Shock and horror! I don’t have all the answers

Ciao a tutti!  Yeah that’s pretty much all I have so far.  However, soon I am planning on starting another blog purely in Italian.  Mostly because the experience will help me with the language and I am determined to be fluent by the end of the year, but partially because I want to see if I can be witty in another language (highly doubting, but we all have to have goals)

I know I keep not posting, and I keep apologizing for it.  So let’s move on to what I like to do best: EXPLANATION!

When I started this blog, oh so long ago, I mean it’s been what 9 months now!? I was writing about my experiences about everything and what I thought of them.  I didn’t talk religion so much.  I didn’t make a secret about my belief in God, and in my first post I talked about the fact that I celebrated New Year’s Eve at a church (and about how I accidentally insulted my friend… Really didn’t mean to do that… Me and my mouth I’m telling you).

But I focused on other things, how you need to worry about yourself sometimes, how if you want to be able to have a real friendship you can’t just insist your friends open up to you but there has to be a two way street of loyalty and communication (not necessarily open heart baring souls conversations all the time, but communication and shown appreciation).

These aren’t exactly things that are a huge secret I’m blasting across the interwebs sending people into a shock of “What!? is that all???  No way!”  No! These are things that are common sense, so common we count them as almost inherent and forget about them.  I’m simply a reminder (a reminderer?  I do reminders) of how we are supposed to treat ourselves and our loved ones (and our not-so-loved ones).

But lately I’ve been doing other things.  I’ve been, like, preaching or something on here.  Which I know makes a few of my friends just sooooo proud, but it makes me uncomfortable.  Yes, I have my beliefs and they dictate the way I live my life.  Do I expect you to share them?  Just of my known readers I have an atheist, an agnostic, a Wiccan, a Rastafarian (sorry dude, I don’t know what else to call what are (; ), and yes several Christians.  But even in the Christian group there’s Pentecostals, at least one Baptist, and Seventh-Day Adventists.  Not a single one of these people are going to agree 100% with each other or with me.  And in some cases the system is completely opposite.

I don’t expect people to always agree with my belief system even though I believe in it with all I am.  By that definition, to be frank, I believe that God is real and Jesus is his son, and if you don’t believe that you are wrong.  But it’s not my job to tell you that you are wrong.  You think I’m wrong.  And that’s okay, we can coexist with these differences.

And not in that “I don’t know what most of these symbols are but I’m gonna wear this anyway” mainstream t-shit way… Yes I’m sure one of my readers owns this shirt, I don’t apologize for cussing it.

I don’t like it when people can only talk about their religion.  It shows an incredible lack of ability to mix with the modern world and to connect with today’s people.  And while I respect tradition and standing moral ground, if you cannot find a way to relate to contemporary happenings you simply become outdated and ineffectual; eventually to disappear forever.

Even those who do not believe that Jesus is the Son of God admit he was a great teacher (I have my issues with that statement, but that isn’t really the point here).  He was a radical.  He was contemporary.  He respected tradition and religion and the beliefs of the day while simultaneously challenging the things that had become tradition and ritual for the sake of tradition and ritual.  That which was stale and hurtful to people he changed for the love of people and love of God.

So lately, that’s what I’ve been talking about, religion and beliefs.  I talked about the conference I went to, I talked about the Father vs Friend analogy concerning God, I’ve talked about end times (sort of… Technically I did that a few years ago.) and about church etiquette.  I feel stuck.  Yes, I am into my religion; yes, I go to a SDA university.  Yes, I am surrounded by this and so it will be in my head.  Yes, I’m figuring out my relationship with God so my revelations will have a religious undertone (or overtone if I’m being honest.)

But I don’t want to alienate people.  I don’t want to be the person with only one conversation piece.  I refuse to be the person who can only communicate in the lingo of their belief system, cutting them off from the rest of the world.  The world full of beautiful people that can and will challenge me and enrich my very existence.

So I guess that’s my problem.  I don’t know what to say right now.  I’m still figuring myself out, and some of that journey has to be just mine and not mine to share.

