To the Muse: Thanks for Everything

Have you ever read something so inspiring that it takes your breath away?  These three poems are that for me.  What piece of writing inspires you? 
 

 

 

 

 

Francis Thompson – “The Kingdom of Heaven�
 

 

 
 

 

 

 

Life is a constant process of authenticating values.  Each moment lived; we are presented with an opportunity to live-out abstract desire.  Let me put it this way!  Right now, what you and I really, really want can be put into the world.  And there, we can engage it so potently that it makes us want to scream with delight!

 

Heres an example.  One of my core values is to create and innovate.  Now, inside of me, this desire is sort of trapped.  Its like when you see a caged bird.  You know it can do a lot more than it is doing.  But knowing what is possible is not as beautiful as watching the eagle soars in the open sky!   The same is true for my value of creativity and innovation.  Inside of me, my ideas are just like caged birds.  However, when I write one out and post it, I have fleshed-out this value.  In that space, and through that medium, we can experience the gravity (good or bad) of this value. 

 

Just ponder this for one minute!  We have within us unique, valuable values!  They are unique because no one else has them in quite the same way.  And they are valuable because our character is good!  So, if the world is a canvas being ever-molded by those who take their unique values and creatively institute them, then we are artists sitting in front of that canvas.  Each day, each opportunity we have, is a chance to paint another stroke of beauty onto humanity!!  Bottom line, we have to live in this world.  Why not paint it a color we like?!? 

 

So, this is what I am going to do: 1.) Write down everything I have to do during the day.  2.) Discover what values I can flesh out by doing and being a part of those things.  3.) Plan at least 3 things to do with the remaining time (things I want to do, not required to do!).  4.) Discover what values I am fleshing out by doing and being a part of those things.  5.) Discover one value not being fleshed out at all during the day, but wish it was.  6.) Plan something to flesh that out. 

 

Im excited to see what will happen as a result of just this little exercise.  I cant wait to experience and hear what happens in your life!  Honestly, I believe there is more power within us than we realize.  Let’s unleash it!!

Premise 1.) God is everywhere.  Premise 2.) I’m somewhere.  Therefore, I’m always in proximity to God. 

 

I had this thought the other day and can’t get it out of my mind.  I mean, if it is actually true, then each space I inhabit and each moment I experience remains in the midst of Divinity.  And I have the capacity to discover Him at any time during my day!!  In addition, if this proposition is true, then there is no metaphysical reality I and God are not in propinquity.  Implication: my imagination is rich with Him!  My heart is deeply covered in Him. 

 

Tonight, my mind feels flush and my soul; joy.  I feel ever-presently loved, immersed in happiness.  It’s like I’m swimming under water in an open ocean filled with Divine presence.  Each breath drawn is like another sweet experience of nourishment.  I see invisible beauty.  I sense intangible pleasure. 

 

So, this poem is my veneration:

 

Falling…

Into deep, blue love.

 

Running…

Into magnificently powerful affection.

 

Surrendering…

Into pleasure feelings of laughter.

 

Dancing…

Into comfort and happiness.

 

Swimming…

Into translucent satiation. 

 

I am encapsulated by the moment. 

Colors.  Shapes.  Words.  Blur.

 

The moment of longed for experience is upon me. 

Like a tide reaching the shoreline, I have found Divinity. 

 

Permeation.

The night was cold. Not freezing, but cold. It was the kind of night-cold that sneaks up on you; like a pool of water seeping closer and closer to the edge of the sidewalk. Before you know it, your teeth are chattering and the feeling in your nose and ears has disappeared.

I sat on the street-corner; bruised, bloodied, and beaten. My only companion was a half-drunk bottle of Jack Daniel’s that I stole from the AA liquor store. It had been a long day and an even longer past few months. My mind began to feel the tingly sensation of numbness and the cold coupled with the alcohol healed my wounds into oblivion. I smiled. I thought about her. I wondered how she made her hands so soft. I mean, Jesus, I use lotion with the best of them, but her hands were like silk. I let the thought go and enjoyed the rest of my Jack and memory. Soon, I laid down in the gutter, buried my head in an old newspaper, and allowed my potion to take its effect more potently. The last six months were just background music to my dreams.

