the dayton days XVII

Monday. I worked 7-3:00, and then Jobst and I met up at Bob Evan's and got lunch and then went to Cox Arboretum and smoked our pipes. We parted ways after a coffee run. Dylan and Tyler came over, and we went by Spring Valley and CVS and then sat on the front porch talking and laughing until we cried late into the night. "What do you want to do with your life?" Tyler asked. I didn't answer because I don't know.

Tuesday. I had the day off work, and Jessie came up from Cincinnati. We fixed eggs, bacon, and toast for dinner, then went to Cox Arboretum and took lots of great pictures. She headed back to Cincinnati, and I worked out and read N.T. Wright for a bit, talked to Jess Lynn. "You should just cut Sarah out of your life," she said. That's what everyone's saying. But I don't know how to do it, what it would look like. And if I do it, I want to tell her why, that it's because she's consistently lied to me and hurt me more than any friend has, that she's manipulated everyone into believing she's trying to change, raising fake signposts and lying about the REAL change that must happen. It's because of the pain our friendship has brought and continues to bring, and it's because she's been faithless to me and she doesn't deserve my care. "It's FUBAR," I told Jess Lynn. Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition.

Wednesday. I opened the store with J.J., Jessica, Suzan, and Tony. I spent the afternoon studying at Centerville Starbucks with some espresso. Jess Lynn headed to Italy today. "I'll talk to you in two weeks!" she said; "I love you!" It was weird. I had Chipotle for dinner and then some ice cream. I got more info on Sarah and Keith. Definitely still together, definitely still having sex, and everything's she told me about her "relationship with God", about wanting to get things back on track, is absolute bullshit. Surprise, surprise. Dylan came over and we sat on the front porch, talked about all this. "Dude," he said. "You just need to cut the cord. Calling her to repentance and being there to help her and encourage her is honorable. But don't forget what you said." And what did I say? I said I'd do what Mike suggested on April 23rd: if she repents, stand by her side; if she doesn't, then end the friendship. She's faked her repentance, but she's been found out. 

Thursday. I talked to Mandy K. for a bit last night. She's going through a rough time, too, worse than mine. I gave her some wise advice from Dan Dyke, and she said, "You're going to be just like him. You're already so much like him in so many ways." Hell of a compliment. I worked 1-9:30. A HUGE storm came in and threw one of our umbrellas into the empty field to the south, and Forrest and I got soaked retrieving it. It was a helluva task. Chris, Lee and Andrea came in and after work I hung out with them for a bit. I just got back inside after listening to the rain and watching lightning-bugs on the front porch.

Life is good.

My life is good.

I can't believe I wrote that.

And meant it.

Friday. I had the day off work, and after a morning of studying Christian eschatology--"The Cosmic Hope", if you will (sure, I will)--Tyler came over, and we got Greek for lunch and talked about repentance in the context of new creation. We also talked about Sarah, but not much: nothing new to report. We played Wii and he went to a friend's house. He has a date tonight. I went to Stubb's Park and read for a while. I was going to pick up Mandy from the airport (she's been in L.A.) but her flight was delayed until 3 AM, so Rob got her after he closed at Refuge in Cincinnati. I went to the Starbucks in Oakwood for a bit, got depressed, walked around and prayed, and headed home.

Saturday. I worked 12-8:30. The power went out at 6:00, so we closed shop. Lourdes, Betsy, Aubree and I scurried around closing all the refrigerators. The store lost LOTS of money. Sarah told me her cousin thinks I'm legitimately crazy. I want to be perceived as crazy: a man who acknowledges the harshness of reality but who has a grasp on the future and celebrates the inauguration of that future in the present. I want to be someone not easily forgotten nor easily understood.

Sunday. Dewenter, Ams and I went to M.C.C. for church. The sermon was on the final days of Moses' life. We went to China Cottage for lunch. Ams, in town this weekend, said, "You look like such a little kid, you've lost so much weight!" I worked 2-9:00 with Betsy, Aubree, Faith, Mandy, and Abby. Tyler & Ams came in, so I gave them free drinks. Tyler came over after work. We sat on the porch and talked eschatology. The subject of Sarah came up (as it tends to do these days). "I'm glad you've decided to cut her out of your life," she said. "She's like an infection to you. And you know what? She's not someone worth pursuing. She's a liar, cheater, manipulator, slut. She complains about her life while living according only to the passions of her flesh. You deserve better. I think, maybe, God kept her from liking you despite your prayers because he loves you and cares for you and honestly wants more for you. Being with her wouldn't enhance your life: in the end, it'd ruin it. And honestly, after all she's done and continues to do, I'm surprised you've fought so hard to remain her friend. Maybe it means I;m a bad person, but I would've dropped her a while ago." No, not bad: wise.

This evening (Sunday) I went on a drive through the countryside and prayed. Mist everywhere, cloaking everything. Like Habakkuk, I cried out to God: "Why?"

Why do those who don't give a damn about God find themselves clothed in his blessings?

Why do those who live according to the flesh seem to enjoy peace and prosperity?

Why do I seek to honor and please God, and yet my prayers go unanswered?

He brought several things to mind:

1. This world isn't my home, and I shouldn't expect it to be.

2. I'm undeserving of anything I pray for, so I shouldn't bitch about it.

3. Judgment on the wicked is coming.

4. Vindication of the righteous is on the doorstep.

5. Trust in God. Hope in God. And Keep Going.

an habakkuk

Tonight I went for a drive down old country roads with mist crawling amidst the trees and the aged cobblestone walls. Much has been weighing heavy upon me. I look round about this world and I perceive that those who don't give a damn about God and who live by their own passions and seek their own glorification seem to have their dreams handed to them on silver platters. And like Habakkuk, I cry out to know why. I drove the winding streets with the windows rolled down and the wind in my hair and I thought about all the people I know who are so happy with their lives and it seems that whatever they want they get and I'm stuck in the same place I've been for years. And I asked God why this is so. I asked him why those who care only for themselves seem to have life made, while those who forsake themselves and pursue a life of devotion to God are met with tragedies and disappointments all along the way. Obviously I am making this more black-and-white than it is, and the theological answers to such a question are numerous, but amidst the situation itself the world grows dark and the answers feel numb. And as I prayed, I remembered several things.

This world is not our home. Before it becomes apparent that I am a platonic dualist, let me state what I mean quite clearly: while I do believe creation is good and will ultimately be restored, and while I believe that those who are "in Christ"--those who have devoted themselves to him and his kingdom and who have transferred from the old age to the new age through baptism--will not only be part of the restoration but will also dwell amidst the restoration and be active participants of it, the world in its current state is not our home. We are sojourners, aliens, exiles. The New Testament clearly states this. As such, in this world polluted and stained and infected with sin, a world that is apparently dominated by evil, a world where injustice and unfairness (the two go hand-in-glove) reign, we are not of its kind. Our citizenship is in heaven, as Paul says quite flagrantly. And yet the question itself--a very legitimate question--assumes that God's kingdom is fully here, that God's kingdom of justice and renewal is already totally in place. This is not so, and we are foolish if we expect that the world will operate according to a new age that while, breaking in, has not yet fully arrived.