When a Father doesn’t cut it a Friend will do.

There are many examples of who God is, many titles given, the most common I’ve noticed for people early in a spiritual journey is Father.  He is the Heavenly Father that is always taking care of you; always by your side.  Good or bad this tells them that God will act like their Father did.  So if you have a good relationship with your dad you are good.

But what about those with the dads that just can’t connect no matter how hard they try, the dads who don’t try, the dads who walked away, the ones taken away, or the dads who give all the abusive attention they can muster… What does that example tell them?

It is difficult to accept a paralleled relationship as a good thing when what you have isn’t good.  Also, in theory, you will have bonded with your father before you were old enough to really think about why you should… He feeds you, he makes you laugh, catches you before you hit the ground, and comforts you when you are scared or hurt.  Great you love him.  And as long as dad keeps trying as you grow you still love him.  What about the one you have to think about?

And apparently God has all these expectations; these things that you have to do in order to really be saved or whatever.  But what kind of father has expectations like that?  Surely your dad would protect you from anything just because you are his kid right?  So how does that make sense?

Admittedly there are a few holes in the above statements and for those who understand why God is like a Father congrats on finding them.  For those who still don’t understand, I propose another example:  the friend who is way more committed than you are. (you may have been the more into it friend, the less into it friend, or both at some point, but you know what I mean.)  We are gonna call the friend JC (I know, obvious.  But whatchagonnado?)

1. The Meet

 You are walking around and you spot the new guy, JC.  He’s already spotted you, he knows your name, he knows your schedule but he doesn’t follow you around.  He just knows who you are.  You’re like “Eh, he seems alright… Harmless enough.  But I have my own friends and life already.  I don’t need the new guy around.  He’ll cramp my style”  So you just keep his existence in the back of your mind.  Just let it sit there.

Until you decide maybe you would like a new friend.  Maybe you are upset and just want to be appreciated, maybe you did something wrong and lost a bunch of friends, maybe you simply decided that you want to stop being rude and give the new guy a chance.  JC is excited you can tell.  He’s… giddy?  But he keeps it cool, he doesn’t want to scare you away so he is only as familiar with you as he senses you’ll be alright with.

He’s alright but you aren’t really sure you like him quite that much yet so you figure, you’ll keep him at arms reach for a while.  He shows up in your scheduled places a bit more than he used to, but he doesn’t make you talk to him, he doesn’t act weird or stalkery so you let it go.  It’s kind of nice that he likes being around and as long as he doesn’t do something scary or super awkward you’re alright with it.

2. The Development

Now that you have acknowledged his existence you feel like it would be rude to ignore him now.  And he started that whole being around thing so it would get noticed wouldn’t it. But, I mean really, you don’t want him getting the wrong idea so you can’t be overly friendly.  Maybe just a smile, and a hi every once in a while; not everytime though.

When you smile he always smile back right away, he never misses it.  He is so aware of you.  The times you actually talk to him you would think he’s just reached the highest point of happiness.  One day you see him at the coffee shop, alone, and decide to really speak to him.  You sit with him and you realize that he’s actually kind of friend worthy.  He listened, and comforted, he didn’t cross lines, and he made you laugh. ( Seriously guys, man has a sense of humour.)

Duck billed platypus

Proof.

You and JC keep hanging out.  You really enjoy his company.  And he isn’t needy, he never asks for anything; he’s totally content with your very presence.  This moment is just about you.  You talk and he listens.

3. The Tables Turn.

It’s so nice to just be able to have this coffee date with JC and walk out of the shop like everything is the same.  No one really knows about these talks with JC because they don’t really affect anything but your afternoon coffee fix right?  But one day he’s not quite the same.  You notice but you don’t really care… Because this is about you.

He tries to talk and you let him, because you don’t want to be rude, but he’ll be over it tomorrow and then it will all be back to normal so you write a to-do list in your head while he talks.  But the next day he’s not over it, he listens to you but he asks for some time too.

