from the birthplace of The Butcher

shameless selfies at the river engorged

Zoey hasn’t been able to stop talking about “the woods” and “the fishies” and “the snakes” and “the fucks” (don’t worry: she means frogs) since our exploratory excursion at Keehner Park on Monday. She shrieked in joy when we told her we were going to a different woods, and she could hardly sit still as we made our way to the riverfront park in New Richmond. Last week’s torrential rains have swollen the river, and the park was closed since the roads have been washed out. I decided we mustn’t waste a trip, so we continued east until we came to Point Pleasant, the birthplace of THE Ulysses S. Grant (a.k.a. “The Butcher”). We toured the town, explored the flooded rest stop flanking his homestead, and tried to tour the museum but the curator was “out on lunch.” I even stopped and picked up some backwoods because if you’re going to be lurking about around Grant’s homestead, it does not do to do so without a cigar clenched between your teeth. Despite the overcast skies and dreariness of the river’s flooding, I was able to capture a couple decent pictures of our excursion:

After church this coming Sunday, we’re taking the girls to Spring Grove Cemetery after church. Hot Sauce Waugh frequents it often, posting pictures on Instagram. I’ve never been, but his finesse at capturing great shots make me think it’s worth a little exploration. Ashley suggested we check out Shawnee Lookout Friday morning while Chloe’s in school. Really, I think she wants to find some arrowheads; she’s been talking about them non-stop lately. Maybe it’s because she watched Pocahontas? Pocahontas, ironically, is an Algonquian nickname that means “the little hellion,” and we’ve outsourced the name to none other than the devilish beast below:

*an anniversary*

Happy Titanic Day!

April 14-15, 1912

One fast ship. One sly iceberg. Over 1500 souls lost.

Our hearts will go on.

[books i've been reading]

Craig Gross' little book seeks to demolish the idea that the Christian life is all about doing big things for God. He focuses on the ordinary and showing, through stories and scripture, how God sees the ordinary as sacred. It is in our ordinary, humdrum lives that God is at work. He writes a lot about what it means to serve others, showcasing how service isn't just about doing "big" things like being involved in soup kitchens, working in orphanages, or things of that matter. Service is something to be worked out in the ordinary, as well: serving our families, our friends, our co-workers, and our enemies. Here are a few quotes from the book (and a link to even more "potent quotables"):

"[There] are times and situations that call for something big and extraordinary. But those times are few. And we can't become so enamored with those times that we turn them into the be-all, end-all of our lives. If we try to live for the extraordinary, gigantic moments, we're putting our focus on the completely wrong things. Instead we must learn to treasure the ordinary in our lives. The day-in, day-out interactions we have with those around us. We must put our emphasis on developing the right hearts--hearts that are completely submitted and surrendered to Jesus--and then keeping our hearts focused solely on Him." (26)

"What if you're called to the Nine-to-Five Window? What if your missions opportunity is lying at your doorstep, at the office, at the stores you frequent, or in your own home? What if we need to rethink the notion of doing something big for God's kingdom? What if we're attaching the label of big to something that He finds unimportant or unimpressive? What if the ordinary, small things of life are what you're called for? How would you live your life then? Would you wither away in quest desperation, always looking for the next big thing, or would you step fully into whatever role God has called you to?" (52)

"[There] is a part of the gospel that we tend to get so wrong, when we believe we have to do something to earn God's acceptance, to stay in His good graces. That yeah, He accepted us when we were sinners, but now that we've come to know Jesus as our Lord, we have to get our act together or we'll upset God and really have to work hard to... what? Get back on His good side? Make Him like us again? Do we think Jesus only loved us when we were sinners because we didn't know any better, but now that we've been saved, we're off the hook? We have to hold up some end of the bargain? Jesus will never stop loving you. Jesus will always accept you. Does He care about the way you live your life? Absolutely. Does the way you live your life have any impact on His acceptance of you? Absolutely not." (102)