Judgment is coming. Judgment--the making of all things right, which includes the vindication of what is righteous, the punishment of that which is evil, and the restoration of that which is innately good--is on the doorstep. There are moments when God's judgment breaks into the present: the vindication of a man accused of wrong, the tragedy besetting a man who has set himself up against God, flowers bursting forth in a junkyard. These are not just signs of the coming judgment but foretastes and breaking-ins of that judgment. But the day of God's beautiful judgment--not beautiful in the sense of a sadist leaping up and down at the falling of the people whom he doesn't like, but beautiful in the sense that it will thrust beauty back into the world again and deal with all the accumulating injustices of all sorts that have spawned and prospered in the current world--is coming. Looking round about a world full of wicked people living prosperous and joyous lives, I can take comfort in the fact that their judgment is coming: that they'll be shown for who they are, that their deeds will be uncovered, and they'll be dealt with accordingly. Some will say that a person who hopes for this does not really know the love of God. Never mind that love intimately involves not only mercy but justice as well. Never mind that a world without judgment is a world that blasphemously declares that not much must matter to God. Never mind that a world without judgment thus vindicates the wicked. Those who scoff at the idea of judgment, and those who condemn others who long for judgment, either do not understand the nature of judgment or they have never been face-to-face with such atrocities that a plea for God's judgment is the only natural response. The Old Testament is filled with psalms crying out for God's judgment, the New Testament encourages believers to find hope in coming judgment, and the whole of the Bible longs and years for judgment--not just as the means by which the truly wicked are punished, but also as the means by which the universe is restored to its pristine originality and the righteous in Christ are vindicated before their mocking and scoffing enemies. The coming judgment brings me encouragement. A day is coming when judgment will take place: and on that day those who used and abused others, those who lived for their own glories, will be brought down to their knees before God in submission, submitting in fear and terror and regret. And those who are God's people will be vindicated not on their own basis but on their faith in Jesus.

Hope in God. Perhaps this was an answer to prayer, God's quite voice amidst the whirlwind of chaotic thoughts. But as I prayed, I felt as if God were telling me, "Hope in Me." A hope placed in God is not a hope placed in this world. And for what am I to hope? I am to place my hope in that coming era when judgment happens, when evil is punished for what it is and the righteous are vindicated. I am to hope for that day when God's new creation bursts forth in a vibrant display of life and vitality and wonder and awe and beauty. I am to hope for that day when, as that song goes, "I'll be done with the troubles of this world." Hope in God does not mean that in hoping in Him and trusting in Him (the two go together) that everything in my life will turn around and be exactly what I want it to be. This is not what the scriptures teach. This is what we would expect in a world where God's kingdom is fully known--and it is what we can expect when that day finally comes--but now, where God's kingdom is here but not yet, when the new age has arrived but not fully, those who hope in God and trust in God are often assaulted with all sorts of tragedies. And yet their hope--our hope--is certain if it is accurately placed. Those who hope in God--and hope for what they are supposed to hope for--will not be disappointed.

a good weekend

The weekend thus far has been pretty interesting. I had Friday off, and Tyler and I grabbed some gyros at the local Greek restaurant and then went home to play some Wii. I spent the night alone at the house writing and reading and drinking exuberant amounts of coffee. I went to the Starbucks in Oakwood to check out their renovations--it's quite nice--and drank four shots of espresso in preparation for picking Mandy up from the airport (she's been in L.A. for the past week); right after I took the shots roulette-style, she called and the plane was delayed several hours, which meant her husband would be picking her up. So I was up till about 3:00--espresso never affects me when I want it to and always affects me when I don't want it to--tossing and turning in bed. I had some weird dreams and then woke up and worked till 8:30 yesterday, and Pat Dewenter came over and Amanda's in town and Anna swung by. This morning Pat and I went to M.C.C. (second time) and it was really good. We did the usual Sunday tradition of China Cottage, and he's headed up to Dayton to work on some printing projects and I'm going to lounge around and work out before my 2-9:00 shift.

Yesterday at work was crazy. The power went out and we had to close the store at 6:00. I drove by this morning and things seemed to be hopping, so apparently DP&L showed up sometime overnight and fixed the problem, thank God. We lost a lot of business and a lot of money, which is never good. Here is another picture I took in the wetlands last Monday, I think (I never can remember):

stupid bumper stickers

I love it when I'm driving down the road and there's a stoplight and I pull up close enough to see the bumper sticker on the back of the car in front of me. Sometimes they're funny and sometimes they're foolish. As a general rule, the Christian ones are foolish. I saw one today that said: "Jesus--Don't Leave Earth Without Him!" which buys into the platonic and gnostic idea that heaven is a destruction of the earth and all the redeemed will dwell in a supra-spiritual realm of ethereal spirits. It's quite un-Christian. But I digress. I wish I had my camera with me so I could take a picture, but oh well. Instead I will offer to you one of the most common ones seen out there. This buys into "rapture" theology which is seen nowhere in scripture. The Latin Vulgate translated one of the Greek words in 1 Thessalonians 4 as rapio, "caught up," which is derived from the Latin rapere, meaning "to seize/abduct." This lends to a theologically inaccurate understanding of the text, which speaks of something entirely different. But I digress. Here is the infamous bumper sticker:

My immediate feeling when seeing this is a feeling of critique. It's in my nature to critique anything labeled "Christian" from a theological perspective, and immediately I critique this on biblical grounds. That critique--"This is stupid."--quickly becomes annoyance. Annoyance at the strange beliefs many Christians have and how Christians just swallow up the theology (if you can call it that) fed to them by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins (what I call LaHayan and Jenkinian theology). The annoyance quickly becomes a bitter anger: anger because such bumper stickers make us look stupid (although a more intense anger is experienced with those "testamints", mints with Bible verses on them so you can "evangelize" as you pass out mints). I see this proclamation of the car being unmanned at the rapture and I want to say, "No, your car will be unmanned when I drag your ass out of it and beat you for being a freaking idiot." Now I must say humility in this matter is not mine, and I confess that. In the knowledge that I am often wrong in my knowledge, I should get a bumper sticker like this one:

a framework for repentance

Understanding repentance--what it is (and is not) and why it is necessary--is a futile pursuit without understanding the context of repentance, namely, its placement within the gospel and, in addition, the gospel's placement within the ultimate story of God. The gospel--understood to be the proclamation of Christ crucified and resurrected--only finds meaning within the ultimate story of God, namely a story of redemption and renewal. At the expense of simplifying something quite complex, the story of God begins in Genesis 1 and culminates at the end of Revelation. It is a story of creation, spoiled creation, and then renewed/restored creation. By creation I refer not just to nature and the cosmos--everything from millipedes to swirling galaxies--but the whole of creation, including man itself. Thanks be to sin for the current state of spoil and corruption; the ultimate plan of God is reconciling all things to Himself, Christianese language speaking of God making everything right again. That's the ultimate purpose of God, and he is doing it through Christ. Christ's resurrection inaugurated the dawning of the new age--the beginning of the restoration--and his "return" or "second coming" or "appearing" will be the great victory against evil and death and will be the moment when the new age dawns brilliantly and fully. The gospel proclamation--of Christ crucified and resurrected--finds its home within this story; specifically, it is Christ who has inaugurated this new age in the present, and Christians are those who have already stepped into this new age, indwelt by the Spirit of Christ as the down-payment and guarantee of our final resting place in the renewed creation. Obviously I am simplifying all this a great deal, but this post is not about that so much as it is repentance.

Repentance--what it is--is essentially a "change of mind," a change in one's mental disposition towards something. Specifically, it is a change in disposition towards God. No matter the processes that spurn repentance, a person repents in the biblical sense when he puts his allegiance in Christ--the bare-bones meaning of faith--and forsakes his own kingdom for the kingdom of God (another Christianese word which refers to the rule of God, experienced presently in part and fully in the future). Thus repentance is basically "stepping into" the new age, living it in the present. The benefits of repentance are experienced in the present and the future. In the present, repentance rescues us from the foolish pursuits and lifestyles of the world and the obvious consequences therein; and in the future, repentance is that which grants us grace so that we can take share in our inheritance in the renewed cosmos. This is all quite simplified, and I'm going to sketch it out in greater detail, though probably not on this blog.

