who killed Jesus?

Who killed Jesus? The Jews? The Romans? Our sin?

Here's a little something Max Lucado wrote that really hit me hard:

"Not once did Christ use his supernatural powers for personal comfort. With one word he could've transformed the hard earth into a soft bed, but he didn't. With a wave of his hand, he could've bommeranged the spit of his accusers back into their faces, but he didn't. With an arch of his brow, he could've paralyzed the hand of the soldiers as he braided the crown of thorns. But he didn't."

Jesus allowed himself to be killed.

speechless

Just got home, after seeing PASSION at the cinemas this morning. I went with my friends, and all of us were hooting and hollering and having a good time before the lights darkened. We sunk into our seats, giddy and playful. The scene unfolded, the movie played out. The curtains fell. All of us were quiet--we stood, and quietly walked out the door. Crying everywhere. Tissues being wiped across faces. Heads low. Eyes distant. I looked at one of my friends, and he seemed completely out of it, staring into space. The entire movie flashed back and forth in my mind, from the gruesome scenes to those that touched my heart. I'd always known about how gruesome the torture and crucifixion had really been, quite contrary to those little, placid tidbits played out on earlier Jesus movies. I'd read many books detailing the torture and crucifixion. But not till today had I seen it in my own mind, and atop all of that was a higher plateau I had ventured to, almost a new reality--a quiet, serene tranquility that coursed through my soul, never forgetting the ultimate price Jesus paid for our sins. I stumbled out of that theatre, and my friends and I piled into the car, and headed for home. On the way there, we talked and were joking around; now it was silent; I stared out the window, the horrid images flashing through my mind, everything he endured, at his own choosing.

Heid it for me.

And for you.

See this movie, it's simply astounding.

on "the passion of the christ"

I go to see the Passion of the Christ Saturday, and I am PUMPED. Absorbing everything I can about it from the newspaper, TV, people who have seen it. My church has rented three theaters, I believe, to show the film, and lots of people have invited friends. I am not one of those who did, and for a very important reason (in my mind). As a friend stated on his own blog, the movie is a piece of art detailing Jesus' last days. I have to say, though, that I don't think this movie will be a very good witnessing tool to those who are searching for the truth, for God. For one, as an unbelieving friend of mine said, who would want to join a religion where the main guy was beaten and murdered? Two, the movie doesn't really pack a lot of the Message into it (this is all from reading and hearing the words of those who have seen it; I have not). And three, just because many of the unbelievers at my school who saw it thought it was a really sad story, but were turned off by it; after all, what kind of man goes through stuff like that and rises from the dead? The connection just--in their opinions--isn't there. And the last thing I want to do is hinder a friend from accepting Jesus. However, once I see the movie, maybe my views will change, and I'll take a friend to see it. As I said, I haven't seen the movie; if you have, please drop a line and tell me if you agree, disagree, whether or not you liked the movie, I'm fascinated!

week 8

and so it begins...

Monday. I didn't sleep well last night, tossing and turning and bothered by nightmares. I was glad to wake up. I napped on the couch before school with Doogie roaming around the living room. After school I worked a busy 4-8:00. I went to Chris & Lee's when I got off. Chris was there alone, and he wanted to show me a clip from a movie he'd seen, and it was the church clip from 28 Days Later. I really wanted to see but I also really wanted to eat, so I went home and watched Jurassic Park while eating dinner: steak, herb mashed potatoes, and sauteed mushrooms. Mom wants to put me on depression medicine.

Tuesday. Last night I dreamt that I was alone in the woods on a bike path. A bunch of people in wheel chairs started coming at me down the path, and they were dead and bloodied. They knocked me into a pit, and when I landed piercing claws stabbed me in my back and in my legs, and it felt like a needle was shoved into my groin and poison injected. I woke up shaking, with one thought: Was I just abducted?! It was probably because of the zombie movie. When I fell back asleep I had another dream, where I was being hunted by a tyrannosaurus wearing a trench-coat and carrying an umbrella. After school Amanda, Ashley, and I went over to Chris & Lee's to watch 28 Days Later, some zombie movie they're really into. I really liked it. We left their place around 6:00 for bible study at Zach and Kristen's. On our way we swung by the house to get some bibles, and then through McDonald's for a quick bite to eat. The crowd was rowdy, but then everyone got serious. Lee's running the bible study, and I'm helping him out. We put the DVD in the computer, and Lee had me run the discussion group. I really liked that, too. 

Wednesday. We got out of school early today, and I took Ams to the health food store. Chris came over; Lee' was working on his history project--on dinosaurs!--and Pat D. was out with Carly. Ron picked Chris up later in the evening for their small group, and I ran by work to pick up some food and drinks. I said hi to everyone working there--Kelly, who's a guy; and Linda, Wanda, Michelle, and Vicki. Supper at the house was Doritos drenched in melted cheese and laced with pepperoni. Jared taught me how to do it.