Go Small: Potent Quotables

#keehnerpark

Ashley, the girls, and I took advantage of yesterday's eighty-degree weather and went tramping around the creek at Keehner Park. It looked wildly different than last time Chloe and I went exploring: the snow has melted, the trees are blooming, and the creek's running high from all the rains last week. Chloe followed my lead and waded through the creek, looking for fish and snakes. We tried catching crawdads but failed. Chloe wanted to climb some "cliffs" (steep embankments), and Zoey was jealous and tried climbing, too. She succeeded, with Ashley spotting her. The girl loves to climb; she's a monkey. On down the creek a ways we came to what I call "the watering hole": the creek gets to be about five feet deep, perfect for swimming. Chloe refused to go in at first, fearful of the water; but once I led the way, she was all about it. We swam for a while and Ashley took some videos. We tried scaling a wall of mud and ended up getting coated like hippos at the peak of summer. We washed off in the water (flashbacks of Crank's Creek!), and I won't lie: I felt rather exfoliated. A storm rolled through as we were drying off, the wind blowing the leaves off the trees and the rain coming down in hammering sheets. By the time we got back to the car, we were soaked and shivering but happy.

I can't begin to express how excited I am that spring is warming up. Ashley and I have avowed that this summer we will explore all the nature preserves around Cincinnati. It's good for the girls to be torn away from their TV shows and tablets and technological trimmings to just immerse in nature and to see that you don't need to be in front of a screen to have a good time. I'm a man and I like to sweat and get dirty, and if things with Ashley keep going well, I'm intent on helping to raise two women who appreciate the outdoors as much as we do. "Thank you for being so amazing with my girls," Ashley said; "Their own father refused to even take them to the Zoo. All he ever did was watch TV and neglect them. It's good to know that men like you are still around!" Encouraging words, indeed.

[sunday meditations]

Prayer has become difficult for me. This time last year I considered myself a “man of prayer”: I spent more time praying each day than I’d done for years. Much of my prayer revolved around my relationship with the Wisconsinite, my future move up to Wisconsin, and our upcoming marriage. I coated us and our relationship in prayer, and I believed with every ounce of my heart that she was an answer to prayer and that God had been working in my life to bring us together. It was a wonderful story, and I was blown away at God’s providence and favor towards me. On June 16 that all fell apart. I felt betrayed not only by her but by God; abandoned not only by her but by Him. I blamed God for what happened, since He could’ve prevented it. I begged Him to answer WHY He did it, why He took her away from me, why He saw fit to thrust my dreams in front of my face, dangling them like a fisherman with a lure, and then snatching them away the moment I came to embrace a comfortable trust. It’s easy in times like those to blame God; it’s no small leap to begin perceiving God as some sort of capricious, malevolent deity who has far more in common with the pagan gods of old than with the Jewish carpenter who sacrificed his life to redeem the cosmos. 

Only within the past couple weeks have I come to believe that what happened doesn’t lie on God’s shoulders but on hers; she, not God, is the one who chose the outcome. She’s the one who kicked me to the curb in a ten-minute phone call and then cut me out of her life; God is the one who stuck by my side. These revelations (if you can call them that) have brought a measure of peace: I didn’t lose her because God never intended us to be married in the first place. I have to believe there’s a rhyme and reason to all that happened, but the specifics may not come out until later, perhaps even until I cross from one side of the Curtain to another. In the avenue of prayer, the words of Timothy Keller have been encouraging. He makes two points about prayer, and I add a third:

(1) God answers the prayers we would pray if we knew the full story. I have to trust that God knows what He is doing. If marrying Mandy would’ve been the best for me, then that’s what would’ve happened. Amanda has pointed out time and again that my idea of what marriage with her would’ve been like is based more on fantasy than reality. I cultivated the Fantasy over a period of five years so that by the time we were actually together and planning marriage, I bought into the Fantasy more than I accepted Reality. God knows what's best for me. He's for me, not against me. He wants to see me prosper. He doesn't delight in seeing me suffer, and He doesn't work in my life to thwart my hopes and dreams. 

(2) God knows what it’s like to have a prayer go unanswered. One of the most ironic stories in the gospels is that of Jesus in Gethsemane: looking ahead at the cross, Jesus asks God if there were another way to secure redemption. He feared the pain and he feared the cross. He asked God to spare him of all that, and God said No. The pain I’ve felt in the face of unanswered prayer is bit a microcosm of the pain Jesus felt when God told him No. God can relate to my pain and understand it; not only can Jesus relate to temptation, but he can relate to the agony we feel in our own versions of Gethsemane.