Basically, I am a firm believer that any study of repentance--or, for that matter, faith, to which repentance is, in Jewish thought, the "first half"--must not simply make room for the story of God and the gospel but make its home within it.

of umbrellas and enlightenments

During work a massive storm came through. The wind picked up one of the umbrellas on the patio and hurled it fifty feet through the air and into the field beside the cafe. Forrest and I ran out into the hammering rain and chased after it. Once we reached it we both grabbed the pole and tried to carry it but the wind kept circling inside the umbrella and carrying us this way and that. Eventually we got it back to the patio and only then did we realize we were stupid and could've just closed it. So we closed it and set it down and went inside and were soaking wet through the rest of the evening. When it rains things are pretty slow, so we both got to go home early. An old friend and his fiance came into the cafe--General Lee!--and his brother Chris showed up so after work I hung out with them for a bit. Now I'm at home and overcome with many thoughts mixed with a concoction of sorrow and resolve. Enlightenment can be such a bitch, especially when the enlightenment deals with something that you're not supposed to know and no one else knows. So you can't talk about it to anyone, unless you speak in code, and it's nightmarish.

I have work off tomorrow. Dylan is in Tennessee now and will be till Tuesday. Tyler is going to come over and we're going to grab a meal and play Mario Kart and enjoy good conversation and, perhaps, beer as well. Maybe I will talk to him about everything that has been going down. I'm sure his response will be what everyone else's response--not knowing this specific "enlightenment" but the situation in general--has been: to "cut the cord." All friendships die, either fizzling out slowly or being brutally murdered. In this case, everyone suggests I brutally murder the friendship. I haven't really been on board with that idea--for a number of reasons--but this enlightenment seems to reveal what I knew to be true all along: they were right.

my week thus far

On Monday I spent some good time with my friend Jobst. We grabbed dinner at Bob Evans and then went to a local park to smoke our pipes. We sat on the rocks beside the creek and talked about all sorts of stuff and finished the evening off with some coffee from Starbucks. He headed home (he's in Colorado for several days), and Dylan and Tyler came by the house. Dylan used my discount to get a free pound of coffee and a French press. We sat on the porch late into the night laughing and smoking. Yesterday Jessie came up from Cincinnati and we made eggs, toast, and bacon for dinner and went to Cox Arboretum and walked around and took lots of pictures. We went down this path through the prairie and the sun cut through the trees and I took a picture (below). We went out onto this dock with open windows and watched baby turtles swimming in the wetlands. It was great to see her.

I just got off work a little bit ago, and I'm going to eat an early dinner and then go to the park to read some more of N.T. Wright. I'm thinking Stubb's Park, because I haven't been there in a while; and they have great spots for reading. It seems everyone is going somewhere now that summer has (although not technically until the end of June) arrived. Kyle is in Hawaii and then hopping a plane to Australia. Jobst is in Colorado. Dylan is going down to Georgia. My friend Mandy is going to Wisconsin, my other friend Mandy is in L.A. (she ran into Michael Cera), and my friend Jess is leaving for Italy today. Goodness. My life continues to be un-exciting in Centerville, Ohio. But I can't complain, really.

the badge i wear, part II

When I was around age 19 or 20, my bipolar disorder--which had been lying dormant under the surface for so long, creeping forward in tip-toe fashion--smashed me upside the head like a sledgehammer. It was the summer of 2006, right after my first year of college. The depressive and manic cycles began then, and they continued over the next four years, receding and then proceeding like the tides. Such a weight upon life forms the spirit--the entire person--into a shell of what had been. It is not uncommon--in fact, it is the general rule--that those with such cycles (people always ask me, "What is it like?" and really I can't say; one must use symbolism and imagery and metaphor--darkness, shadows, heaviness--to describe what it's like) become cold and calloused, bitter and hateful, pissed at life and the world. Indeed I became such. I wrestled with God to the point of tears, exhaustion, and even blood; and I prayed that God would take it away, and He said, "Not yet." And though my heart was not entirely in it, I submitted to Him--with all my brokenness, anger, and depression. A cold and calloused and bitter creature I was; and God changed me. Not by eliminating the depression but by working within it.

God has used this weakness--this "thorn in my flesh" for which I've sought deliverance in countless tears and supplications--to magnify His strength and power and glory in my life. I have been broken and rebuilt, passed through the fire again and again, and through the agonizing despair and seemingly insurmountable depression, God has been reconfiguring me into the person I am and the person I will become: a person like Christ, suffering and loving, selfless and sacrificial. I really don't understand it, but out of the darkness a change has occurred. Before the darkness I was more concerned about myself than others. Now--somehow--I care more for others than myself (although not all the time; let's be entirely honest, I am becoming like Christ but not Christ himself), and I am more willing and eager to make sacrifices for them. I am stronger, not weaker. I am oddly more hopeful, though my hope has been transformed into a solid and certain hope. This weakness--as are all bodily weaknesses--is a result of the death, decay, and corruption that has infected and continues to infect the world through evil and sin.

But I digress. That asshole who spoke so condemning of me does not know a damn thing about me. And I know--not by assumptions but by the life he lives--that he is a self-serving drunkard who just wants to get some ass. A classic loser. He doesn't know me. Being bipolar hasn't made me weaker; it has made me--or, rather, God working within it has made me--stronger. I am not less of a person because of it; I am more of a person. The strength of God has manifested in my weakness; when others fell, He made me stand; when others gave up, He made me press on; when others became cold and hurtful, He made me more compassionate and loving. I take pride not in who I am but in whom God has made me. I am a vessel declaring His power and love--not a love that eliminates (yet) all pain but a love that takes that pain and uses it both for our betterment and for His glory.

And this badge I wear? I will boast it proudly. It is a badge of my incredible weakness and God's even more incredible power. I know this weakness is not a gift--gifts, by their nature, are good--but God has left it in my life to be a broadcaster and an amplifier of His glory. My ministry to the hurting and the hopeless is made stronger, not weaker, by it. Any thought that I should abandon what I believe God has called me to because of it is ridiculous. No, I should embrace it: such a tool, to be squandered, or disregarded or swept under the carpet, is foolish. Were St. Paul to sit in the dust on the Damascus Road, pitying himself for his weakness and saying, "I can do nothing of value because of this," then where might we be now? He did not enjoy his weakness, and he did not praise it; but God used it in powerful ways (if it weren't true, why would he mention it?). Some would say that if I just had enough faith, that if I loved God enough, that if I were more obedient, then God would take away this disorder. In fact, some people have, very bluntly, told me that. I now wonder what they would say to St. Paul when he mentioned the "thorn in his flesh"? "Have a little more faith, Paul. Love God a little more. Be a bit more obedient, and God will take it from you." I can only imagine Paul's reaction: a few choice words and a stinging slap across the face.

I am reminded of a man who pastored a church for a lifetime, a man who had a beautiful family and who died in joy surrounded by a mourning crowd of families, friends, and even the community. He changed peoples' lives, proclaimed the gospel, was an excellent husband and an excellent father. And I remember him because he had severe bipolar, was a man acquainted with much grief. Any thought that a bipolar person is forced to live lesser of a life is insane. It is difficult, to be sure, but that does not mean I will be a failure as a minister, a failure as a husband, a failure as a father, and a failure as a friend. I would like to think that what God is doing to me through it will make me a stronger minister, a more excellent husband, a more loving father, and a more compassionate friend. And I honestly think that is the case.

a meditation (kind of)

"Life is getting better." That's what I tell myself. Even though outwardly things aren't changing too much--other than losing weight physically and having a full-time job--there is an inward change. It's hard to describe. I am experiencing more peace and joy, and I am confident that is because I have been refocusing myself on God and His kingdom (no cliche intended). The last four years of my life have been brutal emotionally, and I've had to really acknowledge the brutality of it and reconcile it with God's love and affection towards me. It is a difficult thing to do, really, but it is something that must be done. "If you have never wrestled with God," an old friend said, "then maybe you have never really met Him." I have realized--and this is for a different post, to be sure--that as of late I have been worshiping myself and my own kingdom, and though repentance--i.e. refocusing on God and His kingdom over and against myself and my kingdom--has been embraced, it is still quite difficult. As C.S. Lewis once observed, repentance is hard for us because it involves the unlearning of thousands of years of self-love and self-devotion. For me, the last four to five years of my life have to be "unlearned." I don't wish to return to where I was before all this happened; that would be foolishness. No, I wish to rise above that.