Thursday. Chris and Pat D. came over after school, and we had a pretty great time: we hung a monkey from my fan and hit it with belts; we dug through the crawlspace (no stitches this time!) and explored the attic; Chris ripped open my pants; I made videos of Pat D. and Doogie on the computer; and Mom and Dad had small group. Amanda had her friend Aly over, and I burned lots of Pat D.'s Nirvana CDs. He's a fanatic. And, of course, Pat D. played lots of Bf1942.

Friday the 13th. We had the faculty/student basketball game at school today, but I skipped it. Why would anyone care about that? I got my paycheck from I.G.A., said Hi to Ricky, Ryan and Payton. The family loaded up and shipped out down to Kentucky. Amanda had to poop the whole time, so we kept stopping at exits and rest stops. Mike Savage was on the radio talking about the "filthy perverts who are taking over America", namely "the queers". He was talking about it because of all the Gay Marriage debates going on right now, specifically in Massachusetts, Ohio and California. I'm completely against it, and I don't care what you say. We stopped for dinner at Arby's, and we got to Grandma's around 9:11 (a number that will live in infamy!). I folded out Grandma's living room and lied in bed watching Morning with Bonnie with Dad, and I fell asleep watching The Cosby Show.

Valentine's Day. I woke up around [or, rather, exactly at] 8:18. I had toast, rice krispies, and bacon for breakfast. I listened to Nirvana's Unplugged while I ate. Grandma likes the album. I played video games with Dad, and Mom gave me a Valentine's Day card with ten bucks in it. Score! I watched a show on ancient oceans, and then Jesse and Jared picked me up, and we grabbed lunch at Wendy's. We went to Borders to read magazines, and I browsed the deals. The place was packed. We went back to their house, and we all took naps before going back to Grandma's. For Grandma and Grandpa's birthday we had Dominoes pizza. Jesse, Jared, Ams and I watched some weird Japanese shows on MXC, and we watched an interview with Howard Stern on dating the girl from the American Pie movies. Jesse, Jared and I fell asleep on the foldout bed.

Sunday. Grandma fixed an awesome breakfast: bacon, eggs, biscuits and gravy, with sparkling white grape juice. I joined Aunt Teri and all them for some afternoon shopping, and she spent hundreds of dollars on ridiculous stuff to put in Jesse and Jared's upcoming house. When we got back home from Kentucky, and I ran Media-Shout for Student Revolution. Jeff spoke on the 412 problems and how they need to change. He even quoted some stuff from an email I sent him sometime last week. He encouraged us to confess how we've wronged one another, and people were surprisingly open and honest. It was a pretty good experience.

sick & healthy

Had a teeny revelation in the Jeep on my drive home from school. A sick person does would not know he is sick unless he has been healthy, or seen someone else who is healthy. In the same way, there would be no right or wrong--no morality, no set of universal moral laws--unless there was a greater morality, a morality-maker (God). And someone wouldn't know the full extent of how sinful or terrible he or she is until they see God face-to-face, until they dwell in God's presence.

I'm no theologian, so if I've made any mistakes in my ideas (in your opinion), please let me know.

me: a sanhedrin

Ashamed

Sanhedrin.

Myself.

Connection? Yes. I am much like the Sanhedrin, griping about other peoples' problems and sins, ignoring my own. I criticize the splinter in another's eyes, all-together blinded by the plank in my own. I deeply struggle with hypocrisy, and it tears me apart. Jesus' way is not condemning, but I have made my own way--using Jesus as a footstool--to do exactly that: condemn. Jesus didn't come to earth to send people to hell, but give them a route to heaven. I have confused a key aspect of the Savior I love, and it has reflected--harshly--in my writings. I am ashamed and guilt-ridden that I have done this; just as I yearn to rid of lust, pride, gossip, I wish to rid of this fatal killer, too, that being hypocrisy, a thing that turns many people against Christianity--what will I say to God when someone doesn't accept Jesus because of my snapping words?

I pray that if I have offended you in any of my writings, you will forgive me.

Lord, please forgive me for being such a hypocrite, and save me from this plague, and all others. In Jesus' name, amen.

on small groups

I was talking to God about the apparently mishapen small groups last night, and it seemed he threw me three ways I--amd others--could get more out of such a "dysfunctional" small group, than if it went perfectly as planned:

1) Prompts us to dance in the river with God, with Jesus, not only as a community, but on a personal level; it may inspire quiet time, or deep devotions, or simple yet awesome 'down-time' with God.

