Everything is interpretation. We all interpret things differently. Here at school you will find countless people with different theological viewpoints and beliefs, though sharing in the unities of the Christian faith. Some people believe women can be pastors; others disagree. Some think baptism is necessary for salvation; others do not. Some people think that hell is eternal torment, others think it is eternal destruction. All of these views flow from different interpretations from biblical texts. But interpretation goes beyond how we read sacred documents. We all interpret relationships differently. We interpret happiness and sorrow differently. We interpret our lives differently. Our interpretations have a huge affect on how we interact with others, relate with others, how we spend our minutes, hours, days, months, years. Interpretation is everything—the fates of our lives, to a real degree, hinge on interpretation.

I am writing a story for my friend Jessie. Here is the prologue (I’m on chapter three right now):

In the days of the Rule of the Blade, when Muredach the Iron Falcon ruled over the Kingdom of the Viridians, all hope of deliverance had been lost. The iron fist of Muredach and his legions of the Blade had quenched all hope from the hearts of the Viridians, and any who dared hope were silenced by the edge of the sword. The land of the Viridians had once been prosperous, overflowing with laughter and love, with drink and good weed, with the sound of harps and lyres and children playing in the streets; but those days were no more than memories, for the land had grown dark, and a shadow hung over the hearts of all who dwelled in the forsaken lands. It was in these days that I, Lysander the Great, came into the world. By the hand of the gods, propelled forward by fate, and yet knowing not that I played in a cosmic drama for which none dared to dream, I found myself on a journey that would take me through the great joys and sorrows of life, a journey in which I would taste many tragic defeats and fruitless victories. For it seemed that the Shadow would never depart, and that Muredach and his legions were too strong; but there played in the heavens a greater force, a power beyond reckoning, and it is by the favor of the gods that I now write this. I wish to tell you my story, the story of one who did not know his role in this cosmic drama until the prophecies were fulfilled. It is a great story of triumph and loss, of victory and defeat, of shattered hopes and blossoming dreams. This is the story of the liberation of the Viridians and the inaugurating of a new eschatological age.

It’s been an interesting day, full of ups and downs and unexpected twists and turns. Drama? Yes. But not necessarily bad drama. Some drama can be good, I guess. In the end, two of my friends are doing great, conflicts are resolved, and we can hope that they remain that way.

my personal bubonic plague

Life is filled with drama.
Sometimes I just want to dig a hole and throw myself in it,
and never climb out.
but then I would never see the flowers blossom,
hear the laughter of children playing in the snow,
catch the scent of early spring rains,
or laugh so hard I can no longer speak.
Resignation may be easier sometimes…
But the darkness will choke you.
Why are we so attracted to the noose?

Fall is coming. Yay! I love the changing colors on the trees, the soft autumn breezes, carving pumpkins and sweet potato casserole. I remember in my younger days, how much I loved going to my friend’s house and throwing a football. I remember running through the woods behind our house and jumping across the creek. And I’ll never forget how we would ride our bikes through town, pedaling as hard as we could with nowhere to go at all, time but a memory of the past. Those days… Such wonderful days. Now I don’t have time for things like that anymore. I’m always writing papers it seems, and going to class or working. The drama of adult life crowds me, my own personal bubonic plague. When does fall officially begin? I must find out, for I praise the coming of fall by buying cheap gourds from Kroger’s and decorating my room with them. I like to draw smiley faces on them with a felt-tip marker.

My alarm didn’t go off for my EXODUS class this morning (well, yesterday morning, technically-speaking), so I missed that for a second time. I’m enjoying my classes, though. While my Corinthians class is boring, the take-home work is amazing. I’ve learned so much so far. I always thought 1-2 Corinthians were boring, but looking at it from a fresh perspective, I’m finding the letters fascinating.

I really should be getting off here. Class in the morning, and a phone call to make.

“Oh, drama, can you leave me alone for one night?”

P.S. It was September 12, 2006 (exactly a year ago) that I wrecked my Jeep, and the tale of a flying car, Appalachian children, portable communion, and State Avenue baptisms was born.

Over the past few weeks, I've been toying with a story idea in my head. I told Jessie about this new story, and she remarked, "That makes, what, twenty stories you're writing?" Hah, she's right. But that's how it goes with me. I will start stories and never finish them, but I DO finish the really good ones. Will this one be a good one? Who knows? I am still not clear about the plot-line, but I'm happy with what I have so far.

You can read my prologue HERE.

In the words of Jessie, "ttfn" (ta-ta for now!).

what happens when you
stop believing
in miracles?

a subtle reminder

Again, I encourage any of my faithful readers to be directed to my xanga.
I write mostly on xanga, and anything I write on here is also on xanga.
But my xanga has entries nearly every day.

