my dinosaur dream

Nate and I stood behind the bar in the coffee shop, making lattes and fruit smoothies as dusk began to fall. The doors suddenly burst open and students came running inside, screaming and shouting. Nate looked over at me and said, “Go and see what the fuss is all about.” I nodded and went into the student life center; a girl told me, through broken gasps, that there was something in the kitchen. I ran out of the worship ministry building and into the dining hall at the other end of campus; the place was deserted. I cautiously entered the cafeteria: chairs were overturned, tables knocked on their sides, food spilled all over the floor. The hanging lights flickered on and off. I moved past the salad bar, confused; and then I he ard some noise coming from the cafeteria. I ducked through a door and peered inside: I saw a great creature hunkered over what had at one time been a human being. Blood covered its jaws as it took another gruesome bite. I shuddered, instantly realizing—to my shock and horror—what stood before me: Utahraptor.

I darted out of the cafeteria and began making my way back to the coffee shop. I heard crying inside the bookstore, so I went inside. A girl sat curled up behind the counter; I helped her to her feet, said, “We should get out of here.” She came round from the counter. As we left, I grabbed three books on dinosaurs. She asked what I was doing. I told her, “No one’s going to buy these now.” We stepped out into the main hallway, and a piercing shriek shook our eardrums. We spun around on our heels to see a Utahraptor blocking the main doors out; fear gripped us and our legs carried us through an adjacent door, and we sprinted down an iron stairwell into the school’s bowling alley.

We could hear the creature chasing us, rattling the stairs. We had just entered the bowling alley and were searching for a place to hide when the Utahraptor burst inside; it opened its bloody jaws and screeched. Behind it came another, and another. Three fiendish creatures stared us down. The two of us grabbed bowling balls and threw them across the floor; they knocked the legs out from under the Utahraptors, and they crashed to the ground. We ran past them as they tried to stand; the girl had returned to the stairwell, but one of the creatures leapt onto my back, knocking me down. I raised my hands to protect myself, catching it by the throat as it snapped its jaws in my face. I screamed for help; the girl appeared, holding a bowling pin, and she bashed the creature upside the head with it. The animal flailed away, snapping; I scrambled to my feet and we rushed into the stairwell. We slammed the door shut on the animal and locked it; through the glass window on the door we could see the three Utahraptors attempting to get at us, banging their heads against the door.

We rushed up the flight of steps and emerged in the hallway. We ran outside, and a fierce cold hit us. Somehow time had gone through a vortex and winter had come over us. We stood outside in the snow, shivering; human skeletons lay through the parking lot, a thin layer of dust accumulating on the bleached bones. The entire campus had been blanketed in the snow, and though we shouted, no one answered. The girl started climbing an abandoned scaffolding, and I followed. We emerged on the rooftop, and looking out over the city of Cincinnati, could see a myriad of dinosaurs moving through the valley between the run-down and empty skyscrapers, railways, and blocks of homes. The girl took a deep breath and spoke: “The dinosaurs are ruling the earth once more.” A shiver ran up my spine… And I woke up.

the howl of the coyotes

I have a tendency to think God’s love for me is manifested in life being good; thus when it is not (such as now) I am led to question His love and affections for me. It’s stupid, I know… All kinds of things will trigger insecurities towards whether God loves me and cares for me. It can be anything. It used to be Julie. Now it’s Courtney. I see Courtney, see her boyfriend, am reminded of our time together… and it kills. Not only because she was the first true love I’ve ever had (a fact of which I am certain), and that part of me will always love her; but also because the ending of our relationship brought with it the decay of hope. She symbolized, in part, and continues to symbolize, hope. She brought me out of a slum of suicidal depression where I felt all hope had been lost; and now that she has gone, that deliverance has disappeared as well. I find myself where I was last year: hopeless, despairing, falling apart at the seams, empty and lonely. I feel as if I have lost everything, that there is nothing to look forward to: the future seems to be nothing more than an avalanche of pain and suffering covering me year-by-year, till it is unbearable.

The girl I loved has left me and has found herself solace in another boy’s arms.
Nearly all of my friends have abandoned me, and I feel so alone.
God seems to be deaf to my prayers, and his deafness terrifies me.