“Colby! Colby! Wake up!!” I sat up, wondering where I was. I was in my bed, feeling no hangover and with no memory of her. I heard Devon’s voice again and the light of the morning crept into my eyes.

“What!?!” I said with that croaky sleep-voice you always get after not talking for 8 hours.

“You’ve got a presentation in like 45 minutes ass-wipe. You want to be late?” Devon was a good friend. We met in college at a sorority party. His date and mine got plastered about ten minutes into it. So, we spent the next three hours discussing Clinton’s political genius and pitfalls.

“Thanks,” I said sheepishly; still wondering how I got into my bed. It was six months before my night on the street. I was still 25, and still working for Inspire:) a non-profit organization aimed at helping youth stay off drugs and alcohol.

“Whatever,” Devon said. “I’ve got to take off. Good luck.” With that, he was out of my room, out of the door, and into his day. I laid back down feeling anxious, tired, and confused.

“Colby, you’re late!!” Mr. Macentire said as I walked through the large entrance to Mount View High School.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Macentire. Car trouble. Got a jump from a nice old lady in a Chevy, though. It won’t happen again, I promise.” I said, a little impressed at how easily I could lie with a straight face.

“Well, just get in there! Genevieve has been trying to cover,” he said with his trademark slap on the ass. I hated that particular trademark.

“On my way,” I said, wondering who Genevieve was. As I ran through the hall, I had no idea that those seconds were the last in the life that I had known for 25 years. The moment I stepped into that classroom, everything changed.

To be honest, my first thoughts weren’t all that noble. I mean, I guess I could lie and say, I felt happiness and hope collide in my heart when our gaze met. Or I could reinterpret my feelings and wax poetically about how her skin was like olive oil and how her eyes sparkled like the North Star, drawing me to her with the power of a beautiful siren. But you would most likely want to kick my ass and that’s not what happened. My first thought was simply, Damn!!

“Hi.” she said looking very annoyed with the interruption of her presentation.

“Hi, I’m, uh I’m Colby. Mr. Macentire said I should come in and take over?” I said feeling absolutely idiotic and small.

“Well, I’m just getting warmed up. But you’re more than welcome to have a seat and observe,” she said with a confident, almost argument-inviting smile.

“Umm, ok, sure.” I said feeling the eyes of fifty high school freshman boring into my skull. I could feel them making fun of me in their minds, giving me wedgies in their imaginations. God, I hated high school!

As I sat there listening to (well, half listening half lusting after) this woman named Genevieve, I remember feeling a strange new sensation. I would later learn that it is commonly called, intoxication. I felt a little dizzy. I felt a little nauseous; and a little sick inside my head. It was amazing. Soon, I gave up trying to fight it and just engaged the pleasure-feelings and swam in the momentary happiness it provided.

“So, that’s it for now. Any questions?” She asked with a hopeful expression that became genuinely surprised when no one did. I liked that about her.

As the class got up and people began talking and moving around, I felt my heart beat a little quicker. I knew I was about to meet her. But I couldn’t sound like the bumbling idiot I was. I needed something smooth; something suave, something totally not me. Ya, I was pretty much screwed.

“Great presentation,” I found myself saying as I walked up to her with a bit of limp (my foot had fallen asleep).

“Thanks,” she said. “Are you ok?”

“Oh ya, I just like to pretend I got shot by some sort of gang, cause it helps me blend in with the kids,” I said before I could shut myself up. Man I’m blowing this, I thought. But then a strange thing happened. She smiled. When she did, a wave of nervous panic and hot happiness washed over me. Her smile was so small; quaint. It was lop-sided to the left just slightly and looked girlish. I felt week.

“I’m sure that helps a lot,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Genevieve.”

“Oh, it does,” I coolly shot back with a “Backstreet Boys” - like smile of my own while taking her hand.

“Wow, you’re hand is freezing!” she said as our skin met.

“Oh, right; sorry. I have bad circulation or something,” I said thinking, I’m such a loser.

She smiled again, not really knowing how to respond to it. She just said, “ya.”

