith; it is something you must choose, accept, take part in, enter into, etc.  You must be the one who owns the faith you claim, or who must be honest about faith being absent.

Already I am wary of some of my terminology that seems incredibly influenced by this culture and Western Christianity by saying things like "lies on the heart" and so on.  I think my dislike of that phrase and the fact that I still use it highlights something interesting:

Defining what is happening or has happened to make or maintain a person a Christian is difficult to articulate.  After all, it is a spiritual occurrence, so maybe sprawling out to define it is pointless.  But I always seem to come back to this idea of the amount of faith a person has.

There are a few things that complicate this to me.  First off, it certainly seems that some people have more faith than others, even when both are Christians and both know and have experienced similar things.  Secondly, I know many people in my life, including myself, struggle to feel as though our faith secures us or is something that often feels like a strong support we can lean on.  Perhaps the simple answer is that we are all skeptics, but the constant questions about how this can really be true and why do these things make sense seems to be an ever present reality for many people who are part of the Christian faith.  Thirdly, people do not seem to know how to increase their faith, or if that is even possible.  And there is the kicker.

If some people have more faith than others, but those who have less are incapable of getting themselves to have more faith, then some within the faith are stuck in places for a long time that are full of questions and doubts that range from interesting to debilitating.  And to me, this has been very confusing.

So we have faith and we believe, but that is something that we sort of just have and cannot seem to manifest on our own or increase.  Then there seems to be only one possible conclusion we can come to:

God is the one who supplies our faith.

Although in some ways that idea is really romantic and seems to reference back to the sovereignty of God, it doesn't come without raising more questions.

If God is the one who supplies our faith, then why isn't everyone a Christian?  If God supplies our faith, why has he given some of us more faith than others?  If God supplies our faith, why do some people seem to lose faith or why would God seem to take back faith He gave in the first place?

These questions don't have easy answers and I'm not sure the people who are asking these questions want answers as much as they want everyone else to be bothered by them too.  But here is the one idea that I have been trying to wrestle and live with: if God supplies our faith than we should pursue God in hopes that we are rewarded with faith.  And we need to ask God for faith.

After all, all things come from God.  That idea is peppered throughout scripture time and time again.  But, think about all the things that we see people having but don't really think about that coming from God as much as being the reward for that person's efforts and discipline.

For example, pick a person who is incredibly advanced in any academic discipline.  Physics, history, medical science, mathematics, it doesn't really matter the discipline.  If all things come from God then the knowledge that person attains or possesses has to have come from God.  But we never talk about it that way.  We rarely say, "Oh man, Steve has really been given a lot of physics knowledge by God."  No.  We never say anything like that.  We attribute the knowledge Steve has through his own efforts, and we need to do that.  We cannot forsake the effort we put into things and the rewards we then receive for those things.

However, there needs to be a both/and in this situation.  What I mean by that is simply that when it comes to our faith, yes it is something that comes from and is supplied by God.  But, we need to recognize that our faith is something we receive as the fruits of our own efforts, similar to the way individuals who do a substantial amount of studying will often attain more knowledge as the fruits of those efforts.

Our faith is something God supplies, but he supplies us based on our effort and desire for that faith.

So maybe we need to reassess how we think about our faith.  Perhaps we need to reassess our efforts and practices before we go pointing the finger at God for not supplying us with a more substantial faith when the majority of our actions spit in the face or are indifferent to the existence of our faith.

Maybe we need to ask God for help and for more faith.  And that very prayer, that very prayer, can be something we will reap the fruit of in our own faith.

Peace.

I Never Saved Anyone

I think sometimes when we talk about our faith and about the way we are trying to reach people who aren’t Christians, we aren’t talking about things in a very adequate way. I have heard many people say things like, “we want to save the lost.” There are a couple problems with phrasing things about faith and people in this way.
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First off, it calls people “lost.” Now, I am in no way suggesting that people who aren’t Christians are, in some sense, lost, but I am suggesting that labeling them as “the lost” is probably a little unhelpful. I would suggest that we would be better off talking about people who aren’t Christians the way we would talk about them if they were right there with us. I don’t think I would ever refer to someone as being one of “the lost” or being “lost” in general to their face because they weren’t a Christian.