2) Helps seekers discover God in a friendly, laid-back, non-demanding atmosphere

3) Forces us to seek deeper, more personal, caring relationships with other believers (better to have one really good friend that a million friendly acquaintances). Relationships where we can find love, acceptance, comfort, mercy, grace, accountability, where we can discuss problems, temptation, where we can go to for help and a caring ear. Such relationships are definitely needed, and the need is hammered into us by God Himself.

switch-foot ideas

I sit downstairs at the computer; my friends are shooting pool downstairs, some also kicking it back in my room, playing guitar. Amanda's friends are huddled in her room. We just got done with small groups, a teenage version of the "a-dult" Bible Study. Perhaps I'm wanting something untouchable; maybe I'm always in the wrong place at the wrong time; or even possibly it's all in my head. I want a deeper walk with God, and I want to seriously dive into God with my friends. I find it odd, then, that the deepest discussions I've ever had on theology, mercy, love and grace of Jesus don't happen around a fire and reading from pamphlets, but in the Jeep, in Borders bookstores, in a messy room scattered with dirty clothes and crooked blinds. But how come, when we sit down to learn more about God and deepen relationships not just with God, but within ourselves, it's as if we tread water but don't go anywhere. I don't want to get into the nitty-gritty details, but tonight, small group just seemed WRONG for a host of reasons. When it was over, I crept up to my room, shut the door, turned off the lights, fell onto the bed, and just stared out the window, and mentally wept.

The leader of the group--let me call him "Mark"--entered in, somehow knowing I was there, sat down beside me, asked what was going on.

"I don't know, man," was all I could muster; it IS the truth. I still can't exactly say WHY it felt so wrong, except that it did. So I told him plainly. "Small group, man... It just felt wrong."

Mark said, "Yeah, I know."

I think now, perhaps the greatest place to grow close to God isn't in mixes of close friends and interpersonal friends. Maybe the best place is a place of complete comfort, honestly, accountability--a place where, if you cry, you have a shoulder; where, if you're lonely, you have someone who actually cares. Maybe I am expecting too much out of these groups; perhaps me and my friends all are. Maybe God has put us in this position, this dose of weak spiritual food Tuesday nights, to draw us to deeper and more meaningful relationships with the ones we're closest to. Yeah, I know, I ramble. Maybe I'm onto something. I have always found that God's wisdom isn't parallel with man's, and that his plans oftentimes definitely don't fit onto our schedule, or even squeeze into our pitiful, blank minds.

week 7

and so it begins...

Monday. I didn't sleep well last night, tossing and turning and bothered by nightmares. I was glad to wake up. I napped on the couch before school with Doogie roaming around the living room. After school I worked a busy 4-8:00. I went to Chris & Lee's when I got off. Chris was there alone, and he wanted to show me a clip from a movie he'd seen, and it was the church clip from 28 Days Later. I really wanted to see but I also really wanted to eat, so I went home and watched Jurassic Park while eating dinner: steak, herb mashed potatoes, and sauteed mushrooms. Mom wants to put me on depression medicine.

Tuesday. Last night I dreamt that I was alone in the woods on a bike path. A bunch of people in wheel chairs started coming at me down the path, and they were dead and bloodied. They knocked me into a pit, and when I landed piercing claws stabbed me in my back and in my legs, and it felt like a needle was shoved into my groin and poison injected. I woke up shaking, with one thought: Was I just abducted?! It was probably because of the zombie movie. When I fell back asleep I had another dream, where I was being hunted by a tyrannosaurus wearing a trench-coat and carrying an umbrella. After school Amanda, Ashley, and I went over to Chris & Lee's to watch 28 Days Later, some zombie movie they're really into. I really liked it. We left their place around 6:00 for bible study at Zach and Kristen's. On our way we swung by the house to get some bibles, and then through McDonald's for a quick bite to eat. The crowd was rowdy, but then everyone got serious. Lee's running the bible study, and I'm helping him out. We put the DVD in the computer, and Lee had me run the discussion group. I really liked that, too. 

Wednesday. We got out of school early today, and I took Ams to the health food store. Chris came over; Lee' was working on his history project--on dinosaurs!--and Pat D. was out with Carly. Ron picked Chris up later in the evening for their small group, and I ran by work to pick up some food and drinks. I said hi to everyone working there--Kelly, who's a guy; and Linda, Wanda, Michelle, and Vicki. Supper at the house was Doritos drenched in melted cheese and laced with pepperoni. Jared taught me how to do it.

Thursday. Chris and Pat D. came over after school, and we had a pretty great time: we hung a monkey from my fan and hit it with belts; we dug through the crawlspace (no stitches this time!) and explored the attic; Chris ripped open my pants; I made videos of Pat D. and Doogie on the computer; and Mom and Dad had small group. Amanda had her friend Aly over, and I burned lots of Pat D.'s Nirvana CDs. He's a fanatic. And, of course, Pat D. played lots of Bf1942.

