contemplations

What is repentance? Repentance is a turning of the heart towards God, propelled by God’s Spirit. It is a matter of our disposition towards God: our natural mental and emotional outlook, mood, and attitude towards God. In repentance, our disposition towards God is transformed. While we were once cold, bitter, and calloused towards God, we become concerned with God (we “seek His face”). Indifference to God and His ways evolves into a concern and care for God and His ways. I believe this is what repentance is all about.

Where does lifestyle change fit in? An ill disposition towards God produces a rebellious lifestyle indifferent to God’s desires for how we live. A renewed disposition, however, produces a lifestyle within us where we seek to live according to His desires for our lives because we generally care. We are placing God’s interests for our lives above our own. The heart of repentance is not in behavioral change: it is in a renewed disposition towards God. The reality or genuineness of our repentance is evidence in our lives: “Are we seeking to conform to the patterns of God’s ways or to the patterns of the world? Are we seeking to honor Him in the lives we live, or are we seeking to honor our own wishes, wants, and desires? Are we seeking to live in ways that reflect that status of our identity as God’s people, or are we seeking to live in ways that reflect the identity of those without Christ whom are perishing?” Note that the word seeking is used over-and-over. No one conforms to God’s behavioral desires perfectly. The issue lies within our true intentions—sometimes we can convince ourselves we are intent on doing something but really we are just deceiving ourselves. Our intentions speak to the reality—or lack thereof—of our repentance.

How does one come to repentance? Repentance is a gift of God: God works on our hearts through the teaching of the gospel, convicting us and prodding us towards repentance. However, the choice is ultimately ours. No one is forced into repentance. God does not draw us to Him so loudly that we cannot resist, nor does He draw us so quietly that we have to struggle to hear His voice. Mankind has the freedom to choose God or reject Him. In choosing God, a metaphysical shift takes place in our lives: as we turn our hearts to God in faith, the Holy Spirit enters into us and transforms us from the identity of “those whom are perishing” to “the holy and blameless children of God.”

is God disappointed with us?

As I was lying in bed the other night, I contemplated: “Is God disappointed in me?” All of us sin, and I was wondering if God is disappointed in us when we sin. I thought to myself, “What is disappointment?” Disappointment, I believe, is what one feels when another person does not live up to their expectations. When we are disappointed with God, it is because God does not live up to our expectations. When God is disappointed in us, it’s because we haven’t lived up to His expectations for our lives. “Is God disappointed with us when we sin?” I think the answer is, simply: “No.” God isn’t an idiot. He knows that we live in a world where we still wage war with our sinful desires; we are caught in a plane where heaven intersects the sinful world in which we live, and Christians live right at that intersection. We are torn between following God and obeying Him and between following our own wishes and desires and fulfilling our own selfish wants. God knows that we exist in such a state, and He doesn’t expect us to always choose the path that is in line with what He wants. He wishes we would always choose such a path, but He knows we won’t. Like I said, He isn’t an idiot. He knows we sin. He knows we sin all the time, every day, in ways we recognize and in ways we do not. We live lives where we want to God’s will, but we also want to do our own will. God knows we are made of dirt, and though He would like it if we were totally abandoned to Him and never sinned, He knows that’s not going to happen—at least not until we dwell with Him in the new creation.

another day at the Hilltop Cafe

Most days at the coffee shop are generally uneventful. But today wasn’t too bad. It started off with Isaac and Katie arguing about perceptions of reality—and Isaac’s quote, “This occurrence of reality is the most annoying occurrence of reality that I have ever experienced” still makes me laugh. Manny came up to the bar and asked for an in-house water with a side of cocaine. I gave him his water and said, “Your cocaine will be at the end of the bar.” A few moments passed, and I called him over. He leapt off the couch and curiously approached, only to find Katie bent over and snorting his fresh cocaine (thanks to twin packets of coffee sweetener):

Isaac and Katie left, and so I amused myself behind the bar. Several friends came by, and we chatted. Boredom began to overcome me, so I swiped my card through the register and ordered an iced caramel macchiato. Five minutes later, I produced a fantastic drink, which Cassie displays so vibrantly:

The Hilltop can be fun, every now and then.

a pinball in a pinball machine

We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us. We are like ignorant children who want to continue making mud pies in a slum because we cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a vacation at the sea. We are far too easily pleased. – C.S. Lewis

My search for joy has carried me everywhere. For two years it has eluded me, though it has been present temporarily with certain situations. It seems that joy, for a boy like me, is something untouchable, something unable to be experienced. I live in a world of turmoil, not peace; depression, not joy; shame and regret, not happiness. I search hungrily for joy, and I find that my search is akin to that of a pinball in a pinball machine: bouncing everywhere, backward and forward, side-to-side, searching for that which will bring me joy. I turn to little escape and mini-joys to try and ease the brokenness. I seek shelter in shanties and cardboard boxes while I freeze in the drenching rain of my own ignorance: my ignorance to the reality that I have been bouncing around for so long and nothing of value has been discovered.

God offers me joy. He offers it to me. Do I believe this? I mean, do I really believe this? All of my prayers for as long as I can remember have been cemented in suffering, shame, and regret. How often has praise flowed from my lips? How often have tears of joy streamed down my cheeks? I can’t remember the last time that happened, though tears of sorrow I remember all too well (I cried some last night).

I look at my life and realize where it could be if I hadn’t screwed it up. And I feel like I have nowhere to go. Everything I loved was taken from me, and I played a huge part in that. I was stupid and ignorant and went against all knowledge and intuition, and I paid dearly for it. Now I feel like I have no future. How could life get better?

But God still offers joy.
God offers me a future.
God offers me transformation.

And I continue bouncing around like a pinball in a pinball machine.

the way the world works

My friend Emily and I were talking about how romantic relationships work. She thinks that it is a person’s personality that attracts you to him or her, and then you find their physical appearance attractive; I think that it is the physical appearance that attracts you to a person, and their personality can make or break that attraction. I would love it if she were right, that personality stood on a pedestal above physical appearance. But I have seen the way the world works, I have seen how relationships form, and I know that’s not the case. It is wishful dreaming. Relationships don’t work that way. If you want a better chance at being in a relationship, you need to be the kind of person who is physically attractive and not physically repulsive. Maybe I’m just shallow, but I prefer to view myself as being realistic.

Last night I dreamt that she came up to me at school and asked how I was doing. It was good to talk to her. I miss talking to her. She asked me, “Are you almost over what happened?” I replied, “Yeah. Almost.” Things are getting better. They’re still tough, God knows… But things are getting better. I’ve been talking with an old friend—Lindsey—who randomly called me up the other day, and we’re going through the same thing. She’s a big encouragement. Everything will be okay. Life goes on. Take a deep breath. There is hope. Yes: hope reigns.

I was reading through my journals, what I wrote during the days she and I were together. I was a good boyfriend. I really was. I treated her right. I tried to make her happy. We had our problems, like every relationship does, and those problems got the best of us. But I wasn’t a bad man. I wasn’t a bad boyfriend. I gave her the world, or at least tried to. She was my reason for breathing. “You’re a good, decent guy, Anth,” my little sister told me. “I know all of your deepest, darkest secrets [she does] and I still know for a fact that you’re a good, decent guy. One of the last ones out there.”

life continues...

Sarah and I went to Rabbit Hash yesterday. It’s a small town in Kentucky along the Ohio River, a hotspot for bikers, with a dinky general store and a hick bar. They actually elected a dog as mayor! We then went back to her place, and I met her dementia-ridden grandpa. He is crazy and hilarious. He always talks about the war, and he is convinced I’m a 16-year-old lady. I think it might be my long hair? I stayed there till 1:30 in the morning and didn’t get back to campus till 2:00.

I went over to Isaac’s place today. We sat on his back porch and looked out at the city as the first storm-clouds rolled in (right now we’re in a thunderstorm watch; there are tornadoes stretching all the way from Michigan to Kentucky). We talked about God, philosophies of life, girls, and everything in between. It was a good time.

Amanda is home for the weekend. I get to see her tomorrow!