There was an awkward pause and I felt a little tingling sensation in the back of my neck. I couldn’t think of anything to say. I just kept thinking Don’t blow it, she’s hot. Don’t blow it, she’s hot. Then, I had it; a revelation! Something to say! “So, did you just start working here?” I asked, immediately thinking; that was a great revelation you dumb ass. Of course she did.

“Ya, today was my first day. I’m enjoying it so far. Although Mr. Macentire seems a little weird.” she said looking around to see if he could somehow hear her through the walls.

“Oh ya, he’s quite eccentric. But, you get used to it, I guess.” I said, proud of my lexis power. Then, I remembered that no one else was ever impressed with my lexis anything. And in the tone of that defeating realization, I said, “So, we should probably see what’s next on the agenda for the day?”

“Ya, let me grab my stuff.” she said moving quickly to the back of the room. I watched in delight as her body leaned over the desk to get her backpack and then quickly darted my eyes to the blackboard as she popped up. We walked out of the room together as my stomach did cartwheels and I swam in feelings of nervous excitement. I could tell. My life was never going to be the same. I just had no idea how different it would actually be.

Later that day, I walked back into my apartment with so much energy and excitement that I’m sure Devon concluded I sniffed markers all day instead of going to work. But it didn’t matter to me. I found her. Her. Genevieve. She was smart, funny, gorgeous, and, most importantly; wanted to keep kids off drugs too! I was in hot chick heaven!

“So, what gives, Colby?” Devon asked later that night as we were playing NHLPA hockey.

“What do you mean?” I answered knowing full well what he meant.

“You. Y ou’re acting all weird and spacey like you wandered into Puff Daddy’s “Secret Garden.” he said as he scored on me for the fifth time.

“Well, I sort of met this girl today.” I said winning the face off.

“Really, she must have a huge rack and a nice ass the way you’re acting?” Devon said invalidating everything I felt about her.

“She doesn’t.” I snapped back. “Well, I mean she does, but that’s not the point Devon, you ass! She’s much more awesome than that!” I felt lonely in the moment. Devon wouldn’t be able to understand my feelings for Genevieve. But then again, I didn’t really understand them. I just knew I felt good.

“Well, did you ask her out?” He said unfazed by my hurt.

Come to think about it, I hadn’t even thought about that. I didn’t even ask if she had a boyfriend. Panic started to set in and I felt hot and angry at Devon for making me feel this way. “Not yet,” I snapped back.

“Well, get on that, dickhead, so you can get on that.” Devon said smiling with satisfaction at his pun.

“You’re such an idiot Devon.” I said feeling powerless to convey how mad I truly was at him. She was more than a nice body, and much more than someone I just wanted to sleep with. I felt electrically connected to her soul after spending only a few hours with her. I knew we had something special.

Later that night, I lay awake thinking about her. I felt a semblance of the intoxication I had earlier in the classroom. My heart beat fast and my hands wouldn’t stop sweating. I surveyed her face and her body over and over again in my imagination, listening to the sound of her soft, powerful voice boom out words of hope. She was beautiful, I concluded; truly beautiful. I didn’t care if Devon thought I was a wuss. I was falling for the girl of my dreams.

I woke up three weeks later. Genevieve and I had been on a few dates. I was still head over heals for her and she was starting to like me too. Devon had come to accept my affection for her and stopped making fun of me. But our relationship was different. He was much more distant. He seemed to only talk to me when he absolutely had to. And if I asked him anything, he would be real short and seem uninterested. I wondered what it was all about, but I hadn’t pressed it.

Today I was meeting Genevieve at a homeless shelter downtown. We had agreed to spend the day helping there. I wasn’t particularly interested in helping, but she seemed pretty excited about it, and she looked really cute when she was excited. So, I was all in.

“Hey, you.” she said from behind me.

I felt weak in the knees as I turned and looked into her eyes again. She was so damn pretty! Even when she dressed up to feed homeless people, she made me hot. “Hi!!!” I said a little too enthusiastic. She giggled, and gave me a really big hug! I loved when she hugged me like that. I would just let my body collapse into hers and hold her an extra second longer than normal.