Friday the 13th. We had the faculty/student basketball game at school today, but I skipped it. Why would anyone care about that? I got my paycheck from I.G.A., said Hi to Ricky, Ryan and Payton. The family loaded up and shipped out down to Kentucky. Amanda had to poop the whole time, so we kept stopping at exits and rest stops. Mike Savage was on the radio talking about the "filthy perverts who are taking over America", namely "the queers". He was talking about it because of all the Gay Marriage debates going on right now, specifically in Massachusetts, Ohio and California. I'm completely against it, and I don't care what you say. We stopped for dinner at Arby's, and we got to Grandma's around 9:11 (a number that will live in infamy!). I folded out Grandma's living room and lied in bed watching Morning with Bonnie with Dad, and I fell asleep watching The Cosby Show.

Valentine's Day. I woke up around [or, rather, exactly at] 8:18. I had toast, rice krispies, and bacon for breakfast. I listened to Nirvana's Unplugged while I ate. Grandma likes the album. I played video games with Dad, and Mom gave me a Valentine's Day card with ten bucks in it. Score! I watched a show on ancient oceans, and then Jesse and Jared picked me up, and we grabbed lunch at Wendy's. We went to Borders to read magazines, and I browsed the deals. The place was packed. We went back to their house, and we all took naps before going back to Grandma's. For Grandma and Grandpa's birthday we had Dominoes pizza. Jesse, Jared, Ams and I watched some weird Japanese shows on MXC, and we watched an interview with Howard Stern on dating the girl from the American Pie movies. Jesse, Jared and I fell asleep on the foldout bed.

Sunday. Grandma fixed an awesome breakfast: bacon, eggs, biscuits and gravy, with sparkling white grape juice. I joined Aunt Teri and all them for some afternoon shopping, and she spent hundreds of dollars on ridiculous stuff to put in Jesse and Jared's upcoming house. When we got back home from Kentucky, and I ran Media-Shout for Student Revolution. Jeff spoke on the 412 problems and how they need to change. He even quoted some stuff from an email I sent him sometime last week. He encouraged us to confess how we've wronged one another, and people were surprisingly open and honest. It was a pretty good experience.

week 7

on gay marriage

Because life's been so hectic (not to mention the Internet shuts down every fifteen seconds), I haven't posted in quite a while. Just got back from Kentucky, spending time with family on my mom's side, and it rocked. It was great, we had a big breakfast, went to Borders, and just hung out, for Valentine's Day and my grandparents' birthday. Yesterday was Student Rev at my church, and it was awesome. The youth leader, George* (name changed) did a speel on the 'problems' at my youth group, and there was great worship, where I felt God just coming down upon me, like a blanket. We have today off school--President's Day--so I'm just going to relax; we're supposed to buy a pool table today (woohoo!). Nice way to end a busy week/weekend.

Something I've heard all week and weekend is this gay marriage thing, sprouting in California, Massachusetts, and wherever else. I have to say I'm proud Ohio has banned gay/lesbian marriages. I'm not against gays in particular, but against homosexuality. I'll say it right now, and I'm not ashamed, nor will my words change--the last thing I want is gay perverts destroying the true sanctification of marriage. God is very "narrow-minded" on this issue; remember Sodom? I don't want gays holding offices in America, just as I don't want kiddie-porn fanatics managing a preschool. I'll probably get a lot of heat from this (like, "You're not showing the love of Christ," or, "You're views are twisted.), but guess what? I DON'T CARE. I stand by my words, it is what I really believe. To make something clear, again, I don't have anything against homosexuals--I have something against homosexuality. Love the sinner, hate the sin, kinda thing. I'm not saying get the homosexuals out of America--I'm saying get the homosexuality out of America.

It is twisted, wrong, and I'm sick of it. That's not an opinion. That's a fact.

[Looking back on this, years later, this post makes me sick]

180 facelift

Looking back, I was pretty depressed. So everyone knows, I probably suffer depression (it runs in my family). Either way, I don't feel so downtrodden and remorse anymore. Actually I am joyful, happy, overflowing with excitement at just being alive and seeing the sun rise. I know a lot of people were praying for me Sunday night--for many reasons--and when I woke Monday morning, inside, I felt something different. It literally feels as if my heart is overflowing--and it's been like this since Monday morning, in the shower before school, when I realized, "I've got school--so what?" when it used to be, "I've got school--now I want to die." We all know that feeling :-). I was praying, too, and I believe God opened my eyes--I'm not as hated and despised as I thought. My family loves me, I've got dozens of really great, awesome friends who I love like brothers, my sister is one of my best friends, and best of all I've got God (may sound corny, maybe old-fashioned to some, but it's only the truth). So if it calms any unsoothed waves, I'm feeling much better. Top onto that I'll probably be taking anti-depressent medication soon (if I'm not really suffering from depression, will it make me high? :-) jk). Well one of my friends is ordering me to go pick him out so we can chill somewhere, so I gotta go. Peace, love, empathy.

week 6

Monday. I worked 4-8:00 after school, and then I drove to Chris' and we walked through the chiseling cold to the U.D.F. outside his neighborhood. We bought donuts and then trekked back to his house, regretting the idea of not taking the Jeep. I was home by 10:00, and I burned some incense cones and lit some candles and spent some time in prayer and worship, playing my guitar. I only know a few songs, but they'll do.