I am trying to stay optimistic despite the pain. It’s hard some days, especially at night, in the quiet, where memories slip into my mind and wreak havoc. I escape through my writing, but that escape only lasts until my brain fries for lack of ideas.

I want to move to Alaska, live there for a year, then come back. Take a break from life. But we can’t do that, now, can we?

i am tired

A month ago, we sat on the swings; I held her hand in mine, and we looked into each other’s eyes, and there was something special. Something wonderful. I felt at peace.

We haven’t really talked since then. Why? I have no idea. She just started ignoring me and refusing to hang out with me. I have tried: I have called her, invited her to hang out, tried to spend time with her, but she always makes excuses. If there is something going on with her friends, she purposefully doesn’t tell me, and then lies about it later.

I found her yesterday. She was sitting in the coffee shop with a boy. I walked over, started talking. She turned her head, lowered her eyes, refused to make eye contact. Later they were sitting at a table with several people. I came over to talk. No one acknowledged me. The boy said, “You’re not invited.” I stormed off campus with Trista, and I hollered and shouted as we drove down the interstate.

I am already having a rough time. I don’t need it to be compounded by crap like this. What is someone supposed to do, in such a situation, when the people you considered good friends all turn their backs to you? My entire social life has been turned upside-down, and I feel frightened, insecure, alone. I know I need to make new friends. Friends who won’t abandon me. But all the groups at C.C.U. have already formed, and it’s nearly impossible to penetrate them. People are content where they’re at… including the ones who drop-kicked me out of their lives.

I am tired of being abandoned.
I am tired of being alone.

Philippians 1.21-27: the greatest act of self-sacrifice

Much of St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians deals with the kind of lifestyle that Christians are called to live. Using himself, Timothy, Epaphroditus, and Christ as prominent examples, Paul speaks of the Christ-like life being summed up in this: “self-sacrifice.” “Self-sacrifice” is, simply, putting other peoples’ interests and needs before your own. The greatest act of self-sacrifice, for Christ, was giving himself up on the cross. Crucifixion is a horrible—perhaps the worst!—way of death that mankind has ever created. But for Paul, self-sacrifice is just the opposite: staying alive.

In this text, we see that Paul hints at saying, “I’m suicidal.” And who can blame him? He has gone through much suffering—his life has been a physical and emotional hell—and now he has been imprisoned for two years. The thought of St. Paul being suicidal is discomforting. In our modern world, we view suicide as the ultimate sin. Some Christians even go so far as to say that suicide is the “unforgivable sin” that Jesus speaks of in the gospels (though I disagree). But suicide was not looked at in a negative light in the culture in which Paul lived. In St. Paul’s word, suicide is honorable, a conquering of the passions. The idea of suicide being the unforgivable sin has no biblical basis; St. Paul does not view suicide as a straight ticket to hell. In fact, he never even hints that it is a heinous sin!

Paul says that he is torn between life or death, torn between continuing to live and dying and going to heaven to be with Christ. The words he uses to describe his anxiety over the matter are emphatic: he is being ripped apart with these polar-opposite desires. And yet he decides to not take his own life, to put aside his own desires and to continue living despite his pain. Why? For the sake of others. This is a great act of self-sacrifice: continuing to live when you want to end it all, embracing life when you would rather embrace death. When you want to live, giving your life up for others is the greatest act of self-sacrifice. When you want to die, staying alive for the sake of others is the greatest act of self-sacrifice.

christian identity and christian ethics

Christianity is not about living by a new set of rules or embracing a new set of behaviors. It is about a renewed friendship with God. When we become friends with God by committing ourselves to Jesus, we are given a new identity. The New Testament writers (such as the St. John and St. Paul) refer to our new identity with a variety of terms: “children of God,” “friends of God,” being “in Christ,” “in the Spirit,” and being made “new creations.” The New Testament writers, by using these terms, speak of a new identity given to us in Christ. Some of the characteristics of this new identity include being made 100% pure, holy, and blameless; being filled with God’s Spirit (the backbone of our new identity is the Holy Spirit in us), being given a new destiny (paradise with God and fellow Christians), and being God’s friend and not His enemy.

