Last night a bunch of friends and I had an aerosoft-gun war in our neighborhood. I rocked them all with the machine-gun, even though the pistol hurts much worse (I've got mosquito-bite-sized bruises all over my chest and back). Today I went to Caleb's sister's birthday party. She really looks up to me (I don't know why) and has sort of a crush on me. Her mom told me, "I'm glad you came; she would've been so disappointed if you didn't show up!" I was the only boy at her birthday party of about twenty girls, but that's okay (I hung around with Caleb). Her fourteen-year-old friends kept staring at me and giggling, and it made me feel a little awkward. Caleb's mom said, "You and that Kristen girl look good together." A little weird, not gonna lie. I went back to Caleb's house, and he and his sister and I watched some Jeff Foxworthy.

I'm here on campus, it's about 8:00, and I need to make an outline of the kings after Solomon and write out my High School lesson for tomorrow (I already have all the material, I just need to bring it all together). Dad and I are going out to breakfast in the morning (he's running the Flying Pig), and then some friends and I are going to Fudd-Ruckers after church (I don't think I'm going to get anything, though).

I've realized how much debating wears me out. No wonder I left the Ooze so long ago. It's a tiring business, this business of theology. Everybody has different answers, and yet everybody has the right answers. While I obviously think my answers are right, I know they're probably not. It's like McLaren says in one of his books: "Discussing theology is a bunch of fools getting together to talk about things way over their heads, things they'll never understand." Quite humbling. So I just tell the stories and call people to embrace Yahweh in faith and repentance.