Tuesday. Chris got his stitches out today, and he came over once I got home from school. Lee joined us, and so did Megan (Hank's sister). We sat around and did homework, helped Mom move some couches. Pat D. came over, and we all loaded up in the Jeep and picked up a girl named Ashlie F., and we went to Small Group at Zach and Kristen's house. We drank sprite, played Clue (Lee won), and watched American Idol. I ate a dog treat, I'm not really sure why. I played the Titanic song on guitar and sang it at the top of my lungs. It was frightening. I ferried people home, and I crawled into bed and fell asleep listening to the gurgling fish tank.

Wednesday. I woke up early, showered, and napped on the sofa downstairs with Doogie at my side and a cup of Fanga on the coffee table. School was decent, and Bryon came over and lamented his sorrows about the sad state of our world. He headed out, and Chris, Lee and I went to I.G.A. and Kroger for snacks. We went through the bank for Lee, and Chris kept opening and closing the doors, I had to yell at him three times to get him to stop. Chris went home early, and Lee and I hung out at my place for a while. I'm reading Jurassic Park right now, really getting into it yet again. I first read it as a wee boy when we lived in Anna.

Thursday. I hung out with Dylan after school; Tyler was going to join us, but he went to the YMCA to work out instead. I wonder if it's normal for me to feel like a hypocrite when I wear a Christian t-shirt or my cross necklace? Over the last couple weeks I started a dinosaur series called The Muerte Files, but I canned it today. It's just no good. 

Friday. Accounting class is driving me insane: I can't wait for it to end! I worked 3-8:00 after work. I was the only bagger (a recurring theme these last several weeks) because two people didn't show up. Linda wanted me to stay extra late, but I said "No." I picked up Penn Station on my way home, and I had ice cream for desert. I only ate half of it, because Doogie attacked my bowl when I left it out of sight for but a moment.

Saturday. More snow fell overnight. I worked 9-4:00, I think I got high off cold medicine? Dad and I fixed supper at the house, and I went over to the Williams' to hang out with them, Bryon, Pat D., and Hank. Hank yelled at me to get out, and then complained about me being there. That felt pretty awesome. I went upstairs, heard Pat D. cussing up a storm. I didn't mind. I don't think it's a sin. He kept telling me how much he loves me, how I'm one of his best friends. It's a shared sentiment. It's funny to think that 1 1/2 years ago, I couldn't stand the kid. Now he's like a brother to me. I hung out with them for a while, but Hank was being weird, so I headed home and Dad and I watched Phone Booth in the basement.

Sunday.  I've been really sad lately, about a lot of things, and I've shared this with a few people to only have them commentate on my spiritual state as if that's the definite cause. People seem to think Christians are sinning if they're "down in the dumps," "grief-stricken," or "swimming in the blues." Have such people ever read the Psalms, or sat with Jesus in Gethsemane? Bryon and I went to Grace Baptist Church with his girlfriend Erika. Everyone was dressed up, singing out of hymnals, brass instruments. Bryon got yelled at for taking a cappuccino into the sanctuary. "I didn't even take a sip!" he exclaimed. "What's that dude's freaking problem?!" The message was good: God is Spirit, God is Light, God is Truth, God is Love. Bryon knew lots of people there. We dropped Erika off at her house afterwards, and she was pissed because Bryon wasn't going to spend the rest of the day hanging out with her like he said he would. He dropped me off at my house and went to the Williams': Pat D., Chris, Hank, Corey and Bryon all got together, but I didn't go because I knew Hank would have a fit, and if I'm not cool enough for him, that's fine. I spent the evening lounging around, and Dad told me Jeff's planning on revamping 412. I can't help but wonder if this is because he's seen the evil, the wickedness, in 412? ["OMG Anth. It was a high school youth group. What else should you expect? And 'evil'? 'Wickedness'? Good grief."] I decided I wanted to see everybody, so I drove over to the Williams'. Lee was working, and the rest of us went to the pot-luck at Southwest. I helped Brian out with the kids, got free pizza and apple juice. Pat D. and I were about ready to leave, and Jeff wanted to talk. We tried to get out of it, but we saw the hurt in his eyes; so we succumbed, and he took us to a secluded lobby and asked us why we were really leaving. I told him it was because we weren't getting anything out of 412, that we wanted something deeper. He was really worried about us and wanted us to stay. I didn't tell him that the real reason I wanted to go was because I felt like a no-talent, waste-of-space, social loser whom no one at 412 loves or cares to know.  Pat D. decided to stay, but I didn't want to look spineless, so I went home. Mom and Dad could tell something was wrong, wanted to talk about it; so we sat in the living room and I told them how I felt rejected, ostracized, and alone at 412, and how unfounded rumors had spread amidst the girls there and turned them against me. So Mom and Amanda left the house to go talk to Jeff at the pot-luck, and when they came back Mom told me that Jeff wasn't surprised that I wanted to go deeper, he knows he's stretched thin and that's out of his control, and the fact is that I'm friends with a good number of those people at 412, like Chris & Lee, Pat D. and Bryon, Corey, etc. Mom thinks I'm depressed and need medicine. Dad says I need to treasure those friendships I do have rather than lament those that I don't. "You can't change what others think or say about you, but you have control over who you are." 