(3) Sometimes God doesn’t answer our prayers because He has plans that go beyond us. One of the most endemic plagues in western Christianity is that of solipsism: a big word that basically means we think the world—and God!—revolves around us. Even in our faith we’re narcissistic: the original sin in the Garden was putting ourselves in the place of God, and even in redemption we need a renewing of the mind to see that we aren’t at the center of God’s plans. We orbit around God, not the other way around. Sometimes we ask for good and honorable things and God doesn’t answer our prayer the way we want; it isn’t because He’s mad or upset or out to upset our parties. Rather, His greatest aim for us isn’t our own happiness and contentment but our conformity to Him, because that’s what’s best for us. We are His children, and He seeks to use us in this world to advance His kingdom as He sees fit. As Paul says, “We are His workmanship, to do good works.” That often fleshes itself out in God taking us where we don’t want to go but where, rather, He intends to use us. Although I wrestle with the lie that God took Mandy from me because I wasn’t good enough, because I’d blown it one last time and missed out on everything God had for me, the reality is that I’m not at the center of things, and perhaps God wants to use me in ways that don’t line up with life with her. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but one that must be swallowed nonetheless.

Months ago I wrote down a quote in the little black journal I carry around. It’s a paraphrase of something I heard off Christian radio, and it’s brought me a lot of encouragement: “What you release, you risk; and God will replace that which was released with something different and better. God will write a different story than the one you supposed, but a story that glorifies Him and is better for you.” It’s a struggle to believe that at times, but it’s a wrestling well worth the effort.

update[z]

I took an online typing test.

I scored 530 CPM and 105 WPM.

That puts me in the top .3 percentile.

(And that’s only using three fingers!)

Now THAT is a marketable skill. At least I have one!

Okay, here are some updates (with a Z):

Ashley. Things with Ashley have been going well. It’s a good sign when you spend so much time with someone without getting sick of them. Don’t get me wrong: I do need my alone time to rejuvenate. My quiet evenings in the Hobbit Hole give me a certain strength only introverts can understand. Ashley is middle-of-the-road when it comes to her personality, half introvert and half extrovert. It makes a good balance: two extroverts in a relationship tend to turn the relationship into a competition, and Ashley and I make a pretty good team of supporting and encouraging one another while respecting our differences. Yes, I’m still dealing with the fall-out in the wake of the Wisconsinite, and there are times late at night when I’m immersed in passionate, gut-wrenching prayers for emotional healing. Healing isn’t coming quickly, but it’s coming nonetheless. Redemption takes time, and it’s often mind-numbingly difficult. My hope and prayer is that I will come to love Ashley the way I loved Mandy. I’ve never known a hotter and more fierce love. Ashley is so damned deserving of that sort of love, and I know I’m damned lucky to have her. She has all the qualities of an Excellent Woman. She’s patient, compassionate, supportive, and understanding. She doesn’t buck against my leadership but embraces it. She’s passionate about God and living a life that honors Him. And she is beautiful. She is, in essence, the sum of all my prayers. My hope is that she is God’s answer to my prayer, and I believe that if that’s the case, I will, in time, come to love her the way I loved Mandy. I’m trying not to be overwhelmed by my issues, taking everything in stride and living day-by-day. We’ve been together about six months; the love I had for Mandy was cultivated over a five-year period. It’s ridiculous for me to expect to love Ashley in six months the way I loved Mandy after five years. 

Walk of Joy. I have yet to secure a ministry job, despite countless applications and phone interviews. I’ve received more rejections than an aspiring novelist. I’m trying not to let it get me down: if vocational ministry is what God desires of me, He’ll bring me to that place in His time. I just have to trust Him, and I have to believe that if vocational ministry isn’t what He has for me, it doesn’t reflect poorly on me. In the meantime I’m still trucking along at Walk of Joy, and thankful for the job, not only because I have a source of income, not only because I am a positive influence on these guys’ lives, but also because it gives me lots of free time on-shift to write. Lately I’ve felt that I’ve been wasting my life, but there have been encouraging notes to dispel such feelings: both Ben and Jason’s parents have expressed their undying gratitude for the influence I’ve had on their sons, and my boss has seen fit to reward me with extra opportunities. This summer I’ll be involved in the Special Olympics, and this autumn I’ll be a point man for Cup of Joy, a nonprofit coffee shop staffed by individuals with Developmental Disabilities. My experience in the coffee shop world will come in handy, and I’m looking forward to it. It’ll be interesting to see if my skills at pouring hearts, rosettas, and tulips have survived their eight-month hiatus since Tazza Mia closed their doors. 

