house church contemplations

Tonight at house church Mandy read an excerpt from N.T. Wright’s “Surprised By Hope” regarding the bodily ascension of Jesus into heaven and his subsequent relationship with the church and, consequently, how that informs and directs the church’s mission. I took some notes and allowed my thoughts to develop. Jesus is in heaven in bodily form (heaven is simply the realm of God, and the classifications between physical and spiritual are leftovers from Platonism and Gnosticism and shouldn’t inform our understanding of what heaven may be like). The church is the community of God’s people in the world, redeemed in Messiah Jesus; the church is constituted by its placement between the Now and Not Yet, by its placement between Easter and Consummation. Jesus is bodily in heaven and yet present with us; my best understanding of how this works is that Jesus is in bodily form in heaven, reigning in heaven and over and against the church, present with his people through the Spirit. In heaven Jesus reigns. He is Lord, which means that he is both the Judeo-Christian God YHWH (the Greek kyrios was often used in the LXX in place of YHWH) and the King, the Emperor, the Master—Caesar’s rival, the king of which Caesar is a mere shadow and parody. Jesus is king, and the church is comprised of his loyal subjects. As loyal subjects, the church is to serve the role of advancing the kingdom of God which Jesus inaugurated in his death and resurrection. We are to be his emissaries and ambassadors, his agents in his kingdom-work, summoning the world to obedience to the rightful king and putting into practice his kingdom of justice, peace, beauty, hope, and love. When it comes to our relationship with God (and Jesus), the Bible is full of metaphors. Jesus is our friend and he is our King. The friendship we have with Jesus, I think, is founded upon the status we have before him: he is our king, and we are his subjects. I’m not going to bow down before any of my friends, but one day I’ll be bowing down before Jesus (Phil 2.10-11, I believe). 

Those were the notes I took down during the actual discussion. When we went into prayer and meditation, the Spirit spoke to me. Amidst my studies in repentance, I have written a lot about what God desires and demands of us: loyalty. The crucified and resurrected Jesus of Nazareth is the world’s true Lord, reigning from heaven; and one day the veil between heaven and earth will be ripped asunder, and all those who refused to put loyalty in him will experience death and all those who put their loyalty in him will experience resurrection, glorification, and participation in the new heavens and new earth. What God demands of us in faith isn’t merely mentally assenting to the truth of the gospel. Nor is it simply trusting in him for our salvation. It isn’t the legalism of being good enough to merit his grace. It is loyalty, and within the pail of loyalty all those other aspects of faith come together into a beautiful panorama. Amidst all of this talk about Jesus being King and demanding loyalty from his subjects, one can easily slip into the mindset of perceiving Jesus as this cold, sterile, angry King who is eager to punish. Many kings in the world are quite like that, and our historical experiences of kings can and do influene how we understand Jesus and his kingship. I thank God that I don’t picture Jesus like that; I used to (as my friend Mandy said she did, too), and it was hell. 

That Jesus is King is wonderful news. The world’s true king is not like all the other kings that have gone before. Jesus is characterized by self-giving love: self-sacrifice. He is compassionate, merciful, slow to anger and eager to forgive (I have always suspected that God is more eager to forgive us than we are eager to receive his forgiveness). We who have put our loyalty in him will, as James say, stumble many times and in many ways. Amidst these stumblings and sins, God doesn’t reject us. He drowns us in his love and grace, refreshing our broken and wounded hearts, mending us and healing us, lovingly guiding us and directing us. He knows that we are not yet glorified; he knows that we are accosted by all sorts of temptations and that we are made of dust. He is understanding and graciously, generously, and lavishly forgiving. His disposition towards us, even sinners as awful as me, is one of love and benevolence and favor. It is comforting that the King of the World is the one who healed the lepers, forgave the adulterers, and embraced the unclean. He is the one who begged the Father to forgive those who executed him on a shameful cross. He is the one who offered himself on a cross not for the faithful but for the faithless. The kings of this world are self-serving, brutal, two-timing and manipulative, caring more about their thrones than about their subjects. And even if an unjust king can be patient and graceful, how much more a king who stepped down from the throne to secure the rescue of his subjects, even taking his place between the rebellious and their fate, going through their fate and carving a path straight through it. It is a joy and a privilege to serve a king like Jesus. May we gaze upon the cross and bow down before our gracious, loving, and merciful king, submitting any part of ourselves that we have continued to hold back from him. 

happy halloween

The party last night was fantastic. I got to see so many good people whom I haven't seen in a while. I enjoyed three different Trappist beers, and ended up being one of the few who didn't end up getting drunk. However, apparently Trappist beers have higher alcohol levels, and I did feel quite buzzed for a while. I spent most of the night around the fire out back. Beer pong, Rock Band, and all sorts of other party tricks were going on inside, but I'm the type of guy who enjoys fireside conversations much more. So I sat out by the fire for nearly five hours and drank my beers and swapped stories with people I haven't seen since sophomore year of college. Eventually it got too cold and I went inside and sat in the living room with some other folk, and I enjoyed watching them and their drunken antics. Around 2:30 I headed home, giving Jobst a lift on the way. I passed out in bed nearly immediately. All in all a good night. The highlights are always the conversations and the laughter with people you haven't seen in a long, long time.

I wrote about this in an earlier post, but it happened again last night. Maybe it was being around people whom I haven't seen in a while--including her ex-roommate who actually introduced the two of us--but I've been thinking about Courtney a lot. It's been three and a half years, and the "thinking" isn't the kind that it used to be. There's no pain, no remorse, no nostalgia. More just thinking about the memories, memories which have become so warped and distorted that there's no litmus test available for knowing how things really went down (except for my journals from that period in my life, but I haven't looked through those in nearly a year and a half). I guess I've thought about it more these days because it seems like everyone I know is getting married. Kyle, Caleb, and Ben are all engaged now. Most of my friends from college are either engaged or married. Hearing them talk about it, going to the weddings--being in the weddings--makes me think of her, because we were going to get married, but that never happened. The living dream turned into a living nightmare, and I entered one of the darkest periods of my life thus far. Nevertheless, it was a great growing experience, as they say, and God really used that to help me grow into a better human person. Does that mean I wouldn't go back and do things differently? No. I'd try to salvage it all if I could. Not that anything I did brought about the end of the relationship; it was her doing. But sometimes--like right now--I would gladly go back and do things over again. But, then again, I wouldn't be able to love her like I did. Love doesn't work like that. I'm not depressed or sorrowful, more-so contemplative. And today hopefully I won't think about it as I hang out with more friends and visit some amazing coffee houses. 

the dayton days [40]

@ Fountain Square

Monday. Lunch: spring rolls from DLM. Dylan & Tyler came over. We played Wii and Tyler ordered pizza. Dylan burnt himself something awful on melted plastic.

Tuesday. I dreamt about Courtney last night and woke depressed. It passed with coffee and a cigarette. Massive storms came through. The tornado sirens went off, so I went to work for chai tea. The storms rolled through quickly. It was a monsoon, so much rain and flooding. I may have pink-eye, so I called Jessica to see if I should still work. She said I could, so I am: I need the money. My call woke her up, and she sounded cute on the phone. Too bad we'd both be fired if we dated. She's a cute, fun, sassy girl. But it's all just wishful thinking.

