it is hope that keeps us alive

There was a time in my life when I was suicidal.

I remember standing on a bridge over the Ohio River, wanting to throw myself off.

I remember staring at that inky black water that refused to reflect even the full moon’s radiance.

I remember wanting nothing more than to leap, to feel the wind, to feel the water… and then to feel nothing. Hope is a beautiful and dangerous and wonderful and painful thing.

I have always been fond of describing hope this way: “Hope is like barbed wire: the tighter you hold on, the more painful it gets.”

What is the function of Hope? Why does it exist? Do we hope simply because it is a fantastical escapism from the painful realities of ordinary life? Or do we hope because we know, deep down within our hearts, that something is wrong with the world, that something isn’t quite right, that the life we’re living NOW isn’t the life that we were DESIGNED to live?

At one time I believed that hope found its source in man’s fantasies and imaginations, that hope was a cocktail of desire for something more and desire for less of what we have.

But I have been thinking about hope, and I believe that hope is something that is nestled deep within every human creature, a small element that speaks to us in whispers and dreams and fairy-tales, telling us that what we experience HERE and NOW is not what we were MEANT to experience. Hope tells us that there’s something missing within our universe, within our lives, within ourselves. It tells us that there is more to be grasped, that there is the possibility of a greater and more wonderful life, a kind of life that we were designed to experience.

Isn’t it odd that when you try to suffocate hope, hope refuses to die? It has been said that when you kill hope, you embrace resignation–the acceptance of fate as “an elegant, cold-hearted whore.” I don’t think that’s right. I think that when you try to kill hope, hope refuses to be killed. Because when you kill hope, you have killed everything within you that speaks of a greater world. And when you kill hope, the only permissible fate is suicide. Because without hope, we are left to understand the world as a brutal, unforgiving, relentless world where suffering reigns and happiness is an illusion. And if that understanding–as false as it may be–is called one’s own, then that person will, ultimately, kill him(her)self.

I didn’t throw myself from that bridge.

I went back to the car, got inside, and drove home.

I was suicidal for five more months.

Every day and every night I wept. I became a recluse, and I started cutting myself.
But never deep enough to drain my body of four pints of blood.

“What was it that kept me alive, what was it that kept me from drawing the knife against my wrist, kept me from tightening the noose around my neck, kept me from swallowing countless pills, kept me from driving my car at 90-mph into the median, kept me from throwing myself from that bridge?”

It was hope within me.

Small. Seemingly inconsequential.

But it was there.

And it showed itself in my tear-stained journals, daring to reveal itself through the pen.

Hope is a beautiful and dangerous and wonderful and painful thing.

It is hope that keeps us alive.

Christmas Break (I)

Monday. Before Faikham, Ams and I left Jessie’s house in Illinois, Jessie fixed us bacon, eggs, and biscuits for breakfast. We left her house by 1:30, dropped Faikham off in Forest Park, and then Ams took over for the rest of our drive home. It hasn’t been cold today, due to the absence of wind (six degrees is better than -18!). Karen is back from Las Vegas; she was there for a week, her flight delayed because of an ice storm. Jess Lynn called me, and we talked late into the night.

Tuesday. I dreamt that Monica and I were cops and she was shot. It’s sad that she’s graduated and has moved home. She turned down the nannying position in Springboro; I don’t blame her. I published a scene from my book on my xanga, and Jess Lynn commented, “This is absolutely beautiful. Publish this. This is the happy ending you need to write more often.” The washing machine is frozen because of the cold, so I had to laundry at the Springboro Laundromat. We opened Christmas presents this evening. I got a printer and a camera. Mom ordered pizza for dinner, and I polished it off with a beer. Quote of the Day: “Family Night is really Let’s Do What Mom Wants to Do Tonight.” Dad and Ams thought it was hilarious.

Christmas Eve ’08. I talked to Jessie for a while last night. I already miss her. I woke at 10:00 and went to Speedway for cigarettes and coffee. Mom, Dad, Ams and I headed to New Carlisle to celebrate Christmas with Dad’s side of the family. We always do it on Christmas Eve, a family tradition. Christmas is always tough for me. Megan had her baby Kate and she brought her to the gathering. Kate is beautiful, absolutely beautiful. And though I am happy for Joel and Megan, it’s a reminder of all that’s happened. Courtney and I had sex for the first time on March 21—no, the 29^th—and she got pregnant. Three months later she had a miscarriage; one of the reasons our relationship plummeted near the end. Our child would’ve been due in December, and this would have been our baby’s first (or second) Christmas. The event traumatized me, and I told no one. I never even acknowledged it in my journals. Just skimmed over it. Well, I did tell one person: Jess Lynn. She was comforting and sympathetic.

Christmas ’08. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I woke early. I enjoyed my ritualistic morning coffee and cigarette. It’s warm today, the sun’s shining, and the birds (shouldn’t they be south by now?) were singing in the trees. Mom, Dad, Ams and I headed to Kentucky to celebrate Christmas. We ate dinner at Grandma’s, and then Alex, Eric, Ams and I went to Jesse’s house. Jared’s gone until tomorrow. Jesse’s basement is finished. He even put in a bar. I took two shots—blackberry Smirnoff vodka and bicardi rum—and had a margarita with 1800 tequila.

Friday. I dreamt that Jessie and I were dating. Kyle thinks I have a thing for him; maybe he’s right? I don’t think so. Corey made coffee this morning, and then the whole extended family came over to Jesse’s. Uncle Bill fixed shrimp and steak for dinner, and we had lots of wine. The old roommate, Kevin, is gone, and he’s been replaced by Jared Sims. He had a bunch of people over, and they crowded the basement. Jesse, Jared, Ams, Mandy, Ashley, Corey and I hung out upstairs by the Christmas tree for a while, and then I curled up with Boozer and Bailey (Sim’s beagle) and passed out.

Saturday. I dreamt I went to a party in Delhi; I didn’t know anyone there except Courtney, and she invited me there. When I got there, she was with Kyle C., all up on him and rubbing it in my face. She told me, “My life has come together. I’m in love and getting married. How’s your life going? Where’s your future headed?” I woke up sad. Uncle Don, Aunt Susan, Eric & Alex left this morning, heading back home to Atlanta. Dad & Ams took my Prizm back home. Mom and I went to ½ Price Books and I got the game Call of Duty for my laptop. Uncle Bill, Aunt Teri, and Mom came over to the house. We celebrated Christmas (I got lots of money!) and we drank a lot. Mom had six tequila shots. Corey’s brother got wasted, and at 3 AM Sims arrived with two girls on his arms.

Sunday. Bailey kept waking me up all night, crawling onto the sofa. Mom, Grandma, Aunt Teri and I went shopping. I got three new pairs of jeans, a new coat, two bookends, and two IPOD players. Jesse went to Mandy’s place for the night, so Boozer and I slept in his bed.

on sad stories

Some friends and I went to see the movie Twilight last night. The theater was packed, mostly with preteen girls who kept clapping and cheering whenever handsome guys appeared on screen (so annoying). The movie was all right: it was a romance story about a human girl falling in love with a vampire boy, and the vampire boy must overcome his thirst for her blood in order to be with her. I told my friend Jessica, “Five years ago I had a romance story nearly identical to that one. I guess I should have written and published it.” She said, “Definitely.” I then proceeded to tell her, “My version didn’t have a happy ending. It was a romance story, but it turned out that the girl fell in love with the vampire boy, but the boy was actually deceiving her so that he and his family could torture and then consume her as dietary sustenance.” She told me that I need to start writing stories with happy endings. The thing is, that’s quite difficult for me. A week ago, Jessica and I were swapping stories made-up on the spot. Her story was quite romantic with a fantastic happy ending. Mine was a tragedy with a happy ending. She said, “Your happy ending sucked. But the sad part was amazing.” For some reason, and I’m not quite sure why, sad and depressing and tragic stories are much easier for me to write. Perhaps it’s because sadness, depression, and tragedy—with quite the speckling of irony—has been the definition of my life thus far. “Maybe one day,” I told Jessica, “if my dreams become reality, then my stories will have happy endings.” My two favorite authors—Cormac McCarthy and Ernest Hemmingway—are quite nihilistic or at the least naturalistic in their writing; while my worldview does not align with any of those, my writing reflects those worldviews. Perhaps there is a hint of truth to Hemmingway’s statement: “Every true story ends in death.”