 The main reason I wouldn’t do that is because I don’t think it is helpful to label someone in that way because people aren’t receptive to labels a lot of times (although I may just be taking my own distaste for being labeled and projecting that on others). It just doesn’t seem likely that anyone, at least people here in this college setting, would be very welcoming of being told that they are “lost.” We might be better off calling people who are “the lost” as simply people who don’t think Jesus is the Son of God; we can just say they aren’t Christians and that can be sufficient.
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Secondly, did you notice that the phrase suggests that we are the one doing the saving? “We want to save the lost.” That implies that “we” have the power to save someone. I don’t have the power to save anyone. Christ is the one who saves, not me and not you. Even when my friend first told me about Jesus and Christianity when I was in high school, that person wasn’t not the one who saved me, Jesus was the one who saved me. You see, we cannot fall into a mindset that neglects to recognize that the fate of people lies outside our grasp and is actually in the hands of Christ. I don’t save people and neither does anyone else.

The way that I think about it is that although my friend Tim was one of the primary people who shared what he knew of Christianity, he was not the one who saved me nor was he even the primary player in me coming to Christ. Everything from cheesy bumper stickers to films to music lyrics to my parents to friends to radio talk show hosts had a hand in forming what my opinion of God was and got me to a place where when Tim spoke to me I would be receptive.

In that sense, my fate was barely in Tim’s hands at all; my fate was in the hands of hundreds of people before I even met Tim!
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Now, I am in no way attempting to discount the act of evangelism or say that we aren’t to share our faith. Please don’t think that is what I’m trying to say. What I am suggesting is that the pressure we put on people to tell others about Jesus in very explicit and direct ways can sometimes be encouraging those people to think that the fate of “the lost” is in their hands. I just do not think that is true.

The fate of those people is in Christ’s hands alone and the moment we let ourselves think (or pressure others to think) that we are responsible for the souls of people is the moment we are completely disrespecting the work of the cross.
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People do accept Jesus as being what the Bible claims He is and people do become Christians after hearing the stories from the Gospel books. That is a truly wonderful thing and I am certain it brings God much joy. However, I think we need to recognize that if we are the individuals who are telling people the stories from the Gospel or we are telling people who Jesus is, then we need to recognize that it has taken that person their entire life to get to that point where they have become open to accepting those truths.

We cannot think that we are responsible for that person’s soul. We are simply the last straw on a pile full of hundreds of thousands previous straws that finally broke the back.
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I never saved anyone nor will I ever. I pray that I am just one straw in the lives of many many people who are all getting closer to the breaking point of following Jesus.
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Peace.

Failing

I live in an environment where the idea of failing is brutally scary. Failing, specifically in an educational setting, carries both an individual and communal aspect to it.

In one sense, failing or not failing carries some dehumanizing effect of how you, as an individual, either are or are not "satisfactory" in the things you do.  On the other hand, failing is what separates you as unfit to remain a part of a community; failing means you don't belong.  This two-seamed meaning of what it is to fail in my current setting makes having "failed" be just about the last thing you want to be true of yourself.
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There are, of course, other ideas and applications of the term failing.  In general, to fail at something means that not only did you not do something particularly well but whatever you did was so poor that it wasn't even acceptable.

However, interestingly enough, knowing the origin these standards of acceptability or otherwise is really important.  This is because it is important to differentiate between the standards we set for ourselves and the ones which are mandated to us by others.  Both have obvious weaknesses and, in effect, will claim something of us in an oversimplified way that is very problematic.  Even still, we are constantly being graded either by ourselves or by others.  Sometimes we pass, sometimes we fail.

Such is life.
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What I think is most important is how we handle the situations we find ourselves in whenever we are on the brink of failing.

It is clear to me that I often have standards set for myself which are very unforgiving and offer little grace even in their existence.  I suspect others have a habit of setting up for themselves equally unfair standards and being substantially bothered when they "fail."  Sometimes it seems to point to a lack of self-dicipline and the inability to follow through with what we start.  But I don't think that is the whole story.

I think that if we are honest with ourselves we can say that a lot of us push ourselves too hard.  We bite off more than we can chew.  We accept responsibility for things to the extent that our responsibilities outweigh our abilities.  That isn't to say our abilities are poor or that we don't have anything to offer.  I would say that it has more to do with the fact that we are believing in an illusion that we must be these productive efficiency machines which need no rest and seem to run better with the more there is to do.

I don't think that is an accurate depiction of what people essentially are, and we become painfully aware of that when we look in the mirror or when we "fail."  Yet, that doesn't mean we compromise our expectations or standards, rather we just loathe the image in that mirror and whatever it represents: us.
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Consider as well the standards that differentiate "failing" or not that are often instituted to us.  These standards divide us into two groups: satisfactory and unsatisfactory.  Such a separation suggests that whatever the task at hand, it has something to say about your worth to the community at hand.  Now, no doubt there are communities and environments where only those with a specific skill set are needed or useful, but those communities are fewer and further between than the majority of situations in which I think we find ourselves.  Instead of simply understanding that this moment of failing is more to do with overall circumstances and our ability to complete some very specific task, we take this assessment to extend to our worth as an overall individual.  And to be labeled as a failure, a blanket statement over all that we are, is more painful than we can necessarily comprehend outside of the experience.