Wednesday. My eye irritated the hell out of me all through work. I was supposed to teach Dad's small group but my pink-eye was giving me hell, so I declined. Jessica's got a sore throat, 10x worse than it was yesterday; when I went in this morning, she was in the back crying. Luckily Wade came to her rescue. Tonight she texted me: "I'm awake and if you give me pink-eye, I'll die."

Thursday. These eye-droplets really do wonders. Mom made pancakes for dinner: she always does them well, I always fuck them up.

Friday. I worked 6:30-3:00 and then jetted straight down to Cincinnati for my FIVE DAY VACATION! I was supposed to be in Wisconsin visiting Mandy K., but she's got a boyfriend now so that got wiped out. Cincinnati shall suffice. I hung out with Tony & Amos at the Claypole House, then went to The Anchor for eggs and toast with coffee. Rob, Mandy & I went to Kroger and The Party Source; I got some good Trappist beer for tomorrow's one-day-early Halloween party. Ams showed up, and we went over to her place, and Dylan joined us for a sleepover. Sarah got home from work dressed up as a cat.

Saturday. Dylan & I picked up Jobst at 11:30 and met up with Blake & Ams on Fountain Square for lunch at Rock Bottom Brewery. I got nachos and a beer. We walked around Fountain Square and Jobst got picked up by a friend. The rest of us went to the Halloween store on Glenway for costumes. Dylan went back to Dayton and I took a three hour nap and then headed from Ams' apartment to the party at the Claypole House. So many great people: Blake, Amos, Coop & Laura, Nate & Kirby, Ulrich & Blayne, Josh & Esther, Joel & Joel (one Mikaela's brother, the other Amos' brother), Andy Waugh, tons of other people. Even Gambill & Faikham showed up, and that was great. I had my three Trappist beers, got pretty drunk. We sat around the fire out back and by 2:30 I was sober and after talking with Sarah on the porch for a while I went back to Ams' and crashed.

Halloween. I woke early and went by Mount Echo, stood looking at the city and praying for a bit. My prayers in that place used to be so heart-wrenching. Sarah, Ams & I went to The Anchor and it was hipster central. Sarah & I went to Refuge and Andy hooked us up. We parted ways and I went back by the Claypole House, and we had spaghetti before House Church. It was pretty great, on the kingship of Jesus. Gambill came over later and Mandy wanted to smoke pot but I didn't feel like it.

greetings from cincinnati

And these are just a few of the great people I'll get to see over the next several days. My five-day vacation has begun! I left for Cincinnati straight from work, and I got to the Claypole House around 4:30. I saw a drug deal go down on the corner of the gas station where I filled up, and I knew I was home. Tony and I watched episodes of "Parks & Recreation" and Amos showed up from Tazza Mia in his pirate garb. He's kinda into pirates. And by "kinda" I mean he's a nut-job about it. He just got a giant octopus tattoo on his back that wraps around his shoulders, and it looks fantastic. This evening I went solo to The Anchor and worked on an outline for the second half of Chapter 11--"The Choice of Repentance"--and enjoyed chit-chat with the waitress who commented on how I never come anymore. I told her I moved to Dayton and was in town revisiting old haunts. I truly miss that place. I had two cups of coffee and twin eggs and some toast. I even smoked a cigarette, which is a weird feeling indoors. Tomorrow I am grabbing lunch with my friend Jobst, and then Amanda and I are car-pooling to the party at Rob and Mandy's (where I currently am). A Halloween party with great costumes and great music and great beer and a nonstop hookah and, of course, Rock Band. Everyone's gathering together. It should be great. Sunday I am hanging out with Sarah and some peeps, and then Monday I'll be seeing Mikaela, who I haven't seen in about a year. I'm really looking forward to this rest and relaxation. Hopefully amidst all of this I can finish the second third of "Re:framing Repentance," launching me into the final section: "The Practice of Repentance." It's gonna be a monster, and I keep writing outlines and then scratching them, rearranging and reorienting everything. So many different themes interlock that it's difficult to find a way to integrate them all without spawning mass confusion. Anyways, enough about that. I'm on vacation, I'm going to relax and have fun, and then Thursday it's back to the grindstone. 

the hermeneutic of humility

There is, I think, a certain humility that must be embraced when we read and study the scriptures and come to our own, albeit often shared, interpretations of them. By the nature of the thing itself, we’ll believe that our interpretation is the right one; if we didn’t believe that, then it wouldn’t be our interpretation. The truth of the matter is that no one agrees with anyone about everything; and another truth is that no one is right about everything. Humility, when it comes to our understanding of the scriptures and, thus, to our understanding of God, Christianity, and the world itself, should be embraced in lieu of several factors.

First, we must be aware that our interpretations do not come out of a vacuum. Some people will say, “Well, I just read the Bible for what it says.” Such people probably have never heard of those high-class terms “exegesis” and “eisegesis” and probably don’t think they matter too much. However, when it comes to reading the scriptures—and, really, reading anything informative—there should more than at least one cautionary step towards exegesis (reading out of the text) and eisegesis (reading into the text). The way that we read the Bible is laden with all sorts of preconceived notions and presuppositions. Our interpretations are influenced by our biases, education, experiences, social pressures and, at times, the need for rebellion or originality (and this originality for originality’s sake is really just conformity under a different name). When we read the Bible, we are constantly reading our own assumptions, presuppositions, and preconceived notions into the text; and these come from a variety of different influences, some which likely reside in the unconscious level, influences that we’ll never know and, thus, be able to guard against. Knowing this, we should strive to eradicate eisegesis as much as possible, employing the tools of exegesis; but all the while knowing that eisegesis will occur. The question is not, “Will I read into the text?” but “How much will I read into the text?” Being aware of eisegesis and all its trimmings, we should be cautionary when reading the scriptures and, at the same time, humble—even the most “clear” and “crisp” interpretations may be so only due to the eisegesis, be it seen or unseen, that we have performed in our studies.