So. Yeah. Long day.

condemned for being unhappy

Some tend to think Christians are evil or mistaken or to be scolded if they are "down in the dumps," "grief-stricken," or "swimming in the blues." Have these people ever read the Psalms (i.e. Psalm 73) or the account of Jesus in the garden at Gethsemene (Matthew 26)? You are scorned if you are a Christian and not happy with life; after all, you have a relationship with God, so why wouldn't you be happy? If you're a Christian and not happy, then you're really not a Christian at all (so some say). And how come, if you're lonely, forsaken, and full of grief and pain, it is always a chemical unbalance in the brain? Can't it ever be very real situations in a very real fallen world immersed in very real problems?

on worthless religion

What is it that turns many people against Christianity? Some say it's the formality of it all. I can understand that. Some say it's the fact that we say Jesus is the exclusive way to Heaven. I can understand that. Some people say it's because we are Bible-pounders (according to a friend, "the worst kind of Christian). I can see that. Another friend said, "We don't go to church because they only wanted money." I can see that, too. But I think the biggest thing that turns people away from Christianity is Christians themselves (am guilty of that). I believe many seekers turn to Christianity, see the Christian, and in their minds, think:

"Why do I want this? Why do I want Christ? What's so life-changing about this?"

I know, because I've been there. I've been looked at. I've heard people say, "Why do I want Jesus when his followers are like THAT?" Heard them say that when they look straight at me. I've had a girl say to me, "He says he's a Christian, but really, he's not."

Before we lead a horse to water, we need to be drinking it ourselves. As I said at a small group meeting, "If you say you're a tomato, but you're an orange, who's going to listen to you?" If we claim to be Christians and don't act like it, then what's the point? Our "religion" is worthless.

truth be told

My life sucks. If I didn't have a reason to live--if I didn't have Jesus--I would take my own life and get out of this nightmare. In the past I tried to commit suicide twice during my "dark months". Most people I know don't like me; my friends spread lies about me; I am back-stabbed and betrayed by those I trust. The number of my real friends dwindle. Those I am surrounded in every day--including my "closest" friends--ignore me and reject me, look at me in disgust. I have a few meager good friendships. I can barely have a friend who is a girl, a girlfriend is out of the question--I'm too ugly and unpopular for any luxury like that. Truth be told, I hate my life, and almost everything about it. I am a no-talent, ugly, stupid, good-for-nothing, waste-of-space, bottom-of-the-toilet, back-of-the-mind, run-of-the-mill, social reject, whom hardly anyone cares about, thinks about, notices, someone people don't want to know, someone everyone wishes wasn't around, who might as well not exist because no one gives a crap. My mind overflowing. Sorrow. Pain. Anger. Tears. All my problems are mine and mine alone--the last person I can count on is another person who believes in Jesus; most of those I've met frankly don't care for me.

quiet confessions from an unknown nobody

Quiet confession from a no-talent waste-of-space made loud. I'm a struggling Christian. I battle sin and sometimes I lose; lick my wounds, stand back up. Heart for God--I believe. But recently I haven't had any desire to go to church, and as of now am pretty solid in not going (though I might go tomorrow because of 'certain circumstances') to church. What's the point of going to church? For me, there is no church. Maybe I'm just hollow. Maybe all the problems are inside me, and no one else suffers. But when I look around at church, I see the same things I see in my own life--corruption, wickedness, lies. What is the point of going to church? One might say, "to worship God"--at church, my worship seems stale and fake; at home, alone, or with friends at a friend's house or around a bonfire, it seems real and life-changing. Or how about, "to grow nearer to God?" Like a lot of people, I don't seem to grow--I go into church starving for some spiritual meat, and I leave more empty than when I entered. "Church is for hanging out with other believers." Many students--and adults--at my church are fake--they starve for popularity, for being with the "right people". They aren't caring, or real. I can't be real with most people at my church. Many of my relationships at my church are shallow, drunk wastes of time. No one there really cares for one another--though there are certainly exceptions--and most people don't want you (rather, me) there at all--so why go? If you're unwanted, leave.

Who can I go for when I need help? Where do I go when I need someone to listen? Whose shoulder do I cry on when the tears flow? I know not to go to many of those at my church. If I have a problem, the answer I most often get from fellow church-goers is, "Sorry, it's your own problem, just deal with it." No comfort, no love, no caring. When I need some help, people reply, "It's not a real problem, it's just inside of you." If it's just inside of me, then how come I'm not the only person recognizing it? Odd, isn't it, that the one friend I can really count on to listen is one who is struggling just as I am. The one person who really listens and cares and gives comfort is the one who is condemned by the church leaders who are ignorant of my cries.