School. I’ve been getting back into the swing of preparing for my Master’s. Because of my impoverished status, most of it will be paid for by the government, which is optimal. All I’m waiting on at this point is my alma mater to send my transcripts. They screwed it up last time (they cashed the $25 check for same-day delivery but never sent the actual transcripts) and received an ear-full from me. Hopefully this time they won’t make the same mistake. My aim is to become a Social Studies teacher for Eighth Grade students, teaching everything from Columbus’ “discovery” of the New World to the Reconstruction Era after the Civil War. It should only take me about a year and a half to finish the program and begin teaching. 

*confessions*

Here's a confession: I miss the experience of knowing God, of hearing His voice, of resting sure and confident in His love. I miss the passion, the purpose, the diligence, the clarity, the peace, and the joy. Reflecting on "the days of my youth" (cue Led Zeppelin), I'm forced to ask where that passion, purpose, and clarity went. I like to blame academia: it's a well-known fact that the more years you spend in a religious institution, the less apt you are to be religious. Perhaps that's simply what happens when you mix business with pleasure? But if I'm honest, while the effects of 4-5 years in a religious institution have had an effect on the way I approach scripture, worship, and even prayer, the true grit of the matter is that much of my faith's degredation stems not from academics but from my own selfishness. Somewhere along the line I put my own wants, desires, and dreams ahead of my faith so that I sought to shape God into a beast that would cater to my every whim and flight-of-fancy. Contemplating the disconnect between The Faith That Was and the Faith That Is breeds a lot of emotion: there's regret, guilt, and a sense of lost-ness. There's need for a lot of repentance in a lot of different areas, and there's an even bigger need to appropriate for myself the grace God so lavishly gives to us time and time again. As the song goes, "You've been forgiven more times than there are drops in the ocean." 

There are false ways to go about reclaiming the experience of a vibrant, Spirit-filled* life: upping church attendance, listening to hosts of sermons (and taking diligent notes!), reading spiritual books, even studying the Bible. These aren't bad things, not at all; but these are the sorts of things that flourish when they're practiced in the right manner. These aren't stepping stones to the life I miss, the life I crave; they're tools and not the life itself, and by using tools I'm seeking to manufacture the life I want to have anew. I'm excellent at the utilization of these tools but a failure when it comes to utilizing them well. I've been approaching my walk with God in the same way that I approach dieting: it's all about discipline, doing the right things and saying No to the wrong things. It's flawless for dieting, but it's fruitless when it comes to relationships; and the life I crave isn't about the externalities. It's about risky abandonment to God, about a viable and flourishing trust, about an unswerving commitment to a heartfelt vocation. The life I miss is a life marked by being loved and growing in that love so that I radiate that love outwards. It's a life based on relationship with God. 

Reclaiming that life isn't about upping church attendance, listening to more sermons than most, or studying the scriptures diligently day-in and day-out. It's about cultivating the relationship I already possess. Prayer, scripture-reading, church attendance: these aren't tools by which we manufacture a religious experience but windows through which we come to know God better. Jesus says that knowing God is life itself, and my experience, though feeling antique and rusted at this time in my life, speaks to the reality of that conviction: to surrender oneself to Christ is to be free to be oneself, and to be overwhelmed by Christ so that "it is no longer I who live but Christ in me" is to find our God-given place in the cosmos and flourish in that God-ordained role. We are created with God as our life-source; outside of Him, we are consigned to leading futile, dreadful lives that are marked by suffering and intermittent bursts of genuine happiness and contentment. The lives we live outside of the hope and power and freedom of the gospel--lives of "quiet desperation," according to Thoreau--find their antidote only by plugging into the power source of life itself. All this to say that the life I miss and crave isn't about the things I did but about the relationship that was cultivated. The way back home (if I can say it like that) entails learning to see myself as I am in Christ and losing myself once again in the very source of peace, joy, and quiet strength. It isn't about doing this or doing that, but simply sitting down in the quiet, opening my mouth, and talking--and being transformed by the conversation.

*Because "Spirit-filled" conjures up images of Pentecostals handling snakes while sputtering gibberish, I believe it pertinent to establish what I mean by a "Spirit-filled" life. It's simply, really: a life animated, guided, and enthralled by the Spirit; a life where the Spirit does such a "Spring Cleaning" year after year that we become different people altogether. Spirit-filled people aren't marked by esoteric chants or outbursts of charisma; Spirit-filled people are marked by love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control. There's a reason, after all, that such things are called "the fruit of the Spirit."