Second, we must be aware of the difficulty of ascertaining truth. I’m a pretty modern, conservative person who isn’t into the whole postmodern thing with all its ins-and-outs. I believe in a thing called Truth, that is, something which refers to that Which Is and that Which Is Not. The problem, I think, is that when it comes to us discovering that truth, we find ourselves at a stand-still. We can employ all the techniques we want, but in the end we alone do not have the ability to ascertain truth for truth’s sake. We’re limited, finite creatures with low-capacity minds. We find puzzles when there are no puzzles to be found and we constantly misinterpret the world around us. Our worldviews, our meta-narratives, are a series of interpretations that overlap and intersect and even conflict at times. Amidst this morass of meta-narratives, I believe there is an ultimate meta-narrative, that which is Truth; but our meta-narratives swirl and collide and dance and go at war with each other below this. Not to say that the ultimate meta-narrative is so high that it cannot be touched. No doubt this swirling cesspool of limited meta-narratives often “reach into the heavens” and brush that ultimate meta-narrative. Certainly all of us have a conviction amidst our meta-narrative that runs parallel with the ultimate meta-narrative. The problem is that much of our meta-narrative is sub-par, in conflict with the ultimate meta-narrative, and we’re too limited and finite to tell which is which. Because of this, I think we should be humble in our perceptions of reality, open to change and re:thinking, constantly analyzing and scrutinizing, updating and revising our meta-narratives while knowing that what we think to be True now (if we didn’t think it to be true, we wouldn’t validate it in our minds) will, in some form or shape later, evolve and transform, too. Humility in our perceptions of Truth should be embraced, and, yes, I believe this is involved with our readings of the Bible. Do I believe that the Bible is inerrant in its original forms? Absolutely. But our interpretations of those original forms, 2000+ years later, are not going to be inerrant. Period. Anyone who says that they just “read the Bible” or “are led by the Holy Spirit” need to re:think reading the bible and the role of the Holy Spirit and just be honest with themselves. We’re not as smart as we think we are, and as dumb as we think we are, we’re probably dumber.

Third, we need to beware the poison of intellectual arrogance. There’s nothing as sickening and revolting as someone who says, “Here’s the Truth. I have it. Bow down to my perception of things.” I used to be that way, and thankfully I got slapped around a bit back in my day. Now I have much hostility towards this. Arrogant Christians who think they know the ins-and-outs to everything need to swallow the pill of humility and face themselves for what they are. Arrogant Atheists who think they’ve got this whole “religion” thing down to a “science” (literally) should not vaunt themselves up as gods, simply replacing monotheism with some sort of humanitarian polytheism. I don’t care what your intellectual persuasions are: if you’re on the high horse, get off. If you stay on, eventually you’ll get knocked off and break your teeth in the dust. Might as well save yourself some trouble—and some teeth—and carefully dismount now. Pride in our interpretations of the scripture erects divisions between us and other Christians—divisions that we erect ourselves—and is a great hindrance to the advance of the gospel in our own lives and in the lives of those around us. Pretty soon a cold intellectualism will take root and we’ll become bitter, calloused creatures who see the world in black-and-white and can’t appreciate the beauty of the flowers in spring-time.

All of these three points (and I could name others, but I don’t want this post to be too long), bring me to my proposal. Out of all the hermeneutical tools out there, I think the best is the hermeneutic of humility. We must interpret with humility. We must acknowledge that, at least, 20% of what we believe is wrong. Our prayer ought not be, “God, show me by your Spirit what this verse really means…” (because that just breeds cold intellectualism and the automatic mental validation of whatever interpretation we come to) but, rather, “God, don’t make me perfect in my understanding of your world. Rather, keep me from straying too close to heresy.” 

lethargy

Today has been unproductive. Something's wrong with my left eye. It's pink eye, but the question is what kind of pink eye. I considered going to the doctor but did some at-home research and found out that unless it's an awful infection, all the medicines prescribed are over-the-counter drugs. So I decided just to opt out of the co-pay and run straight to C.V.S., where I bought a plethora of different treatments. I've found one that is working, thank God: the pain is gone, for the most part, my eye is getting less red, and I can see without blurred vision (for the most part). My speculation is that my contact got dry and instead of watering it I just kept rubbing it around, a stupid thing to do, of course, because it just made my eyes redder. Anyways. All day I've been taking care of my eye. On top of the eye problems, I came down with a bit of nausea and an awful headache--probably due to working with the blurred vision and the pain--and so I opted out of teaching a bible study tonight. Instead I've been watching "Law & Order: S.V.U." and "Psyche." Both great shows. I'm going to work out if I feel better later. I hoped to get halfway through Chapter 11 of "Re:framing Repentance" this afternoon, but it looks like that'll have to wait till tomorrow. I'm lethargic and have no energy. 

I can't wait for Friday. After my 6:30-3:00 shift, I'm going down to Cincinnati. I'll be staying at my sister's apartment. I'll be there at least through Monday. I have a Halloween Party Saturday night, House Church Sunday evening, and then I'm visiting some old college friends Monday. It'll be a good vacation. Lots of good food, good conversation, good drinks, much laughter and enjoyment away from home. It'll be a nice hiatus from my run-of-the-mill life here in Centerville. Now I'm going to fix some dinner and watch some more tv and maybe read, unless my eye starts acting up again. A pointless post, to be sure. But hopefully some good ones will be on the way. I have some sketches laid down.

she still haunts me

There's a tornado watch and the wind is howling and my left eye is swollen and irritated. Last night I dreamt about her. I hardly do anymore. It's been years since it all happened. She's married now, and happy, and I'm happy for that. At one time I wished she would've married me, but my feelings for her are entirely gone, replaced with a sense of cynicism regarding romanticism in all its shapes and colors. At church Sunday I remembered her. I remembered how we had a dream of getting married, having a family, working side-by-side. At the time I wanted to be a youth minister. Oh, how clear everything was, and how filled with hope! I miss those days. Our whole lives were laid out before us, ready to be grasped and embraced. It all fell apart, though, within a series of months, and for two years I nursed the accumulated wounds and battled demons I'd never known to exist. On Sunday I thought about her a lot. I thought about how she has everything she's wanted--a loving husband, a good job, a nice house--and how my dreams crumbled in my hands like oxidized parchment. I'm living at home, working a minimum-wage job (a job I enjoy, but not the job I want), surrounded by disappointment and disillusionment, falling into complacency (a better word may be resignation) while trying to keep my head above water. A certain numbness has befallen me, a numbness that intoxicates every thought and movement. Complacency, resignation, sterility. Coldness, cynicism, a calloused heart. Nouns and adjectives that serve as efficient signposts into my current state-of-affairs. I want more, I really do, but I feel powerless, weak, disabled. 

I don't want to make Starbucks a career. I want to advance God's kingdom. I want to preach, I want to teach, I want to write. I want to make a difference in the kingdom (not that I would be making the difference, but the Spirit would be making a difference through me; not that I would be a puppet, more-so a catalyst). I have applied at churches, I have sought to get my name out there, but all my queries and interviews return null and void. And amidst all that, I see those whom I went to college with doing what they've always felt called to do. Senior ministry, worship ministry, youth ministry, church directing, music directing... They got their degrees, their passion intensified, and they found, at least for the moment, their "niche" within the advancement of God's kingdom. It all fell together for them, the pieces coming together as if by divine intervention, and for all my struggling, I am met with blank stares and unopened hands. My passion is bridled by the inability to connect. And I know that there are other issues involved here, that nothing is as simple as it seems, there's complexity and paradox in the nature of everything. But amidst all the rejections and let-downs, amidst the disappointments and burnt-out hopes, my strength and resolve and determination is weakening. 