hungering for more

As I look at my mundane, unexciting, run-of-the-mill life, I can’t help but hunger for more. Hunger for life. For vitality. For a new kind of blood to course through my veins. I want so much more than I have now. I’m not talking about material possessions. I’m talking about the quality of life that I live. I want more, life abundant and beautiful, a life that seems more like an orchestra or ballet or rave than waiting at the doctor’s office till they invite you in and tell you that you have some type of incurable disease. I have a frightening nightmare every now and then: I’m twenty-five years old, sitting at a bar, throwing down shots and smoking a cigarette, drowning out my misery and suffocating in regret. I want so much more than I have now. But this is life: what you want, you can’t have; what you have is taken away; and happiness is as fleeting as the spring rains. Or maybe this is cynicism. Maybe my idea of being a realist is just self-deception. Maybe I need to pull some unknown mask from over my eyes, or at least see the world through a different lens. I have sought happiness in achievements, in popularity, in wealth, in romantic relationships. None of it offered happiness, and yet I constantly pursued happiness through those things. Each came with more stress, more anxiety, more emptiness. Right now I am wrestling with pursuing happiness down an avenue which promises no happiness but only more emptiness. Why is it that we as human beings are so apt to search for happiness and contentment in ways that glorify the self? Maybe here is the issue: when we seek happiness through our own glorification, we fail; and our failure is due to the fact that we exist not to glorify ourselves but to glorify Another. By seeking happiness through our own successes, our own achievements, our own accomplishments; or through our own wealth, our own prosperity, our own material possessions; or through our popularity, our fame, our social networking; or through any kind of relationships that caters to the need of the self instead of being outward focused; maybe by searching for happiness through these things we fail because we are not designed to glorify the self.

me & jessie at Potter's Ranch

Finally! I have a week where I don’t have any papers due, no exams to study for, nothing but class and work and hanging out with friends. And it couldn’t have come at a better time. Last week was pretty rough, both with the whole ordeal involving my friend plus conflicts with other friends. Hopefully things have smoothed themselves over.

Amanda came onto campus last night. We joined Jessie and my Thai friend Sarah, and we went to The Highlands in Clifton. It’s a nice coffee shop with a courtyard. We sat in the courtyard, threw back coffees and lattes, had a grand time filled with lots of laughter. Jessie and Amanda hit it off really well. Jessie and I are really close. She’s one of my best friends on this campus. Lots of people think we are dating, which is hilarious, because neither of us have dating intentions for one another. She’s a pretty fantastic girl, and it’s great having her as a friend. She told me last night, “If we weren’t friends, I’d be so lonely and feel so lost.” It’s quite sentimental, and it is a shared feeling. Here is a picture of the two of us at Potter’s Ranch:

I’m here for the weekend, and it gets quite boring. Kyle said we were going to hang out, but he disappeared. His car isn’t in the parking lot. So now I’m stuck here doing nothing. I’ll probably play my flight simulator game for a little while. Perhaps clean my room. Maybe do laundry (I was hoping to stave off laundry till tomorrow). When Kyle gets here, we’re going to watch “300” and I’m going to help him write two papers for “Classical Greco-Roman History.”

a difficult night

Life has been a roller-coaster. One of my good friends was sexually assaulted over the weekend, and she called me sobbing Sunday night. I rushed over to her house and sat with her for a couple hours. On Monday we went to the police station, filed a report, and then went to the U.C. Hospital in Clifton. The emergency room was packed with people, with a 6-8 hour wait, but she got preferential treatment. Obviously. It took a couple of hours for them to examine her and make sure everything was okay. I sat outside and observed. Lots of people fighting, lots of crying, lots of insanity. When she was done, we sat in the car for a while and talked. I haven’t really seen her since then. She is starting counseling, which is excellent. She’s still traumatized, obviously, and the police were supposed to call her yesterday, but they never did—for that, I’m pretty upset. She is surrounded by friends, but hesitant to trust anyone (for obvious reasons). Her parents don’t even know, aren’t required to, so they think everything is all right. Please keep her in your prayers; pray that God will shower her with comfort, peace, security; pray that God will bring swift judgment into the situation; pray that this horrible event will draw her closer to God and that she will continue to rely on Him more and more. When these times strike, difficulties in all their assorted colors and flavors, then the human creature is poised with two different routes when it comes to God: either a deeper, richer walk with Him; or a bitterness and coldness of the heart. I have experienced both, have turned both ways at the fork in the road. Pray that she takes the former.

Other than that, the semester is halfway over.

I have made lots of really good friends, and I am content with being single.

I have several options available to me following graduation.

Several of us went to a school event in northern Kentucky. Corn-hole, hayrides, a bonfire, fishing, square dancing, grilled meats. It was a pretty good time, despite the cold and the sickness I’ve accumulated due to being too close to a certain girl (only a friend, I must add; and there is nothing more that I want with her; but it was cold and she was skinny and needed some warmth, so I sat close to her, and voila! I have a cold). I have two papers to write tonight. Three to write tomorrow. And I’m juggling between different Halloween opportunities, various parties and events of which I can partake.

amanda @ Mt. Adams overlook

The weekend went pretty well, though it was quite boring. Mom bought me a video game—IL-2—which kept me occupied most of the weekend. I didn’t fall asleep till dawn Friday night thanks to a latte, and I may have the same problem tonight due to a compulsive stop at Starbucks before heading back to campus. At least this weekend I was able to watch multiple episodes of “House” that Mom DVR’d. Now I’m back at school, and after cleaning my room and procrastinating on a paper, I am getting ready to grab some dinner at the café before going to my friend Brock’s “Going Away” Party (he’s leaving for the Navy in November).

My ex-girlfriend Jessica and I talked a bit. We said that we are going to run away to Alaska together, getting eloped on the way. The scary thing is that such a venture could actually work out! We were joking, of course.

I’ve a busy week ahead of me. On Monday I am busy with work and school till 6:00, and then I have to go to the library to do research for another paper. I thought senior year was supposed to be easy?! That’s what they told me as a freshman. On Tuesday I have work and class till 2:20, and then I am going thrift-store shopping before writing the paper I’m researching for on Monday. Wednesday is a relatively easy day: out of class by 11:00, then hanging out with my friend Matt Jobst late in the evening. On Thursday I may go to The Anchor Grill for dinner to relax and do homework. And Friday… Well, this weekend I am maybe going down to Kentucky to visit my aunt, uncle, and cousins. I can’t wait for Thanksgiving Break. It’s going to be amazing.

a prelude to the future?

Amanda came to Cincinnati today. We ate lunch in the dining hall with Jessie, then went to Sarah’s apartment on Ridge Road. It’s a pretty rough spot in town, police cars screaming every which way as the sun sets. We joined her and Keith in their apartment, watched some television with them, chatted. Keith had his plate of marijuana, and he put the bowl in my face and asked, “Are you still thumping?” 

I asked what he meant, and he replied, “Still thumping the Bible?” 

With a sigh, I replied, “Yes, Keith, I’m still ‘thumping the Bible.’” 

He mocked me a little bit, then proceeded to smoke his weed. A few moments later his friend showed up, and he sold Keith a few ecstasy pills. Amanda and I sat there quietly as he took them. We both looked at Sarah, and we could see a mix of desperation and complacency written over her face. When we finally left, Amanda said, “Why the hell is she with him?! He’s such a bad person! And he wants to get married to her and be the ‘father of her babies’ [a direct quote]. He’s a wasted life, and he’s just going to drag her down that road.”

Sadly, he already has. It literally breaks my heart to see her now, to see what she’s become. She’s all but abandoned God, has resigned to live this life of sex and drugs and alcohol, all the while knowing it’s wrong but not having enough of a spine to get over it. Whenever I am at the apartment, which reeks of the stench of marijuana, a wave of depression washes over me. I remember when Sarah and I would sit at her old place and play with her dog and watch movies and laugh the night away. Now her laughter has turned into tears of shame, and the good life she lived has been scarred and marred by her awful decisions, the consequences of which she feels locked into. James, Forest, and I—along with several others—have constantly tried to get her out of the situation, but she refuses. What else can we do? She has decided to live this life, has decided to embrace the lot that she’s chosen for herself. I can’t support her in this decision, and I’m still one of her good friends, but this has altered our friendship, has put a strain upon our relationship. This sucks, and it’s horrible that there’s nothing I can do about it.

eat. drink. meet abe lincoln.

