God's People

Unlike the stereotype about girls, I have never been obsessed with planning my future wedding. Sure, I want to get married, if I find the right guy...but not a moment before, and probably a lot longer than a moment after. This is especially critical under the circumstances; I thought I found the right guy and now I have a completely uncertain view of what it means to "find" the "right" person. I am not sure how that phenomenon actually works, if it really does at all. I'm not sure I believe in it.

But what is it that makes my faith so weak on this subject? I can't accurately say that I have faith in people, or that I am trying to have faith in people over God, but it's impossible to ignore the fact that we, as humans, are forced into a lot of contact with each other. I know how I feel about things, and I know how hard I try; sometimes I do wonder if my efforts are even noticeable to others, and there's really no way that I can tell this for sure.

I am constantly disappointed in others, though, not because my security is completely wrapped up in them, but at least if anything because I feel that I can turn to look at another human being and see in them a common bond, a common attachment to this earth for at least a short time. Is this a foreign idea, one that I alone have? There's a lyric from a Sister Hazel song that made me think others must feel this way as well..."precious grains of sand, we slip through the fingers and dancing on the wind, we find each other." It's a simple statement, yes, but I have often felt this intrinsic recognition of others--not all others, but some others--when I meet them, as if to say, "We're here together; God made us both," whether male or female, old or young, it doesn't matter. It's not an effortless search for A soul mate or THE soul mate, but truly for soulmates, others with souls who have an eternal destiny to keep...all human beings.

I have an unexplainable love for people; I feel deep down that all people deserve to at least be loved, that each one of us only has one chance to show who we are and be known before our lives are over all too soon. God can know us, and indeed knows us all, and somehow He doesn't strike us with another flood. I wonder if that promise is sometimes a difficult one too keep! The more I meet the mysterious, unknown people who I "love" from a distance, the more I wish I could keep them at a distance. The reason I only have a few select best friends is because I have had myself deeply hurt by too many people to count, and if only they knew how I loved them before they showed their darkly evil sides to me. It's not that I will not love the sinner in spite of the sin, but it is that the venom that is spewed upon me makes me then fear the repeat of that treatment. Something changes; there's no going back to the innocence once something like that is revealed. This is not to say I've never done this myself...I know I have...but I worry that many people just give up after these offenses, and I keep stupidly returning to be hurt again because my heart BELIEVES in people, and why shouldn't it? We are all from the dust, and return to the dust, if not for the love the same Savior. No one is better or more privileged than anyone else, after all.

The writer O. Henry once took offense at a statement by a New York City socialite who said that there were only 400 people worth noticing. O. Henry wondered, what about the other 4 million? In return O. Henry published a collection of short stories about "common" every day people who did extraordinary deeds for others but went unnoticed. He titled his collection "The Four Million." How many of us will ever become known? Does that make us not worth knowing, does that make our existence any less prolific for us? We are all the most important people to ourselves, the one person we know best, so no one deserves to be placed on the list of 4 million people that don't matter...some people realize this fact to be true, others think it's funny to degrade the lowly. Doesn't Jesus Christ bless the lowly and meek, telling them they shall inherit the earth? Who are we to contradict Him, since the earth is His.

So what about Christians? We can sit side by side in church pews, claiming to be on the same page as each other, but the moment the church door closes and we're back in our regular day-to-day lives, we hate those who are different. Should I turn up my nose at the non-Christian because he has chosen this path? In my heart, I believe that this changes their eternal destiny, but they have a destiny just the same. And we are all the same, so how does the Christian, who believes himself to have greater knowledge than another, stoop to such levels of ignorance as to think that they are better? The very idea is the same as the teacher imparting knowledge to the student who in turn flaunts that knowledge without sharing it, indicating that they are somehow better because of their knowledge, when in reality they wouldn't know anything unless they had been told. I have met so many ignorant Christians who think this way, and it's disappointing to the point of being nearly debilitating for me, mentally, emotionally, spiritually...

And what about love in the Christian realm? This concept seems very confused by many, and it's also disappointing to me. I am not even referring to relationship love, at this point, but merely care, friendship, the desire to provide for and encourage...where has it gone? We "feel the love" from the church pew, the embrace of Christian brothers and sisters in the church, and then the moment we leave, we become enemies. The finger-pointing, the back-biting, the accusing...I have only tried to live my own life, mind my own business, nurse my own wounds (and I have plenty!) I have always done my best to refrain from hurting others. Even if my remarks come out incorrectly, hurt people, I still know that there are certain things to withhold from people, certain details that someone doesn't need to know...Tim recently told me about a theory (sorry for using incorrect terms) that explains there are multiple possibilities for things, but the act of observing the truth (the kitten in the box) makes the answer so. Sometimes the TRUTH is better left unexplored, but self-righteous people think that the duty of revelation falls to them even when the situation is none of their business. I have had encounters of this kind with Christians my whole life, and they break my faith in the Christian. Sure, I have been hurt by those not claiming to be Christians as well, but the hurt is sharper when the infliction comes from one's own kind.