No.  No, sorry, that’s not what this was.  You’re done.  You didn’t sign up to solve new guy’s problems.  No.  You’re gone.  Next day he’s sitting at your table.  You just walk out; you feel kind of bad but it’s gotta be this way, he didn’t understand that you were just looking for a quick pick me up not a real relationship.

Everyday he is there.  He doesn’t beg, he doesn’t bother you at all, he’s just there.  And you… Well, you kind of miss him.  Not just that you got to vent to someone but him, how nice he is, how thoughtful.  You miss him so you sit down.  He’s still as excited to see you as he was the first day.

He doesn’t bring up the fact that you walked away.  It’s like it didn’t happen; this is the next day and you never abandoned him.  You sit down and you talk, and you listen, and you realize that while you were looking for a quick feel good you found a real fix… If you’ll stay, if you’ll get excited, if you’ll just try.

 

The table apart and the special people

This last week I’ve gone off to a conference of sorts. You know the things where a bunch of people gather in big rooms and listen to people speak about stuff.  This one was a church get together so the stuff in question was mostly about God (go figure) and the formatting was very church like (praise and worship time, lots of praying, people shouting AMEN, and the speakers were pastors giving sermons.)

I have to say overall I had a really nice time.  I met some cool people, got some good stories out of it.  But there is one thing that kind of upset me.  And by kind of I mean I had a full on “are you really serious about this” moment.

As I think I mentioned, the speakers are pastors.  I have this thing about pastors; it is difficult for me to like them (this is me telling you my bias so you can disregard anything I say if you so wish); well not too much of a difficulty, there are actually several pastors in my life and I really enjoy their company.  They are knowledgeable, interesting, and fun.

Mainly I like the fact that they are humble.  I don’t call them Pastor ____; I call them Sam, Shawn, Eric, Tabitha, several of them actually shy away from the title as they are worried that people will add this “above the masses” status that seems too often to accompany the title.

This status actually describes my issue with the general mass of pastors quite well and leads me to the problem I had this week.  There was catered food all week (really nice food.  Jerk chicken, curried goat, rice and beans, this weird green roasted veg thing… Oh, loved that food) set in a cafeteria setting.  Everyone would queue and get their food then settle at one of the tables.

There was this one table that stood out from the rest.  It had a table cloth, and table settings; it was reserved for “VIPs”.  Didn’t think much of it at first to be honest, simply figured someone had ordered something special, didn’t really care enough to be bothered.  I knew I wasn’t allowed in that particular part of the caf; end.

Then one day I was sitting eating my food and I saw the group that got this special table.  It was the pastors and their families.  And the food was brought to them; while everyone had to pick and choose which meal option they wanted, this table was served a bit of everything at their own private little island at the front of the cafeteria.

This upset me.  Properly unhappy about this, there was a status given to the pastors that placed them above everyone else.  I get giving them free food; they are working after all.  But why separate them like that?  It reminded me of the table at wedding receptions where the wedding party sits.  It is set apart, it is special, it is… detached.

Now I know some people like to place pastors on some pedestal that would justify this treatment.  However, I think, we’ve seen enough pastors fall (in a very public way thanks to said position) that we can safely assume that they are fallibly human. Just like you, just like me.  Which gives me a sort of catch 22 moment.

See it’s one of two ways here: Either they are better Christians and followers of Jesus than the average human being, in which case they would follow His example (ie eating with the tax collectors and outcasts, spending time with the people, and having the confidence and authority to teach, but never raising himself above others, or lowering them down for his benefit) or they aren’t.  In either case it leads to the same thing; they either are just like the masses or they should act like they are.

Alright, so there is one argument I can think of that would come in favor of this table.  These guys are preaching every day during this week, possibly twice a day; maybe they need a break.  You don’t want to spend a whole day at work just to find that there is a line of people that want you to keep discussing everything you’ve just gone over.  You want, and need, some time alone or with your family; completely understandable.

But I’m guessing that when you are done with your work day you go home.  Because as long you are surrounded by the people that you are working with (like a pastor and the people they preach to maybe…) you will be talking about work.  Lawyers who go for a drink after work will start talking about cases. Doctors will start talking about patients and teachers about students.  It’s the unfortunate consequence of being around people you work with.