I have revamped it. You can visit it at http://xanga.com/ajbarnhart

Adios!

my mind sprints

So many thoughts have been consuming my mind…

Simplicity. This has been on my mind a lot lately (hence the post a few days ago). I find myself overwhelmed with the complexities of life, and I am seeking an escape. When I was in high school, life was simple: go to school, go to work, hang out with friends, and fall asleep while reading a good book. College came and every year has been drenched with multiple layers of complexities wrapping around and forming on top of one another. It’s impossible to escape! My mind is cluttered, my life is cluttered, my existence is cluttered. I am always sprinting yet going nowhere. I truly want to simplify my life. “But what does simple living means? How can I live a simple life? What steps should I take?” I have been doing research online and in books (Richard Foster’s Celebration of Discipline).

“How Life Can Turn…” The other day I was cruising through facebook (an internet community service designed especially for college students) and came across Courtney’s boyfriend’s profile. Courtney had written on his wall, “I think you are amazing.” It spurred a thought through my mind: “How interesting it is that life twists and turns and those things we once told to one person are being told to another with absolute sincerity.” There was a day when Courtney would look into my eyes and whisper, “You’re amazing… Everything about you is so amazing…” Now she is saying that to someone else. And is she alone? No. For there is a girl whom I think is amazing, a girl whom I like, and a girl I want to be with. She knows I like her, and she’s trying to figure out if she likes me. It just goes to show that life does turn, that I am saying to a girl other than Courtney, “You are amazing.” I once told Sonja she was amazing; and then Julie; and then Jessica; and then Courtney. And now another girl. It’s just… I don’t know… weird how our affections can move person-to-person, to entirely different scenery and transformed circumstances.

My Future. As mentioned in the above paragraph, a certain girl has come into my life. I’ve liked her for about two weeks, and she *might* like me. Current circumstances, however, forbid us being together. It’s difficult to explain, so I’m not going to. In the end, I am faced with a decision: I can either hold onto hope that we will eventually be together, or I can quench my affections for her and move on. With option A, there is the risk of hurt; with option B, there is the risk of missing out on something beautiful. I told the girl, “I’m torn between what I should do. I like you, and I want to be with you, but right now I know that’s not possible… And the future is so unclear, unable to be seen… And while part of me has a good feeling about ‘us’, the other part doesn’t.” I asked her what I should do, and she said, “I wouldn’t give up hope. I’d hold onto hope.” But hope, for me, is so painful. I’ve likened hope to barbed wire, and the tighter I wrap my hands around it, the more I bleed and hurt; yet at the same time, I am a mysterious and strange creature, unwilling to give up hope until there is no hope that the hope of hope exists. But I do like this girl. She is an amazing, godly person, with a good head on her shoulders. I can’t deny that my heart leans towards her. I can’t deny what I feel going on beneath the surface of my blue eyes. I think I will hold onto hope… even though it hurts at times.

School. And the usual consumption of my mind when it comes to my junior year of college. A friend and I were sitting at the bar in the coffee shop, talking about our classes. I said, “I’m probably going to be a 2-year senior. Not because I’m lazy, but because I don’t like taking a bunch of classes and then doing minimal work for them. I’m here to learn… Plus, I am thinking about taking Hebrew or Greek, and I’d need two years to do that.” I’m not at all opposed to an extra year of school. In fact, I think (in a lot of ways), it is wiser. After all, while I am at college to get a degree, I also want to learn something. I pay more attention to my classes than most people do. I love learning, and I want to experience as much of it as possible.

I’m at home for the weekend.
I am watching episodes of “The Office…”
But I should actually be working on some papers I have due:
“Modern Interpretations of The Gospel of Luke”
“Eschatology in 1 Corinthians.”
“The Use and Role of Rhetoric in 1 Corinthians 1-2”
“Queer Midrash and Queer Theory”

a life of simplicity

I want to live a life of simplicity. It's so easy to get caught up in this world...
A philosophy of simplicity. Hmmm... that sounds interesting.

"What does it mean to live simply? To live truly simply?"
"How can I live simply in the world in which I live?"
"How might false simplicity masquerade as true simplicity?"
"How can we discern true simplicity from false simplicity?"
"What role does ascetics play in simplicity? Or do they play a role at all?"

A simple life... These questions rage within me.

Simplicity is the absence of complexity.

"What makes life complex?"
"How can I discern the complexities from the simplicities?"
"If I CAN discern complexities versus simplicity...
then how do I pursue simplicity over complexity?"

It's 12:30 in the morning. It's way too late for me to be thinking about this.

I should turn off my light and go to bed.

But my mind rages:
shrieking questions
inhospitable fears
a search for something more
confusion unabated

I want my life to make sense... Am I seeking an interest in "simplicity" for the sake of ascertaining a life that makes sense? Where I can tell up from down? Where I can tell good from evil? Where I can know my own heart and my true motivations and desires? Where I can become a man of character and integrity?

There is something in the idea of a "simple life" that draws me...
Maybe it's a promise of escapism?
But would--will?--simplicity bring such an escape?
Or will I find that my problems don't just fade away into the background?

I read Walden once. Mayhaps I should pick it up again?