This evening I joined several of my friends, and we drove out to Colerain. One of our theology professors, James Snyder (on the right in the picture), is an absolutely head-over-heels Civil War fanatic (and he curses those bloody “Yankees”). We got to his house, a restored Carriage Coach Inn from the 1800s, and his wife led us into the living room. The room was drenched in the aroma of candles, and dozens upon dozens of muskets, along with Civil War relics, lined the walls. We were taken outside, and Snyder—along with the professor of Church History, Rick Cherok (on the left in the picture)—stood in front of an 1830s log cabin in the backyard. They were dressed up in clothing from the Antebellum time period (the period before the Civil War). They introduced a special guest, and out of the cabin stepped Abraham Lincoln himself! We built a fire and roasted hot dogs and marshmallows, leaned back on bales and hay and listened as Abraham Lincoln talked about his life and times. Everyone then had the opportunity to ask him a question. Everyone’s questions were very intellectual, and it was hilarious when someone questioned his war-time practices of suspending civil liberties as unconstitutional; Lincoln looked at him in the eyes, asked, “Are you familiar with the Constitution?” My friend said, “Yes.” Lincoln then expounded upon a remote location in the Constitution allowing him to suspend civil liberties in time of war; my other friend leaned over and whispered to him, “You just got owned.” Ha. Afterwards, Snyder—who reenacts Civil War battles in his free time—arranged the thirteen of us into rank and file, taught us several marching maneuvers, and then proceeded to instruct us on how to do a bayonet charge against an entrenched enemy position. It was fantastic. The whole ordeal was part of a class, “The Civil War Experience.” While I’m not actually in the class, I was able to tag along. It was a great time.

a dream (NOT zombie)

Last night I dreamt that my friend Sarah and I went to my Grandma’s house. My grandma, she acted really sweet and lovingly towards both of us, but then my cousins showed up. They grabbed Sarah and shoved her into a back room, and my grandma pulled out a gun and forced me outside. Standing out on the patio, she explained to me that she and my cousins were cannibals, and they were going to eat Sarah. I tried and tried to get to her, but I was unable to do so. I was left alone outside, unable to get inside, and I could hear Sarah’s screams. I fell onto my knees and stared up at the sky, and I raised my hands and cried out to God, “Whenever something great happens to me, it’s taken! Why don’t you step in and do something?!” I woke up crying. I don’t know what to think about the dream. I’ve always believed that dreams mean absolutely nothing, but I also believe that dreams can be symptomatic of unconscious rhythms in the mind. All day today I have been asking myself the question, “Is this really how I think? Do I really believe that God is out to thwart my plans and to shatter my happiness?” My long litany of romantic relationships shrieks, “Sabotage!” Three of my five past girlfriends treated on me. Another one chose a lifestyle of sin over a life with me. My hopes and dreams have been handed to me on a silver platter—or so it seemed—only to be crushed under the weight of misfortune. This isn’t the case just with romantic relationships either. When it comes to platonic friendships, more than once I have had friends backstab and abandon me out-of-the-blue. This time last year, I lost six friends in a single day, with no rhyme or reason, and I spent the better part of Fall Semester alone in my room, too depressed to wander about to forge new friendships (a few months ago, one of the six former friends apologized). And while I know that God is good, and that He treats His children with love and rains blessings upon them, sometimes the misfortunes and happenchance of life can play to a different tune.

My baby sister told me today, “I feel so depressed. I just want things to be good. Something is always going wrong. It’s like God hates seeing me happy.” On Monday, seven of her friends abandoned her for no reason, and her week has been a living Hell (thankfully she is coming home this weekend, so we will get to see one another). I told her that she knows that God is not out to harm His children or cause them pain, and she responded, “I know. But don’t you feel like every time you’re close to being content something goes wrong?” I candidly remarked, “Yeah, ain’t that the truth?” I told her to hold her head up, that “things work out for everyone else, so they have to work out for us eventually.”

randomz as life goes on

I walked off-campus for a bit this evening, and I ran into a man who lives in the condominiums just outside the school. He was smoking a Black-&-Mild, and he said “Hello”, and I said, “Hello” back. He asked where I was from, and I told him that I went to the campus by his house. He thought that was fantastic, was considering going for a Master’s in Public Speaking there. We sat out by the apartments for half an hour and talked about school, education, and Christianity. He gave me his phone number and invited me over to his place sometime for a beer. Don’t worry, he didn’t seem creepy. I am going to take him up on his offer sometime next week. Up on the “Holy Hill” of C.C.U., sometimes we can get the impression that our campus is a nest of holiness amidst a city of hedonism and sin. It’s refreshing to know that there are followers of Christ outside the realm of Cincinnati academia.

Kyle, Jessie and I are talking about planting a church in Kyle’s basement. Not anytime soon, probably not until next semester. Kyle and I have been talking about doing it for a LONG time, but we never really got around to discussing it as a reality. I am graduating in May, and so the possible reality of planting a church has hit us like a sledgehammer. Now is the time for action! As to plans following graduation, I am considering pursuing a Master’s in either Church History or New Testament Studies. We’ll just have to see. Financial burdens are a big deal right now, especially with the economy threatening to plunge into the depths.

The presidential election is less than a month away. The tension at the school can sometimes be cut with a dull knife. Several of our professors and students are supporters of Obama (my Preaching professor’s phone went off in class today, and a tune that rang “Obama” over-and-over played; absolutely hilarious), and several of our professors and students are staunch supporters of McCain. I’m not feeling too great about either one of them, but then again, I’m not big into politics. Some say that’s a strength, others say that it’s a weakness. Who knows?

Karen and I talked for a bit today. I am pretty much over her. God has really helped me out on this one. I told her, “There’s a girl I like, a girl that I’ve been hanging out with. I’m not dating her, and I don’t plan on even asking her out on a date for a long time. But I just want you to know that it’s a possibility for the future.” She is having a much more difficult time moving on. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her about this yet-to-be-named girl, but I know that she would rather know than not. Speaking of relationships, now two of my ex-girlfriends are engaged. I’m happy for both of them, they’re both going to be happy. But in my dark hours, they rise like shadowy symbols of my own shattered hopes and fruitless dreams. “Shattered so far… But not forever hopeless.” My dream of being a good husband and a good father burn like magma through my veins, and I refuse to give in to resignation. One day my dream will come true. God is shaping me into the person I need to be in order to experience my dream to the fullest. Of this I am confident (even though others would disagree).

I know I haven’t posted in a week (or at least a few days), so this has been a recap of my life right now. Life has been going decently well. I’ve had cycles, sure, but nothing debilitating. This weekend was pretty good: a bunch of friends and I went to a Thai restaurant (my friend Sarah is from Thailand, and she actually cried because the food was so authentic that it reminded her of home), and we went to Newport on the Levee and sat out at the Highlands Coffee Shop for a few hours Saturday night. It’s been great getting to know new people. Fall Break begins on Thursday, so I expect that I will be writing a handful of new xanga entries (since I will be bored at home, no doubt!).

to know & be known

We finally received rain last night, ending a one-month period of drought. The best part, though, was that I got to fall asleep listening to thunder rolling over the city. 

I had a strange dream last night. I’m not going to write it down, but suffice it to say that it would make an awesome story if fleshed-out. I’m thinking a story around 120 pages. A nice, easy read. And interesting, too! 

I told my friend Katie last night, “I don’t have many friends. But those friends I do have, they are friendships that are deep and intimate.” There are lots of people who have dozens of acquaintances. I’m not a fan of such relationships, honestly, and I’d much rather build great friendships with interesting people than be a part of a large group underscored by superficial relationships. Over the past couple weeks, I’ve been getting to know some people really well. Gambill. Sarah. Jessie. Deshay. To name a few. I have been spending lots of time with them, opening up and getting to know them. To know and be known is one of our greatest needs, and I believe it lies at the heart of our desire to love and be loved—loving and being loved is, ultimately, the most intimate expression of knowing and being known. That’s my philosophical moment of the week. Tune in next week.

a zombie dream, etc.

That’s enough about the KoalaBeast now, though I’m sure it will be making another appearance.

I had another zombie dream last night. My sister and I were walking through a field at night, searching for dead animals (I don’t know why, but we were). I came across the head of a horse lying in the ground, and suddenly it twisted its neck around and stared right at me. I screamed for Amanda, and she came running through the corn-stalks. Just before she reached me, several pasty-white, unclothed zombies leapt from the shadows of the corn, and they leapt all over her. I could only watch as a zombie came up behind her and bit into the back of her head, yanking out her brain. That’s when I woke up. “Why do I have these dreams?” It probably has to do with the writing of Dwellers of the Night. Since I think about it a lot, and since it’s about (at least in one sense) zombies, zombies make their way into my dreams.