You may say that this is assuming that pastors and congregations are on equal ground (which I’ve already made clear that I do) but say they aren’t.  Okay, but Christians of all levels are called to minister to the world so say they are of a lesser caliber; the newbies if you will.  So, lawyer to paralegal; Doctor to medical student; teacher to substitute/parent/day care provider (I do not think any of these are lesser in any way!  It’s not an exact comparison but it makes my point).  Same concept, the conversations topics will be the same.

Put yourself in proximity of work and you open yourself up to questions and comments.  If they were tired (which I’m sure they were), if they needed a break (which they probably did) they could have gone somewhere else.  They could have had their private quiet time in a private quiet place instead of in the middle a public and busy cafeteria.

One of the amazing people in my life. Who I do sometimes call pastor. Meet Pastor Purple!!!

Maybe I’m overreacting to this.  Fine, it happens.  But this moment gave me a sense of distance and disconnect that I’m not willing to have with someone I’m supposed to be trusting my spiritual guidance (for lack of a better phrase) too.

On one hand it reminded why I have a problem with the hierarchy of organized religion; on the other hand it reminded me why I am very, very blessed to have the people who have the title of pastor I have in my life.

To the pastors that I get to have tea with, joke with, and tease; the ones I don’t have to call pastor unless I’m telling people their job title.  Thank you for speaking with me and not at me, and for reminding me that I can’t generalize.

Barely Badventist. Your definitions can’t contain me.

I know there has been a vague (or not so vague, whatever) religious undercurrent to my blog lately.  Sorry, that wasn’t really my intention; although I didn’t actually have an intention or a theme when I created this blog.  When I post for you to read I am simply trying to get my current thoughts into the world.  I will have a themed blog eventually but today is not the day for that.  That being said, today is not a vague undercurrent, it just is about beliefs and religious affiliation.

I grew up going to church, I stopped when I was about 12, with occasional check ins, until I was about 17.  Even after that I attended different churches, never finding one that I really felt I belonged in.  I didn’t like the different denominations; didn’t want to deal with the new rules and regulations that a label added to my life.  So I stayed a visitor wherever I was; people don’t expect you to follow the special rules when you are a visitor.

Even the church that I had gone to in my childhood, the one I had gotten baptized in, treated me like a visitor.  The elder members of the church who remembered my siblings and I as young children would come greet me and talk about how I used to be all while giving me that look that says “I know you are lost… What a shame.”  No expectations, no requirements.

And when I did stick around it generally led to problems and then I had to leave anyway (not for anything serious so get that out of your head.  Just misunderstandings in values and disagreements on how to treat others).  The most common denomination (see what I did there? Do ya’ do ya!?!?) in my life has been Seventh-Day Adventism.

For those who know you’ve heard of SDA somewhere but just not sure where, it’s the faith that Angus T. Jones of Two and a Half Men fame has subscribed to.

I grew up going to SDA churches and is the doctrine I know better than others.  But, as I said before, I left that church when I was 12.  When I decided that it wasn’t worth my time to spend my Saturdays with the type of people I was seeing at the churches I was attending.

Honestly, Seventh-Day Adventists don’t exactly have the best of reputations; in America at least.  So I have been insulted by someone saying to me “I think you are more Adventist than you know.”  In fact, I had some fresh words (that I kept in my head) for the person who said that to me.

And the question a couple of my friends have liked to ask me lately of “do you consider yourself an Adventist?” has been met with the same answer each time.  “No! Maybe… Erm, I don’t know.  I don’t like labels.”  I don’t like organized religion and I don’t want people to hear a label and decide they know me.  So when people ask me, “are you…” No.  The answer is no.  The answer is always no.  Do think that you can define me with one word?  It just won’t happen.

You see a label, you have a (probably) incorrect expectation.

Yesterday my friend and I decided to check out a building that we have walked by dozens of times and never paid attention to.  We decided we wanted to know what was there; there isn’t much of a sign, and it is sort of hidden from the road.  Of course the obvious option is to walk down their drive and see if there are some defining marks on the outside.  As we were doing that, a car drove in and a woman got out and basically asked us if we were lost.