I hope I'm not making my church out to look evil or anything. I'm sure all churches have the same problems, or variants, of varying degrees. There are people there who DO love, people there who DO care. It has great leaders, people who really strive for a relationship with God, people who are great people for God. I just happen to be in a sector where, sometimes, that doesn't seem to be the case. Sometimes I feel as if my church hurts my relationship with God more than it helps it. Perhaps the fact that my church is "seeker-sensitive" adds to the weight of my concerns of a Christian who wants more spiritual meat, not watered-down, cultivated, spiritual skim milk. I could say part of my problem in fighting sin lies with the church (though this is a lousy--no, a wont--excuse because it isn't the church's responsibility to fight temptation, but my own).

I'm not out there to offend anyone. Just a confession.

from the back of my mind...

Back of my mind...

A friend told me the other day, "Everything's wrong. Everything's messed up. The world is messed up, I'm messed up." Can't say he's alone--I'd be a hypocrite if I did. My conscience homes in on all the times I've screwed up, so I can't go rubbing my nose in anyone's face. Recently something's been nagging at my mind, and I'll just say it. American Christianity is not the Christ Christianity it once was. In past times, American Christians owned slaves, whipped them, beat them, had sex with them, then went to church and worshipped God. Nowadays Catholic priests are fingering little boys, Christians in California are attending "gay churches", and ministers are stealing money from the tithes. Christians walk around, with sin on one hand and the God on the other, keeping them apart, but an eye on each. Can't say I haven't been there--don't think any of us can say we haven't been there. Christians at my school flick me off and threaten me just because I believe in God! Two-faced living, lies, gossip, overrun lust. We've all seen that dark tunnel. Christian teens go to orgies, waking up early to go to church the next morning. No small marvel so many people are turned away from "American Christianity"--it sucks. The Christianity of Christ is pure, good, and holy. The Christianity that subverts much of America is dirty, bad, and wicked.

the secret to joy

What is the secret to joy?

Jesus first
Others second
Yourself last

What is the secret to happiness?

I have struggled for happiness for many years. Most people have struggled longer than that, and are still struggling. But I believe I've found that delicate, hidden answer of the second-most-asked question in the world, "Where do I find happiness?" Happiness, in my opinion, is found not in wealth or goods or a great job or fame or fortune. It isn't found in high-ranking stats and legendary accomplishments. It isn't found in awards or medals. All those who have grasped and held onto such things ask the same question that shudders through America (the world!): "I have all this stuff, and yet I'm not happy, but empty--where can I find real happiness?"

Having looked far and near, low and high, two years ago I found myself in Virginia, Amish country. Every Amish boy and girl we saw had a smile on their face and was having fun--even in the fields, they grinned under the hot sun as sweat dripped down their faces. How could they be so happy when they have it so rough? I didn't recognize the answer then, as I do now.

Simplicity. The simple life.

Marvel at the simple things in life--the snow, clouds, beautiful sunset, waves at the beach, falling rain, the breeze whispering over you as you lay down to sleep. Go through life without a hurry; things will work out. Work for your food. Love God, and live in a relationship with him. Love others. Help others. A life without futile cares, a life free of worry, a life at a casual, peaceful pace, not a jagged rush for the finish line, a line that changes with the tide and can't be seen for the mist of stress. Yes, be absent of stress! Let your greatest concern be waking up the next morning. Carpe diem! Seize the day!

Ahh, the simple life...

Week 5

this is kinda Pat's thing right now...

Snow Day! I dreamt I was at C.I.Y., but it was in a slum city, and we were worshiping in an old theater littered with bird skeletons and infant skulls. I slipped away with a girl I liked, and we went into a shanty and had dry sex. I hope God doesn't hold these dreams against me! ["It was just a dream. It means nothing."] Pat D. came over in a really bad mood, but once he started playing Bf1942 he lightened up. Chris and Lee walked over from their house, cutting through North Park and those subdivisions, and Lee and I went sledding out back. Doogie kept attacking and humping us. Chris wanted to sled so badly but was afraid he'd hurt his freshly-stitched finger. At least he had gotten the bandages off. Pat D. stayed on Bf1942 the entire time. I took them to Chris and Lee's, and then worked 5-8:00, but I got off early because the store was empty. I went back to the Williams', and we loaded into the Jeep and went to the high school to make sure my parking spot wasn't covered in snow. Just my luck: it was. We went back to my place for a while, and Pat D. jumped right back on Bf1942. Chris and Lee left, and I crawled into bed and fell asleep to the glow from the computer screen and Pat D. laughing, saying, "They exploded my Jeep and it still rolled through all their guys as it was burning!"

