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.

the hardest decision

Karen and I broke up this afternoon. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. We held one another. We cried. And then I left. I drove home, and the entire way my throat clenched up and tears brimmed. I haven’t cried in months, but today the tears wouldn’t stop falling. This is the great irony of my life: pursuing to love and be loved, and forever having it escape me. Being backstabbed, cheated-on, and abandoned has been the underscore of my life when it comes to romance. And then I find this girl. This fantastic, wonderful, most extravagant girl. And I fall in love with her. And she falls in love with me. And we have the hope of a future: marriage, children, working together at a church. But all of this crumbles because it takes more than love to make a relationship work. Sometimes the mind must trump the heart. Sometimes logic must win against feelings. Sometimes you have to give up on your dreams even though it’s so tempting to cling onto them. As it stands, Karen and I love one another. But changes need to be made. If these changes are not made, then the relationship will fail. Every relationship reaches the point when it must experience death or rebirth. I chose rebirth. Karen chosen death. And it takes two to tango, so I left her on her front porch and drove home with tears crawling down my face. I love her so deeply, so richly… I love her. I want to marry her. But I can’t. And knowing this is the worst feeling in the world. Every part of me, except that very small part that is filled with wisdom, screamed for me to stay with Karen despite the fact that the relationship wouldn’t work. But sometimes I make wise decisions. Sometimes I do something honorable. And today, I did something honorable. I embraced suffering, I took the narrow road, I did what was right, something both of us knew to be right. And so we are no longer together. I am sitting at home, alone. I don’t have the freedom to call her, to dote on her, to hug her tightly and kiss her sweetly on her cheek. I don’t have the freedom to see her every night and hear her cute “Good nights” before I fall asleep. Once again, I am alone. I did the right thing, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

my classes this semester

My classes this semester: 

 Survey of Modern Religions

 Preaching for the Pulpit

 History of the Restoration Movement 

 Modern Ethical Problems 

 The Fate of the Unevangelized

 Denominations & Cults 

A lot of things have been happening since I last wrote a serious entry in here. For one, I’m starting classes again, and I’m working at the Hilltop Café once more. Another thing is that Karen and I might be breaking up. I’m not going to give the reasons here, but suffice it to say that both of us have doubts regarding the relationship and its future. And these aren’t small doubts, either: they’re gigantic doubts that cloud over us when we’re together. We’ve been talking for several nights about it, opening up and being brutally honest with one another. No decisions have yet been made, but I would appreciate concern for the decisions that both of us make. Karen is very dear to me, and she’s one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had. But it takes more than friendship and love to make a relationship—not to mention a marriage—work. A good majority of divorces occur because the couple believed that “since we love each other, we’ll have a happy ending!” I’m not in high school, and I don’t buy into those pithy lies. I would like to think I’m more mature now. Maybe that’s a stretch. But I’m trying to deal with this maturely.

another year begins

I moved into my room yesterday afternoon. I was assigned the Single room on the first floor, but I talked to the R.D. and snagged a Double Room on the third floor all to myself. Twice as much room, the same cost. Kyle is the R.A., which is sweet: we have been good friends for a while. I worked with him at Joseph Badger Meadows in the summer of 2007. We had our Hilltop Coffee Shop Meeting this afternoon, which was fun—except that, for some reason, I’ve been sick all day with nausea and a horrible, throbbing headache. Not on the level of a migraine, but torturous nonetheless. On top of all this, my car stereo is broken, the brakes in my car have gone out (resulting in me nearly hitting a pedestrian; thank God I was able to throw the emergency brake!); my phone is trashed for some unexplainable reason; and some of the money that is supposed to be in my school account to pay for school hasn’t arrived, and I won’t be able to eat meals until it does (this is the second time this has happened, and it’s quite aggravating). 

It’s fun watching the freshmen scramble around, their nervousness burning like Roman torches underneath their excitement. I remember my days as a freshman; they feel so long ago. So much has happened since then. Countless relationships. Countless heartbreaks. “Who I Am” has completely changed—in some ways, for the better; in others, for the worse. “Who We Are” is constantly evolving, the result of circumstances inside and outside our control. My perceptions of God, Christianity, and the world have changed. I’ve come to realize what college is all about—education. It’s not about building great friendships. That happens, but it’s not the point. My father told me, “You’ll make lots of friends at college—but don’t forget your friends from back home. They’re the ones who will be with you for life.” He was right. Most of my friendships from freshman year have fizzled out—but my friendships in my hometown grow stronger with each year, even though we don’t see one another as often.