One of my friends struggles with depression and is on all kinds of medicine for it. I am not against medicine for depression--I have been on it myself--but while there is danger in totally opposing medications for physiological problems in the brain, so there is danger in completely focusing everything on the physiological aspects of our lives (i.e. the belief that depression is rooted only in physiological disharmony). My friend is buying into this, and whenever life gets harder, he self-medicates. And his psychiatrist just continues to subscribe more and more medicines, each more powerful than the first. The result is a numbness that saturates his life. He is slowly becoming a vegetable, inwardly and outwardly. I hate to see it happen. And I bring this up because he looks at his life six years ago and wants to return to that life but feels powerless to do so; or at least powerless by his own efforts. He blames depression on the change in his life, and while depression certainly played a role, there were many other circumstances and situations--many self-employed--that drove him to the point where he is now. I don't wish to minimalize the affects of clinical depression on one's life; but as someone who has not only been there but is there often, I know that fighting the depression and taking back life isn't done by self-medication. It's done by acknowledging reality and working through it. For my friend, I have suggested--and continue to suggest--that his depression over life isn't just chemical, that it's also intelligent: he looks at his life, perceives it as it is, and it really does suck, and that only increases the depression. He knows this, he really does, but blaming a physiological issue for all one's problems--making it a scapegoat of sorts--is always appetizing. He wants to go back to where he is, but he feels powerless to do so; and I tell him that the evolution of himself between then and now took six years, so why does he think that he will reverse (go into devolution) to get back to where he was in a matter of days or months or even a year or two? It takes small changes, in the here and now; small and pragmatic rather than abstract and theoretical. He is unwilling to make these changes, and so his life remains the same.

The wild tangent ends, my point is resumed: over four years of depression, coupled with circumstances outside my control, and thanks to my own stubbornness to deal with the realities of my life, I have come to a certain place where I am not half the man I used to be. I want to return to that and go beyond, and I know it won't take just a few weeks or even months. It's an evolutionary process of the soul, but unlike the heathen and the pagan (I just love to use those words every once in a while; they are classic Christian dormitory insults), my evolution must not be constrained to forces outside my control or even forces that are within my control but too weak and powerless to really change things. The Spirit of God is within me, and God seeks my rescue and renewal. That is quite encouraging. I want this and God wants this, and He will see it through to the bloody end (metaphorical; hinting at a long journey ending in a certain destination).

the dayton days: four months in

Monday. I went to Yellow Springs at dawn and went on a 4-mile hike, amped up by a quad espresso from Starbucks long before sunrise. After hiking through Glenn Helen, I went into town and got a coffee from a quaint shop along the hippie stretch. I went down to Cincinnati, and Rob & I grabbed coffee at Coffee Emporium, then played some Wii with Mandy & Amos back at the Claypole House (they just moved in! It's a pretty sweet place). When I got back home, I took a nap and woke to Uncle Don at the house. He's in town for some Coke business (and not the kind you make a ton of money off of). We ate dinner at Cadillac Jack's and spent the evening hashing it out in the living room.

Tuesday. I called Jess Lynn late last night. She's headed to Italy in eight days, a post-graduation vacation (minus the graduation). We're going to hang out when she gets back. I had the day off, spent most of writing and reading N.T. Wright. Dylan & Tyler came over, and we played Mario-Kart and went to the theater and saw Disney's "Oceans." We hung out at the house for a while.

Wednesday. Everyone's noticed a good change in my emotions, and most of it has been due to an emotional detachment from Sarah. But now the emotions are crawling back, rearing their ugly heads. I walked and prayed that God would deliver me from this Hell, deliver me from this--not because I deserve it, but because He loves me and wants what's best for me. I got back home and read N.T. Wright. Dylan came over with Indonesian cigarettes he'd gotten off a friend. We smoked them, a weird, clove-like flavor, and played Mario-Kart. We went to DLM for a bit. My ex-gf Karen emailed me today. Things are going downhill with Brian. Apparently he's treating her badly. "He cheated on his wife, so why does that surprise you?" She had no response. Fair enough, I suppose.

Thursday. I worked 6:30-3:00 with Jessica, Wade, and J.J., then went to the gym and ran for a while at Stubb's Park. Sarah sent me a bunch of emails to me, admitting there are things she's not willing to give up in her life. She wants to keep living in such a way as to indulge every fleeting pleasure and fancy. I told her that's her decision, and if any bad comes from it, she has no excuse. I went to Starbucks for a while and read N.T. Wright, "Surprised By Hope." It's damned good. Wright's making me rethink some of my most cherished perceptions on Christian and Jesus. Not in a "liberal" way. Before bed, Dad and I sat on the front porch and smoked cigars and talked theology. "Are you still considering seminary?" he asked. I said Yes. But I'm not really sure. While I do, at times, feel stagnant, I know that now is a pretty key--"transitional"--phase. How? I just know.

Friday. I woke up at 6:00 for a crazy morning: Faith forgot to schedule a fifth opener. I went to the gym after work and downloaded all the songs needed to DJ Jared & Ashley's wedding reception tomorrow (they got married a few weeks ago in Cancun). Mom & Dad went to a Red's game, box seats, and then went down to Kentucky to get ready for tomorrow. I talked to Mandy K. for a bit. She's doing okay. I talked to Jess Lynn, too: she's sick but excited for Italy. The storms tonight were incredible: rain, hail, sirens, the works!

Saturday. I slept until 8:00 and got breakfast, toast and eggs, at Frisch's while reading N.T. Wright's "Surprised by Hope." I went to Clearcreek Park to pray, so much tension and confusion in my life right now. I headed down to Kentucky. The wedding reception was great. We had some problems with the speakers, but we figured it out. It ended at 10:00, and I was in Cincinnati by 11:30, and I went by Refuge for some espresso fashioned by Rob, and then I went over to the Rosemont Apartment. Sarah and Moose were hanging out, and I joined them for a while. I found out that one of Sarah's friends, a white trash loser named Kevin, told her it was a good idea not to date me because I'm bipolar and had cut myself. His words were hurtful and searing, a direct assault on me as a person. I used to think like that about myself, and it was hell, but even among my hardest moments, I have been twice the man he is. It hurts because some people just hear that and make wild, cinematic assumptions. They don't know me at all, they have no repertoire, and thus what they say should just be discarded. And generally, I don't give a damn what people think of me. But for some reason, this literally HURTS. 

Sunday. I didn't fall asleep until 4 AM last night, and I didn't go to M.C.C. I went to Waffle House and read N.T. Wright during lunch. The waitress flirted with me. I worked 3-11:00 with Lourdes, who brought Greek food; Denise, who brought chicken fingers; and Aubree, who brought homemade chips & dip. We were out by 10:35. I talked to Mandy K. over the phone, told her about the D-Bag and what he'd said. She's experienced similar. "I miss the old me," she said. I'm going to try to visit her in Wisconsin this summer.

the badge i wear, part I

Someone had the audacity, upon hearing of my many failed relationships (failed not due to me, but do dating cheaters and liars), to say, "Maybe God is keeping you from getting married because He knows you're bipolar and doesn't want a girl to have to deal with that." His words--he shall remain unnamed, because I do not wish to slander; but let me just say that he is quite an ass (is that slander?)--were hurtful and searing. A direct assault on me as a person. I have many theories regarding why I have not been successful in relationships (such as, well, never mind--they're personal), and that used to be one of my theories. I fought it down and beat it to death (or so I thought), and his words, in a sense, resurrected that old perspective. I'm not buying into it, I'm once more fighting against it. Such a perspective had been hell, but even amidst my worst moments (and I know this guy pretty well), I have been twice the man he is.