I took a drive this evening. I took a nap after work, and upon waking, fell into a state of immense dread. I lumbered into the Prizm and drove through the streets of Cincinnati. I prayed. It wasn’t your usual “Dear God, blah, blah, blah”; rather, it summed itself up in a few heated words, broken cries, and tears. I pulled into Mount Echo park and stumbled to the overlook. I gazed upon Ludlow spread out over the Kentucky banks, and I clenched my fists trying to pull myself together. A car parked farther down at the overlook, and a hobbled old man stepped out. Seeing him, I prayed, “God… just let me know you’re there… Let that man come over and just speak a single word to me.” Moments passed by. He went back to his car. I sighed. What did I expect? Another failed answer to prayer. Sirens went off somewhere in Kentucky, and coyotes howled. A moment later I heard footsteps and turned to see the old man hobbling over. He looked at me through beady eyes under a frayed baseball cap: “I wonder what those sirens were all about?” he said. And we talked for about ten minutes. When he left, the pain and suffering didn’t leave with him… but at least now I have a little more hope.

it hurts to breathe

I prayed that Courtney’s relationship with Kyle will be wonderful, and that she will experience happiness.
God has answered my prayer.

I prayed that God would grant Jessie contentment and happiness and that He would help her in her situation.
Everything worked out and she is happy as can be.

I prayed that God will grant my little sister happiness and joy.
She told me, “Life is going great!”

I pray for an end to my pain, my suffering, my turmoil, the tears spent at night, the aching heart.
It gets worse and worse everyday.

When I look into my future, I see nothing but a bleak darkness. God is absent and silent. God turns a deaf ear to my prayers. My greatest hopes and dreams are dangled before my eyes and then ripped away, and my heart is continually tormented by coincidences and chance-happenings that only inflame the fire of pain. My mouth is parched, my stomach is empty, my head is throbbing, my eyes are bloodshot from crying, my throat sore from seemingly empty prayers. I just want to curl up into a ball, go to sleep, and never wake up.

i seek no consolation... only deliverance

Lincoln Six-Echo: “Hey, so what’s up with Doctor Merrick?”

McCord: “You mean why he acts like he has a filing cabinet up his ass?”

(Laughing): “Yeah.”

“It’s called a ‘God-complex’. All doctors are like that. They think they know everything.”

Confused: “What’s ‘God’?”

“Well. You know. When you want something really bad, and you close your eyes and you wish for it? God’s the guy that ignores you.”

“Oh. Right.”

McCord’s answer to Lincoln’s question (in the hit movie “The Island”, 2005) captures the “white elephant” of a lot of Christians. How many Christians have I talked to who struggle with different aspects of faith? More than I can count on my ten fingers and ten toes… and I am one of them. What we struggle with in regards to our faith is different person-to-person, and for me there are two issues that I am currently wrestling with, one of them (the second) magnified in this scene from the movie.

Does God want me to be happy?
Does God care about my prayers?

These questions keep me awake at night.

“Does God want me to be happy?” I have testimony from the scriptures that “happy is he who is in the Lord” and that God infinitely cares for our happiness more than we know. Yet what am I to do with this testimony when I am met with “cognitive dissonance”: when my perceived reality doesn’t mesh with my actual reality? I have believed and put faith in a God who wants me to be happy; yet this perceived reality is shaken by a life lived in sorrow. If God grants the heartfelt desires of His children, why are my heartfelt desires—those desires so deeply rooted and implanted within me—always so far off, or so close but yet untouchable, or only to be tasted for a brief moment before being snatched away into oblivion? I wrestle with the idea that God wants me to be happy. “If God wants me to be happy, then why do things only seem to get worse? Or why do things seem to get better—but then turn in an instant into a weeping tragedy?”

“Does God care about my prayers?” I pick up the Gospel of Luke, and as I read through it, I see that Jesus says God hears our every prayer, that He is moved to action by our prayers, and that He cares about us. Again, “cognitive dissonance”: this perceived reality is shaken by the reality in which I find myself. My prayers, issuing forth for years, continue to be unanswered. And what’s worse, when they seem to be answered, and when I thank God for the answers to my prayers, the “answers” become dead-ends or pits filled with pungi sticks. It has gotten to the point where I am afraid to thank God for blessings in fear that they will be taken away. “If God cares about my prayers and is moved by them, why does it seem like He is ignoring me?”