Our new identity contrasts sharply with our identity before we were made whole and healed in ChriSt. Paul speaks of our old identity often, such as in Titus 3.3 and Ephesians 2.1-3. While we are now holy in Christ, we were unholy before Christ. While we are now filled with God’s Spirit in Christ, we were devoid of God’s Spirit before Christ. While we are given a new destiny in heaven in Christ, we were doomed to hell without Christ. While we are now God’s friends in Christ, we were God’s enemies before Christ.

“But how do we receive this new identity?” one might ask. God is the one who gives us our new identity; we cannot achieve it (2 Cor 5.18). God does it because of His great love and affection for us (Ephesians 2.4-5). We experience this new identity when God fills us with His Spirit (Titus 3.4-5), and we receive this Holy Spirit by putting our faith in Christ (Gal 3.14). This faith is not mere mental assent to the truth of the gospel; while mental assent is a vital aspect of faith, it is not the whole deal. Even demons mentally assent to the truth of the gospel, but they are vehemently opposed to God. Faith, in the biblical sense, also involves a commitment to and trust in Christ.

When we speak of Christian ethics, the question is not “How does a Christian behave?” but “How does a Christian reflect his or her new identity?” It is critical to understand that our identity is not founded on how we live our lives, and how we live or lives does not make or break our identity in Christ. By the way we live our lives, we are not made more holy or less holy than any other Christian—holiness is a status (a gift!) bestowed on us by God; it is not attained or rejected by our own behaviors. Does this mean that we are free to live however we please? No! That is a false doctrine called antinomianism, the belief that we are free to do whatever we want if we are in Christ, and that is wrong, just plain wrong. The New Testament writers, while straying from the right-wing of legalism, are careful to avoid this left-wing radical theology. St. Paul tells us in Romans 6, “Should we keep on sinning...? No way!” With this in mind, we can look at Christian ethics in this light: “Christian Ethics is not about how a Christian should live, but how a Christian reflects his or her identity in Christ.”

St. Paul shouts in the New Testament, “Live out your new identities!” In Colossians 3, St. Paul compares our old identity with our new identity, and he tells us to cast off all the ways of living that reflect the old identity and to embrace the ways of living that reflect our new identity in Christ. The foundation of Christian ethics is given in Colossians 3.14: love. Jesus’ commandment to love God and love others sums up how a person is to reflect friendship with God: by being kind, compassionate, caring, and self-sacrificial for others, putting other peoples’ interests before one’s own.

Living out our new identities is difficult. A prime biblical example of this is in 1 Corinthians. The Corinthian Christians have a new identity in Christ, but they continue to live out their old identity by sleeping around in the streets of Corinth. Sexual promiscuity was a big deal in Corinth, and slutty girls were often called “Corinthian gals.” After confronting the Corinthians for their sin, St. Paul exclaims, “You can’t do this anymore! This isn’t your new identity! Live out your new identity!”

As we live our lives daily, we must look at our actions, thoughts, etc. and ask: “Is this a reflection of my old identity before Christ or my new identity in Christ?” If it is a reflection of our old identity, we must cast it off. This is a gruesomely difficult task. St. Paul himself struggled with it. In Romans 7, he speaks of his own struggles with living out his old identity vs. living out his new identity. He confesses that his desire and actions are at odds: he does not do what he wants to do, and he does what he does not want to do. He makes a dazzling statement in v.17: “It is not I who sin, but the sin within me.” This is no copout: he is saying, “The way I live does not define my identity. The way I live does not determine who I really am.” He laments in v.24, “Who shall set me free from this body of death?” The imagery is wonderful: “body of death” evokes an image of St. Paul dragging a corpse on his back, the corpse being the old identity that still wages against him, seeking to reflect itself in his life. He is thankful, though, that his struggles will not last forever: in paradise, his old identity will no longer tug on him. Throughout this passage, Paul acknowledges a harsh reality for Christians: while we have a desire to live out our new identities, our actions often do not match this desire.