We told her we were curious, that we wanted to know what this place was and thought we’d look for a sign.  We didn’t find a sign, but we found the headmistress of the school we had just decided to look at.  She explained a bit about it, she asked us about our university.  I go an Adventist institution so that came up.  She asked if Adventism was like Mormonism, and I found myself trying to explain two very different religions all of a sudden.

After a short explanation of Mormonism, compliments of an afternoon coffee with an ex Mormon elder and a bible study on world religions from a pastor friend of mine, I started explaining SDA basics as well as I could.  I explained that they believe that Saturday is the Sabbath.  My friend mentioned the educational institutions.  I talked about the health message and how we have an emphasis on keeping our bodies healthy (university caf food not withstanding).

See what happened there?  Yeah, it took me a while to register as well.  We happened.  I was talking to a complete stranger and said we when talking about the Adventist church.  For better or for worse I would define myself as an Adventist.  Although I would probably be better fit with the invented section ‘Badventist’.  I’m not as strict with my diet (probably should be, but not for religious reasons) I don’t believe that Adventism has it all right.

I don’t think Adventists are the true church and all other denominations will die in a fiery pit (and not just because I don’t believe in a physical hell) I don’t think we have some secret that puts us above others.  I simply acknowledge that my personal beliefs fit closest with the the Adventist doctrine, and its newer execution.

I have many scars from the Adventist church and I am still unwilling to just run in no walls of protection, but I have finally been exposed to a section of the Adventist church that doesn’t walk around with their noses in the air.  And, you know, when they stop acting better than everyone else, Adventists are pretty awesome.  Not perfect, never perfect.  Perfection is always striven for but never accomplished.

I’m is more like this. You see a label, have an expectation, and get more than you hoped for.

I’m still not going to lead with it.  “Adventist” is not the first word people need to associate with me.  Really, I don’t think there is any word that needs to start an association, unless it is our names.  Then we can just figure each other out based on actions and intentions.  I am not, nor will I ever be, wholly defined by a word or a sect.  Rather, I am simply accepting a part of my life that helps to shape me.

I guess I would be best explained (in this context) as barely Adventist (phrase compliments of Bjorn and Jammie).

Also, I wrote this on a Saturday morning during church so I guess I am barely even a Badventist…

Two thoughts meld into one, in the vaguest possible way.

There are few things I find as quietly worrying as a certain friend of mine looking at me and simply saying “interesting”; this is, of course, in response to something that I said.  And then he goes right back to a different conversation!

Not that someone calling me interesting is inherently worrisome but, with this guy, it tends to mean plotting; possibly only the beginning stages of plotting, and soon it will be vague comments and calling me out in front of a group of friends. (*cough cough* the reason I started a blog *cough cough*)

Also, I have absolutely no idea why what I just said is “interesting” so I’m totally lost!  And I can’t just ask him, because he’s into another conversation already… Not that he would answer me anyway.  Devious, obnoxious, scheming little- but I digress.

Today I went to a pretty awesome concert (using the term loosely, classical music and lasers…) at the Royal Albert Hall called Classical Spectacular.  If one is near London and hasn’t gone one should go.  It was (to quote another friend of mine) “of the dopeness.”

What do these two things have to do with each other?  Well, to be honest, nothing whatsoever apart from they both happened today, but shall we keep going to see if I can pull a connection?  I think yes.

I love, love, love, if you didn’t get it, LOVE concerts; even and especially classical music concerts.  This genre is the epitome of the combination of math and art, creating the wonderful thing we call music.  Love it.  However, the good is also the bad, music is supposed to inspire the imagination and call upon a world long lost; which it does, and I get lost in a world of my own, the music becomes a backtrack to the thoughts in my head.

I have this thought, a tiny little nudge in my mind I assumed long dead.  Long dead became resurrected in the Royal Albert Hall tonight.  Dreaming, what if-ing, planning (if you can call it that), became my evening (with the most awesome pulls into the now from an orchestra I’m glad to not have missed.)