Life has been going pretty well. I can’t lie about that. I’m still not with Karen, and I’m okay with that. I’ve been happier and more joyful lately, and I’ve been taking the time I spent with Karen to meet new people and spend more time with God. Karen is a wonderful, fantastic girl, but we just wouldn’t have worked out. God has given me peace about my decision, and I am confident that He will take care of me and Karen. On the note of making new friends, I’ve made three really awesome friends, and they’re all freshmen girls. I met them through my friends Kyle and Gambill, but the situations leading to the developing of these friendships is too much to tell. Jessica Myers works with me at work, and she’s pretty cool. She’s so passionate about the gospel, and she reads Henry Nouwen for fun. She loves dinosaurs, listens to the same music I listen to, and she’s pretty cool. Sarah Suepha is from Thailand, and though she’s a quiet girl, she has a fantastic sense of humor and enjoys teaching me the Thai language. She spent half her life in America and half her life in Thailand, so she knows both English and Thai really well. DeShay is from Venezuela, a missionary child. She loves working with primitive tribes in the advancement of the kingdom of God. She, too, is quiet, but when you get her talking, she’ll talk for hours without taking a breath.

These three girls have become my friends. Kyle told me, “You’re much happier this year. Last year you were a loner, your time consumed with work, school, and your girlfriend.” He added, “Girls will suck your will to live.” His point, though, was that this year I am really making an effort to make friends, to do well in school, to be responsible at work, and to change my life in ways that really matter. I still have no idea what I want to do when I get out of here (hopefully in May), and even though I have options (go into horticulture, get my Master’s in church history, move to Alaska or Australia, etc.), I’m content with not knowing what the future holds.

a koalabeast sighting

On Friday night, September 19, 2008, something actually happened at Cincinnati Christian University. 

Dave Faust, the president of the university, says, “This is nothing new. It’s a piece of our past that we tried to hide, but now it’s returned.”

An emergency phone call signaled that the end of the sightings have not yet come:

Dispatcher: 911, state your emergency. Caller: Oh my God, I just saw something crawl out of the storm drain! It looked like… I can’t even begin to describe it… I was walking past, and it reached out for me, snarling! I took off running, and when I turned and looked behind me, it was wiggling its way out of the sewer drain! Dispatcher: Slow down, ma’am. Tell me your location. Caller: I was just walking to my car to go home, and… Dispatcher: Ma’am, what is your location? Caller: I’m at the Shell gas station on Glenway Avenue. Dispatcher: Is this where you saw this… thing? Caller: No. That was on the campus. Cincinnati Christian University.

Police were sent out to investigate the situation. Though nothing was found, it seemed that the case was dropped. Only recently has a private investigator uncovered the truth. This is not the first instance of such an occurrence. The case was handed over to a certain Kyle Arnold, an expert with the F.B.I. When contacted, Arnold had this to say: “We are encouraging everyone to carry on with their lives. While this situation is unsettling, we have no reason to suspect malice. This is not the first time this has happened, and we hope that there will be no more sightings.” When asked if he thinks the creature from the drain will make another appearance, Arnold said, “We can’t be sure of anything right now. But rest assured, we have a full team investigating this case.”

Brock Lusch, a security officer at the Christian campus, says, “Surveillance cameras have been given to the F.B.I. I have seen them myself.” We asked if a positive identification could be made on the creature inhabiting the sewer drains. “While the image is grainy,” he told us, “it seems that the creature is half koala… and half beast.”

do not haunt, dream ruiner!

Oh, the dreams we have...

My dreams for my life:

1. Become a bush pilot in Alaska. Fly a Cessna Amphibious Caravan between outlandish rural communities, delivering food and medicines and basic necessities, while spending time to cultivate relationships and advance the gospel.

2. Plant a church in Australia. Koala bears. Kangaroos. The beach. And living on an island (though a big one). It sounds like paradise. I'd like to work on a team to plant a church that connects with people who are sick and tired of Christendom but searching for something more in life.

3. Start a monastery. I've always been fascinated by the monastic lifestyle. Why not start my own 21st-Century Protestant monastery? It would be quite the adventure.

The question: "Which one do I want to pursue? Or do I pursue them all?" Answer: "Why settle for one when you can settle for all three?"

So here's my plan: Go to Alaska, buy a plot of land, dig up a lot of soil, and ship it to Australia. In Australia, buy a plot of land, cover it with the dirt from Alaska, and become a pilot to deliver food and supplies to scattered Australian outback settlements. In the meantime, I can start a monastery and then start a church plant WITHIN the monastery.

It sounds simple enough. I'm going for it.

(And if that doesn't work, I can always settle for living in Alaska. I'll have a koala bear shipped to me via UPS or Fed-Ex, and I'll have a greenhouse where I can grow eucalyptus plants to feed my koala bear).

P.S. There is some creature living in the school's drainage sewers. Don't go near them at night. P.S.S. You've been forewarned.

[meditations]

Life is getting better. While the whole thing with Karen has torn me up, I am moving forward and doing much better. It has been great to be back here with lots of my friends. I am part of a great church community—Grassroots—where I am encouraged daily in my walk with God, where I am immersed in a community of believers, where we are pursuing God’s will for our lives with great energy. The beauty of gathering together with other Christians is plethoric, but one of the beauties I cherish the most is that we can grow together and strengthen one another. My internship in Minnesota really stretched me, and I was drawn closer to God. When I returned to Ohio, I began to revert back to some of my old ways. But over the past couple weeks, I have been growing closer and closer to God, have been experiencing joy and brokenness in my own life. Those old dreams that I had are beginning to return, and when I look at my life—my character, my personality, my habits, my hobbies—I begin to see more-and-more where I am not living for God’s glory and where I am not reflecting my holiness in Christ. I have been devouring the scriptures, and it has brought so much joy to my life—and, as aforementioned, also brokenness. A few days ago, I went over to my friend’s house, and we were sitting in his living room and just talking about God and life. We began reading through the scriptures, and through our conversation, three passages just came to life for me. 

Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Be wretched and mourn and weep. Let your laughter be turned to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourself before the Lord, and he will exalt you. – James 4.8-10

My desire for communion with God and a restored intimacy is indescribable. But there are times when I feel like the days when I felt God’s presence, when my face literally glowed with “the joy of the Lord”, when my life was truly salt and light in a world of darkness… There are times when I feel like those days are long-gone and can never be relived. Since those days, my life has taken a nose-dive, and I have felt somewhat akin to a Japanese kamikaze pilot in World War II, dive-bombing into cruisers and battleships. I’m about ready to hit, and I have so much speed, and I want to pull up, want to abandon the destructive pattern of my life… But there is something holding me back. Perhaps it is shame. Perhaps it is guilt. Perhaps it is the whisper of Satan in my ear, telling me, “You’ve fallen too far—there is no hope for you. God had a great and majestic plan for your life, but you blew it: you messed up, you screwed everything up, and you’ve lost all the goodness God wanted to bestow upon you.” These are lies, and I know them to be, but they are lies that poison my heart. As I read this text, my eyes are fixated on “Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.” But how do I draw near to God? Simple: repentance. “Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts…” At the root of repentance is humility, and God will exalt the one who humbles himself and repents.

As it is, I rejoice, not because you were grieved, but because you were grieved into repenting. For you felt a godly grief, so that you suffered no loss through us. For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation, without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death. – 2 Corinthians 7.9-10

The scripture from James convicts me, and I have great grief over my many sins, my many errors, my many pitfalls. But where does this grief lead? Does it lead to resignation (that is, does it lead me to believe that I am too far-gone, that I am too-far fallen, that I have strayed too far from the path to ever find my way back)? Or does it lead to repentance (that is, the trust that God is true to His Word, that He will accept my repentance, that He will draw near to me as I draw near to Him)? One of Paul’s letters to the Christians in Corinth brought great grief upon them, but yet he rejoices; why? Not because of the fact that they were grieved, but the fact that their grief led to their repentance—not resignation.

Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers. – Psalm 1.1-3

As I embrace repentance, as I refuse to listen to the Enemy’s lies, as I begin shedding off all the sin that encumbers me, and as I set off on the race set before me… I read this scripture, and I find in it great encouragement. It is quite the blessing to pursue God, to spend time in His Word. It is quite a blessing to be in communion with the Creator. The one who is in communion with God is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, a tree that does not decay and wither. The tree is plugged into the source of True Life—God—and God produces within that tree beautiful fruits. The one who is in communion with God is one who prospers—maybe not financially or physically, but emotionally and spiritually. Being a person who has experienced great financial wealth at times, being a person who has had a multitude of material possessions at my beck-and-call, I understand that there is no happiness found outside God, and that any semblances of happiness outside God are truly illusory and fleeting. I yearn to be the kind of person who is like the healthy tree besides the streams of living water—the kind of person who is in constant communion and enjoys intimacy with the Creator of the Cosmos.