It hurts because some people just hear that about me and make all kinds of wild assumptions. They don't know me at all, they have no repertoire with me, and thus what they say can just be tossed out. And generally, I don't give a damn what people think of me. But for some reason, this literally hurts. Maybe because it's an attack on me as a person--not on a specific trait of mine, but on me as a whole. Maybe it's because his words reflected an old perspective, and bringing it up is like driving a nail into the new perspective, a nail into the weakest spot, and the new perspective threatened to crumble.

The reality of the matter is that "bipolar" is now a word laced with popular thought derived from the entertainment industry, something affiliated with men who beat their wives and people who kill others on a whim, and at the least there is an image of white-walled hospitals with padded rooms. It's a badge I wear; just as the Jews with their Davidic star in Hitler's Europe wore a badge that conjured up all sorts of ridiculous, media-inspired, and flat-out wrong connotations, so I wear this badge, and those who meet me--and find out about this--will then be indebted with all sorts of ideas about me.

At least until they get to know me. On the basic, surface level I am funny and quirky and enjoyable and have a rich personality. On a deeper level, I am perceived as caring and compassionate, a loving person who makes sacrifices for others and puts other people before himself. And on an intimate level--the plane where two people truly know one another--I am wounded but loving, hopeless but hopeful, in sorrow yet joyful, suffering yet celebrating, in pain but enduring--not for the sake of myself but for the sake of others. I devote myself to others more than myself (and am often hurt by this), and I am a fighter: I may be brought to my knees, but I get up again; I may bleed, but I keep going; and even when the exhaustion is overbearing, I grit my teeth and push forward. The cycles have swept through the last four years of my life in varying and undulating currents, but the one I remember most was in the fall of 2006 (comparable to that of autumn 2007). For nine months I wanted nothing more than to take my own life, but I didn't. It wasn't because I had hope--because I had none--but because I knew how doing it would affect my family, especially my little sister. For nine months I wept and looked upon a dark world and felt nothing but an unquenchable emptiness and sorrow, and I would often go to the bridge and stand there for hours fighting the urge to jump. It was in those moments that who I am really shone through: despite how deeply and badly I wanted to do it, I refused, putting others before myself. And when people hear about this, they just think about me being bipolar. They don't see the nature of myself reflected amidst that.

The guy who spoke those hurtful words doesn't know me at all. He makes wild assumptions because of the badge I wear and then thrusts them onto his perception of me (and upon bipolar in general). I know several bipolar people, and I can attest that we do not fit the mold of society's stereotype: we are fun-loving people who care deeply for others, who feel the hurts of others; we are loving and suffering; we generally put others before ourselves; we are loved by many. But most people never see this, either because they don't really know us or they're afraid to get to know us. The reality is that we wear badges, and eventually the badge becomes visible.

gearing up for the weekend

I have been reading a lot of N.T. Wright lately. Well, "re:reading." I read "Paul in Fresh Perspective" my sophomore year of college, and I read his "Surprised by Hope" during my 2008 internship in Minnesota. N.T. Wright is definitely worth a read. His writings on Christian eschatology, as well as placing "Christianity" in its proper Jewish context, does wonders for theological understanding. My own perception of Christianity is being distorted and bent and reshaped, and I'm a fan of it. Some long-held questions are being answered (while others are being raised), and many dormant thoughts and speculations are rising to the surface to find their place amidst the gridlocks of the Judeo-Christian narrative. Here is a quote of N.T. Wright from "Paul in Fresh Perspective":

Jesus believed himself to be bringing to its great climax, its great denouement, the long story of YHWH and Israel, which was the focal point of the long story of the creator and the world... he believed himself to be embodying both the vocation of faithful Israel and the return of YHWH to Zion, drawing on to himself not only the destiny of God's true Servant but, if we can put it like this, the destiny of God himself.

I've spent the day (post-work) finishing up getting ready for tomorrow. I am going down to Kentucky in the morning. My cousin and his wife, Ashley, are having their wedding reception tomorrow evening (they were married two weeks ago in Cancun) and I am going to be the "D.J." It's in quotes because I am not spinning discs or anything, just making the announcements in my cool and collective voice and playing the right songs at the right times. Someone had to do it. Late Saturday night my sister and I are hooking up with some friends in Cincinnati to grab a few drinks. I'll head home afterward, sleep in, and then it's back to the grindstone on Sunday. My friend Jobst will be in town Monday evening, so we may get dinner or something if he can work it in. Now it's 11:00, and I'm tired, and I'm going to go to bed... After reading some more of Wright, of course.

The Myth of Destiny

Dylan came over and broke out some cigarettes he'd gotten from Indonesia. One of his friends had done an internship there and returned with Kreteks. Somehow they'd gotten them through customs--carton upon carton--and his friend gave him two packs. They were reminiscent of Djarum Blacks, though less sophisticated:

As we smoked the cigarettes on the front porch--before and after a trip to the local grocery store for some eggs and toast--we talked about hope. I had mentioned earlier in the day that famous phrase "Whatever Is Meant To Happen Will Work Out Perfectly," and I pretty much (well, to the "T") called it Bullshit. Dylan asked what I meant, and I told him that people have this weird idea that there is some sort of great destiny for them, and everything that happens are stepping-stones to the fulfillment of that destiny. Never mind that most people on this planet die and die alone, living lives of misery up to that point. Maybe it's our pride or our arrogance--or maybe the fact that we don't want to face reality for what it is--that leads us to buy into The Myth of Destiny. Ultimately it's placing hope in this world, despite the world being a fucked-up place full of fucked-up people and nothing ever works out how we ultimately want it to.

Christians buy into this logic, too, except they wrap it with religious lace. Now they incorporate God into the mix--"God has some great destiny for my life!"--and they call it Faith when really it is just some sort of twisted escapist technique used for emotional deliverance from the troubles of this world. When Christians do this, they ignore three facts: 1. The Bible does not teach that God has a great destiny for everyone; 2. The Bible does not teach that God has a destiny (good or bad) for everyone; and 3. when the Bible DOES show someone whom God had a destiny for, that destiny was often miserable and full of pain and sorrows (e.g. the prophets, esp. Jeremiah, who was commanded by God to never marry and never party). Christians point to them and select texts about them and say, "God has a plan for me!" It's essentially they're making something that, at the most, is a general reality a universal reality. But, hell, you know how it is: whatever makes you sleep good at night. That's the way our culture works.