Be hesitant about posting a comment or two giving me theological advice. I don’t want it. I know the theological answers. I’ve studied these issues in several of my classes. Don’t spout Bible at me. I know it already. “Talk to me about the truth of religion and I’ll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I’ll listen submissively. But don’t come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don’t understand.” (C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed) I don’t desire answers to these questions. I desire to be in a place where I don’t have to wrestle with them. I desire to experience happiness, to see God answering my prayers… I don’t want to be haunted by the vacuum of God’s silence and inactivity that seems never to break.

Faith begins with excitement. We’re radiant with joy, bursting at the seams, devouring the scriptures, expectant of God working in our ordinary lives. Then comes a dullness: the joy fades, we continue our lives, and although our faith in Christ may be growing and expanding, it simply isn’t as exciting as it used to be. And then comes disillusionment, doubt, questioning, wrestling. That’s where I am now. We begin to really question what we believe, what we’ve been taught, whether or not what we’re putting so much time, energy, and commitment into really is the truth. The Esteemed Doctor Smith told my class, and I am paraphrasing: “This stage in the evolution of your faith is one of the most beautiful and necessary phases. If you haven’t gotten to it, you will. If you’re there, then you’re on the right path.” And this questioning and wrestling will lead to one of two fates: our faith dies... or it experiences rebirth.

the pursuit of happiness

Here is a quote that I find interesting:

As Jesus was entering into the last days of his life on earth, he prayed for his disciples and for all disciples to come. His petitions were for union with the Father, joy, protection, and usefulness. The sequence of those petitions is significant (John 17.11-17).

Friendship with Christ is the first priority and is basic for the qualities that follow. Out of that intimate, love relationship, joy is a logical consequence. Jesus knew, as he prayed for his disciples, that if they did indeed come into fellowship with him and exhibit the kind of full-fledged joy that he gives, there would be opposition from the world, and so he prayed not that his disciples would be protected from the world or taken out of it into a kind of insulated, holy huddle, but that they would be protected from anything that would destroy that union and joy. Then, out of that dynamic partnership, usefulness would naturally flow.

- Jeanie Miley

Ever since 6^th grade, I’ve kept a daily journal. They line one of the shelves here in my dorm room, and from time-to-time I flip through them. Just last week I was reading some material from my high school years, and I couldn’t help but notice how joyful I was. It irked me in a sense. I’ve never been able to put my finger on why the joy has slipped past me nowadays, but it came to me then like a flint being struck in the dark: I’ve wandered from God. Lots of suffering hit me, and it tore at my faith; and while my faith has been re:inspired, re:worked, and (in a sense) re:invented, the intimacy of my union with God is at a low. I am united with God through Christ, but I am not pursuing a deeper and more enriching union with Him. It is through this union that true joy—the kind of joy that brings laughter in sorrow and smiles during suffering—is experienced.

Yet something tugs at my mind: “How is joy formed?” Joy is the result of brain chemicals reaching high levels of influence. Thus “joy” is biological. I’ve struggled with how union with God brings joy if joy is a biological function. Two theories: there is a joy that is caused biologically in the natural realm, and a similar yet greater joy that is caused by God in the supra-natural realm, and it is this “mysterious joy” that Christians experience. Or, Christians experience a biological joy as God personally tweaks our brain chemicals. Hmmm… Okay, done with that tangent… Jeanie Miley continues:

…The more I know Him, the more I experience that deep inner well of joy that is not dependent on external circumstances. This joy is present even in the midst of suffering and sorrow; it is a motivating power even in discouragement and dismay.

My life sometimes seems like a constant theatrical play of discouragement and dismay, of suffering and sorrow, of external circumstances gone wrong. All of this oftentimes leads me into a deep depression marked with hopelessness, despair, and feelings of futility. The idea of joy, tranquility, and happiness seems to be a far-fetched illusion; the “pursuit of happiness” becomes an unreachable mirage, functioning only to keep us moving in futile hope towards a resolution that doesn’t exist.