It is beyond sad.
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It is sad because it isn't true.  It is sad because the idea of failing has penetrated our understanding of who we are as people.

Failing is damaging because we allow whatever task at hand, whether assigned to us or a challenge of our choosing, to define us.  Our identity becomes wrapped up in what we can or cannot do; and specifically what others have to say about our abilities.

Allowing our identity to become wrapped up in what other people have to say of us is very risky.  Whatever affirmation we do receive from people is fleeting in much of its essence (which is why affirmation is consistently needed again and again).

And so it becomes necessary to define ourselves differently than we do or what people have to say about what we do.  We must have identity in something else.
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This is a very difficult and very uncomfortable transition to go through.  But I do think it is a good transition.  It's a transition into a kind of identity that has longevity.  It's a transition into believing things about ourselves that dont have to adjust at the whims of others opinions.

And that is good because peoples opinions are fickle.

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You can "fail" and it's okay.  People will still value you for the most part and the ones that don't aren't so important.  But the really big things that matter the most wont change.  Things that are bigger than you, things that define who you are because of the fact God created you and He only creates things that are good, won't shift or rattle.  They'll be consisent.  Even if you fail.

You can't fail out of God's love.
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Peace.

Bad Reflections

"Love your neighbor as yourself"

Mark 12:31
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I, probably like most of you, will have that phrase stuck in my head for (hopefully) the rest of my life.  And that isn't such a bad thing.  This statement has a lot to say about God and who He is and what He wants.

And there are two sides to that story.
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Side one speaks to many people who fail to recognize the far reaching implications of the word "neighbor."  Neighbors, in this context, are not just your community, not just your friends, not just your family, and not just your country.

We are all neighbors.
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The far-reaching potential of the implementation of this phrase is litterally life changing, then.  This kind of thing changes the world.  And although so many of us know this phrase and grasp this aspect of the story, the phrase goes unnoticed.  It is just as unappreciated as the man who originally spoke the words.  Unfortunately.

However, the implementation of this phrase doesn't end the debates of how love looks and what kind of actions can be considered appropriate in the difficult contexts.  Can't love look like many different things on the surface?  Yes, probably.  Can't love be unrealistic?  Yes, probably.  Won't we find ourselves in situations where loving one person means not loving another?  Yes, probably.  Isn't it difficult to decipher whether justice and love are one in the same or one is being neglected over the other?  Yes, probably.

That doesn't change the fact that after loving God, this is our primary command as people.

Period.
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So stew on that, I suppose.  The questions above have been around and will be around for a long time, I imagine, because it's hard to answer them in an adequate way; a way that doesn't seem to compromise some other value deep within us that is a part of the way we were created.  Whether those are desires for justice or fairness or equality, they embody something true about the world, but they are subordinate to love.  Or at least should be.
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And so we find ourselves on the other side of the conversation about this original statement.  The "as yourself" part.

Now what I see as inherently a part of this statement is the assumption that you, yourself, are valuable and deserving of love.  You are, after all, everyone else's neighbor just as they are all yours, aren't you?

If you aren't worth loving and it is acceptable to hate yourself, then this statement is basically asking you to do no more than to hate all your neighbors, and that doesn't seem to do much good.  Some people might argue that does some good and reflects how the world is, but I don't think those people are right.
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I think I have seen people get to a place where what they see in the mirror isn't what they want to see.  And so they hate what it is a reflection of.

Them-self.
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What becomes problematic about this is that this statement seems to carry some weight to these individuals, however, and so they desire to still treat others well.  They want to love their neighbors.  And that is good.  They should.

But what they fail to realize is that this statement also comments on the inherent value of people.  The inherent value of not only your neighbors, but of yourself.

They fail to see that no matter how bad that reflection gets and no matter how much our neighbors fail to love us the way they love themselves, God loves us.  God loves you.  He loves me.  And He loves our neighbors.  Which are again, you and me (among others, of course.).
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God is love.  And to think that he is anything else first and foremost is a misunderstanding of the person of God which leads to numerous misunderstandings of who we are and who our neighbors are.  What a grave mistake that could be.