Coming back to campus I thought about my mental meanderings and wondered about why this came up now.  No, I’m not going to out the specifics of this thought to the ever expanding internets; I don’t need the pressure.

My interesting friend who dubs me (or at least some vague comments I say) “interesting.”  He is on a specific path that I find myself… curious about.  Hmm… What now, what now?

I have no idea.

I guess it all comes down to an orange.

Haha, maybe I’ll explain that someday.

 

Orange.

The monster within and the broken god, flirting with disaster.

Originally it’s just you.  No influences, no pain, no issues.  Just you.

But then life happens.  You learn things, you experience things and you change.  But maybe you don’t want to change.  Maybe you are resentful or disappointed.  But you must change; so you bury the pain.  You smile and you change and you move on.

Then you have to change again.  Then things get harder, complicated.  And you bury, because you need to keep going.  You say that you will just make it through the right now and you will deal with it later; let it out when the calm comes.

By the time things get better and you just want a moment of rest.  So you leave it buried, just for a while.  Just to enjoy the peace of a moment and not deal with the ghost of the past.

Then, as the circle of life would dictate, you make a mistake or maybe you are a bystander, you get hurt or you hurt someone else; either way things get complicated again.  And you must deal with it.  You must be strong and keep it together.  You have to keep going for the sake of those around you and the sake of your life, your future, and your goals.

So the cycle continues, one day you forget how to tell the difference.  You don’t know any more what it is like to deal with things and not bury them.  But the ghosts don’t stay buried.  So you are always pulling out the shovel and putting them back.

Finding room for the new things; categorizing and shoving.  Jumping up and down on the suitcase that is you to make sure everything fits; knowing that it will occasionally burst open but planning how to force it all back in again.

They tell you to stop, they tell you to unpack but you can’t; because if you do you will break into a thousand pieces, and then those pieces will break into a thousand pieces.  You smile and you bury because when you stop you won’t start again.

You are the teapot with the internal crack, if only it had been seen and fixed in time the teapot would be strong and beautiful and functional.  But now, you are only half of what you could be; you are biding your time until the crack grows, the structure weakens, and you break into a thousand, thousand pieces.

It’s not as simple as just having a cracked shell because all those things you bury fight back.  Ghosts still don’t stay buried; even after all the practice getting them there.  They are the monster inside you.  Growing and moving and pushing and reminding you that you will not make it.

The monster grabs ahold of all your fears and mistakes, taking over wherever it can.  Pulling at you, breaking you, it knows you better than anyone; it keeps cracking you, waiting for the break.  It waits, for when you are so broken you cannot be fixed.  For the thousand, thousand pieces that it will absorb and bury; while it overwhelms what used to be your life.

Is this the only choice?  To shove, push and bury until you ultimately bury yourself?  It can’t be.  There must be more.  A way to unpack and leave behind the extraneous without being irrevocably broken.

You need support, love, accountability.  You need strength surrounding you to hold together the pieces while everything gets organized.  People can’t do it for you; they have their own pots to deal with.  What’s left?

Here’s an easy segue to religion, but I’m only sort of going to do that.  My beliefs are not a secret on this blog and I won’t apologize for them, but I’m not going to tell you that you must believe what I believe.  That’s a bit too arrogant for my tastes.

What I will say is this, for when you are hurting and broken.  If the only “higher power” you have is you, then you are trusting your everything to a broken god.

I saw a ghost! No wait it was a Prophet.

Thursday nights at my university means The Experience (just think of it as a midweek church service, but more interesting than whatever just popped into your head).  Every week during this program there is a bit where the screen shows “I see Jesus” and people talk about when in the last week they “saw” Jesus.  And yes, for those who aren’t sure, this is symbolic.  We aren’t talking about a Jewish guy walking around in a white robe and sandals; we are talking about when we saw the goodness, the love, the blessing, when we saw God working in our worlds.