Oh, and Dylan brought up a good point. From his many adventures in foreign countries, he came to see that this individualized "destiny" is a concept foreign to most other countries where individualism is not rampant and emphasis is put on the family or community. "It's an individualistic thought process," he said, "that isn't even considered in places like Asia." Of course, western influences in those countries are changing that. But his point is very clear and valid. Individualism consumes Western cultures, and individualistic thought--while so prevalent and subtle and yet conquering in our thought--had and has no place in the reading of scripture.

a simple life

I live a very simple life. I go to work, I go to the gym, I read and write for a couple hours, hang out with friends. And right there is my existence. Sometimes I enjoy it, sometimes I don't. At times I feel as if I am stagnant, moving nowhere. At other times I feel a tension between the Past and the Future, the past known but reinterpreted and the future unknown but prophesied. There are times when I am content, times when I am not. There are times when "the troubles of the world" seem far and distant, and at times they are so close I cannot breathe. There are times when God seems as far as the moon and stars, and there are times when He feels so close that if I just swept around on my heels, I would see Him standing directly behind me. I am a creature of fluctuating emotions, and I struggle to conquer my emotions rather than letting them conquer me. The simple life thus becomes less simple, because while outwardly simple, inwardly there is chaos and confusion, ambitions and dreams and convictions lurching forward and then receding like the tide. At times I feel like I am standing on the mountaintop, at other times I feel like I am submerged in the jungle valley where the sun doesn't even penetrate. Sometimes--like right now--I think about things too much. Sometimes I relish the simpleton, sometimes I am proud of the fact that I think deeply about things--and then I am humbled because despite my deep thinking, I am nearly always wrong.

journal entry - 5.17.10

I continue to "get over" the girl I fell for in October of last year. In the words of my good friend Doc Rob, "That whole situation was FUBAR." Everything that could go wrong did, and I ended up being borderline traumatized and ran helter-skelter away from her (a wise, well-thought-out choice). I don't think about her very often, but there come times, in my weaker moments, when I imagine her with another guy. Laughing. Loving. Fucking. A single thought hurls a dark cloud over the rest of the day, and I find myself imprisoned by the chains of fictional nostalgia. Yesterday was such a day. One thought colored the rest of the day, and all joy and peace were evaporated. She consumed my mind. I crawled into bed to escape the thoughts--blissful, blissful sleep!--and I closed my eyes and thought to myself, "She is no longer a part of my life."

She is a friend, and I do care about her. But the shape and structure of my life is not defined by her actions, her choices, her disposition towards me. Since October--well, September--of last year, my own life--its shape and structure--was coiled around hers, like some sort of helix. Her actions and choices affected me so deeply that they guided my actions, my choices, my thoughts and feelings. My life was in step with and wrapped around hers. Something like this:


No longer was my life--its "look" and "feel"--determined by me. I was enslaved to her without ever realizing it. Everything about me--and thus everything about my life--was directly linked to her independent self and life. Moving out in February, I began to see this, and I fought against this en:coiled existence. Slowly we disengaged and untangled, but the affects of her self and life still indirectly affected me. Like this:


As I focused more and more on God, the rate of change increased. Probably because my focus was upon God and thus not upon her (I can multitask well, but not when it comes to my thoughts). Whereas I had been devoted to her and "our" kingdom (a non-existent one; and, to be truthful, I was really just devoted to myself and my own kingdom, and I wanted her in it), I have been re:orienting my life to devotion to God and His kingdom. The result is a "break-away" of sorts. Like this:

That doesn't mean I am detaching myself from her or abandoning her. It just means that now I am making divine things my main concern (or at least attempting to!). This is all due to repentance--these flimsy charts borne from a tired mind just represent something going on in my heart, thanks to God, and its subsequent manifestation in my life. But my repentance is not perfect (whose is?) and one stray and listless thought can funnel my attentions back onto her, resurrecting the feelings (though greatly-diminished in form) and digging up the pain of disappointment and those archaic fantasies of being with her. The result is that the upward-swing of my life disengaging from its control of hers becomes interspersed with moments of back-tracking, like this:


This is a common occurrence, and daily I pray that God will take this burden from me, renewing and reforming my heart--and the result, I hope, will be something like this:

I want and pray that she moves forward in life, and I want and pray to move forward, too. But I don't want her journey to affect my journey in the way that it did. We're not married, and so it doesn't make sense for our journeys to be entwined (and, in reality, they were not just "entwined": she was doing her own thing, and I was plodding behind begging for crumbs and scraps off her table). I pray that God will bring me to that emotionally, spiritually, and mentally place where I can be made healthy and whole in regards to this FUBAR situation. And then it will be on to the next struggle--but hopefully with a few more tricks up my sleeve for the second round.

"struggling" with sin

In High School we had "Accountability Groups" at our church. Three friends and I were in such a group, and each week we would meet and talk about our "struggles." We struggled with sin quite consistently. We'd go around the circle, roulette-style, and talk about how we were struggling with this or that. For three years this continued, and each week we would struggle with the same sins.

It's become cliche to say "I'm struggling with sin." We perceive any sin in our life to be a struggle. But the nature of struggling involves wrestling, fighting, blocking and sparring, becoming winded and exhausted. Many people claim to "struggle with sin" when all elements of a struggle are not present in their disposition towards that sin and its activity in their lives. It makes us sound spiritual, and it makes it sound a bit easier. "I'm a sinful person, and I'm struggling..." It's quite calming to any guilt complexes we may have. And thus it can become a sort of self-deception. There's this sin in our life, a habitual sin, that we refuse to repent of, and we call it "a struggle." If a person is addicted to pornography, and that person looks at pornography day-in and day-out, then where is the struggle? He may say, "I am struggling with this," but, no, he's not. He's embracing it. Sure, he may feel bad about it. He may feel guilty and even ashamed. But, hell, even Judas felt that after he betrayed Jesus--then he went off and killed himself. He didn't repent. Self-deception is a harsh reality, and we must examine ourselves and our words and our own perceptions of ourselves to see if it is in alignment with reality. If you're struggling with a sin, is there evidence of that struggle? If there's no evidence of that struggle--i.e. fighting the temptation to the point of great strain, fleeing from situations where you know you'll be tempted, etc.--then chances are, you're just embracing your sin and calling it a struggle so you don't lose face before others and even before yourself.

the dayton days XV

Monday. Wade, Jessica and I opened the shop. It went well until I somehow hurt my toe and it stung to walk. Then Forest called off sick, so I had to stay until 2:30. I locked my keys in my car, so Tyler came by and bailed me out. We had a fire come evening, and Dylan joined us and we laughed until the point of tears. We grabbed coffee at Spring Valley before they left. Tonight I sat on the back porch and prayed, it was nice. I may try to finish 36H2 tomorrow, but I'm conflicted. I've always had a guilt complex of sorts: is this for my own selfish glorification? I do tend to take things to the extremes: "It's either writing stories or serving God, and you must choose!" All of it weighs heavy upon my chest. And my toe hurts.

Tuesday. I worked 6-2:30, and my toe felt much better. I went to the gym after work and went to Centerville Starbucks to write. Mom's bible study group went to see Sabrina in concert at Miamisburg High School. I spent the evening reading, writing, and exercising. I finished another chapter in 36H2. It's such a damned chore now. I went to the gym once night fell and spent the evening chatting with Maria G. on Facebook. I found out she thinks I'm cute, and so is she, so we started talking. She's going through what I went through back in February through April: facing life for what it is and wrestling with it.

Wednesday. I woke at 6:00 and worked out and drank coffee and smoked and prayed before working 7:30-4:0. Jessica from work invited me to her art show Friday in Dayton, but I'll probably be in Cincinnati. Jess Lynn stopped in today to get her tips from her shift back from March. We hugged, a nice and long hug. I wouldn't mind being with her: she's so sweet and caring and loving, even if she can be a bit crazy from time-to-time (Join the club, right?). "An old-fashioned girl." That's what I want: NOT Sarah. But I know, at least, that my draw towards Jess Lynn, and Maria G., is more escapism than anything, my own desire to know that things will--or, at least, can--be okay. I went to House Church with Dylan and Tyler. Tensions ran high, someone confessing a divorce, and people started crying. It was awkward. "You probably could've chosen to come on a better night," Tyler mused.