We, like the Corinthians and like St. Paul, will struggle with living out our new identities. But even though it will be hard, we are called to live out our new identities. So I leave you with this contemplative question. Look at your life. Examine your actions, your thoughts, the way you live your life. “Which identity are you reflecting by your behaviors?” If you discover behaviors that reflect your old identity—and you will, there’s no way around that—then you must cast them off, and it will be extremely difficult. But take heart: no Christian has ever been free of temptation and free of these same struggles, and we can find encouragement in the fact that our identity is not defined by how we live but by He who lives in us: God Himself.

my week

Monday night I grabbed a midnight dinner with Emily, Mandy, and Susie at “The Anchor Grill” in Covington. Much laughs were shared; it was a wonderful escape. On Tuesday I had an emergency doctor’s appointment in my hometown, then I took a nap with Doogie for a few hours before coming back to campus just in time to go to Trista’s birthday party at Arnie’s Bar & Grill in Newport. I went to Isaac’s apartment Wednesday night, and we drank German coffee and played a German board-game. Very good times. I spent much of today in the coffee shop, just hanging out with people, and it was good. Katie and I went to Michael’s, and they had several cheap and anatomically-correct dinosaur figurines. On Friday Sarah and I went and saw "3:10 to Yuma," and Dad and I saw "The Kingdom" on Saturday. I taught class today at Southwest; I'll put up the lesson tomorrow.

Speaking of dinosaurs, I’ve been really getting back into them lately. I don’t know why I stopped in the first place. I guess I thought that if I were going to go into the ministry I would have to squelch my dinosaur passion. But it’s always been there, always whispering to me in my quietest moments. I dream about them often, and as I drive down the road, I look out the window and imagine herds of dinosaurs grazing alongside the road. When I am sad, I go to my “happy place” (a term Jessie coined): in my happy place, I am in a meadow and riding on the back of a Triceratops. My room right now is flowered with dinosaur figurines (good ones, too, museum-quality), dinosaur books, and I have some dinosaur posters waiting for me at home. I have been piecing together a paper entitled The Periods of the Mesozoic, as well as a research paper on marine reptiles of the Mesozoic, and just finished a small paper on theoretical hunting methods of the theropods. Studying these beautiful, majestic creatures is mesmerizing, breathtaking, and brings me peace. Definitely something to hold onto.

Trista and I had a conversation on Wednesday, I think. She told me, “You want God to make you happy, but you’re expecting the happiness just to plop into your lap. You expect to wake up one morning and be radiant and all-smiles. But that not how God does things. I think God gives you opportunities to be happy, and you have to decide to grasp the opportunities and make the most of them.” I think she’s right. She adds, “How do you think God feels when you’re just lying in your bed moping and groaning for Him to make you happy? He’s probably frustrated because He’s giving you all these opportunities, but you’re disregarding them.” I’ve been seizing the opportunities lately, and I’ve been making the most out of them. Life is getting better.

hope even in the darkest of hours

I miss her. I miss the way we talked about everything and nothing. I miss the way she would scrunch her little nose as she squeezed me tight in those bear-hugs. I miss the way I would hold her hand in the truck as we drove through the streets of night-time Cincinnati. I miss the way we would look into each other’s eyes and just become lost. I miss the way everything was simple and perfect. My life was beautiful… But now that beauty has become a desolate wasteland, and I am no more than a crumpled sun-bleached skeleton abandoned in the shifting sands of time.

Any hope that we would end up together is dashed to pieces like a fishing trawler thrown against the rocks. Perhaps I am taking this too hard. Maybe. Maybe not. Truth be told, she was the first girl I ever really loved (my love for Julie was non-existent, a self-delusion, a flowery infatuation). And now that I have experienced love, and adored it, and now that it has been taken from me (or, rather, I have lost it, whether by my hand or by the hand of another), the pain is deep and searing. It doesn’t make any sense to me why God would make me such a burning hopeless romantic and then let me experience this pain over and over again. No sense whatsoever. But I am being made stronger (though that may be another way of saying, “I’m growing cynical.”). I thought there would be no one better than Julie, but this was torn to pieces with Courtney. And now I am convinced I will not find anyone better than Courtney… But I am, again, deluding myself.