But what if I can experience joy despite all that’s going on?
What if I can experience tranquility in the midst of adversity?
What if I can experience happiness in a life marked with emotional heartache?

life keeps moving forward... kinda

Wednesday was a good day. I needed some time off campus. The drama was suffocating me. I met Sarah at Barnes and Nobles, and we drank coffee and chatted for five hours. She ordered an iced caramel macchiato (my favorite), and I tried a pumpkin spice iced latte (very good, I plan on getting it again sometime this weekend). We talked about everything and nothing: school, movies, addictions, depression, and lots about Christianity & Culture, and how the individualism of Protestantism has oftentimes lost the communal nature of Christianity. I spent the night at my friend Isaac’s apartment; from his back porch, you can see all of Cincinnati sprawled out before you. It was a cozy place. We hung out and talked lots about church, theology, Pauline studies and how essential it is to know how to interpret the Bible before actually reading it; because of the danger of reading the Bible without knowing how to interpret it, it’s easier and safer for Christians to read books by Max Lucado and authors of that nature. Thursday I worked at the Hilltop with Andrew, Kirby, and Katie. Andrew is my favorite supervisor to work with, he's really laid-back and jokes around all the time; Kirby is always fun, her awkwardness makes me hit the floor laughing many times; and while I don't know Katie very well, we found ourselves in playful fights the entire evening, and Andrew kiddingly kept exclaiming, "Stop fighting! I will not have Kirby working in such a hostile environment!" Good times.

From the moment I made the resolution to deal with certain things in my life, life itself became overwhelmingly complicated. Within the first 24 hours I nearly had an emotional breakdown, but after some time praying, things got much better. It seems that everything from my past—my regrets, my sins, my dark skeletons—is being dredged from the depths of my subconscious and flashed before my eyes. I can’t escape it. Everywhere I go, around every corner I turn, there it is, a great neon sign blinking it cataclysmic letters: DO YOU REMEMBER?! I clench my fists, close my eyes, take deep breaths, fight. My legs grow weak, I need support, I become flustered, the world spins. The sign grows larger and larger in my mind until it’s all I can see, and little voices scream obscenities and dark lies, masked ogres parading in my own mind. I drop to my knees and tears crawl down my face, and I plead with God to help me through the nightmare—and the ogres vanish, the vile shrieks silence, the sign fades into nothing, and my mind is clear and cool. I take a deep breath, stand, feel my heart beating in my chest. One foot in front of the other. I knew this would happen. The enemy knows how to play this game. I just didn’t expect him to be this vaulted against me. Maybe he knows something I don’t?

All of this drama makes me want to pack my bags and leave. I keep remembering Alaska: how peaceful and serene it was, how beautiful, how my problems seemed to fade into the background. I want to just move to Alaska and start a new life; but then again, that’s just escapism. It’s me saying, “I don’t want to deal with any of this. I want to leave it all behind me.” But, as I told my friend Katie, I am a walking baggage train: all of the baggage that manifests itself here won’t be left on the Holy Hill. It would follow me all the way to Alaska. Granted, moving to Alaska is just wishful thinking; but it does make a point: It would be easier to try to abandon my problems and not work through them, but that would never succeed, so I need to work through my problems. Open, shut, closed case.

If God would grant me just one wish,
I wish He would give me
ONE LAST
chance.

The enemy never lets up. He struck me hard tonight. Extremely hard.

I couldn’t smile. Couldn’t laugh. All I could do was stand there, my eyes vacant and empty, and though to outsiders it may have looked like I was zoning out, the truth is a million screams and shrieks and cries were going through my head with every passing moment. I stood in the coffee shop, surrounded by people, but I felt so utterly alone. I felt tears brimming behind my eyes, so I escaped outside. I ran into Jessie, and I told her I was leaving; she asked why, and I confessed that I wasn’t feeling too good. I told her, “I have to leave, or I’m just going to start crying.”

She looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

I replied after a moment, “Because I’m so sad and unhappy, and I feel like my life is a waste and no one really genuinely cares.”

“I care,” she said. “Please, tell me what’s bugging you the most.”

“It’s not really just one thing. It’s lots of things piled together.”

Compassionately, “Tell me.”

I told her, “Everything I want, I can’t have. Everything I have is taken away. And happiness is as empty as the stars and as fleeting as the spring rains.”

Obviously confused, she asked, “What all is going on?”

A sigh. “I just… I just want to be happy.”

“What’s making you unhappy?”