Thursday. Jessica asked me to come to her art show again. Eh. Mandy came up after I got off work at 2:30, and we went on a 10-mile hike at Caesar's Creek. It was beautiful and serene, and we shared lots of laughs and conversation. She asked me how things are going with Sarah. "Much better," I said. Dark fell, masking the unmarked trails, and we were lost. I called Dad, and he figured out where we were based on landmarks and picked us up and drove us back to the car. Mandy and I grabbed dinner at China Cottage, and then I gave her some gas money and she went home. Jess Lynn called earlier, really sad; "I need you to hold me," she whimpered. I promised to call her. Mandy said, "I think she likes you." She does, I think, though only intermittently: but that's how it is for both of us. Nostalgia and escapism. It's a pleasant fantasy. I'm going to call her and then go to bed.

Friday. Jess Lynn and I talked until 12:30 AM, sharing our struggles. She cried as she lamented bullshit at work and how she failed a college class and how she won't graduate until December. Regarding graduation, I told her that it doesn't really matter, no one cares, it's not lame, it won't change how people perceive her. We talked about the suckiness of life, how life's a bitch and a cycle between positive and negative experience. I told her she has hope, and she does, though she doesn't see it right now. "Things will get better," I told her. But then they'll go straight to hell again, because that's how life works. I went down to Cincinnati this evening. Blake & I smoked pipes at Refuge. Pipe Club! We then went to the Sunset Pub for beers, bourbon, and conversation. It was good getting to know him some more. Mandy joined us. The bartender there went to C.C.U. and graduated in 2005. She was cute and I tried flirting but failed. It was good chatting her up, though. Sarah was going to join us, but she went to see her family in Wilmington (or to Keith's; who the hell knows anymore?). 

Saturday. I returned home last night to find Uncle Bill and Aunt Teri at the house. They'd spent the night, had a wedding in Columbus today. Sarah called today, said she was actually home last night, was mad I didn't swing by. WTF? She said she was in Wilmington! My graduation was at 10:00, and I nonchalantly decided not to go. Instead I went to Starbucks and drank espresso and pondered spiritual things. Dylan came over around 2:30. We played some Mario-Kart and then made the hour and a 1/2 drive to Liberty, Indiana to attend part of Jess Lynn's graduation party. Dylan and I pretty much stuck to ourselves. The only people I knew were Jess Lynn and her parents. Dylan and I got back to Dayton around 7:30. Tyler and Dewenter joined us. We ran to D.Q. and I.G.A. Sarah called from Wilmington, and we chatted for a bit.

Sunday. Dewenter got here around 10:00, and we went to Miamisburg Christian Church on 725. Adam Y. plays there, Chris W. volunteers, and Hank plays drums there from time-to-time. We ran into Ron & Aisa. After church we grabbed lunch at China Cottage: me, Pat D., Hank and Ashlie. At home I did some writing, and worked 3-10:30. Mandy K. and I have been writing emails back and forth.

hiking at dawn

This morning I woke up at 5:00 AM, grabbed some free espresso from Starbucks, and drove forty minutes to Yellow Springs. I hiked the Glen Helen (?) trail. 4.4 miles with lots of scenic spots: craggy cliffs and canyons (miniature ones, of course), waterfalls and bridges, etc. The trails weren't as demanding as the one's at Caesar Creek, and the scenery was much more beautiful. I walked and I prayed and I pondered life now and life in the future. I walked through creation and perceived its beauty and I asked myself, "If creation--now corrupted and spoiled and ruined by Sin--is this beautiful now, how beautiful will it be in the new creation where Sin is defeated and destroyed and the creation is restored and renewed?" Walking through the trails was just a glimpse of what the future hols for the covenant people of God, and it makes me excited for that day to come. After the hike I went into town and grabbed a coffee at a hole-in-the-wall shoppe and it was raining and cold. Soon I will be heading down to Cincinnati. Rob and I are grabbing coffee at the Coffee Emporium downtown. I haven't been there yet but have been longing to go.

M.C.C. (maybe?)

Ever since moving home to Dayton, I have been searching for a church to become a part of. It’s been more difficult than I expected it to be. I tried out my old church, Southwest, but since I went there before college, it’s changed, and I hardly know anyone there. My friend Patrick came up to me the other day, wanting to get back involved with church and to rekindle a lost communion with God. The two of us have been church-hopping over the last couple weeks. The first church we checked out was Apex, one of the biggest and most successful churches in the area. One could consider it a megachurch: the church itself is the hub of a network of house churches spread all over the Dayton area. This week (err, today) we went to Miamisburg Christian Church. One of the old worship leaders from Southwest plays there (Adam Young), and some of our high school friends (Chris and Hank, along with his wife Ashlie), as well as Ron and Aisa, a couple we knew, attend there. So we checked it out today and then went out to eat with Pat and Ashlie—“China Cottage,” a long-time favorite—and as Patrick drove me back to the house, we decided to go back to Miamisburg Christian.

And I’ve been thinking about the nature of “church-hopping.” Basically it’s about trying to find a church that you like. A church that caters to your needs. Some people like the method of one place, others like the method of another. In all honesty, I prefer simplicity: a few hymns (revised contemporary), a sermon, some good ol’ fellowship. When it comes to church services, that’s what I like the most. Problem is, it’s hard to find. Outdated. M.C.C. is a lot like Southwest, the similarities are actually astounding. And maybe the familiarity of it—along with the friendships already forged there—make it a good choice.

While in Cincinnati, for a year I was part of a church called Seven Hills. I tend to be Arminian in my theological convictions, and Seven Hills was pretty fundamentally calvinistic (not to be confused with hyper-calvinistic). Amidst such basic doctrinal disagreements, we experienced a great community of evangelism, encouragement, rebuke, challenge, and exhortation. We modeled, insofar as we could, the New Testament testimony of the framework of the New Testament church. I grew and was nurtured and challenged and was forced to rethink and rebuild my life in many ways around God and His kingdom. In my pursuits of a church to belong to, I tend to compare everything to that. But the reality is that such networks are hard to find these days. The one I participated in disbanded and half the members flocked to Bloomington, Indiana. But M.C.C., if Patrick and I decide to stay there, will be a good place to foster community and continue my pursuit of God and His kingdom.

pipe club!

Yesterday's Pipe Club went pretty well. I had forgotten my pipe, so Blake lent me one of his own. "A hobbit pipe," someone said upon observing it. We smoked good weed (in the Tolkien-esque way) and shared great conversation about Christianity, the nature of choice and responsibility, and the failure of the modern church to encapsulate what the gospel is all about, what church is all about. After we smoked our pipes, we went down to The Sunset Pub (a hole-in-the-wall Price Hill bar) and we got beers and some bourbon and chatted with the bartender, who had graduated from C.C.U. the year I started; and Mandy and Amanda joined us and we sat at a table as people tricked in and drank our beers and smoked some cigarettes and had a great time with much laughter. I do love going down to Cincinnati and seeing people, and I relish the conversations we have; and the conversation we had will spawn several upcoming contemplative posts about various things. Blake and I are "textbook-overthinkers", and I think that is a good thing. The art of study is something I've preserved since graduation, and it's a discipline I want to keep intact throughout the rest of my life. Yet in the words of Straylight Run, "The more I learn, the more I don't understand." But I guess that's the nature of the thing: once you begin peeling away the surface layers of something, observing it from various angles, you probe deeper and deeper into the thing itself, and it surrounds you and encompasses you and suffocates you until you don't know your right from left and your up from down. Here is a picture of me and Blake at the pub:

hiking at Caesar's Creek

Mandy came up from Cincinnati yesterday, and we went hiking at Caesar's Creek. She had expected a mulched trail, so the 14-mile loop pounded into the dirt, going up and down hills, at times crossing creeks without bridges, and most of the time being generally overgrown, came as quite a surprise. We only rested twice, and the trek took us several hours. We finished as dark fell, and worn out and tired and exhausted (all synonyms meaning that we got our asses kicked) we went to celebrate the accomplishment at my favorite restaurant, China Cottage. We shared lots of laughs and good conversation and I even scared the shit out of her at least twice. Here is a picture of the two of us as we were calling people to find out where the hell we were (somewhere on Interstate 73):

Tonight I am going down to Cincinnati to smoke pipes with Blake. Amanda and Mandy will no doubt join us, and Sarah may jump into the fray. I'm looking forward to sitting on the Refuge patio with a latte and a smoke. It should be a good time.