What damage that could do to the world.
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There may be things to be mad about.  I won't doubt that.  There may be things to be sorry about.  I'm sure there are plenty.  There may be things to regret.  I'm positive that's also true.

But none of those facts affect whatsoever that you are loved and it is right and appropriate to accept that love for yourself.

Love yourself and know that is okay, because God loves you too.  And He only loves what is good.

You are good.
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Peace.

Moving Pictures

I am taking 2 cinema classes this semester which each are requiring to watch or 'read' a combined total of at least 31 movies.  And I think I'm actually really going to love that.
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I really love movies.

I actually tend to call them 'films,' but not because I think it is more appropriate or actually means anything inherently different than 'movie' (although it very well may indicate something very different), but basically because I think it makes me sound more informed or cultured.

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The reason I love 'films' are because of their ability to help me feel less lost in my own life.  They remind me that I'm not crazy for the things I think and feel.

Films can display stories and characters that embody emotions and thoughts and feelings that are very real and that I have experienced in my own life.  A lot of times, when I experience these emtions or think these thoughts I tend to not really trust myself and feel as though I'm not reacting appropraitely or basically that I'm crazy.

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But in films, I see stories that are real and people react in appropriate and believable ways, and the reason that is so comforting is because those characters (often but not always) react the same way I do.

And if they handle life and respond the same as me, then I guess I'm not crazy.

Or we all are.  In either case I can live with it.

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Peace.

Christmas

It is Christmas, and I'd be lying if i didn't feel conflicted about today, and the season, and the way we typically celebrate it.

Now just for clarification, this will not be a rant where I condemn the American understanding and celebration of Christmas.  This post is just some thoughts I've been having the last couple weeks, and they will probably all be things you already have thought of yourself.
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My status on facebook today is, "Merry Christmas friends! Jesus was born to show us what life with God looks like, what our lives should be, and to take our sins that we could not bear. Remember his love for you and others. You are loved and in need of such love! Thanks be to God!"

I mean those words, and I really wish that the way that I celebrated the Christmas season reflected that those words are what this holiday is about.  But, honestly, I feel off because I don't see those words in my celebration of this season.  And that makes me feel sad and kind of disappointed.
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There is no one to blame but myself, but I very much let this season transition into being about 2 different things: excess and rest.

Rest I'm okay with.  I think that rest is an appropriate way for me to experience these few weeks considering what just ended in my college semester and what is upcoming in the next.  And truth be told, I've been resting but I've also been productive.  It seems like, more than anything else, I've been resting from social interaction and have kind of retreated back to a place where responsibility is low and I'm pretty free to do what I'd like when I'd like.  Truly, I am thankful for this aspect of my Christmas season.  It is rewarding and gives me the freedom to be productive in ways I really value.

Excess, I think, is where a lot of my discomfort is coming from.  I'd bet that many people in similar settings to myself would say that during the holiday seasons at home with family, there just seems to be "more" of just about everything.  This doesn't have to be a bad thing whatsoever; after all, I do think that celebrating and joy is such an important thing in Christianity.  Even still, I think that my experience with excess isn't always based purely out of celebrating joy because of Christ, but out of my own selfish desire for "more."  That is prompts me to keep spending more and eating more and taking more and more and more and more.  The thing that makes it difficult is that I've become somewhat aware of it, and that is what springs this difficulty; no one likes experiencing discontinuity in him/herself.
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A lot of my friends have been using the phrase "wait and hope."  That is an accurate way to think about this season, wait for in what you have hope.  Either way, I think I'm aware I wasn't waiting for anything this Christmastime.  As a matter of fact, there was no preparation on my part, no waiting, no anxiousness, no desiring for what is to come... none of that was present in my spirit.
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I really feel impoverished by the lack of those things in my attitude towards Christmas this year, and those things are the focus of the Advent season.  It may be safe to say that my mishandling of Christmas was prompted by my lack of involvement with the Advent season.  Needless to say, I wish I had handled that better.

It is understandable, though, to be caught up in a fast-paced time and miss what is important; happens all the time.  All that to say, no one is to blame and although I know what Christmas is about and should be about I wish I had given the season the demeanor and attention it deserved.
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This time is about Jesus.  It's not about me.

It's remembering and waiting and celebrating and thankfulness and joy.

Jesus did come.  He was born do the best things that could be done for us.  He came to do things we could not do for ourselves.  He came to save us, because we are loved.

Show others that love, know you are loved, and know you are in need of that love.

I truly wish all of you a very very Merry Christmas time, full of love that brings joy and thankfulness.
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Peace.