"this is me"

the third week

Monday. I spent the day with Karen. We went to the overlook at Eden Park in Mount Adams. We ate dinner at Don Pablo's and hung out at the Beer Sellar. We went to Hot Topic in Newport on the Levee and watched the sunset from the pier, and then we saw Pineapple Express in the theater. We're not together. "Just friends." But part of me hopes that we'll end up back together, that we'll get over this hump, that she'll come to her senses and cast off a life of drugs.

Tuesday. I spent the evening at the "Michelin Community" in Walnut Hills at Ryan's apartment. Karen came with me. We were invited to a hookah party but declined. She and I went for a drive. I told her, "We're broken up, but we're still acting like a couple. This relationship has no future, and we need to acknowledge that in word and deed." 

Wednesday. Forrest, Hensel, Ryan and I hooked up the hookah and smoked out on the front porch of the Marshall House. I joined them for a dinner Emily cooked, and then we went to Ryan's apartment. I spent the evening at the Hilltop hanging out with Tim, Andy, Monica, Mandy, Rob, and Katie.

Thursday. Forrest, Benhase, Katie and I hung out during Chapel and played ping-pong. I ate lunch with Trista and then played ping-pong with Brandy Rae. James, Hensel and I went for a "Smoke Drive" after I did lots and lots of writing. 

Friday. Ams came home from Anderson University, and Karen worked my shift at the Hilltop so I could go see her. We watched The Rock and went over to Pat D.'s house to listen to music and hang out. We ate dinner at Chipotle. 

Saturday. Men came to the house and laid new flooring in the kitchen. Keith and Sarah had another big fight. She told me, "I can't wait to move out!" She came up to my place today. We hung out with Ams, Dewenter, and Chris, grilled burgers, went to Wal-Mart, and then went to see Matt, who works at The Garage.

Sunday. Sarah spent the night, and I took her back to her place at 8:30. I ran to church, and I had good conversation with Megan and Paul. Hurricane Ike has submerged half of Houston, Texas underwater. The aftershock winds are shaking the trees. Huge winds, and we're supposed to get flooding rains tomorrow. Preachers are saying Ike is a sign of Jesus' coming. "Uh-huh." The winds intensified all day, and the power was out by 3:00. A limb from the oak in our front yard smashed up my car. As I surveyed the damage, a branch fell on me, knocking me to the ground. The drive to Cincinnati was perilous: the winds kept swerving my car off the highway, and the force of the wind actually put dents in the car's frame. I met Karen at school, and we went to Knob Hill and smoked with the wind ripping through the trees. We went back to her place, the roads crammed and the power out everywhere, and we slept together. FUCK. I drove back home. Power lines are down, four people are dead in Cincinnati, roads are closed, trees have been uprooted and tossed around. "Ike is fucking relentless." It's already at Lake Michigan, huge waves hitting the shore and causing damage. Wrecks were everywhere and everything is closed. Duke Energy says, "2 Million people are without power, and we're hoping to have it fixed within the week." They're calling it the Cincinnati Emergency. It's hell out there. 

the swearing bird, et al.

Lindsey: “Dr. Faust [the president of my school, Cincinnati Christian University] is staying at my house this weekend, and we have a talking bird that is saying, ‘You have to be shitting me!’ The bird learned it from the construction workers who had been working on our house. My mom is so embarrassed, she thinks my dad is going to get kicked off the board of trustees.” 

Me: “Ha! That’s hilarious!”

Lindsey: “Yup. I egg it on by saying, ‘You have to be shitting me’ in daily vocabulary, so he’ll say it more often.”

Me: “That’s so cool. I’m definitely writing a blog post about that.”

Lindsey: “Oh, and our dogs have been sick all week. My mom and dad took them to the vet. $200.00 to find out they have stress-induced diarrhea because of all the construction workers putting in windows and what-not.”

Me: “That’s going in my blog, too.”

Lindsey: “Man, nothing must be going on in your life. You know, you should just stop writing books about zombies. I have great material.”

On the topic of books and zombies, I have retired the downloadable version of Book Two. The reason is one-fold: I am rewriting some of the material. If you’re such an adamant fan of mine (which I doubt) that you downloaded Book Two (which I doubt), I highly recommend deleting it and waiting for the next edition (which you most likely couldn’t care less about). Ultimately, you may want to skimp on downloading Book One or Book Two. Both will be edited and revised and polished before the actual publication and availability through Amazon.com (hopefully by the end of December or beginning of January).

an acquired taste?

“I know I’m an acquired taste: I’m anchovies. And not everyone wants those hairy little things. If I was potato chips, I could go more places.” So spoke Tori Amos. I think I agree with her. I’m surrounded by all kinds of personalities on this campus, but I don’t really find anyone whose personality, when truly exposed and illuminated in freedom of expression, mirrors my own. My friends have constantly told me that I am quite the character. Weird. Strange. A little off. Awkward. Funny. But yet passionate, enthusiastic, dedicated. Words cannot quite describe my personality, and as I write this post, I realize that. How many other people do you know who enjoy making loud, weird noises in the middle of a class lecture? Or who run up steps on all fours and then shriek like a banshee? How many other people do you know who will hide in storm-cellars for hours just to scare someone who walks by? These are trademark characteristics of who I am. My nickname is the “Koala Beast.” Those who know me well see how it fits, but those who don’t find themselves confused. On the surface, I’m a shy kid with an awkward gait, who doesn’t speak unless spoken-to, who will hide in the shadows of un-recognition. In my pursuits of friendships, I often fall flat on my face. People will either find me boring or too weird to be around. Most people don’t know how to take the things I do and the things I say. In my pursuits to make friendships, I often find that the object of my pursuit acts as if I do not exist; but I must ask the question, “In my shyness and timidity, do I also pretend they don’t exist?”

I have been trying to rekindle old friendships and start new ones. Over the past year or two, many of my friends have walked in and out of my life. I have been rejected, backstabbed, abandoned. For the past few years of my life, my nights have mostly been spent in fitful sleep, and at times tears have crawled down my face (I took an online quiz that said I only have 20% masculinity, so that might explain the crying). A darkness crawled over my heart and turned it icy and calloused; only in the past few months has that coldness been eradicated, and now my heart is warm and open and inviting. But when it comes to making friends, sometimes I wonder if my personality gets in the way. I am tempted to feign a different personality that may be more appreciated and accepted; a personality that mirrors the majority of personalities seen around this campus. I am a lively, creative kid who enjoys the strangest things, but at times I am tempted to become like everyone else, a cardboard copy of those boring personalities I find in every direction (and I am not accusing anyone of this, simply making an observation).

Yet I must keep in mind that my personality is a gift. It has entertained countless people, though unfortunately often at the expense of my own self-esteem. I must keep in mind that my personality is just something that hides the core of who I really am: a caring, compassionate, and often selfish human being. I must keep in mind that I have my faults, my weaknesses… and my strengths. God has made me like this for a reason. For me to try to reshape my personality into something society deems more “appropriate” is to give God the finger and tell him, “Sorry, you messed up.” Maybe the world needs someone who will run around like a dinosaur in the darkness, just for fun and far out-of-reach of anyone seeing? Maybe the world needs someone who will daydream of zombies bursting through the doors of Biology class? Maybe the world needs someone who will not fit into the cookie-cutter shape mold, someone who is shy and quiet but then explodes into a vibrant display of thoughts, musings, laughter, and oddities? Maybe the world needs someone like me, in this little corner of my world? Or maybe I’m just being egotistical.

on true contentment

A friend and I were hanging out the other night, and the told me, “I’m sad a lot.” I asked her why, and she told me, “I find my identity in boys. When boys like me and are interested in me, then I am happy. But when boys aren’t interested in dating me, I’m not happy. I cry myself to sleep at night.” 

I told her, “As long as you find your identity in temporal circumstances or relationships, you will never experience real, lasting happiness. True satisfaction and contentment comes from finding your identity in Christ—letting Christ shape your identity, and then living out that identity in your daily life.” 

This is something that I believe to be true. 

It is something I’m slowly learning to truly live out.

the 2nd week

Labor Day. Karen and I had a HUGE argument last night. She said I was being an ass for wanting her to stop, that I was the one with the problem for not accepting her life choice. I'll admit my bluntness was harsh, but why the hell is she so locked in apathy and denial? I called her last night to apologize--not for what I said but for how I said it--but she didn't answer the phone. Now everything in my room reminds me of her. The stuffed green turtle she bought from Gatlinburg for me for my birthday. The bottle of Whaler's Rum with the melted candle-wax crawling along the sides. The sea turtle journal she bought for me in Minnesota. The collage of all our pictures. The Mexican blanket draped over my bed. My resolve is breaking, because love is blind and poisonous. We talked some more, and she said she's not ready for commitment, not ready to settle down, not ready to even CONSIDER kids in her future. Quite a drastic change from her previous sentiments. There's no future for us. 