“I want to love and be loved, but every time I find it or get close to it it’s taken away or becomes a lie.”

“What brought these thoughts up?”

“Everything going on with a girl I like… and with Courtney.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to be with this girl, but I’m afraid it will never happen. Courtney is with another boy, and I’m okay with that, but the fact is, the moment I realized I loved her and didn’t want to be with anyone else ever, the damage was done and the sentence was passed: we were over.”

It doesn’t look like I’m going to be with the girl whom I want to be with. It sucks, but I’d rather know that’s the case than continue stumbling around in blindness. She kept me in the dark about things, and that upsets me, but at least now I know what’s going on. I just feel like I’m in a glass jar or a plastic bubble, seeing everyone living out their dreams, and being stuck in place left only with regret, shame, and the inability to move. I am trying to move forward. I really am. I am making changes, and perhaps this is why the enemy is striking me so hard: he doesn’t want those changes to take place. The truth is, though, Courtney—not Julie—was my first love. She was the only girl I could ever see myself being with for a really long time. She meant everything to me. But I was stupid. I made stupid decisions, and I have to live with that. I’m a stupid creature sometimes; hell, most of the time. But I learned and I’m trying to move forward… It’s just so damned hard, especially when the enemy does everything he can to stop you.

P.S. To all girls out there: don't lead someone on for a month if you're not sure if you like them or not. It's totally uncool.

“We’re moving forward, but holding ourselves back, and we’re waiting on something that will never come.”

- Straylight Run

Those lyrics seem to be the epiphany of my life. They always play over and over in my head, a haunting sonnet that never leaves me, even in the night. For so long I let them consume me, let them guide my every move, direct my every step, but I have come to realize that this shallow existent falls short of my potential. I can be so much more. I have been disappointed and broken, my heart has been stomped-on, smashed with a sledgehammer, and I have been left bleeding and crying on cold, dark, rainy street corners for far too long… How come I never thought to myself, “Why don’t I just get up and walk away from it all?” I’m not talking about resignation; I’m talking about the exact opposite, actually. I can look at my failures and my pitfalls and my screw-ups and the great sins of my past, and I can let them take root and hold me into a place of cynicism, despair, shame and regret; or I can shake off those chains, free myself from the burden, and walk forward, embracing whatever comes. Life is full of suffering… But there is joy to be found as well. I may have met my fair share of dead-ends, empty alleys, and dark dungeons, but I don’t have to stay there. So I’m going to stop sitting on that rainy street corner, I’m going to pick up my feet, and I’m going to walk. At first, it will be hard. Painful, even… For I have known that street corner for nearly two years now, and it’s all that I know. But I dare to believe that though darkness has come, a dawn is coming; and though I believe that the dawn certainly is coming—I believe this with all my heart—, I am haunted by a question: “How long?” The idea of dawn not coming for a long time frightens me. But I know that if I just sit on that street corner, it may never come.

God doesn’t want me to sit on that street corner. He isn’t pleased when I dwell on my mistakes. He gets no joy out of my suffering. He wants me to be happy. He wants me to get moving. He’ll help me, I think. No, I know He will help me. I’m not going to be able to walk away from that street corner in an instant. First, I need to pick myself up. I’ve already done that. Now I need to put one step in front of the other, baby steps… And I know what these steps include. All will be hard, some harder than others, but all are necessary. I have become engrained in habits and tendencies that need to be tossed. “Trying” won’t cut it. I need to train myself for this journey, and at first it will seem like I am a 900-pound lethargic fat man running a marathon. But I will get better. I will be victorious. It won’t be easy, but I know it has to be done.

There is a dawn approaching… And I’m going to start walking towards it.