There are always a wide array of answers: “I saw Jesus in getting a job” “I saw Jesus in a conversation with ___” “I saw Jesus in two boys helping an elderly woman across the road.”  Bottom line- when you are looking for it you can see Jesus pretty much wherever you want to.  I’ll admit, this section normally has me internally gagging on the corniness of it all (I’m not exactly what one would call sentimental); tonight I wasn’t.

Tonight I almost said something.  Tonight when presented with this question I actually had an event come unbidden to my thoughts.  Apparently, my sub-conscience saw Jesus this week.  In a conversation with a friend on Sunday afternoon while he explained to me why he doesn’t mind paying for my dinner occasionally (I swear, I am working on being okay with not paying my own way sometimes… It’s just hard!).

Actually, parenthetical comments aside, let me explain why that is a big deal.  I come from a place where you don’t get a free meal.  Exception only if someone is trying to impress and invites you over.  When going out with friends they pay for them and you pay for you.  This rule is only broken occasionally and you know that you will get paid back, and we are talking ASAP.  First time this guy paid for me, he had to offer it a few times before I acknowledged him because I thought he was kidding.

Now this isn’t to say that I grew up around a bunch of selfish people, just generous in different ways.  Free manual labor, babysitting, essentially donation of time; not money.  So for the last few months this guy occasionally pays for me and I fight him on it, I try to pay him back (he’s more stubborn than me! *grumble grumble*) and, recently, I just give a glare and a ‘thank-you’ because it isn’t worth the hassle.

But I broached the topic, “why don’t you ever let me pay you back”.  He asked me if I wouldn’t rather spend my money on something else.  (Well, duh… But wouldn’t you as well?) Essentially, if I’m interpreting correctly, it comes down to one simple fact: he has more money than I do!  What I see as a big enough sum to warrant worrying about quid pro quo, he’s just like “yeah I got paid in between so…”

On one hand that makes sense because, well think about it, dude with a decent job <–> broke student, who really has more cash in the bank? And he’s a nice guy (no matter how much I call him a jerk) so whatever.  On the other hand, small town America raised girl with a big emphasis on pride, self-reliance, and “nothing for free”.

So yes, it took a while to sink but I think it’s getting there… I possibly have a thicker-than-normal skull.  And I saw Jesus in this friend, and in the conversation.  Just the simple “why would you give me money when you could spend it on other things” attitude; doing something without expectation of compensation (although I bet if he could make me be quiet as repayment he would take that).  Yeah, I saw Jesus there.

And what, you might ask, was Tylene’s (obviously) completely normal/mentally healthy response to that?  I decided to find a way to not see him anymore!  That’s right, a well adjusted, honestly nice, good guy is my friend and I decide that I am going to avoid him like the plague.  Actually, the way I was feeling at the time, if he was on one side of the street I would cross it to be like “Plague, bruv, what’s up man.  Tell me about you.”

I know what you’re thinking, “she forgot her point” but no! No she didn’t, I mean… I.  I didn’t, because that reaction leads you beautiful readers to the second time this week that Tylene “saw Jesus”.  I was invited somewhere that said GG (good guy) will be, and I knew I couldn’t go, because of the aforementioned “broke student” thing.  It is a damper on things that cost money.

Then the cost issue went away.  And the time issue was taken care of.  Damn, what now?  Now, Tylene takes a moment to figure out why, why am I avoiding someone who is actually being nice to me?

I don’t know.  I’d love to figure that one out but I haven’t yet.

What does this have to do with seeing Jesus?  Simple, a situation was created that made it to where I can’t throw away a potentially functional friendship (I’m apparently a fan of nonfunctional aka crazy unreliable friendships).  Instead I have to be a real person, and get over it, and stop being afraid…

 

 

 

This week I saw Jesus in the breaking down of walls and the building of interpersonal relationships.  I saw Jesus in strange and wonderful loving actions towards myself and others.  I saw Jesus in people, which is exactly where He should be.

Who’s Your Daddy?

I can tell you who mine is; it’s the big man upstairs.  Okay you can run away now.  “Dang it guys, she mentioned religion. RUN!” Fine, do it, I can’t very well chase you down through the internet, can I?