I am not thinking logically. I am letting my heart do all the thinking; where does my brain fit in? I don’t give logic even the slightest foothold. Experience has taught me that life is full of suffering; yet it has also taught me that hope and love and laughter and beauty are found where we least expect them. Courtney came out of nowhere; I totally didn’t expect to date her. There will be another girl, perhaps a girl I know right now, whom I will end up dating, and that relationship may very well make my relationship with Courtney seem pale, dull, uninteresting. Tasteless. And I am deluding myself, too, by painting up Courtney as a Greek goddess: when we were together, there were things about our relationship that I hated, but I was too afraid to say anything. There were times when we were together when I wished it would be different. And now, I’m going to be able to be in a relationship where my mistakes will pave the way to better intimacy. Courtney isn’t perfect (neither am I, God knows that much!), and when I make her perfect in my mind, I am unable to move on. I may have left Courtney a long time ago, but I still cling to the caricature that carries her name.

There is hope, even in the darkest of hours. I cling to that hope amidst my pain, even though this is an excruciating effort and causes me much pain.

struggles

I had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday. My cycles have started flaring up again, insanely at times. I have found myself dancing in the valley of depression, and it’s not a dance I want to keep up. Mom told me, “I can tell when your cycles are going. You think life isn’t worth living, you think you’re spiritually worthless, you think you have no friends and no one who cares, you’re irritable and grouchy, and you don’t smile.” This whole “bipolar disorder” feels like a sad curse. My mom is right, though; when I’m not doing well in dealing with my problems—“You’re not normal,” my aunt compassionately told me—it is easily seen by those closest to me. And those not close to me… Well, they don’t see it, because I hole up in my room and don’t come out. I’ve thought a lot about how this disease affects me when it’s kept unchecked:

I think life isn’t worth living. I find myself locked up in my room, curled under the covers, with tears crawling down my cheeks. It is a feeling I can’t shake and a feeling that haunts me. It’s there when I sleep, overshadowing my dreams; and when I awake, it casts itself over me as a blanket of dread and depression. I go to work, go to class, walk the hallways of my college, my eyes vacant and empty, my face locked in a stoic non-expression. Inside my mind is a whirlwind of cascading, torrential thoughts that won’t let me go. My regrets, my shame, my guilt (maybe I have a guilt complex?) shroud me. All my disappointments and heartbreaks throw themselves in my face, suffocating me. I take long drives at night, and end up at places like Mt. Echo, looking out over the city. I hang my head low and bury it in my hands, and I dread going back to that campus where so many memories—once sweet, now venomous—reign.

I think I am spiritually worthless. Guilt and shame covers me. I hold the Bible in my hands and cannot open it. I try to pray, but I never get past “God…” I hear people talking about God’s goodness, God’s favor towards me, God’s affections for me, how God will come through on His promises… But I look at my life, and see how I’ve failed Him time and time again, how I’ve royally screwed-up the greatest gift He gave me. And I think, God may be good… But not toward me. God may extend favor towards His children… but not towards me. God may love other people… but His love for me is a burden. God will come through on His promises for others… but when it comes to me, I’ve messed it up too much. I crave and hunger for an intimate, rich, and deep friendship with Him, but I don’t take the steps to experience it because I think it’s not what He wants. I begin to believe that He wants nothing to do with me, and I have no part in His kingdom.

I think I have no friends and no one who cares. I wrote in my journal some time ago, “All my friends have abandoned me… They’ve cast me out of their life as if I were a contagious leper.” Yes, people who were my best friends two years—one year!—from now have moved on. Some have married and moved away. Others have just up and abandoned our friendship. And others have moved to different groups and given me, for lack of a better word, the backhand. And I find myself wanting deep relationships again. But I have many friends, and as time goes on, some of these friendships will become deeper, richer, and more beautiful. I will be able to share my life with these people and they will share their lives with mine. And as for no one caring, there are still those who care: my family, for instance. My mom is constantly worried sick for me. My dad calls all the time to see how I’m doing. My sister is always texting me and calling me.