Tuesday. My classes went well today. Trista and I hung out during chapel. Monica and I ate lunch together. Karen worked until 12:30, and we hung out afterwards. It was awkward. She's mad at me, but she's always mad about something. We went to Newport and chilled in a bar for three hours. Things were going great, but then we started arguing again. I pissed her off, telling her, "I'm sad because I can't be with you. I'm heartbroken because you've chosen a life of drugs over a life with me. I'm angry because you're willing to risk everything you love for the next high." The clincher: "You're a walking irony: going into a profession to help people deal with their problems, and you can't even deal with your own." She stormed away, mad about what I said. She stormed out of the bar, leaving me to pay, and then Sarah called, saying things with Keith were spiraling out of control. So I rushed over to her apartment, and he showed up and started threatening me and her, and the cops got involved, and James & I offered Sarah an out but she refused to take it. She's staying with Keith.

Wednesday. Although I genuinely want to be friends with Karen, that'll take time, and it's becoming ever clearer. We went to the Halloween Store in Indiana and then to a park near the river. We cuddled, we hugged, we kissed--just unknowing of the future, enjoying the moment. We grabbed dinner from Chipotle and went to the Missional Community Gathering with Ryan, Emily, Forrest, James, David & Becky. Karen thought I was dissing her and stormed off. I shrugged my shoulders, and the subject was Romans 5.12-21, and then we went to the Beer Cellar to smoke cigarettes and drink. They have 60 kinds of beers on tap, it was great.

Thursday. Karen and I went to Knob Hill after my classes and smoked cigarettes. We talked for a little bit, and then I went to the Marshall House in Clifton to smoke cigarettes and play XBox360 with James. We played with Ninja, the stray black cat that sleeps on their stoop. Kyle and I spent the evening in the Hilltop scoping out the freshman girls and playing ping-pong. "I'm not anxious about the future," I told him. I don't know if I was lying, self-deceived, or telling the truth.

Friday. Karen and I went to the Pavilion at Mount Echo to talk, and then I went to the Marshall House. A bunch of us chipped into a hookah and smoked it out on the front porch. Karen and I went to Skyline Chili for dinner.

Saturday. I picked up Sarah from work, and we went to James' house. He and Hensel joined us for a trip to Wal-Mart, and we bought beer and cigars from the Party Source in Newport after dinner at Burger King. We returned to the Marshall House and enjoyed our purchases on the front porch. I took Sarah back to her apartment. Keith ditched her again. She desperately wants to get out of the lease, move to Wilmington, and get Keith out of her life and watch over her senile grandpa. I told Sarah, "It would be good for you. A fresh start."

Sunday. I watched Tombstone after church at Southwest and had Wendy's for dinner with dad. I returned to campus for my 6-9:00 shift with Katie and Michael. Katie and I talked for a while, and she said, "I identify myself based on how much guys like me. Guys don't like me here at school, so I'm miserable."

zombie dreams (3)

Zombie Dream #1. There were several of us holed up in a building complex, and we used gates to keep the zombies outside. There was a large courtyard surrounded by buildings, and the gates faced outwards from the courtyard, into the street. A zombie broke through one of the gates and attacked me, for I had been walking by aimlessly. I quickly killed the zombie, driving a knife through its eye, but it had bitten me. Everyone knows that being bitten by a zombie is a death-sentence. I began to feel the changes taking place, and I begged the people within the complex to kill me. No one would do it. I grabbed a gun and began pacing back and forth in the courtyard, hands shaking. That’s when I woke up.

Zombie Dream #2. This dream took place in a YMCA. I was on a special team that would be dispatched to eradicate zombies, and we received word that a zombie had been spotted inside a YMCA. We quickly loaded onto the Chinook helicopter and took off, landing atop of the YMCA. We descended into the building to find people pressing their faces against the glass windows of the weight-room. Inside, a zombie was pacing back and forth, in the shadows, searching. We pushed the people away and opened the doors, and I was sent in. There were shadows everywhere, so I couldn’t see very well. The zombie attacked from the darkness, knocking the weapon out of my hand; it scurried into the shadows once more. I grabbed a pair of weights from a shelf along the wall and moved towards the zombie, which was now facing away from me, licking its hands. I crept up behind the zombie, and with a weight in each hand, I swung them against its skull. I vividly remember how the zombie’s skull broke open and blood poured over me like water. Its body collapsed, and I exited the weight-room. People were repulsed at the blood that covered me.

Zombie Dream #3. I woke up in the morning, after a night of fitful sleep, only to find that no one was home. I went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, and I saw someone walk past the kitchen window. I thought it was Dad doing yard-work again, so I opened the back door to see what he was doing. I didn’t recognize the man, and he threw himself at me. He grabbed my neck, and I fought away from him, running back to the house and locking the door behind me. Through the living room window, I saw zombies coming into our yard from the road, heading straight for the house. It was then that I heard my little sister screaming from the back door; I ran to let her in, but the unknown man had gotten her, and I turned away for fear of seeing her body being ripped apart. The living room windows shattered, and zombies began climbing inside the house. I rushed into my bedroom and slammed the door. They threw themselves against the door, and it began to splinter, eventually falling apart. I grabbed one of the replica swords hanging on the wall and prepared to defend myself. Then I woke up.

My Week (a foreshadowing)

Monday. Kyle and I hung out for a while. We sat in his room and talked about the whole thing with Karen. He told me, “You don’t realize the potential you have to become something great for the kingdom of God.” We talked about our spiritual lives. How both of us have a tendency to place idols before God, no matter what the idols may be. It is a sad situation, but I felt really encouraged, and I have been spending more time in prayer and meditation, growing closer to God. Monday is also the day that the whole thing with the police and my life being threatened took place. Strangely enough, Sarah’s boyfriend told her that she can still hang out with me. He is a strange boy.

Tuesday. Trista and I hung out during chapel, and I ate lunch with Monica. Karen and I went to Newport on the Levee, and we sat in a bar with comfortable couches, drank lemonade and ate loaded french fries, trying to work through our problems. It ended with both of us making snide remarks, both of us being hurt. We walked silently back to my car, but before we got in, we hugged and apologized. It doesn’t mean everything will get back to normal. Karen is still one of my best friends, regardless of my relationship status. It’s just… difficult… at times.

Wednesday. I went to the Halloween Store in Lawrenceburg, Indiana and bought some things for my Halloween costume this year. I went to a park near the Ohio River, and I sat under a gazebo and watched geese play in the river, thinking about everything that has been happening. I went out to Chipotle for dinner with Karen, and then I joined Ryan, Emily, Forest, and James at a crowded apartment in Clifton to read the scriptures, pray, and worship. Karen left early, angry at me for somehow not paying attention to her. The rest of us went to the Beer Cellar down on the barge on the Ohio River, Kentucky side. They have sixty beers on tap, and despite C.C.U.'s "No Alcohol" policy, I enjoyed more than one of them. 

Thursday. Karen and I hung out for about an hour. We went to Mount Echo, the place where we first held hands, and we sat on the picnic tables and watched the city, spread out below us from the hill. We talked about things some more, made no headway. Both of us are as stubborn as we can be. I grabbed lunch in the Hilltop Café, and Katie told me that Nate sent out an email to all the supervisors saying that I was doing a great job and needed to be encouraged. I’m not quite sure whether to be glad that I’m doing a good job or concerned that, prior to this, I was doing a horrible job (which doesn’t make sense, because I worked nearly every shift assigned to me, hardly ever showed up late, and did my work to the best of my ability). I went to James’ house, and we played XBOX360 and sat out on his front porch, playing with their stray cat, Ninja. I went to the Hilltop in the evening to work on homework, and Kyle came up and joined me. We sat in Student Life and watched the freshmen scurrying around the pool and ping-pong tables. I told Kyle, “Karen and I have been talking, but we’re not dating… I’m not anxious about the future, no matter what happens.”

Friday. I went over to James’ house, and a bunch of us hung out—me, James, Forest, Hensel, Mike, Patrick. Karen called me while I was there, asking if I wanted to grab dinner with her before she went to the Dew Drop Bar in Harrison. I said, “Sure,” and we met at Skyline Chili. We didn’t talk about any of the pressing matters, just talked about Halloween and costumes and anything else that came up in conversation. I went back to campus and hung out in the Hilltop, then headed north back home to Dayton. Traffic on the highway was horrible: it was down to one lane for eight miles.