I decided to skip my own graduation. I already have my diploma, so why go? Today was the practice run, and tomorrow is the actual graduation. I'm sure by now the school has realized I'm not attending. It doesn't really matter. I got my diploma, I have my degree and transcripts, I've purchased my Bachelor's via 130+ $400 credits. Now I'm moving on to the next stage in my life. And what stage is that? Hell if I know. I told one of my friends the other day, "I feel like I'm in a transition stage. But I don't know what I'm transitioning to." I have some ideas of what I want to do with my life, but it's a wrestling match to figure out which direction I want to pursue. I need to make some sort of decision or I'll be stuck in the same place for the rest of my life, that "place" being confusion and internal chaos.

little toe, big pain

The day started off well, but then it went downhill. I somehow managed to stab myself in the toe with a nail. The top of my sock filled with blood and now my toe is all swollen (thank God for tetanus shots). It hurt to walk and I looked like Kevin Spacey from "The Usual Suspects." One of my co-workers was sick so I worked an extra hour and a half, and my toe just kept hurting more and more. And then, to top it off, I locked my keys in my car. Tyler quit his job this week (starting full-time at Fair Haven Church next week) so he was able to come and take me to my house for the spare and then back to work to get my car. But I'm an idiot and forgot my key at the house when we made the first return trip, so then we had to go back. But the day got better because I bandaged up my toe and it doesn't hurt as much. Tyler, Dylan and I made a fire and ate dinner and are about to play Mario-Kart. My hope and prayer is that my toe doesn't start to hurt again tomorrow. I've developed a system to keep that (hopefully) from happening. And my Thursday 14-mile hiking trip with Mandy? It's still on, based upon the hope that my toe doesn't get any worse as it heals. Oh: here is a pic of me and Mom at our Mother's Day dinner at the bar.

the dayton days (XIV)

Monday. I went to the Gym, read for a bit at the Centerville Starbucks, and then worked 1-7:00 with Abby and Forrest. When Leah came in to take over for me, she exclaimed, "I saw you at Apex yesterday!" She talked about her daughters, Pressley and Faith. Dylan & Tyler came over, and we grabbed dinner at DLM: I had a pretzel sandwich, pine club pasta, olives and orange juice. When we left, there was a HELL of a storm coming in. Tyler and I took lots of pics. We went back to the house and sat on the porch and drank beer and smoked cigarettes and watched the storm.

Tuesday. I worked 5:00-noon with J.J. and Jessica. A good shift. I went to the gym after work and then ran by Starbucks for a drink before taking a nap. I woke and cleaned my room. I found out Keith and Sarah have been dating up to the very end of January. Lies, deceit, distrust, selfishness--these have been the defining moments of our friendship. What did I give her? Care, compassion, sacrifice, servitude. God. And yet I still care for her and can't seem to let myself "let go," to abandon the friendship and its destruction of my life. What will it take? I pray daily for god to ease this burden. How will he answer? Will he gently relieve me? Or brutally deliver me? What will it take for me to "dust off my sandals" and move on? God only knows. Dad and I grabbed Panera for dinner, then went to Starbucks for coffee. We talked about my future, and I told him I'm leaning towards going into ministry. God has been working on my heart, and I KNOW He wants me to "preach the Word." Right now, though, I'm focusing on developing both spiritually and in knowledge of the gospel. Tyler came over, and we sat on the front porch and drank beer and talked theology: faith and repentance, resurrection and glorification, restoration and jubilation. 

Wednesday. Late last night I learned that Sarah and Keith weren't together thru January, but through April 30. She lied to Ams and me consistently. She told us only what we wanted to here. All those trips to see Katherine or Christy or her brother when she never answered her phone? Probably seeing Keith, fucking him. I always knew she was unreliable, untrustworthy. She lied AGAIN and AGAIN without flinching. And Billy? And Frank? Well, she was still with Keith. So she's a cheater, a liar, a manipulator, a self-serving bitch. That's what she is. She puts on a good show, that's for sure: but we can see through the bullshit. Her facade's crumbling, and she's left exposed. Her little ruse worked--but only for a while. But in the end, all our charades are cast into the open. Am I being too harsh? Maybe. God knows I have my demons and rotted heart aspects. But I know that the coldness and wretchedness of her heart has hurt me, and continues to hurt me, again and again. You can't trust a damn thing she says, and her promises are empty. How is that conducive to a relationship? She's an adulterous drunkard; why would I want that in my life? Our entire friendships has been built upon how she can use me for her own advantage. I served her, sacrificed for her, treated her with more love than I've given myself. And all the while I failed to see who she really was, just saw her as I wanted to see her, as she used to be. I literally have no desire to be her friend.... I spent some time in prayer at Stubb's Park, then went to DLM for some pheasant eggs. Cooked 'em up with toast for breakfast. I went to Starbucks and did some reading, and then I ran by the gym for a while. I worked 1-8:00 and did some writing on the patio at work before heading home. The 8-Day stretch of work is over!

Thursday. Ams called me at 2:30 AM last night, sobbing. She broke up with Chris after he told her how he "cheated" on her sometime in January. I comforted her. She made the right decision. He's an ass, doesn't know boundaries. I woke at 9:00, ran some errands and went to Spring Valley to do some writing: still plowing through 36H2. I'm so close to being done, but I've lost interest. God, this always happens. I headed down to Cincinnati, and Ams & I got dinner at The Anchor and talked about all the shit that went down with Chris. Dylan joined us after work, and we went to Refuge to celebrate Jessie & me graduating C.C.U. It was good--lots of laughter and games and cake and good people. Jessie, Mandy, Nate, Rob, Dylan, Jobst, Tony, Jeff, Ams & Sarah. I got home around midnight and passed out.

Friday. Dad took a 1/2-day at work, and we grabbed lunch at the Der Dutchman in Waynesville and went hiking at Caesar's Creek. He knew some good trails. Mandy's coming up Thursday, and we're going to do a 14-mile hike. I took a nap and went down to Cincinnati, met up with Blake, Amos, and Mandy at Refuge. We smoked pipes and cracked jokes and Ams joined us and then Sarah. We all went to O'Charley's for drinks. Blake & Amos went on and on about how hot Ams is. Sarah pouted, "No one ever talks about me like that." Same here. I told her I thought she was hot. I got an awkward laugh out of it. It took me an hour and a half to get home because of the damned rain.

Saturday. I woke sick and all I had planned for the day went to hell. I went to Kroger and got some meds and slept till noon. I watched TV until my 3-11:00 shift at work. It wasn't bad, and my sickness by that time was more a nuisance than a hindrance.

Mother's Day. Mom got back from Cancun late last night (Jared's wedding was last Thursday). I worked 8:30-3:00 with Jessica & Mandy M. From 1-3:00 it was only me and Jess on the floor, and we were SWAMPED. It sucked. All the customers were pissed. Jess was on bar and in tears, working both Cafe and DT, and I was running between all the registers keeping the flow going. I was able to keep her from falling apart, and she thanked me for it later. Ams came up for Mother's Day, and I got Mom a Starbucks card, and Ams & I both chipped in for flowers. We ate dinner at some pub down the road and Jobst was in town so we went to Starbucks and talked for a while.