“You ready for this?” she said absolutely enthused.

“You bet,” I said matching her enthusiasm with my lie. We walked into the building and were immediately surrounded by a disgusting scent and a chaotic mess of disheveled people. I wanted to leave. But then I looked at her and she seemed so happy and content in this environment. Her heart really was pure. It was all I could do to contain myself from kissing her right in front of everyone.

“We should probably go find our contact, Jim.” she said burrowing into game mode.

“Right, Jim.” I said. I could see this guy in my head now. Some do-gooder with a polo shirt and kaki’s toting around his Bible making everyone else feel inadequate. I’m sure as soon as Genevieve saw him, she would run into his arms, throw her body around his and make love to him right on the table. I hated Jim already.

Actually, Jim was a toothless old geezer who had a hairpiece and a flannel shirt instead of a polo and Kaki’s. I was relieved. I could tell I was going to like Jim.

When I got home that night, Devon and I had it out. I was tired of pretending everything was fine when he clearly had some sort of problem with me.

“What the hell’s been the matter with you lately Devon?” I asked out of nowhere as we watched the Lakers beat the Clippers for the millionth time.

“What do you mean? I’m fine.” he said focusing a little too hard on the game.

“No, you’re not.” I said trying to get his attention with my voice. “There has been something up your ass ever since Genevieve and I started dating. Do you have a problem with her?”

“No, she’s fine man.” he said not breaking his gaze from the t.v.

“Well, it just seems like something is up.” I said wondering what else I could possibly do to get him to engage with me.

“I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately,” he said finally breaking stride with the t.v. “I’m fine, though. Really.” .

At the time, I didn’t have any reason to distrust him. But if I would have known what I know now, I would have done everything a lot differently that night. But, I just said, “Well, sorry about that. Let me know if you want to talk about it,” and went back to the game and my euphoria called Genevieve.

So, this should be fun. 

 

I began a quest this week to solve three major problems in my life.  1.) Why do I seek intimacy from strangers and hide from my friends and family (emotional)?  2.) What role does Jesus have in my life (spiritual)?  3.) What do I want from other people (relational)?  It has been quite the quest so far. Yesterday, I did some good work moving through hypothesizes for problem 1.  Perhaps when I’m stronger I will share those thoughts.  I haven’t addressed problem 3 yet.  But those ideas will be wrapped up in my poetry.  So I want to focus this blog on problem 2. 

 

Now, before I get fired for heresy (good thing Steve and Erwin don’t read my blog) let me denote complete ambiguity.  No conclusions have been concluded.  And, caveat emptor (buyer beware).  You may learn things about me you didn’t really want to know.  So, with that being said, I’ll begin with the three biggest “Philosophical” problems and then move into the three biggest “Relational” ones.    

 

2a.) Who is Jesus?  I don’t mean in the theological sense, like, is he the son of God, Christ, only way, or whatever.  I mean in the very literal sense: who is he?  I can’t very well have someone play a role in my life, especially at a deep and personal level, if I don’t even know who they are.  I am so confounded by this problem.  I know all the Bible answers, trust me; I have a degree in Bible and am in Seminary now.  Yet, I really don’t know the man, himself; which sounds horrible, but is really quite reasonable: He feels like an abstraction.  Seriously, do people really think about what they are telling us in Sunday school?  Church lady to a bunch of ten-year-olds: “Just accept Jesus into your heart, and he will be your best friend.”  I wish I would have said, “Ok listen lady, I’ll give you my snack pack if you can explain to me how an invisible Deity named Jesus can ontologically take up space inside of my heart, when I don’t even know what or where my heart is.  And I’ll throw in my baggie of goldfish crackers if you can describe for me the nature of friendship.  I mean, I play GI Joes with Jimmy after school cause my mom makes me.  Otherwise, I would be eating iced cream and watching Duck Tales all day.  So, riddle me this batman: how in the world do I relate to Jesus, as a metaphysically, transmutated “friend” when I have no comprehension of how to have an ostensible friendship with Jimmy.”  Ya, that’s what I should have said.  Dang it!!  Oh well. Se la vie.  But you see the difficulty.  Is Jesus a man?  Is Jesus a Spirit?  Is Jesus an Idea that makes people good and moral?  Is He  a religion?  Jesus seems to have more aliases than Jennifer Garner!  I want to know who He is.  But it is really hard to do!