Isn’t it peculiar how those within the Christian sect will use anything to parade their own cause? One thing I’ve noticed is that when we want something to happen our way, we’ll see “signs from God.” One might say, “I believe God wants me to do this, because He’s been giving me signs!” It can be used in manipulation: “I think you should do this, because God has given me signs telling me that you should.” Anyone can say they’ve received “signs” from God—but this whole thing of divine “signs” is tricky business. When Julie broke up with me, I really wanted to be with her; I wanted God to want us together; and so everywhere I went, I saw “signs” that God wanted me to be with Julie. Of course, these signs were mere coincidences or me reading my own desires into random events and situations. Right now, I have no desire to be with Julie and am totally content with not being with her—so either God is a liar, or I deceived myself. I think we can want something so badly that we’ll try to convince ourselves God is on our side, and we’ll see “signs” with every blink of the eye. Most of the time, though, I think we might just be deceiving ourselves. We may think these signs are from God, but in the end it’s our own psyche trying to bend the rules to our favor. When it comes to people trying to manipulate us by telling us they’ve received “signs” telling us what we should do, we should be wary: if God is not giving us the same “signs,” then there’s a pretty good chance the other person is self-deceived.

I can’t keep the false prophets of the Old Testament out of my head. They produced “signs” wherever they went, proclaiming that these “signs” were from God. I have no doubt that they performed miracles and healings and such acts of that nature, but I believe that Satan can perform any of those. I believe he can and will use those to push us down wrong paths; during the Old Testament days, isn’t this what he did? I think of a story when the prophet Jeremiah preached against a false prophet, though the scriptures never deny that the false prophet performed “signs.” The “signs” were from a source that was attempting (and, sadly, succeeding) to drive the people away from God. The scriptures talk about false prophets during the days of the New Covenant (ahem, our days…) who will perform signs and wonders and such of that nature, but they will do so in order to pull people away from God (granted, they may think they’re performing God a favor, but they’re just fitting into the devil’s hand). Of course, the “signs” I’m talking about here aren’t exactly the kinds of “signs” that we talk about when we speak of God “giving us signs,” but the principle, I believe, remains the same: Satan can give us signs to keep us going down a wrong path or from taking the right one. In the end, I think, we should just be careful and prayerfully consider what is going on, allow the Holy Spirit to guide us, and let the word of God be our light.

I went for a drive this morning to think about everything going on in my life. I went to U.C., promptly became lost, and somehow ended up in Over-the-Rhine. I followed Vine Street down into the heart of Cincinnati, and took the roads between and along the Reds and Bengals stadiums to get back to Eighth Street, up Glenway, and back onto my beloved campus. I don't have much to do today. I am in a state of numbness. Amos is coming down today, which should be good. I head home this evening, because I'm teaching a class on "Grace" at my church. I'm pretty excited. I'm also quite hungry and thinking about getting something to eat. I wrote this last night when I got back to my dorm:

i just don't know what to do anymore

i want to give up
but for some reason i keep pressing on
hoping that things might,
one day,
work out.

is it an illusion? am i hoping
for a resolution that will never come?

i wish life were more simple
it's always so damned complicated.

* * *

I fell asleep quickly last night, and I woke up to screams and the sound of crashing next door. I laid in bed terrified. I think it was all in my head; the time was 2:13 and I had gone to bed at 1:40, so I imagine I fell into a fitful sleep an was woken by a bad dream.

Everything is interpretation. We all interpret things differently. Here at school you will find countless people with different theological viewpoints and beliefs, though sharing in the unities of the Christian faith. Some people believe women can be pastors; others disagree. Some think baptism is necessary for salvation; others do not. Some people think that hell is eternal torment, others think it is eternal destruction. All of these views flow from different interpretations from biblical texts. But interpretation goes beyond how we read sacred documents. We all interpret relationships differently. We interpret happiness and sorrow differently. We interpret our lives differently. Our interpretations have a huge affect on how we interact with others, relate with others, how we spend our minutes, hours, days, months, years. Interpretation is everything—the fates of our lives, to a real degree, hinge on interpretation.

I am writing a story for my friend Jessie. Here is the prologue (I’m on chapter three right now):

In the days of the Rule of the Blade, when Muredach the Iron Falcon ruled over the Kingdom of the Viridians, all hope of deliverance had been lost. The iron fist of Muredach and his legions of the Blade had quenched all hope from the hearts of the Viridians, and any who dared hope were silenced by the edge of the sword. The land of the Viridians had once been prosperous, overflowing with laughter and love, with drink and good weed, with the sound of harps and lyres and children playing in the streets; but those days were no more than memories, for the land had grown dark, and a shadow hung over the hearts of all who dwelled in the forsaken lands. It was in these days that I, Lysander the Great, came into the world. By the hand of the gods, propelled forward by fate, and yet knowing not that I played in a cosmic drama for which none dared to dream, I found myself on a journey that would take me through the great joys and sorrows of life, a journey in which I would taste many tragic defeats and fruitless victories. For it seemed that the Shadow would never depart, and that Muredach and his legions were too strong; but there played in the heavens a greater force, a power beyond reckoning, and it is by the favor of the gods that I now write this. I wish to tell you my story, the story of one who did not know his role in this cosmic drama until the prophecies were fulfilled. It is a great story of triumph and loss, of victory and defeat, of shattered hopes and blossoming dreams. This is the story of the liberation of the Viridians and the inaugurating of a new eschatological age.