I am irritable, grouchy, and I don’t smile. And who can blame me, when I am locked in the prison of the cycles? When these cycles come, when I dwell in the pits of despair and hopelessness, why should I smile? Why should I pretend like everything is okay? Sure, I do pretend in public. I put on a fake smile… But my eyes always lie. And I am quiet, sullen. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to be talked to. Most of the time I just want a big bear hug, someone to tell me—and mean—that they really care.

My doctor thinks that much of my current depression stems from the situation I find myself in: the girl I loved dating another boy on campus. It is very difficult to deal with. She leaned over her table, folded her hands, told me, “I was young once. I had my own fair share of heartbreaks. They’re hell. Everyone goes through them. But as time goes on, it gets easier to deal with them.” And, in all honesty, dealing with the whole “Courtney” thing is easier than my break-up with Julie nearly a year ago. After Julie, I became suicidal for several months (much of this due to emotional baggage received from childhood that came to the surface during the days of the breakup). I liked Courtney much more than I liked Julie; I loved Courtney, and I didn’t love Julie. And yet it is thanks to Julie that I can survive Courtney; in time, things will be okay. My friend Trista knows what’s going on, and I told her, “I’m glad that Courtney is happy. I really am. I think what bothers me is that God so earnestly answered her prayers and made her happy… I just want God to answer my prayers every once in a while, and to let me be happy. I haven’t been happy in so long. I forget what being happy is like.”

the hunting methods of theropod dinosaurs

In 1881, the American fossil hunter Charles Marsh suggested that all meat-eating dinosaurs (the carnivores of the family group dinosauria) be lumped together; he deemed this grouping “theropods,” meaning “beast-feet.” The first theropods appeared ca 225 million years ago, in the Triassic Period, the first period of the Mesozoic Era. They survived till about 65 million years ago, when the dinosaurs vanished—giving them a lifespan of 160 million years. Some scientists believe that birds are the descendents of the theropod dinosaurs; if this is true, then the lifespan of the theropods is, in actuality, around 230 million years. Most theropods were lightly-built with large heads; they had bladelike teeth with serrated edges; they had long, slender legs giving them speed greater than most dinosaurs; most had long, curved claws that tapered to tips, especially on the hands; and they had air pockets in their skulls and vertebrae, as well as an extra joint in the mandible that allowed them to eat large pieces of food.

Theropods can be divided into two groups: the ceratosaurs and the tetanurans. The ceratosaurs are found in the late Triassic and early Jurassic periods, though some Cretaceous carnivores are placed in this group; the ceratosaurs are identified by four functional fingers on each hand and clawed toes on the foot. Some popular ceratosaurs are Dilophosaurus and Ceratosaurus. The tetanurans is the larger group of theropods, incorporating all theropods not found in ceratosauridae; they are identified by three-clawed fingers on the hands and three large toes on the feet, each foot having a smaller toe on the inside of the foot. Tetanurae further divides into two sub-groups, the carnosaurs and the coelurosaurs. The carnosaurs are a group containing most of the large tetanurans (i.e. Allosaurus and Sinoraptor), though, ironically, one of the largest—though not the largest—theropod (Tyrannosaurus) is placed with the coelurosaurs. The coelurosaurs contained most of the Cretaceous theropods, and included strange theropods such as the dromaeosaurs, the ornithomimosaurs, and the oviraptors.

One of the finest tools for thinking about theropod hunting techniques is our observations of the hunting methods of modern-day carnivores. In the world of terrestrial carnivores (a term referring to animals that derive more than 95% of their food in the form of vertebrate flesh), there are three major predatory tactics: ‘grapple-&-slash’, ‘grapple-&-bite’, and ‘pursuit-&-bite’. It is not unreasonable to assume that carnivorous dinosaurs employed these tactics against their prey (such as Apatosaurus, Triceratops, or Stegosaurus).