Saturday. I picked Sarah up from work. We went to James’ place, and he and Hensel joined us for a trip to the mall, where I grabbed some new clothes. We went down to Newport and walked around for a bit, grabbing dinner at Burger King. We returned to James’ house, and we all hung out on the front porch for nearly two hours. I took Sarah back to her apartment. Her boyfriend ditched her again. She was in tears. Had I not been driving my mom’s car, I would have stayed the night there and kept her company. She desperately wants to move out, and her aunt is giving her the opportunity of moving north to Wilmington and staying with them for several months, working odd-jobs and getting her life back together. She says she will pray about whether or not she’ll accept the offer, and James and I are encouraging her to do so.

Sunday. I woke up late and barely made it to church. Now I’m sitting in the dining room at my house in Dayton. Dad and I are going to Wendy’s for lunch in two hours. I have to work at 6:00, so I’ll need to leave here by 4:50. In the meantime, I am going to go to Wal-Mart and get some socks and undershirts. I talked to Karen, and she said she might be able to swing by campus after I get off work, but she’s not sure: she’s going to a concert tonight.

on Grassroots

Now that I’m back in Cincinnati, I’ve resumed gathering with the Grassroots Missional Community. It’s a great group of friends, and we get together once a week for dinner, reading from the Scriptures, worship, and fellowship (basically hanging out; tonight fellowship consisted of a visit to the Beer Cellar barge on the River). Some have called the Grassroots a cult. I can see why at times. Each member has the same translation of the Bible (not due to any conspiracy, but because they ordered them in bulk), and because they are very set doctrinally in their beliefs. 

Doctrinally, Grassroots is drenched in Calvinism. C.C.U. is affiliated with Church of Christ, which has some doctrines that are vastly different from Calvinism. Because of this, there often occurs some sort of snide remark regarding the school and the professors (remarks which I try to avoid). We talked about Romans 5.12-21 this evening. My view on that passage will be posted tomorrow. Needless to say, I disagreed immensely with them. I didn’t voice my disagreements, however. Why? Because I didn’t want to be a hinder to the conversation, which was producing great fruit in application (and also because it was boiling hot in the 3rd-floor apartment, and I desperately wanted to get outside as quickly as possible). When it comes to doctrinal disagreements, I take the words of John Locke to heart: “In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; and in all things, love.” 

I don’t make an effort to share my differing views when the subject is something non-consequential when all is said and done. The point is because it is better not to give opportunity for divisions when being quiet, without compromising the integrity of the gospel, will have no ill effects. But because of my disagreements, whether spoken or unspoken, I have been accused (more than once) of just submitting blindly to the teachings of C.C.U. and not exploring the Bible for myself. I always emphasize that the views I hold I hold because I have searched the scriptures and been convinced of them; and there are many things which I am taught at C.C.U. that I hotly disagree with. Perhaps I should say, “Isn’t it strange that when I hold a viewpoint or perspective that is not in accordance with the majority, I am accused of submitting to what I am taught; but when I hold a viewpoint or perspective that is in accordance with the majority, I am praised for studying the scriptures for myself?” It is quite the irony. I know I don’t know everything, and when it comes to the scriptures, my viewpoints and perspectives change as I gather more information. I think that is healthier than just submitting to a certain dogma, interpreting everything through that lens, and accusing anyone who disagrees with me of being a heretic.

"just a picture in my head"

Karen and I went to Newport on the Levee this afternoon to talk about things. We were there for about four hours. Things were going really well, and I was getting excited: we were both flirtatious, holding hands, cuddling, watching the snaking Ohio River. And then she told me that she doesn’t love me, that she doesn’t want to get married, that she doesn’t think she ever wants kids. I was mind-blown. She was the one who professed love first. She was the one who practically begged me to get married with her during her time in Minnesota. She was the one who was infatuated with having a boy and a girl, named Tristan and Kira. And then she comes out and says that. Her words led to quite the discussion, and it didn’t end up well. I apologize that I cannot be more specific about everything going on with the relationship and breakup, but trust that the decision to break up with her if she refused to make sacrifices was a noble and honorable decision. But as I’ve said, that doesn’t make it easier.

I returned home and crawled into bed. I stared up at the ceiling for quite a long time, and I couldn’t help but think, “Why does my life have to be like this?” For the past eight years of my life, I have searched and searched and searched to love and be loved. I have been cheated on twice, and numerous times I have been backstabbed, betrayed, and abandoned—often without any reason given. And then I find this girl. This fantastic, beautiful, wonderful girl named Karen. A girl who is pretty much perfect for me. But I can’t be with her, because if I stayed with her, it would make God unhappy. The psalmist says, “Delight in the LORD, and He will grant you the desires of your heart.” Is it not ironic that my delight in God has forced me to walk away from the desires of my heart?

Is Karen better off without me? I’m not trying to be egotistical, but we had something marvelous, something beautiful. It was undeniably spectacular up to the bitter end. Maybe she is better off without me. But I’m not better off without her. I love her. I want to marry her. I’m incomplete—as corny as that sounds—without her. I find myself dwelling on our memories together: feeding the ducks at the pond, trying to feed the frightened turtle at Mount Echo, fishing on the lake, playing chess in the dining room (and me missing an excellent checkmate). These memories pain me, because they are the most precious memories I’ve ever had. I’ve been near the point of tears with losing all my other girlfriends, but only with the loss of Karen have I truly cried. I’m not talking about a few tears here and there, but horrendous, choking sobs. The kind that makes your throat clench up and your face contort and your body shake. Only with Karen have I experienced such sadness and loss. A year ago, I never could have imagined Karen being such a big part of my life, and now I cannot imagine the world without her. She came into my life, and she changed everything. Everything. I was happy. I was content. I felt sure of my future, and excited about the times we had ahead of us.

One of my favorite Spill Canvas songs goes, “When you walk away, you take everything you own for granted.” Although I broke up with Karen, she is the one who walked away from me. She has taken what she had for granted. What she experienced with me—security, peace, the joy of holding one another and feeling safe and at harmony with the world, the love we had for one another… When she walked away, she took all of this for granted. The same song continues, “Although everything I said was just a picture in my head, I think we can make it.” I told her that there comes a time when a relationship must die or be reborn. There comes a time when the couple must ask themselves, “Do I care enough about this relationship to do whatever it takes to make it what it should be?” When I think about Karen and me being together, I see something beautiful. I see us living in a godly relationship, reading the Bible together, praying together, working side-by-side to advance the kingdom of God. But this isn’t what she wants.

Mel, a good friend from Minnesota whom I went fishing with nearly every week, told me one day as we were unhooking a Northern from the line, “If you’re in an ungodly relationship, the best way to be in a godly relationship is to find someone else to be in a relationship with.” The first and obvious route to take is to make that ungodly relationship godly. While Karen and I did honor God in our relationship, abstaining from sexual immorality and treating one another with respect, there was one aspect of our relationship that needed to change. Only one of us was willing to make that change. Maybe it’s too much to ask, in this world of fallen creatures, to experience a godly relationship, where the couple’s lives individually and corporately reflect the love of Christ that overflows in their hearts. Maybe this dream of mine—a godly relationship that is healthy, a godly relationship where love is shared and experienced—is too much to ask… Not just of Karen, but of anyone—even of myself. Maybe this dream of mine is, as Spill Canvas puts it, “just a picture in my head.”

senior year: the first week

Mount Airy Forest

Monday. Karen and I got my phone fixed and then returned to Cincinnati. I ate at the Hilltop for lunch and then worked 4-7:30 with Isaac. Monica, Bob, and John kept me company. Karen and I went to Best Buy, and I got a joystick for my new game: Microsoft Flight Simulator 2002. 

Tuesday. Karen worked 9:30-12:30. We ate lunch and went down by the river and then to Mount Aries. We got a lot of exercise, and it was a beautiful day. We ran by the bank and ate dinner at Frisch's. We went back to her place for a while, and then she dropped me off at school and went to her friend Theresa's house. I visited Monica in the Hilltop, won a game of ping-pong against John, and worked on Dwellers of the Night.

The First Day of Classes. I had Preaching until 10:00 and History of the Restoration Movement until lunchtime with Karen. Karen and I watched The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind at her house and went to an Activity Fair in the gym on campus. 

Thursday. I had Modern Ethical Problems this morning followed by an easy 9:30-12:30 shift at the Hilltop. Karen worked 1-4:00 while I had Modern World Religions. She's on her period, so we don't have a baby coming! We were scared there for a bit. Tim & Julie are engaged. It's nearly laughable. But only nearly-so. Karen and I have stopped sex and fooling around, at my initiative, surprisingly. I'm on a quest to reclaim my pride and dignity, and the quest begins where it's most difficult. My car's fixed; the back brakes were damaged. Mom & Dad brought it down for me.