It’s been an interesting day, full of ups and downs and unexpected twists and turns. Drama? Yes. But not necessarily bad drama. Some drama can be good, I guess. In the end, two of my friends are doing great, conflicts are resolved, and we can hope that they remain that way.

my personal bubonic plague

Life is filled with drama.
Sometimes I just want to dig a hole and throw myself in it,
and never climb out.
but then I would never see the flowers blossom,
hear the laughter of children playing in the snow,
catch the scent of early spring rains,
or laugh so hard I can no longer speak.
Resignation may be easier sometimes…
But the darkness will choke you.
Why are we so attracted to the noose?

Fall is coming. Yay! I love the changing colors on the trees, the soft autumn breezes, carving pumpkins and sweet potato casserole. I remember in my younger days, how much I loved going to my friend’s house and throwing a football. I remember running through the woods behind our house and jumping across the creek. And I’ll never forget how we would ride our bikes through town, pedaling as hard as we could with nowhere to go at all, time but a memory of the past. Those days… Such wonderful days. Now I don’t have time for things like that anymore. I’m always writing papers it seems, and going to class or working. The drama of adult life crowds me, my own personal bubonic plague. When does fall officially begin? I must find out, for I praise the coming of fall by buying cheap gourds from Kroger’s and decorating my room with them. I like to draw smiley faces on them with a felt-tip marker.

My alarm didn’t go off for my EXODUS class this morning (well, yesterday morning, technically-speaking), so I missed that for a second time. I’m enjoying my classes, though. While my Corinthians class is boring, the take-home work is amazing. I’ve learned so much so far. I always thought 1-2 Corinthians were boring, but looking at it from a fresh perspective, I’m finding the letters fascinating.

I really should be getting off here. Class in the morning, and a phone call to make.

“Oh, drama, can you leave me alone for one night?”

P.S. It was September 12, 2006 (exactly a year ago) that I wrecked my Jeep, and the tale of a flying car, Appalachian children, portable communion, and State Avenue baptisms was born.

Over the past few weeks, I've been toying with a story idea in my head. I told Jessie about this new story, and she remarked, "That makes, what, twenty stories you're writing?" Hah, she's right. But that's how it goes with me. I will start stories and never finish them, but I DO finish the really good ones. Will this one be a good one? Who knows? I am still not clear about the plot-line, but I'm happy with what I have so far.

You can read my prologue HERE.

In the words of Jessie, "ttfn" (ta-ta for now!).

what happens when you
stop believing
in miracles?

a subtle reminder

Again, I encourage any of my faithful readers to be directed to my xanga.
I write mostly on xanga, and anything I write on here is also on xanga.
But my xanga has entries nearly every day.

I have revamped it. You can visit it at http://xanga.com/ajbarnhart

Adios!

my mind sprints

So many thoughts have been consuming my mind…

Simplicity. This has been on my mind a lot lately (hence the post a few days ago). I find myself overwhelmed with the complexities of life, and I am seeking an escape. When I was in high school, life was simple: go to school, go to work, hang out with friends, and fall asleep while reading a good book. College came and every year has been drenched with multiple layers of complexities wrapping around and forming on top of one another. It’s impossible to escape! My mind is cluttered, my life is cluttered, my existence is cluttered. I am always sprinting yet going nowhere. I truly want to simplify my life. “But what does simple living means? How can I live a simple life? What steps should I take?” I have been doing research online and in books (Richard Foster’s Celebration of Discipline).