 

2b.) Where is Jesus?  Now, this undoubtedly overlaps with the first problem in as much as to know who someone is assuredly means you know where they are.  For example, if someone asks me where Smitty is, I could say, “Oh ya, Smitty!  He was a great guy.  Died of diphtheria.  We threw him into the Potomac a few weeks ago.”  But with Jesus, I can’t really do it that way.  I mean, He’s dead, but raised from it, and then He ascended, but was also put back into earth in the form of a “Holy Spirit” which apparently has omnipresent capabilities?  So, he could be everywhere, which is linguistically the same as saying he’s nowhere. 

 

But what I really want to know is: does Jesus take up space and in what way does He take that space up?  Unfortunately, for me, that question is incredibly difficult to answer.  I mean, Jesus himself gives us very little hope.  He says, “Where I am going, you cannot come.  You will look for me and you cannot find me.”  Ya, thanks Jesus.  That’s real helpful!  Maybe I could put out a missing person’s report for an ascended Deity turned omnipresent Spirit who claimed, while embodying flesh and blood 2000 or so years ago, that he could not be found.  I’m sure Dick over at the station would be rearin to go with that call!  My point, if you didn’t get it, is simply that Jesus is just hard to locate, but locating him is vital!! 

 

2c.) How do I interact with Jesus?  A better way of asking this question might be: Where does Jesus begin and where do I end?  I mean, even if I assume Jesus is a spirit in nature, and that he is located inside of me; does he then become part of me?  If he is a part of me, then am I still me?  How do I tell where he is?  I need like a Jesus-detector so I can beep around in my head or heart until I find him.  Then, when I do find Him, how do I talk to Him?  Do I just talk to myself?  Do I need a secret code?  I think you get my point.  Interacting with Jesus isn’t the easiest thing to figure out how to do. 

 

So, there are my three main philosophical  hangups to discovering Jesus’ role in my life.  But those aren’t really the issue.  I mean, yes, they are difficult.  But I still have to figure out the relational piece. Honestly, I know who, where, and how to interact with a lot of people.  That doesn’t mean I do, or am any good at it.  Relational roles are tricky to define.  Can anyone back me up on that?  Ever find yourself DTR-ing (determining the relationship) with your bf or gf  every day?  She’s like, “why don’t you want to marry me?”  He’s like, “Why do we need these ’definitions’ for our relationship.  Can’t we just be ‘together.’”  She starts crying I’ve seen it a thousand times if i’ve seen it once.  You feel me?  Wow, I’m not gonna talk like that any more, I promise.  

 

2d.) What does Jesus want from me?  Or maybe a better way to say it is: what are his expectations?  Have you ever felt literally consumed by the weight of another person’s expectations for you.  I once told my ex girlfriend, Sionnie, “Write down how much time you want me to spend with you each week on this piece of paper, and I promise I will spend at least that much time with you.”  She started crying and I think the word bastard was thrown around a few times in creative ways.  I didn’t really understand it at the time (not saying I really do now) but I think the problem was, I wanted clear time expectation delineation and she wanted my heart.  It wasn’t about how much “time” we spent together, but that I “wanted” to spend time with her, indicating that she was valuable to me and therefore could be secure in our relationship.  But what does Jesus expect from me?  Again, I got an A in Bible 101.  Jesus says he wants everything.  Eloquent sermons and meaningful prose have been written on “bearing ones cross, and all that.”  But seriously, does anyone know what that means?  Outside of Bonhoeffer attempting to kill Hitler, I don’t think anyone has been able to apply this practically.  I want to know exactly what Jesus wants!  And does it change?  Also, how do my own personal desires and ambitions fit into this ball of wax?  Is He willing to compromise?  So, ya, not an easy problem to solve. 