I want to get married. I want to have kids. It's my greatest dream, and I believe it is the greatest possible ministry. The back-stabbing, the cheating, the abandonment... All of this has turned my hope into a wasteland. I find myself terrified of commitment for fear of what lies down the road. It's not just that I've been broken-hearted; it's the betrayal, again and again, that has made me terrified of love and cynical of it all at the same time. I've dated girls since her, but I find that I always measure them up against her. Not in the sense of "Are they as funny as she was?" or "Are they as beautiful as she was?" but in the sense of "Do I feel as alive with them as I did with her?" Having been so close to my dream, having tasted it in the air, I remember day-in and day-out how I felt, finally, alive. I know, logically, that the feeling itself is not rooted so much in her, but more the circumstances and the fruition of the hopes and all that. She is not a goddess no matter the height of the pedestal upon which she sits in my mind. She's just a regular girl, and in the end she back-stabbed and betrayed me, ran off with another guy while we were together and ended up marrying him. She never apologized, and I don't hold it against her. Once I found out, our relationship was one of being bitter acquaintances at best. My anger and bitterness got the best of me every time we ran into one another and let chit-chat ensue. She's a good girl, she really is, and while I've dated girls who have been cheaters and whores, despite her cheating on me, I don't classify her as either. She did something out-of-character. It was a one-time incident and I happened to be on the dirty end of the stick. All of that aside, I don't think of her anymore, except for those rare moments (like Sunday), and sometimes she is there in my dreams, and in those dreams she haunts me: my mind doesn't just go back to those memories (which by now have been twisted and skewed into mere caricatures and shadows of the real events) but to the prophecies that I had made about "us": marriage, having a family, loving life and one another, our dreams coming true before our eyes. Now I am more cynical about all of this, and I'd like to think wiser, but that I'm not sure of. She--or at least what transpired between us--has become a thorn in my dream's flesh, has become a toxin which has corroded and distorted my romantic aspirations. I used to be a romantic guy, and now I'm cynical of everything romantic. Hopefully one day a girl will come along, perhaps after I have dealt with these issues (if these issues can indeed be dealt with), who will make me perspective on these things change. I really do hope so

the dayton days [39]

Monday. Jessica, Carly, Kyle, and Danny from work grabbed Flavor's Eatery with me and Ams. I was pretty quiet, as usual in large groups. By the time we left, a cold front was moving in: lots of wind, leaves blowing everywhere, gray skies & scattered winds. I told both Jessica and Carly about my depression, the bipolar swings, yadda yadda. Carly said she already knew: "My dad's the same way, I've seen it all my life, I know what it looks like. Much love to you, and I'm proud of you."

Tuesday. I have a stalker at work: a cracked-out junkie from the apartments down the road. I always try to avoid her weird looks and never-ending stares. Wade said, "Don't give her anything free. My heart goes out to her, but we're a business, not a charity." Dewenter came over in the evening. We had some Trappist beers. He and Lauren broke up because he refused to have sex with her. He's pretty upset about it. Ams returned to Cincinnati after a few days with the family. Sarah said she's completely cut things off with Keith. I guess she chose us over him? We'll see: you can't trust her for shit. We'll see how long it takes for her cover to be blown.

Wednesday. Mom had her bible study at one of the girls' house so Dylan, Tyler & I had the place to ourselves. We went to DQ for ice cream, smoked on the stoop, played Wii, shared lots of laughs. We lit a fire in the driveway with an Axe spray bottle. Dylan may be joining the Peace Corps.

Thursday. Joe G. and I got dinner at Outback Steakhouse. I ate good: medium-rare steak, a baked potato, vegetables, and let's not forget their AMAZING bread. We talked about all sorts of things: Starbucks, Southwest, Sarah & what happened last week, theology. 

Friday. I had an easy day: writing, 3-9:00 shift at work, and I polished off the night watching SVU and demolishing sunflower seeds.

Saturday. I met up with Jessica and her friend Jeremy at Starbucks and we went to Southbrook. The message was on utilizing our Spirit-given gifts for the advancement of God's kingdom. Quite an ironic message given my prayers regardng what to do in my writing, which I know to be a gift from God. And I may have the gift of prophecy, in the biblical sense of the word in Ephesians 4; so I'll be praying about that. We visited Carly & Devyn, who're dating now. 

Sunday. Dad & I went to Waffle House for breakfast: eggs, toast, coffee. He went to 1st Service and I worked out and then helped him teach the 2nd Service 5th Grade class at Southwest. Pat D. and I went to the park, walked around and took pictures. It's warm today. We accidentally trespassed and guns were going off and we heard shouting so we hurried the fuck out of there. Mom's back from Kentucky with Grandma at her side (and, of course, Tanner).

"The Climax of the Covenant"

This afternoon I finished the latest book on my parade through N.T. Wright: "Climax of the Covenant." It was a great book, a collection of essays on various subjects, most within the realm of Pauline studies regarding Christ and the Jewish law. In all honesty I didn't read all of the essays (some just didn't pique my interest), but those that I read were pretty informative. Detailed, almost to a humdrum point, but informative nonetheless. I find that I enjoy studying the meta-narratives of Christianity rather than the intricate details, and sometimes I find myself burdened--perhaps a better word would be bored?--by the intricacies. Quite frankly, I'm not knowledgeable enough or determined enough to study the minute details of various Greek words in their various forms and how they relate to the overall whole of the passage. It's important, yes, but I leave that to men and women more schooled than I am. Some of the more interesting points made (in the essays I read) are as follows:

The Curse of the Law. The essay on Galatians 3.10-14 took the interpretation in a route I had only heard of but never studied, namely the idea that the curse spoken of is the curse of exile, and building on various Old Testament covenantal echoes (Deuteronomy 27-30, Leviticus 18, Habakkuk 2 and, most importantly, Genesis 15) Paul sketches a picture of exile reaching a climax on the cross and thus restoration the other side of exile being inaugurated, "proven" in a sense by the inclusion of Gentiles in the Abrahamic promise as God always envisaged and the arrival of the Spirit. 

Adam: The True Humanity. I'm going to be looking into this further, but N.T. Wright makes the claim that "Adam" signified, at least in Jewish thought from the redaction of Genesis to the days of Jesus, as evidenced in intertestamental literature, humanity. Israel was viewed as the "last Adam" in the sense that she was God's true humanity. Jesus is comparable to Adam in the sense that he was and is what Adam failed to be, namely, God's true Man. And the church, if my speculation runs the right direction, ought to be viewed as God's true humanity, albeit imperfect and failing, and that glorification--as I've suspected--involves the restoration of human beings to their true and intended place as flourishing image-bearers (true, restored human beings).

Romans 9-11. Needless to say, N.T. Wright does an excellent exegesis of Romans 9-11. I wrote about this in an earlier post, so I won't go into depth. Wright mostly tackles head-on the idea popular within some Christian theologies that Jews are saved by virtue of their ethnicity and being the people of God. Wright argues a hotheaded "NO!" and shows through Romans 9-11, with the backing-up of the rest of the New Testament, how this thought is flawed.