It was a good summer. An excellent summer. I grew a lot. I realized where more changes need to be made in who I am. But it’s good to be starting my fourth and last Fall Semester at C.C.U. I graduate in May, and I couldn’t be more excited. As to my plans after graduation, that’s nine months away, and thus too early to think about. I imagine I’ll either get an apartment around my hometown or move down to Kentucky and live around my extended family down there. Who knows? I’ll know in nine months—and if you endure my writing for that long, you may, too!

updates

Karen and I have been having some conflict lately. Nothing serious, but we disagree on some things that are relatively important. We’re trying to work through them as best we can, but unfortunately, each one of us is as stubborn as the other. Everything will work out, one way or the other, of this I am sure. 

I’m writing this at 12:03 a.m. on Sunday. I should be getting some good rest, because tomorrow I am preaching a sermon entitled “Re:discovering Justification.” It’s more teaching than preaching, something I didn’t do in a sermon-setting in Minnesota. So it will be different for me. But I’m not worried about it: I’ve done teaching before, in Bible Studies and classes and such of that nature, so this will be, more or less, a glorified class lesson—with illustrations and a few jokes here and there. Sadly, most people don’t share my love for dry jokes, so I’ll probably be receiving a lot of blank stares if I throw some in. I’m a comedic, joke-loving guy, and my teaching and sermons reflect this. It’s part of the personality of who I am; I don’t do it just to make it entertaining, but, rather, it flows out of who I am as a person. 

Dwellers of the Night—or The Procyon Strain, I’m not sure which—is coming along well. I’m at 397 pages right now, and I hope to finish Chapter Eighteen tomorrow. Mom is unsettled that there are some swear words and a few sex scenes. There are swear words in there because that’s how people talk; a realistic story will reflect this. And there are some sex scenes in the book, too, but they contribute to the story. I’m not just throwing them in there for kicks and giggles. Each one is foundational for a part of the story, and if I just skipped over them, the fabric of the story would fall apart. I mean, if I’m writing a story about how the nature of man is an animalistic nature, how we are driven by the need for survival and for sexual gratification, then how in the world would I be responsible to not include them? Either way, the sex scenes form an extremely miniscule part of the book. If it offends you, sorry. Don’t read my book.

a B-17 Sighting

On my way to Cincinnati this morning, I was passing the Wright Brother’s Airport, which is only a quarter mile from my house, and in the distance I noticed a plane. It looked small, but I instantly recognized it. As a kid, I was fascinated by World War II Era aircraft. I used to have model airplanes—the Hellcat, the Corsair, the Wildcat, the Lightning, the Mustang, the Thunderbolt, the Liberator—and, even from a distance, I recognized the plane: a B-17 Flying Fortress Bomber. I regretted that I did not glimpse more as it disappeared beyond a tree-line. I kept driving for a few minutes, passing a few shopping plazas, the YMCA, the Marketplace Express gas station. As I sat at the light, I felt my car shaking, and I looked out the window and the B-17 flew right overhead. I could actually see the sun glinting off the belly gunner’s bubble! It swept overhead, maybe about forty or fifty feet, and it literally filled the sky. People were craning their necks and watching as it landed on the runway opposite the Marketplace. You should have seen this thing. It was massive. And beautiful.

pre-engagement: my true feelings

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There’s nervousness, that’s for sure. How do you really know what the future holds? Is love enough? I was reading a magazine the other day about couples who fell in love on reality t.v. shows and became married, only to divorce after having children. How does anyone really know for sure that the person you’re thinking about marrying is “the One.” Is there even such a thing as the One? I don’t think so. I think we mesh better with different people, and marriage is the pinnacle of a romantic relationship. But romantic feelings aren’t supernatural or spiritual; they’re physiological, a concoction of love chemicals mixing together in the brain. I probably sound quite skeptical and even cy nical. But I do love Karen. And I do want to marry her. I want her to be the mother of my children. I want to grow old with her and live my life beside her. She’s a beautiful girl, inside and out. Of course we have our conflicts. Many a night has been spent trying to resolve problems and issues while over the phone. But all relationships have conflict. I know I’m rambling. How do I really feel about proposing to Karen? How do I really feel about marrying Karen? Honestly, I’m nervous. Not about being with Karen, but mostly about the financial issues that will spring up. How will we pay for rent, for insurance, the bills? We won’t be moving into a house right away; we’ll be getting an apartment for sure. We don’t plan on getting married until I graduate college. But even then, she’ll be halfway through with her Master’s program, which is costing a fortune. But I love her, my family likes her, her family likes me. Her niece introduced me to someone and said, “This is my future uncle!” It was so sweet! I’m feeling good about proposing and eventually marrying Karen. Don’t ask me when I’m going to propose; I really don’t know. But we need to smooth out the financial feathers before leaping into this lifetime commitment.