“How Life Can Turn…” The other day I was cruising through facebook (an internet community service designed especially for college students) and came across Courtney’s boyfriend’s profile. Courtney had written on his wall, “I think you are amazing.” It spurred a thought through my mind: “How interesting it is that life twists and turns and those things we once told to one person are being told to another with absolute sincerity.” There was a day when Courtney would look into my eyes and whisper, “You’re amazing… Everything about you is so amazing…” Now she is saying that to someone else. And is she alone? No. For there is a girl whom I think is amazing, a girl whom I like, and a girl I want to be with. She knows I like her, and she’s trying to figure out if she likes me. It just goes to show that life does turn, that I am saying to a girl other than Courtney, “You are amazing.” I once told Sonja she was amazing; and then Julie; and then Jessica; and then Courtney. And now another girl. It’s just… I don’t know… weird how our affections can move person-to-person, to entirely different scenery and transformed circumstances.

My Future. As mentioned in the above paragraph, a certain girl has come into my life. I’ve liked her for about two weeks, and she *might* like me. Current circumstances, however, forbid us being together. It’s difficult to explain, so I’m not going to. In the end, I am faced with a decision: I can either hold onto hope that we will eventually be together, or I can quench my affections for her and move on. With option A, there is the risk of hurt; with option B, there is the risk of missing out on something beautiful. I told the girl, “I’m torn between what I should do. I like you, and I want to be with you, but right now I know that’s not possible… And the future is so unclear, unable to be seen… And while part of me has a good feeling about ‘us’, the other part doesn’t.” I asked her what I should do, and she said, “I wouldn’t give up hope. I’d hold onto hope.” But hope, for me, is so painful. I’ve likened hope to barbed wire, and the tighter I wrap my hands around it, the more I bleed and hurt; yet at the same time, I am a mysterious and strange creature, unwilling to give up hope until there is no hope that the hope of hope exists. But I do like this girl. She is an amazing, godly person, with a good head on her shoulders. I can’t deny that my heart leans towards her. I can’t deny what I feel going on beneath the surface of my blue eyes. I think I will hold onto hope… even though it hurts at times.

School. And the usual consumption of my mind when it comes to my junior year of college. A friend and I were sitting at the bar in the coffee shop, talking about our classes. I said, “I’m probably going to be a 2-year senior. Not because I’m lazy, but because I don’t like taking a bunch of classes and then doing minimal work for them. I’m here to learn… Plus, I am thinking about taking Hebrew or Greek, and I’d need two years to do that.” I’m not at all opposed to an extra year of school. In fact, I think (in a lot of ways), it is wiser. After all, while I am at college to get a degree, I also want to learn something. I pay more attention to my classes than most people do. I love learning, and I want to experience as much of it as possible.

I’m at home for the weekend.
I am watching episodes of “The Office…”
But I should actually be working on some papers I have due:
“Modern Interpretations of The Gospel of Luke”
“Eschatology in 1 Corinthians.”
“The Use and Role of Rhetoric in 1 Corinthians 1-2”
“Queer Midrash and Queer Theory”

a life of simplicity

I want to live a life of simplicity. It's so easy to get caught up in this world...
A philosophy of simplicity. Hmmm... that sounds interesting.

"What does it mean to live simply? To live truly simply?"
"How can I live simply in the world in which I live?"
"How might false simplicity masquerade as true simplicity?"
"How can we discern true simplicity from false simplicity?"
"What role does ascetics play in simplicity? Or do they play a role at all?"

A simple life... These questions rage within me.

Simplicity is the absence of complexity.

"What makes life complex?"
"How can I discern the complexities from the simplicities?"
"If I CAN discern complexities versus simplicity...
then how do I pursue simplicity over complexity?"

It's 12:30 in the morning. It's way too late for me to be thinking about this.

I should turn off my light and go to bed.

But my mind rages:
shrieking questions
inhospitable fears
a search for something more
confusion unabated

I want my life to make sense... Am I seeking an interest in "simplicity" for the sake of ascertaining a life that makes sense? Where I can tell up from down? Where I can tell good from evil? Where I can know my own heart and my true motivations and desires? Where I can become a man of character and integrity?

There is something in the idea of a "simple life" that draws me...
Maybe it's a promise of escapism?
But would--will?--simplicity bring such an escape?
Or will I find that my problems don't just fade away into the background?

I read Walden once. Mayhaps I should pick it up again?