The Burden of the Law. One of the reasons the Law couldn't "save" was because the Law was intended to guard Israel as a child as she was on her way to the fulfillment of God's Abrahamic promises. God gave the Law to keep Israel from assimilating into the pagan nations all around her. It was given to keep her solidified up to the point where the Law would reach its climax (the Messiah). The Jews, however, embraced this law as their national charter in the sense that it was their pride: it distinguished them from all the Gentile sinners. And in this pride in the law came about the inability for the Abrahamic promises to be fulfilled; that which enclosed the Jews also kept out the Gentiles. The Messiah deals with this on the cross, and he is the "climax of the covenant," "the end of the law." He is what the Law pointed to all along and his work on the cross and subsequent resurrection is the first stage of God's fulfillment to Abraham back in Genesis 12, 15, and 18.

Now I'm going to finish "After You Believe" (I was halfway through it when I engaged in "Climax of the Covenant", and from there who knows). 

waffle house sunrise

Late last night I finished the rough draft of Chapter Ten in my book on repentance. It's by far the longest chapter yet, clocking in at 42 pages. I wanted to go deeper but knew to do so would be to risk losing the reader amidst the haze of the subject. I have one (maybe two) more chapters to finish before reaching the third and final section of the book, which is all about the practice of repentance in light of (a) eschatology and (b) identity. I'm doing lots and lots of studying for this section, as there are still some ambiguities I wish to clear up. It's nice to have Chapter Ten done, and the next chapter--"The Choice of Repentance"--could be a doozy, too. Not only do I have to tackle the Calvinism/Arminian question--not because I think the issue is a big deal (I don't) but because many of my supposed readers will probably find themselves on either side of the fence and may be upset if I don't at least give a head nod to the debate--but I also need to make the point that no one repents because they love God. It sounds heretical, of course, which is why I need to do a good job of making that point (though it shouldn't be hard, because I've already established the key points throughout the book which just need to be drawn together to make a statement on the subject).

sleep, so precious...

Sleep is such a precious thing. I generally try to get eight hours of sleep a night, and last night I only got four. It's not that thoughts consumed me; I think it had to do with the eight shots of espresso I foolishly drank without considering the fact that, despite working at a coffee shop, I haven't had much caffeine over the last several months. I went to bed around 9:00 and didn't fall asleep till 2:00, and woke at 6:00 for work. Nevertheless, despite all this, yesterday was a good day off work. I got a lot done. Had good conversation at work with Kyle and Andrea, made a run to the library, had an amazing Subway sub, got in a good workout and drank some good beer with Dylan and Tyler later in the evening (see picture to the left). I had dinner with my friend and doctor Joe; we grabbed steaks and baked potatoes at Lone Star Steakhouse and the waitress was very cute and we talked a lot but it turns out she has a boyfriend. Oh shucks. Better luck next time. Now I'm going to work on "Re:Framing Repentance" and then go to bed. I should sleep pretty good tonight. Or at least I hope so.

one year later

It's been exactly a year since I started losing weight. I started at around 205 pounds; this morning I met my revised goal, weighing in at 135 pounds. It's my freshman college weight. It's been both difficult and easy to do this, and in all honesty, I'm surprised I accomplished it. I sought out losing weight many times before eventually getting things into gear, propelled by a fresh vision of hope for the future. I can hardly remember what it was like being 205 pounds, except for the self-image issues, some of which still remain despite me looking ten times better. I'm right at the margin between my healthy weight and being underweight, and I promised friends and family that I wouldn't go underweight, and I intend on keeping that promise. I know I'll never look skinny as a rail like some people do, because (a) my body isn't built like that--I'm of short and stocky German stock with a body shaped like a barrel, (b) my metabolism isn't too fast, (c) even my dad has a belly and he runs around twenty-thirty miles a day and is a health-nut Nazi, and (d) I like food too much. 

I'm not going to try and lose anymore weight; instead, I'm inaugurating Phase 2 of my body transformation: muscle build-up. I'm focusing on building up my arms, chest, abs, and legs. Well, basically my entire body. I've devised a pretty rigorous training schedule, which I've kept to for the last week or so. I am already detecting changes. My friend Dylan, who used to weight-lift all the time, taught me some techniques that you don't learn at the gym, techniques which are really working. Hopefully by the end of the year I can gain twenty pounds in muscle, though that may be a stretch. Nevertheless, I'm already seeing and feeling changes, and that's great. I don't build muscle like most people, in the sense that I am one of those people whose muscles more easily tone than bulk (for instance, in my arms you can see the definition and contours of every muscle), but any little bit will be good. So, as for Phase 2, in the words of the Joker: "Here. We. Go."

Westmalle Tripel: a good discovery

The other night I tried a Westmalle Abbey Trappist Tripel beer. I don't drink a lot of beer, and when I do, I like the darker stuff. This beer, let me tell you... I definitely found a winner. When I opened it, the foam overflowed the top. So I poured it into a goblet to drink. It had the scent of fruit and that nice scent of hops. It had a very "golden" yet bitter taste, which I loved. Once the foam subsided, the drink became overwhelmed with the taste of caramel. I enjoyed every minute of it, and I felt pretty good about myself when I learned that it was made by monks--or at least under the supervision of monks--in a Trappist monastery (the Westmalle abbey, to be precise). I did some research and found out that any beer labeled Trappist has the same origins, albeit often at different monasteries: there's the Achel abbey, the Chimay abbey, the Orval abbey, the Rochefort abbey, and the Westvletern abbey in addition to Westmalle. D.L.M. has most of these, and I'm sure I could find the others at specialty beer shoppes in the area. Tonight I'm going to be drinking a Westmalle dubbel with dinner (grilled chicken and potatoes). 

I have tomorrow off, which means I'll have time to knock out the remaining section(s) in my latest chapter on repentance. As a previous post implied, I'm not looking forward to writing all of this. It's very depressing. I went to a cafe the other afternoon and sat down and hammered out the script and a wave of depression came over me. Thinking about it still brings bursts of depression, especially when I know people who fall into the category of "being lost", and Mom has noticed this: "You don't seem like yourself." Once I finish the chapter, I'll probably drink a beer to celebrate, and things will get better.

randomz II

After work a bunch of us went out to eat at the Flavor's Eatery in Centerville. It's always fun to hang out with your co-workers outside the bar (as long as you like them, I guess, which I do). Today, though, I felt kinda down and quiet. On the drive home I analyzed this, as I sometimes do; and I think it's because when I am in large groups, I instinctively become reserved and reclusive. It may be part of my introversion, but it may also be due to how, when in junior high and high school, being in such situations usually led to me being made fun of and picked on. Now I don't care. I could honestly care less if people like or dislike me, and if they want to use me as fodder for their jokes, that's fine. But sometimes I wonder if the residue of those experiences--the shame, the humiliation, the shunning--still seeps through my bones, resurrecting itself at times. I don't know.

Amanda is in town for just another night. It's been great to spend time with her. I don't see her nearly as much as I would like, and I'm excited about my trip to Cincinnati in two weeks. It'll be great seeing her again, not to mention everyone else down there. I told Amanda today, "I still identify myself as a Cincinnati guy." I listen to Cincinnati music, yearn for the Cincinnati parks, reminisce on the Cincinnati memories." When I first moved down there, I couldn't stand it. "Nasty 'Nati" didn't pick up as a slang for the city for no reason. But I guess I fell in love with it. Well, maybe love isn't the word for it. But I appreciate Cincinnati now, and I miss her when I haven't driven her streets for a while.