 

2e.) Do I want to commit to Jesus?  Let’s say Jesus pops out the ring and says, marry me you big lug (ya, weird imagery I know).  I think I would stand there with a shocked expression on my face and say, oh my God, oh my God, stalling for time cause I have no idea if I want to while the old lady at the next table nervously explores her tiramisu.  Ok, enough of that.  Basically, I want to know: what level of commitment am I willing to give to Jesus?  Do I want to be myspace friends?  Business partners?  Friends?  BFFAE (best friends for ever and ever)?  BF and GF (well, not GF, but you get the picture)?  Engaged?  Married?  Separated, but still talking?  Divorced?  Enemies?  Like I said, there are lots of different levels of commitment people have in relationship to one another.  Which do I want with Him?  Which are even available?  Does Jesus basically just say, marry me right now or I’m leaving?  Can one make a BFFAE commitment to Jesus and Him still be cool with that?  Or do I have to go big or go home?  I mean, commitment’s a big deal.  What if he asks me to do something I don’t want to do?  He’s like God and stuff.  If I choose not to do what Jesus expects of me, will he be angry at me with the wrath of the locusts and the frogs and the Magnolia scene?  What about playing Sega.  I like playing Sega.  It would be hard to drop that cold turkey if he asked me to.  And Myspace.  Dear God, Myspace!!  But seriously, what if Jesus and I choose two different career paths for me?  Will He support me to be and do what I want to do?  Or do I have to give in to his desires for my life cause we’re committed and he’s like more powerful than me?  This is really hard stuff!! 

 

2f.) What if I hurt Him?  I mean, He is God.  I know that He can deal with it.  I’m sure psychotherapy is covered by His insurance.  But I still worry about it.  I know me.  I know that I’m pretty broken inside.  I know what wickedness lives in my heart.  How will He feel when that evil gets out and I isolate myself, closing off intimacy from Him?  Can I bear to do that to do that to Him?  Isn’t it better to avoid hurting Him?  It’s all just too much!  

 

Ok, so, I feel like I’ve clearly defined the problem.  Jesus is a difficult little guy to know, find, and interact with.  In addition, the way we relate is murky at best.  But I’m not here to pose problems.  I’m here to find solutions.  So, here are my solution-oriented thoughts.  They are definitely not perfect, but I feel good about the level of honestly in them. 

 

2a.1) Jesus is real.  I might not know who He is, but I know He is.  If nothing else, He was a real person who drew breath on this earth and then rose from the dead, taking some ambiguously spiritual form.  He’s a being, not an idea.  He’s not a religion or a way of life. 

 

2b.1) Jesus is independent from me.  He may inhabit space inside of me somehow, but He and I are not one and the same.  I have my own capacity to think, feel, choose, and experience.  I am a being of matter separate from spirit.  I think because my brain works and my brain works because my body gives it oxygen; not because Jesus “wills” it.  Therefore, Jesus can be found.  He can be located.  He also has matter and takes up space.  He has weight. 

 

2c.1) Jesus is an interpersonal being.  He has the capacity to think, to feel, to experience, and to choose.  He’s living somehow.  He has a nature and can be defined.  Therefore, I can interact with him in the same manner that I interact with other interpersonal beings.  We can converse, we can touch, we can empathize, and we can experience consequence and reward; progress, and decay. 

 

So, that was the easy part.  Well, it wasn’t easy.  Those thoughts took years and lots of blood, sweat and tears (literally) for me to formulate and agree with.  I have written hundreds, if not thousands of pages about those three ideas alone.  I just gave you the highlights.  It’s the second set of problems that is giving fits lately.  I’ll warn you now.  These pending thoughts will most likely not be to your liking.  Yet, they are real.  So, without further adu (Am I using too much French lately?  I feel like I might be):

 