Alright, now I’m going to hope that some of you kept going and for those people I want to correct the thought that I assumed into your head earlier.  I didn’t mention religion, I mentioned God.  There is a difference.  Seriously there is!

Many people ask the question “Who is God?” Not in the “what’s it like to have a universal overlord” sort of way, but in an Anger Management sort of way.  We don’t just want to know what He does.  We don’t want to know what he looks like.  We want to know who He is.

This is a difficult question to answer and has ultimately been done with similes for ages.  He is like a father; He is “closer than a brother.” He is a friend, He is a king, He is love (whatever that means).  But all of these things are imperfect associations; they don’t really answer the question that has been posed.

God is undefinable.  No matter how well someone “knows” God they don’t really.  This world contains all of our knowledge that we can reference and God created the world so anything we say will fall short of accurately expressing the basic question “who is God.”

Who God is, is an unsolvable puzzle.  Like many people, I’m not really a fan of the mystery that cannot be discerned.  I like knowledge, certainty, understanding.  I don’t always like this God that is as unfathomable and incomparable as the worship songs claim.

But I still believe.  I don’t have to like everything I know (or rather don’t know) about God to be secure in my belief of Him.  And if I am going to believe I must learn how to accept what is.  Therefore, I will content myself with figuring out a rough outline of who He is by figuring out what God is not.

God is not simple.  Okay, I know, this one may seem obvious considering the aforementioned indescribable thing.  But so often I find people who want to put God in a box.  They tell me that God cannot love gay people.  They tell me that if you eat pork God will send you to hell.  They limit God by limiting His tolerance.

God is not unyielding.  Don’t misunderstand; this is not me saying that God is a softy that will let you walk all over His deity-ness and at the end of the day tell you all is cool and you are perfect.  But the God that I believe in will not make a decision solely based on the last thing you did.  He will not refuse to take into account the intention and the effort behind the actions you take.

God is not erratic.  He has a plan and a direction.  Just because I cannot understand the reasons behind what is happening does not mean they aren’t there.  I mean really people, if I was the omniscient one I wouldn’t have to be hoping people are going to read this while I’m writing right now.  I would already know!  At the end of the day you should thank God (see what I did there?) that I don’t know everything.  The world would not survive.

I will say one thing that I think God is.  I believe, whole-heartedly, that God is understanding.  God is not just supposed to be loving; He is supposed to be the embodiment of love!  If parents can love their children and allow them to push the boundaries, to stretch the line and find the breaking point, then I’m certain God can.

Sure, life would be much easier if the children would just listen when you say “no, hot. That will hurt you” but they don’t.  It would be much easier for God if people would just get in line and follow the rules; if they could just stop and see that the rules are not about limiting us but protecting and uplifting us.  But they don’t; I don’t.  I like to learn by doing… Not really the smoothest of paths but I’ve had some interesting moments.

Yes, life would be easier.  I am told that God wants gratitude, respect, and obedience; I’m sure that’s true, but at what price?  He wasn’t willing to take away our free will to get it.  He wasn’t willing to resort to force.  I reject this militant version of God that people present to me.

Instead I will grudgingly accept that I will never have a satisfactory answer to the ever present question.  I will believe that He loves me, even when I don’t know it, feel it, or believe it (yes I do see the paradox of this sentence thank you very much).  Not the mushy, nothing, push-over love; that isn’t good enough.

The love that makes a parent sit back and allow their child to make mistakes and face consequences; the love that hurts a little now to save pain later.  The hard kind of love that imperfect people can manage to have in force and the Being that created it must have flawlessly.

I have chosen my path and my beliefs.  Sometimes I forget; sometimes I take one step forward and two steps back.  I am still learning and still changing.  Still pushing my boundaries and figuring it out.  The only thing I can be sure of is, at the end of the day, I know who my daddy is.

My friend, Ashleigh, wrote a great piece about the Spiritual Teenage Years that really exemplifies the need to push boundaries in order to grow.  Worth a read if you have an extra moment.