Sometimes I have a dirty mouth. And by that I mean I make sexual jokes and such. I was raised in an environment where that wasn't frowned on, and don't take that the wrong way. My parents are two of the godliest people I know. My point is just that "course joking" hasn't held the kind of stigma for me that it holds for others. Sometime I make a joke that people find repulsive, and I'm realizing that whether or not such joking is sinful, it's unwise. So I'm working to filter everything I say, at least when around people who don't share the same lack of revulsion. 

A cold front is moving in.

Leaves are blowing everywhere.

It's nice and warm in my room.

And I'm on my way to D.L.M. for some beer.

the dayton days [38]

Ams, Blake & Tony; from last weekend

Monday. The weekend was busy, so today was pretty chill. I woke early to a flock of annoying birds perched outside my window. I French-pressed some coffee, worked on my PDPs, and had tuna for lunch while watching It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I worked 12-7:00 and after work Dylan & Tyler came over. We lit a fire in the backyard and Dad yelled at us: "It's too dry!"

Tuesday. I spent almost the entire day eating ice cream and watching tv. I've really gotten into Law & Order: S.V.U. It's phenomenal. I went to Starbucks for some coffee and writing and there were two lesbians there, totally all over each other. Everyone was staring, it was quite comical.

Wednesday. I burnt my hand something awful at work. I kept working because it was busy, and I won some kudos for it. It still hurts like a motherfucker though. A second degree burn, Joe says. People from work kept texting me all evening, congratulating me on staying. But it really wasn't a big deal at all. A cold front moved through. One was really big, lots of thunder and lightning, and Mom's small group girls were screaming, and Dylan & I sat on the porch and watched the electric storm while smoking our pipes. Things calmed down, and the rain brought out a tree frog. I picked it up to show Mom and everyone thought it was cute but screamed when it hopped.

Thursday. My hand throbbed all day. I picked up sushi from DLM and the cashier flirted with me again. I went by work to research some stuff for my PDP and found out a bunch of shit went down between Jessica, Faith, and Destini. "You know what this place needs?" Asenath frustratingly quipped. "Apathy?" I said. "No," she said; "Prayer." Dad & I made a trip to C.V.S. for our vices: his ice cream and my cigarettes. 

Friday. Ams wants to kick Sarah out of her apartment: some more craziness went down. Last night Ams went to bed around 1 AM and woke up around 3 to find Keith in bed with Sarah. Ams told him he had to leave, he wasn't welcome. He flipped shit but she stood her ground and said she'd call the cops. He cussed her out, screamed, "I'm going to destroy this place, you stupid bitch!" to which she said she was calling the cops. He ran at her, and Sarah jumped in the way; he grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the side, shouting, "I control you, Bitch!" He left, with Sarah who willingly went with him. This says a lot about Sarah, her own blindness as an abuse victim, the way she allows herself to be manipulated and man-handled, her constant lies. I'm THIS close to completely severing my friendship with her. I can't be friends with someone who makes selfish choices that puts my own sister at risk. 

Saturday. Ams gave Sarah an ultimatum, broke into tears doing it. Sarah has no more chances: one more fuck-up and she's out of the apartment. She said she has nowhere to go; Ams said that's not her problem, and it isn't. My sister shouldn't feel unsafe in her own apartment, which is under her name and which Sarah hasn't been paying her share towards. I closed at work, and Jessica, Destiny, and Tony got me a little post-burn present thanking me for staying on during the rush: Chipotle! Ams came up after work, didn't want to be in the apartment, and we talked about Sarah, always drama with that girl. She's giving both of us the cold shoulder and running back to her white trash drunken Hamilton friends because "they're TRUE friends."

Sunday. I got Chipotle with my present. Dylan came over and we went to some Estate sales with Ams, then got ice cream from D.Q. "Sprinkles!" We spent the evening at the house, playing Mario-Kart and smoking on the porch. We went to D.L.M., I got a trappist beer brewed by Belgian monks, how awesome! We saw Darrell Southard there. I drank my beer at the house and Dylan left. Dewenter called: his dad has a car I could take on loan once my car dies. 

re:framing repentance, part III

"Prepare to be depressed." Chapter Ten is all about the consequences of repentance, events which can be experienced for those who repent and for those who don't repent. I started off the chapter looking at the temporal and eschatological consequences for those who repent. Whenever I write or think or teach about such things, it is exciting and very hope-filled. I am happier, more outgoing, more energetic. Now that I've finished looking at those things, I am now turning my attention upon the consequences--temporal and eschatological--for those who do not repent. Whenever I write/think/teach about such things, the intensified feeling of being alive found in looking at the Christian hope becomes a dark depression of sorts. It's very gloom and doom, and there's no way around that. Even though I am more "liberal" than some when it comes to the subject--not to the point of being a universalist, mind you, nor even, perhaps, an inclusivist--I take very seriously what the scriptures teach regarding the consequences of not turning to God. It's very sad and hopeless, and it depresses me. I don't like to think about such things, but it is my responsibility as a Christian, and as the writer of this book on repentance, to tackle these things head-on and lay them out on the table. I'm not looking forward to it, and I hope to have it done by the end of the week. Then I can move on to "fresher" territory.

Other goals for this week? Finish N.T. Wright's "Climax of the Covenant" and be at 135 pounds by Friday (which will be exactly one year since I started losing weight). Amanda is in town, albeit currently sleeping. Dylan and Tyler are coming over this afternoon. I had Chipotle for breakfast--very good, as always--while watching "Law & Order: S.V.U." I even went to work for a bit and had four shots of espresso over ice. The perfect start to my day off work. Now I'm going to do some reading, maybe some writing, clean the house a bit. It's a beautiful Sunday, it's my day off work, and I want to sap it for all it's worth. Tomorrow my week begins again with a 6-2:30 shift.

my new addiction

Well, it's not really new. I've always loved Subway. This week I ate there four times. I always get the same thing. Foot-long turkey on Italian, no cheese and not toasted, with lettuce, spinach, tomatoes, green peppers, banana peppers, onions, jalapeños, and a little bit of lite mayonnaise. Sometimes I'll even get a bag of Sunchips with it. I always take it home and watch my tv shows while I watch (lately I've been watching "Law & Order: S.V.U., Season One"). The best thing is that it's not even that unhealthy. The mayonnaise isn't the best, but it's light, and I only get a little bit. The fat content is pretty much bare minimum. It's the best thing to eat before going to work, because it's filling, and I don't find myself snacking on every little thing I can get my hands on. Speaking of work, I need to go do that right now... 

Amanda is coming into town for a few days.

Understandable seeing what happened two nights ago.

It'll be good to see her and to hang out.