2d.1) Jesus expects my best judgment.  I think it’s like giving the keys to your brand new Mercedes to your 16 year-old son.  You don’t expect that he won’t crash it.  You just expect that he’ll make good decisions with how to drive it.  Ya, Jesus wants me to give up everything and follow Him.  He’s sort of thrown that gauntlet down with His own sacrifice and stuff.  But, at the same time, He knows the difference between being a martyr and being an idiot.  His Disciples screwed up all the time and He never sold them out.  In fact, He was pretty much awesome to them when they did screw up. except for the whole Judas thing and saying it would have been better for him not to be born.  But that was stupid of him to do anyway.  And I think I can do that.  Don’t turn Jesus over to his enemies for money.  Check.  Got that expectation taken care of.  But seriously, I really think Jesus just expects me to make good decisions, progressing appropriately for my age and position in life.  At 24 I should be struggling with issues of identity, self-doubt, purpose, immorality, financial responsibility, emotional wholeness, and overarching doubt.  It’s like the world is swirling around and inside of me.  I cannot be expected to live as though the swirling wasn’t happening.  In addition, this is a time filled with a lot of ambiguity than uncertainty.  It’s difficult to row in the murky ethical waters I am floating in.  Therefore, my actions and choices will reflect this reality!  I think Jesus is sort of like Yoda in this way.  Yoda didn’t expect Anakin to be as good at making decisions as Obi-Wan right away.  He needed to train and learn.  Yoda’s expectations of Ani increased as he did.  Anikan’s problem was that he thought he could make bigger decisions than he was able to.  Obviously this got him into trouble (the whole Vader and Padamae deal… big mistake).  I like this about Jesus.  He’s not as military as I thought. 

 

2e.1) This is a much harder question to answer.  Up until now, everything has been “objective” or outside of the realm of my own choice.  Asking if I want to commit to Jesus, and how is like asking if I trust Him and how much I trust Him?  And, ready for this, the fact of the matter is that I don’t really know right now.  I don’t know if I trust Jesus.  I mean, of course I should.  Why wouldn’t I trust Jesus?  Son of God, Rose from the dead, helped lots of sick and dead people.  He’s got a good resume!  I mean, the pope vouches for him.  And so does W.  Can’t get much better references than that!  I just think I am struggling to trust Jesus right now because I don’t trust anyone.  I’m in a weird place.  I honestly feel like I’ve been lied to about some pretty significant stuff in my life.  And I’m just recently delving into the ramifications of all that.  Now, while I’m sure Jesus is the most trustworthy person in the world, I just don’t think I can commit to him at a level higher than a “friend.”  I want to hear his thoughts and listen to his opinions.  I want to share with him stuff happening inside of me and to me.  But, I just don’t think I can commit to submitting to Him right now if we disagree.  I don’t trust Him, or anyone, enough to submit to them.  I want to believe that my birthright is mine to forge.  Assuredly, this is not the “correct” answer to this problem.  But it is the most honest one. 

 

2f.1) I don’t want to hurt Jesus.  This sort of goes along with the trust deal.  I want to maintain a level of separation that allows me to be broken and not hurt Him.  Again, I know the “right” answer to this problem.  “Jesus just wants to help you.”  “He wants to fix the broken parts about you.”  But maybe I don’t want those parts to be fixed.  Maybe the broken parts about me are what I am clinging on to right now?  If he came in and did all his magic touch-up work, I think I would lose a lot of my desire to live.  I guess I would rather feel pain than nothing at all.  Now, of course, obviously if Jesus fixes you, then you will feel good stuff too.  All, I’m saying is that I don’t want to let him see and be a part of the brokeness about me.  I would rather just hold onto it and hide it inside than to expose it in order for it to be mended.  I want to be intimate with Jesus, but only to the point where I can’t hurt Him. 

 

Well, there it is.  Thanks for letting me share these thoughts with you.  If you made it this far, you must really have been interested or, you just wanted witness the train wreck that is my life.  Either way, thanks for reading.  You are truly among the faithful!!  And to show my gratitude: please let me know how, or if, I can offer my problem solving skills to you.  I may not be a lot of things, but I’m a pretty decent problem solver.  I will end with a prayer:

 

Jesus, I want the strength to move beyond my inadequacies so that you and I might be lovers again.  If you can help me attain it, please do.  If nothing else; please influence my friends, my family, or strangers who can help me attain it to help me.  Thanks! 

His heart bled onto my soul.  Tears soaked the hard ground we sat upon.  The fire raged in front of us.  He kept saying how sorry he was.  He said it over and over through sobs.  I held him.  All I could do was offer words of forgiveness. He was so sincere.  He was so genuine.  It was a moment where strangers became friends. 