Grapple-&-Slash is a hunting tactic used by modern-day cats. Animals using this method have highly-compressed, recurved, blade-like claws on their hands and feet; their hind limbs are powerful, and their tails are used as dynamic stabilizers allowing quick-turns in ambushing prey. These hunters do not chase their food; they ambush it. The animals lie in wait, then ambush the prey when it draws close; after a quick chase, they latch onto the animals with their forelimbs; the prey is then taken down with a combination of slashes from the forelimb, disemboweling kicks with the hind limbs, and/or suffocation with the mouth. These hunters usually aren’t very fast in long runs, but yet are excellent sprinters—perfect for ambushing. When it comes to carnivorous dinosaurs, many paleontologists believe that dromaeosaurs (including such dinosaurs as Velociraptor and Deinonychus) employed this tactic (Jack Horner, a renowned paleontologist, advanced this idea). Contrary to what “Jurassic Park” will tell you, however, the dromaeosaurs probably did not make the majority of their kills with the “killer claws” on their feet; these claws were probably used to latch onto the prey (like a mountaineer’s hook) while making the killing slashes with their forelimbs. Dromaeosaurs, in general, fit this type of hunting method: they have short and stout legs, their claws and the sickle-claws on their feet match the proportions of these modern hunters; and their tails probably acted as dynamic stabilizers.

Grapple-&-Bite is a method of hunting that is employed by modern raptorial birds, who swoop down on their prey and carry them into the air while killing the victims with their jaws or beaks. Animals using this method are characterized by claws that are curved but fairly round in the cross-section; the claws are at the end of powerful limbs. Like the “Grapple-&-Slash” hunters, these are ambushers. The hunting tactic is as follows: wait in ambush, then suddenly attack, seizing the prey with the forelimbs, and killing the prey with bites to the neck or back, then dragging the prey out-of-reach of other predators. The claws would be used for holding the prey while the jaws are the main killing tool, whereas in the Grapple-&-Slash tactic, the claws are the main dispatching weapon. Many paleontologists believe most large theropods—such as Allosaurus—utilized this tactic: their hand claws are proportionate to that of the raptorial birds, but they were not well-adapted for killing prey (thus they probably used these claws to hold the prey while the jaws did the gruesome work).

Pursuit-&-Bite is a method utilized by modern-day dogs, wolves, hyenas, and cheetahs. These animals do not have claws that are highly-curved, and the claws are rounded in the cross-section; however, they have powerful jaws and necks, long teeth, and relatively long limbs. Using this method, an animal will run down its prey after a fairly long chase, seize the prey in their jaws, and then kill the prey with a combination of biting and suffocation. The claws, if used at all, are used to pin down the prey or keep it stable while the jaws do their thing. Amidst a raging debate over the feeding methods of this dinosaur, many paleontologists believe Tyrannosaurus was a “pursuit-&-bite” hunter: he had proportionally long legs, and his claws were not well-adapted for killing; also, its large head had long, serrated teeth. No doubt his bite pressure was enormous.

Yet, even if in passing, we must give some room to two of the most popular issues regarding theropod hunting techniques: “Were some theropods pack-hunters?” and “Were some theropods scavengers?” Lending credence to the idea that some carnivores were pack-hunters are the fossilized remains of several Coelophysis skeletons at Ghost Ranch in New Mexico, as well as several Allosaurus remains at the Cleveland-Lloyd Query in Utah. Many modern carnivores—such as lions, for example, and cheetahs—hunt in packs. As to the scavenging debate, it must be noted that hunting and scavenging are not exclusive behaviors: many dinosaurs may have been (and probably were) hunters and scavengers (who would pass up a free meal?). Also, the locale and environment of the predator could have played a role in whether or not it was a scavenger or a hunter: in Africa, the region in which a predator lives often determines whether it is a hunter or a scavenger. We can never underestimate how the environment plays a crucial role in animal behaviors. And as for Tyrannosaurus, the debate “Hunter or Scavenger?” continues to rage on. It is not unreasonable to believe that this dinosaur would have made kills of its own and eaten carcasses of animals it stumbled across.

When we talk of the predatory methods of dinosaurs, we run into a bit of a problem: all we have are fossils. We cannot study these dinosaurs up-close. We cannot study their behaviors, their social organizations, or the way they interacted with their environment. In the end, we can take the best guesses we can and humbly acknowledge that we could be—and, to an extent, probably are—wrong.