Dylan and Tyler are coming over tomorrow. Pipe club? I think yes.

a complex situation

The situation is complicated, to say the least. Last night the decisions of a certain someone put my sister in physical danger, and now she's terrified to even go to the apartment due to threats against her life. I thank God again and again that the douschbag involved was prevented from causing her harm as he went at her. The moment is over, but the danger remains: people like him are a menace to society, as the saying goes. This man doesn't have any quibbles about abusing women, and his own self-centered rage makes him a lethal weapon. The situation is complicated because the person who did this is dating my sister's roommate, a person who has repeatedly shown that she will make stupid decisions at the expense of the interests of others. I have, for the most part, overlooked this about her; but when my sister is put in danger, that changes things. My care for her roommate runs deep through my veins, and I am torn between what to do. There are no simple answers. Regarding Amanda, I know where I stand. Regarding her roommate, I don't know where I stand. The command to love in the Bible is put to the test when it comes to things like this--"How can I love someone who makes choices that endanger the life of the person closest to me?" Sure, she'll say this was a fluke, that it'll never happen again; but if she doesn't change the course of her actions, then that saying will become just as empty and hollow as all the others. These things escalate, they don't simmer down. I've been of the disposition that it's her life, not mine, she can do what she want, and I'll be there for her when she comes crawling back out of the abyss she's dug, even offering her a hand if she can't get out herself. But, again, when it gets to the point to where my little sister is in danger, there's a line that's drawn. The same man who threatened her threatened my life a while back; I remember being in that spot, seeing his rage and anger--a foolish, self-centered wrath--and knowing that if this man became anymore unhinged, I'd be a dead man. I prayed and prayed and thank God he backed away, saying something like I wasn't worth it or shit like that. I know this man, I've seen him in flying colors face-to-face, and I know from his history--a better word would be his literal rap-sheet--that he would have no qualms about hurting Amanda. He's not all talk, and that's a scary thing. Some people are so dehumanized that they will injure others for the slightest "offense"; he's one of those types.

Regarding Amanda, I know what to do. Regarding her roommate, what am I to do? The situation is complicated even more by the fact that she is in an abusive relationship, everyone knows it, but she won't face the facts. She makes excuses for every abusive thing he does. When it was just verbal abuse, she said, "Well, he would never hurt me." After two years of tearing her down emotionally and bringing her to tears every night, he started breaking her things and going into fits of rage. "He just has a bad temper, it's not his fault." Then he started abusing her, and we get more excuses: "It's not really him who's doing it, it's his anger. I still see the good in him." What good in him? Stories abound about women like her in relationships like this, the escalation with time, finally culminating in murder or at least something close to it. Just as she said he would never hurt her, so now she says he'll never hurt her "that bad." I want to scream in her ear, I want to open her eyes, but she's clamped her hands over her eyes and clenched her eyes shut. She refuses to acknowledge what's going on, refuses to see that he's just using, abusing, and manipulating her (despite his own confession that "I control you, you stupid bitch."). What am I to do regarding someone who is so blind, who keeps running into the arms of someone who is abusive? Oh, call the cops, you say. Yeah, we've done that. It's not so simple. Unless she ends up in the E.R., she pretty much has to ask the cops to help. They can't intervene otherwise (or at least that's what we've been told after multiple police incidents). What am I to do when I care about her deeply, when I love her like a sister? I want to talk to her about this, but so many thoughts are running through my head--and she's ignoring me, rightly-so, because she knows what will happen--that I can't just pick up the phone and call her (though if I did, she wouldn't answer). I love her like a sister, and that makes this whole thing hard as hell.

But she's not my sister. Amanda is my sister. I'll do good by her. She trumps her roommate any and every day. If I have to choose, as it were, loyalty to one of the other, then I would choose Amanda, despite the pain that would cause me. If she's putting my sister in danger, the line has been drawn. If she wants to keep screwing up her life, despite having the ability to change it within her means and the shrieking of friends and family in her ears about it, so be it. But when she starts screwing up other peoples' lives, and my sister's life at that? I won't stand for that.

And what am I to do about the douchebag who threatened my little sister? Charges may be filed, but I know the guy. The criminal justice system doesn't operate that fast, and if he finds out between the period of the filing of the charges and the actual arrest or whatever, I fear--legitimately--that he'll seek his own perverted sense of "justice" (which would really be serving his own self-centered ego). And if the charges don't stick, then what? Yes, knowingly threatening someone can land you in prison for ten years; but that doesn't always happen. Sometimes the charged goes free. And this guy is a guy who doesn't let grudges die. If he buries the hatchet, it would be in my sister's head. All of this is quite frightening. What, as a Christian, am I to do? How am I to pray? Am I to pray that God will judge this man? I've found that most often when we pray for God to judge someone, it's because we (a) are actually jealous of that person, (b) want revenge, or (c) we want an escape from the fear and oppression. It's quite self-centered. Last night, when we got the call from Amanda around 3:30 in the morning, as she was sobbing about what had just happened, I quietly did what a wise old man once told me to do in this situation: pray that God will deal with him as he sees fit. I know what I--in my selfishness--want God to do. But I pray that God will do what he sees fit to do. 

introducing: autumn

an excerpt

Repentance, faith, baptism—all of this leads to a renewed relationship with God. It is an act of God, a declarative speech-act, that transfers us from one end of the spectrum to the other. It is the speech-act that bridges the metaphorical chasm; it is the speech-act that takes Genesis 3 and kicks it out the window. Those who were once disallowed from entering the Throne Room of God can now, thanks to salvation and justification, enter boldly and speak with their King. Those who were banished outside the city walls of Zion are now in Zion and can walk the streets, celebrating and dancing and laughing and drinking. Sadly, thanks to the guilt-complexes dispelled by our culture, most Christians, while acknowledging in theory that they now have access to the Throne Room and are now inside the city, don’t actually appropriate it for themselves. They’ll stand in the corner of the Throne Room, or cower in the farthest corner of the city, curling into a little ball. The knowledge that we “stumble in many ways” (as St. James puts it) keeps us, psychologically, from embracing the reality that has befallen us: forgiveness has taken place; justification has taken place; we are in a new and right standing with God. Knowledge of our sins should invoke humility; but humility should not be equated with cowardice. 

That excerpt is from page 178 of my book on repentance. It's prefaced by a short survey of justification, and it's all about the event of our status before God being changed. I decided to post it up here because I find it ironic that those things I write which I hope to eventually have an affect on readers often have an affect on me. Like this here. "Sadly... most Christians... don't actually appropriate [this] for themselves." I would have to say, with equal sadness, that I often fall into that group. There are guilt-complexes that I am constantly at war with, seeking to crucify in thought and deed and sometimes failing miserably. I do sin, we all do. And every night when I look over my day, I find myself again confronted with my sin. And I feel awful about it, genuinely remorseful. And this "feeling" hinders my prayers. I don't stand boldly in the throne room, I don't leap and dance and drink in the city of God. I know, theologically, that I have entered the throne room, that I have come to Mt. Zion; it's nothing of my own doing, but the doing of God. And while I know this this theologically, I don't know it--in the intimate sense--pragmatically. *sigh* It's not like a switch can be thrown. I must continue pursuing the renewing of my mind through the scriptures and through prayer and by the power of the Spirit. 

i'm a burn victim

I burnt my hand something awful at work. I took half the day off and after a visit with the Doc I spent the rest of the day lounging around, nursing my wound, watching episode after episode of Law & Order. I've really been getting into it. Mom had her bible study here so I ran to D.L.M. for some groceries--eggs!--and by the time I got back a cold front had moved in. Lots of thunder and lightning, cold rains. Dylan and Tyler came over, and we found a tree frog and I caught it and took it inside to show Mom and she thought it was cute until it jumped on her. Tomorrow I work 6:30-2:00 and don't really have plans for the day. So I'm sure I'll be watching a lot more "Law & Order" and probably reading another chapter in N.T. Wright's "Climax of the Covenant." Regarding yesterday's post, I am just seeking God's will in all this--if he has any sort of "will"--and hoping for some clarity. For the meantime (here we go again) I'll just keep slaving away at Starbucks. 