It happened in an environment a few friends and I created in college.  It was called, “The Alabaster Project.�  We designed it for high school students to explore the idea of sexual purity.  We presented ideas and offered solutions to real emotional, physical, and spiritual chasms each of us needed to bridge.  Daniel’s quest for healing began on the last night as we all gathered around the campfire.  His courage inspired me.  He came into the light in order to find the wholeness he so desperately desired. 

Yet, more than that happened that night.  While Daniel found forgiveness, God spoke purpose into my life.  He told me that I would spend the rest of my life offering opportunities like this one for others to be transformed.  It was an amazing moment of intimacy with Daniel and Jesus.  As long as I live, I will never forget “The Alabaster Project.� 

It was 5:00 a.m. on my last day there.  I looked out my hotel window to a breath-taking canvas.  The sun rose slowly over the Caribbean Sea sharing its soft orange glow with the crystal blue water, which shared its glass-like quality with a lone sailboat drifting aimlessly atop the splendid expanse.  As I sat, soaking in the beauty, I was felt something I hadn’t felt in a very long time: Hope.   

It was a stark contrast to how I felt throughout that summer in Latin America.  Each morning I would look out my window to a much different view.  The brokenness of the barrios and the dramatic depth of poverty displayed in the poorly constructed homes was a sight I could hardly stomach by the end of my trip.  The smells and sounds of the city had seeped into me like a virus.  How I loathed being there. 

In all honesty, I started off wanting to make a difference.  I really did come wanting to sacrifice myself for anyone who needed me.  Sadly, I was just too wrapped up in my own brokenness.  And though the darkness of the city remained potent, it was not the city that made me sick.  It was the depravity of my own heart. 

Yet, as I sat in my hotel room that last day, I felt the hope of home.  There, I was the beloved of many lovers.  And they would wrap me in a safe and warm environment where I would find my way to wholeness.  I was hopeful that day because I knew I would become better.  Then, I would come back and offer what I could not that summer.  My self. 

I sat atop the hill looking into the city.  The hike had worn me down and my soul felt heavy.  The rock I chose felt cold and hard.  It seemed like gravity was not just holding me in place, but maliciously pushing me into the earth.  I slumped.  I slouched.  I sobbed. 

I felt abandoned.   The emptiness of the moment overwhelmed my soul’s senses.  Yet, filled with hurt and heartache, I held onto a glimmer of hope.  I prayed.  How ugly that prayer was.  It had no sickeningly sweet words of spirituality brought forth with eloquence.  In fact, it was the sort of prayer that would never be allowed in church.  It was raw.  It was a grunt of pain and passion from deep inside directed at God. 

I needed to know I was not alone.  So, I begged for companionship.  I begged with a broken spirit that only a boy could have.  I let go of my ability to control.  Oh, how much that hurt.  It felt like being ripped in two.  Afterward, all I could do was surrendered into the stillness left by my release. 

Then I saw it.  It was magical.  It was mystical.  The tears flowed freely now.  Gravity let go and I floated happily into the heavens.  I honestly couldn’t believe my eyes.  I stared at it with wonder and awe for almost an hour.  I smiled.  It was the first time I remember smiling like that.  I knew I was not alone.  Below, painted on a building in huge red letters were the worlds “JESUS LOVES YOU.�  I have no idea why those words were painted there, or who painted them.  But I do believe on that day, God wrote me a love letter on the side of a building. 

I remember what it smelled like.  The gardener had just finished the lawn and the pungent aroma of fresh cut grass filled the air and my nostrils.  I sat with my hands pressed tightly against my face, stuck there by the epoxy of my tears.  The world around me was spinning.  Color blurred and the sound became a deafening shrill.  In the moment, all I could do was let go of my mind and enter into my heart. 

This was the first encounter I had with God.  I sensed He dwelled somewhere in my proximity; though I could not pin-point His presence.  Now, I realize He was much closer than I considered possible at that time.  He was actually entering into me; breaking through the thin film of my doubt.  It was exhilarating.  It was chilling.  It was mystical.  It was fun!