Tuesday. I had to park down by the football field because of the snow. There were rumors we'd get out of school early, an impending "blizzard," but nothing happened. I picked up Pat D. right after school, and I took him to the Williams'. They were hitting up some guitar stores, but I decided just to go home. I spent the evening playing video games, and I got rumor of someone accusing me of not showing God's love and "hating those who are not Christians", and the thought of those two things is reprehensible to me. Hank exclaimed, "It's like he's got some personal vendetta against you!" He's been all over my case since the VMAs and all the hoopla about Fantasy Football, and I can't imagine why. I've done nothing to him. All I know is that I have sworn to follow Jesus and to plunge into a life of serving him by serving others, and there will always be people like this no matter what.

Wednesday. Let me tell you why my school sucks: (1) The roads were drenched in snow and ice overnight; (2) all the schools around us were delayed or closed; (3) we were not delayed, not closed; (4) we go to school an hour earlier than everyone else, so the roads were far worse for us than they would've been for those closed or delayed schools. Yesterday the roads were fine, and problems ensued. Today the roads were worse, and there were wrecks all over the place. After school I picked up dinner from Taco Bell, and swung by McDonald's to pick up food for Mom and Ams. Chris went with me, and when we got back we watched Spies Like Us. Lee came over, and we all went sledding at North Park. It was sheer ice, and we could barely make it back up the small hill. We were bored of the hill so we went into the woods, and we tried sledding down the downhill trails. It didn't work out too well. It took us fifteen minutes to get to the top of the trails, and Lee fell off his board multiple times, and once he flew into a tree and the trunk rammed his crotch. When I went, my leg hit a tree and I spun out of control, and I was flung off the sled into a patch of thorns, and I rolled through them and almost tumbled into the icy creek. Chris came down fine, and Lee and I weren't sure how; but he had a problem stopping, and he had to bail from the sled before it flew into the creek. We trudged home nursing wounds, and we made hot chocolate and watched Channel 73 Fuse Music Videos. 

Thursday. Chris came over after school, and our parents had small group. Kristen came over to babysit, and I wanted to talk to her so badly about how my feelings for her have been resurfacing as of late, but I forced myself not to. We'd already gone through all that, I didn't want to start reliving it again. 

Snow Day! I woke up, learned we were on a 2-hour delay, and went back to bed. Dad woke me up around 7:20 telling me school was closed. Once I rolled out I looked out the window, the roads were covered again. Everything was so quiet. I fixed a bacon, turkey, and cheese sandwich paired with a glass of milk and potato chips, and I ate this while watching Tommy Boy. I finally finished Heavier than Heaven, a pretty decent book. Pat D. and I talked online for a bit. He's getting his life with God back on track. Prayers answered! I went to work come afternoon, and we were slammed: Superbowl Weekend. I had to do three peoples' jobs and got yelled at for not keeping up. Really? I stayed an hour late when no one else did, but people don't tend to remember such things. Once I got out of there, I went to Chris and Lee's. Mom brought me over some orange chicken from China Village, two pillows, three comforters. Pat D. went insane on me. I blocked his blows, asked if he was okay. He apologized later. We watched Bad Boys II, one of the rental movies I yanked from work. 

Saturday. Debbie woke me and Lee up: Luke was stuck in the snow outside and had to get to work. We went out and pushed him onto the road. I lost my keys overnight and couldn't find them, so Dad brought me the spare. I followed him home, and I had two pieces of pizza for breakfast, took a shower, cleaned up. I worked 9:30-3:00, eating Amanda's mongolian chicken on break (without her consent, mind you). I went to Chris & Lee's when I got off work. Pat D. was with them, and we all got in my Jeep and went back to my place. Amanda had two friends over--Aly and Stephanie--and Chris was super into them, so he hung with them the entire time. Pat D. played Bf1942 (no surprise there) and Lee and I watched Reno 911. Aly and Stephanie left, and Chris and Ams watched Fuse videos all evening.

Sunday. ["Hello. It's Pat Dewenter. I am here to say hello. Well. Farewell."] I woke early and rushed Lee to first service. The Jeep was freezing. I went back for second service. We didn't have youth group again, and I miss that. I left church early, just felt weird being there. Sometimes I want to leave Southwest. I want meat, not watered-down, pop-culture, spiritual skim milk. I want something real out of church, something I can feel, hold, grasp. Bryon and I talked about checking out some other churches; we want to be fed. Pat D. came over, and Mom told us that Ron & Aisa are going to be staying with us in October for a week when she and Dad go on vacation to Cancoon. It's going to rock! Mom, Dad & Ams went to a Superbowl party, but football's not really my thing, so I stayed home and talked to Pat D. online late into the night. We were going to hang out tonight, but he had to leave early because he was grounded (stayed out till 3 A.M. with Courtney and Carly, and his parents weren't happy). I watched Terminator 3 before bed.