Dylan and I are doing a one-week vegetarian thing together. Basically just eating fruits and vegetables and whole grains. I'm eating eggs, too, and I think that's legit (it's the vegans who don't eat eggs, right?). Basically we just want to see if we can do it. So tomorrow I'll probably have some bread and a fruit for lunch, then rice and mushrooms for dinner. Maybe throw a boiled egg in there somewhere. I've decided to stop focusing on "weight loss" and instead aim for muscle building. I'm tone but I need to bulk up. Dylan's good at bulking up, and he's going to show me the ropes. When it comes to getting tone, I'm a master. But bulking up? Not my specialty.

Well. My hand hurts from typing. 

And my eyes are sliding shut. 

So good night.

in the meantime

I have no idea what I want to do with my life, and it sucks. I have a degree in biblical studies, am working full-time in the world of coffee, and I have borderline zero interest in doing “professional” and “institutionalized” ministry. Perhaps part of the way I feel—this restlessness tinged with complacency—is due to the fact that I enjoy making coffee and I don’t really want to do ministry, even though that’s what my degree is in. I could always go get my Master’s in something, but what would I get it in? And how in the hell would I afford it? Rob is passionate about coffee, and he’s got an amazing job with Taza Mia in Cincinnati. I enjoy coffee, but I’m not passionate about it like he is. I’m passionate about writing, but most people who know this will tell me, “Make a living off your writing!” without realizing how extremely difficult that actually is. The majority of authors devote their entire lives to it and get nowhere. It has nothing to do with how talented you are; rather, it has to do with whether or not you catch a lucky break. On the one hand, I really enjoy writing stories, and I’m good at it. On the other, I’m a realist and know that “making a living” as a published author would be both a dream come true and just that—a dream come true. I also enjoy biblical studies, studying the scriptures and all that, figuring out the puzzles of Christianity and looking at things in different lights, so I’ve been trying to figure out a way to integrate my love for writing and my love for the scriptures. The simplest thing I can think of would be to write bible studies or devotionals. Thing is, I haven’t actually used a bible study or a devotional in about 5-6 years. I don’t know what they’re like! That’s probably a good thing, if I try to do this; but, in the end, I find myself in a sea of “unknowing” regarding what I want to do in life. So in the meantime I’ll just keep working at Starbucks and be paying my bills. 

the dayton days [37]

Jessica excited about some sushi

Monday. Why do I think I can't get a girl until I reach 130#? The evidence is stacked against that assumption. This past summer alone two girls were head-over-heels for me: Faith & Clare. There are TONS of guys out there who are overweight or, like me, "fit & healthy" who are with, even married to, great girls. What matters most to girls is personality and confidence. What's lacking is confidence. I've got a helluva lot of personality.

Tuesday. Dewenter came over after work at his new job with Meade, designing calendars and stuff like that. We grilled chicken out back and made some baked potatoes, and I cooked some rolls from DLM.

Wednesday. After opening together, Carly, Jessica C. and I went and got sushi. Jessica and I had sake; it was good but gave both of us a headache. Afterwards we got drinks from work and Carly left, and Jessica and I sat on the patio and talked for about an hour. Mom had her bible study later in the evening so I went to work for some iced tea and journaling and had cottage cheese before bed.

Thursday. Mom, Dad & I went to the Mall to visit Mariah at Chic-fil-A. I ran by DLM for groceries. Faith said everyone's amazed by my skills on bar: it's become consistent that I work 8-hour days on bar, simply because I'm the best. Faith confessed that in the beginning, she was worried I wouldn't be able to handle the mornings, and slanted me for some closing shifts; now, she says that she puts me on morning as much as possible because I help hold things together. Ha! I honestly think the transition from doing drinks RIGHT at the Hilltop to the Starbucks version of those same drinks is what killed me early on.

Friday. The gas leak in my Prizm is even worse. Ugh. It's one thing after another sometimes, it really is. The Jeep was a good car: the Prizm blows. I hope the next car I get is somewhat decent. Mandy called, told me that Rob was quitting Refuge and might get another job with an actual coffee shop. "He could always try to get you a job so you can move down here!" she exclaimed with electric excitement.

Saturday. After opening the store I jetted down to Cincinnati and grabbed lunch with Sarah at the apartment. She had her car towed, Keith's dropped her for yet another girl, and yesterday her grandpa died at the nursing home in Wilmington. So she's had a pretty shitty weekend. She went to work and Blake, Ams, Jessie (in town from Illinois), Tony & I met up with Gambill downtown at Rock Bottom Brewery. Blake got me a shot of bourbon and I also had some hummus and a Sexy Bex. It was good seeing Gambill. We walked around Fountain Square and a band was playing.

Sunday. I stayed overnight at the Claypole House, and Mandy & I got breakfast at The Anchor. "It's ridiculous how much weight you've lost," she said. "It's absolutely incredible." Last night Gambill said, "You look like you did freshman year! It's crazy!" Blake & I hung out at the Claypole House and we participated in a coffee tasting with Rob (who quit Refuge and is now part-owner of Tazza Mia). Mandy, Rob & I went to Mount Lookout and got coffee and took pics at Ault Park. Dinner was sushi at Thai Taste, and after smoking hookah with Amos & Isaac I headed home. Cincinnati is always refreshing.

more randomness (and sushi, too)

After posting yesterday, Mandy, Rob and I went to Ault Park in Mount Lookout and took lots of pictures of autumn trees. I love this time of year (even though it was 90 degrees out yesterday; ridiculous!). Afterwards we went by a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop for drinks, and then we hit up Thai Taste back in the west-side. Rob had Pad Thai, I believe; Mandy had some soup and spring rolls; and I had two rolls of fantastic sushi (see below). I always love being in Cincinnati and now I'm home and working on my PDP for work. I thought I worked in the morning but I guess I'm working a mid. Oh well. At least I have tomorrow off. It'll be a good day to knock out yet another chapter in "Re:framing Repentance." The rest of the week I work a bunch of mornings. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Sunday I have off, and I hope to spend it with that weird Patrick kid. Here's a picture of the sushi I ate at Thai Taste (yes, I love sushi):