Friday. Karen and I were up until 4 AM at Knob Hill talking. She confessed that she won't stop using drugs, no matter what--and that includes marriage, motherhood, or a career. She's an idiot. She thinks it's bad that I want her to stop, that if I love her, she'll be allowed to do whatever she wants. The fact that she risks a good marriage, a good family, and a good career doesn't faze her. So what am I to do? I don't want this to be a part of my life. I love Karen, but love isn't what makes relationships work. Sacrifice, selflessness, and servitude--that's what it takes. Karen's selfishness is what will prevent our dreams from coming true, and one day she'll have to acknowledge that. Today she and I went to the Maple Wood Lodge at Mount Aries. We talked about all of this some more, and she asked, "So are you breaking up with me?" With tears in my eyes I said Yes. I dropped her off at her house, and the whole way home I wept. Isn't it strange how the smallest memories bring the most pain? Feeding a turtle at Mount Echo. Swimming in the pool. Fishing on the lake. Her graduation party. Debating theology, exploring the woods, playing Halo together. These memories... They bring tears to my eyes and lock my heart in my throat. I wish I could just hold her, smell her hair, be with her. But I can't. And it sucks. BAD. We didn't even get to watch our last two movies together.

Saturday. I cried a lot yesterday, and waking up this morning was hard. Karen turned her phone off last night, and I've no doubt that her friends, most of whom are drug dealers, are telling her that she deserves someone better than me, someone who won't challenge her to be a better person, someone who will accept the fact that she's destroying her life. All her friends are either divorced, unhappily married, or just living for the next high. But she'll listen to them, because they're her friends. Mom told me that Karen is perfect for me, and in so many ways, Karen is what I've always wanted. Mom took me out for breakfast to try and comfort me, but I wasn't that hungry. At 3:00 I left the house and went to Sarah's. We went to Barnes & Noble for coffee, smoked cigarettes on the patio, and watched horror movies back at her house. She wept over Keith, and I gave her a big hug, and she wept onto my shoulder. He lies her, spends all her money, manipulates her, cheats on her, treats her like shit. She promises that she's breaking up with him... "Soon," she says.

Sunday. I spent the night at Sarah's apartment and took her to work. I returned to Springboro, and after church I baptized Megan. It was wonderful. I grilled a hamburger for lunch and did some writing before heading back to C.C.U. for my 9:00-Close shift at the Hilltop. It wasn't too busy, because it's Labor Day weekend and lots of students returned home. I hung out for Kyle in the dorms for a while. Karen is on her way here now--we're going to go for a drive through northern Kentucky and talk about things. 

frustration, shock, amazement

Quite an interesting day. Things with Karen aren’t looking so good. I talked to Kyle about it a lot today. He agrees with my position and decision.

Sarah called me around 1:40 this afternoon, sobbing, hysterical. She discovered her boyfriend was truly cheating on her and lying behind her back. I rushed to her work and gave her a ride home. She was a wreck. When we got to her apartment, we sat and talked. She wants a way out, and my friend James and I, among with some others, found a way for her to get out of the apartment, away from her boyfriend, and have a place to stay with friends while being able to make it to and from work. As we were talking, her boyfriend came home and discovered what was happening. He went insane, threatening to kill both of us. He kicked me out of the apartment, taking my phone.

“Can I have my phone back, Man?” I asked. “I’m keeping it.” He added some vulgar words. “Aren’t there some warrants out for your arrest?” He glared at me, wondering what my point was. “If you steal my phone, I’ll have to file a police report to get a new one.” “Take your damn phone,” he said, handing it over.

He kicked me out of the apartment. Sarah was following me. He told her to get back into the apartment, that he was going to “beat you, you fucking bitch.” He threatened me once more: “I’ll fucking kill you if you ever even contact her. It’s taking a lot of self-control not to kill you right now.” He was angry, too: his entire face was throbbing. I kept my cool, though, thankfully. I didn’t end up looking like a pansy. I tried to move in to get to Sarah, but he slammed the door in my face.

I paced back and forth in the lawn of the apartment complex, trying to figure out what to do. I kept hearing his threats against Sarah resonating in the back of my mind, so I called the police. I figured it was the best decision, even though it had the potential to escalate an already dire situation (I couldn’t bear the thought of Sarah being beaten). The police arrived, and they were able to get inside the apartment. Thank God, Sarah was fine. She came out and talked to me, and her boyfriend was enraged that she was talking to me—but the police were there, and he didn’t dare make a scene.

“We have a place for you to stay tonight and for the next couple weeks,” I told her. “You want out. You’ve told us that. And now you have that chance. The police will stay and let you gather your things. You won’t have to worry about your boyfriend hurting you. You’ll have money for groceries, and your boyfriend won’t steal your money and use it on other girls. We’ll get you rides to and from work until you’re able to get your car fixed.”

She decided to stay with her boyfriend.

I called James and told him what happened. Both of us don’t have any idea why Sarah stayed, and both of us are quite upset about it. As Amanda told me, in regards to another situation, “Emotions and desires can cloud our judgments.” Maybe Sarah thinks her boyfriend will change. Maybe she’s afraid of being alone. Who knows? But she had the perfect opportunity to get out, and she didn’t take it. James said, “We can only do so much to help her. But she’s got to be the one to make the final decision.” James and I care about Sarah immensely, and it breaks our hearts to see her in this position.

a baptism

I went over to Sarah’s apartment last night. It was a pretty good time. We watched several horror movies and talked for hours about our different situations. She is a good friend, and she is in the midst of a horrendous situation. Her boyfriend uses drugs behind her back. He cheats on her constantly. He lies to her about his activities, and he manipulates her into staying with him (he doesn’t have a car so he uses her, and he doesn’t hold jobs so he needs her to help him pay rent). She said that she would break up with him today. I’m hoping she actually does it and doesn’t buy into his lies all over again. These decisions, while so clear and logical, are often muddled when our emotions crowd the situation. 

I had the privilege of baptizing a friend this morning. Her name is Megan, and she is a freshman at Franklin High School. For the past three years, nearly every Sunday we have sat in the café at the church, drank coffee and chatted about life, God, Jesus, Christianity, spirituality, etc. Two weeks ago, she made the decision to become a disciple of Jesus. After the church gathering this morning, she was baptized. It was beautiful. We read scriptures, hugged, laughed, prayed. The church family surrounded her with encouragement and congratulations. She’s starting her new life in Christ, and I am excited about what the future holds for her. 

Karen and I talked a little bit last night. I’m going to call her later today. I hope that she has decided, with my absence, that she is willing to make the changes in our relationship that need to be made. I hope and pray that we will be back together, but at the same time I acknowledge that such a thing may never happen.

makin' a party of it

Yesterday was quite difficult. Mom and Dad went to Anderson University to move Amanda into her dorm room, and I stayed back at the house watching movies, trying to keep my mind off everything that has happened. When night fell, I went out onto the patio and gazed at the stars, and memories of my life with Karen flashed before my eyes in rapid succession. Feeding turtles at Mount Echo. Chasing geese at Mount Aries. Exploring the conservatory at Eden Park. Exploring the woods. Swimming in the pool in our backyard. Long drives through the hills of northern Kentucky. Watching movies in her basement. Cuddling on the couch and sweet-talking. Playing Halo (and how she would get so excited when she got a single kill on me). These memories are so simple, and yet they are so precious. These memories flooded over me, and I literally broke down and wept. The tears cascaded down my face like a waterfall, and in broken sobs I prayed that God would take the pain away. At that moment, the tears stopped, my heart slowed down, and I found myself composed. There is still a hole in my heart, a pain that strikes every time I see Karen’s beautiful face. I dreamt of her all last night, dreamt that we were still together, that I could call her whenever I pleased. I didn’t get to talk to her last night. It took me a while to fall asleep. 

My friend told me, “You need to go out and do something. Get your mind off things.” 

I said, “I really don’t feel like doing anything.” 

“I know, but bathing in the sadness isn’t going to make things better.” 

“I want to feel the sadness. I want to know it’s real.” 

“When I’m sad, I hate feeling the sadness, because it makes me feel weak.” 

“When I embrace suffering, it makes me feel stronger.” I added, jokingly, as a side-note, “If I just ignore the pain, then I’m living a life of denial. But I like to speed up the grieving process. If I can skip right to depression, then I’m doing a pretty good job.” 

But I’m going to take my friend’s advice. 

I’m going down to Cincinnati today. 

Sarah and I are going to hang out. 

She’s in the same situation as I am. 

“We can both be sad together,” she said. 

“We’ll make a party of it,” I replied.