I strive to be the believer that the Lord would want me to be, and instead of being persecuted by the supposedly uncaring and sinful world, I am persecuted by those who are supposed to be like me, who are supposed to be struggling to be the best they can be in the name of Christ. I make mistakes, I have struggles, but if I am not perfect, I am banned, boycotted, ridiculed, rather than lovingly guided back to the truth...do I do the same to others? I have learned to stay out of their business entirely, so I fear that I do neither, but at least I'm not hurting people. They merely hurt themselves and blame me.

Are there countless misunderstandings amongst us, or is Christianity a dying lifestyle? I want to believe that there are others who live the life even outside of church, but I am seeing less evidence of it all the time, and it's disheartening.

Friends?

I have been through a lot, this much is true. I have experienced some hardships this year, and I am exhausted by the pain they caused, frustrated by the lessons I've been forced to learn against my will, and annoyed mostly by the reactions that my supposed friends have had to my hurt, as if I am not allowed to feel hurt about something that legitimately hurt me. I have learned more than anything about who are my true friends, who loves me for me, who cares about my well-being and who wants me to succeed in life, in whichever path I happen to end up on in the dim, misty forest where I am wandering.

My wandering isn't forever though, friends, and my true friends know this. I know there is a plan laid out, a path God has in store for me, and I know that God has given me certain dreams. I want them to come true; I really do. I am looking forward to seeing where He leads me, and I am not hopeless, though a little wounded. I don't want to talk about the past anymore; much of me wants to forget that it exists at all. At any rate, I can't forget because there are lessons to be learned. I am not wallowing in self-pity, I am merely passing through a grieving process in order to learn what I need to learn.

I just prefer God teaching me His intended lessons...I don't need people messing with my wounds just for the fun of it. God knows what He's doing and doesn't need you to be cruel to me. I already get it...and I would never have treated any of you with any disrespect about your emotions. God gave us emotions...He has both blessed us and cursed us with the ability to feel, so who are we to assume that feeling is wrong? I don't think the personal emotions deserve public criticism, even debilitating emotions. Sadness often manifests itself in the form of visible sadness, and friendly kindness is appreciated, but this sadness, too, shall pass. No need to force it...friends...

Wasted Days

This morning I was thinking about waste: how much waste is in our lives all the time? I'm not just referring to the waste we make when we throw our garbage into landfills or spend our time updating our Facebook statuses instead of doing something productive, but I am thinking about the wasted love.

My mom said something last night that struck me. She told me that she never likes to let a single one of our fights--between her and anyone in the family--last even as long as a whole day. (This is probably why she calls me six times during the "I need space" time and I just get more irritated during arguments!) "What if you never see that person again?" she said. I started thinking about all the times I've "wasted," all the occasions that I didn't speak to someone for a certain length of time, or where I missed a chance with someone I loved, thinking that there'd be another chance, so it was okay. How many of these occasions really were a last chance to make something right with someone, and we blew it? Considering that certainly makes me want to try harder from now on...

This is one reason I still write Christmas letters to people who were part of my year! I know sometimes waiting until Christmas might just be another case of wasting the time we have, but I'd rather make sure it gets said at some point than not at all. I know I need to do a better job of letting the people I love know that I love them.

More Excerpts

You are the little pieces of everyone I've ever loved. I am in love with little pieces of you because you are everyone all at once, and you are me, yet who are you? I don't even know you yet, though I'd like to say I've known you for a lifetime, deep inside all the little pieces.

Why is everything in pieces? My heart is in pieces, my old loves are in pieces, even you...you are in pieces, broken up and organized into sections that I can understand. I need you, right now, and I want you, but I don't know why, and I don't know why not. Love doesn't make sense, even though it exists in all the little pieces, in all the different shapes and sizes in the world. So many questions to ask, but no answers to be had. So many mysteries hiding in so many locked rooms; how can we know them?

Each moment in our forever is marked by milestones to our end, but still we keep reaching, wanting to find that road. I know you want to find it too. We can look together, for a little while...who knows what we'll find?

written on July 11th, 2009

Sweet and Untouched

Frozen in time is the moment.
By candlelight.
In your room.
Complete silence as you write to me
And fold the notes into paper flowers.
A look of serious concentration on your face
As you turn occasionally to meet my eyes
I stare.
Waiting.

The ache of the moment turns into fluttering
In my chest, like wings seeking flight,
And I grapple for the moment, holding it down,
Not wanting it to end.

Shadows jumping on walls between flickering candle flames.
A snoring dog stretched across my legs.
Cool air from the vent running across my skin.

You raise your eyes and smile:
A moment sealed in time.
Never to return; never to forget.
I press my hand to my chest,
Holding the moment against me.

Hold it. Hold it here. Forever.
One tiny piece of a moment, nothing in life at all,
Yet it achieves eternity for me all at once
And in a moment it's mine. Forever.

You look down for one more second
And the moment swells to include one more,
Just one more glimpse of your face:
Sweet and serious.
For me.

Can I say that I love you when I don't know you,
And when I don't believe in forever?
Or do I, because you already have a piece of forever;
This moment is forever.
So, then, I do love you in a way, because you, in that moment
Belong to me. Forever.
I want you forever, at least in this moment, and I believe
Because of the wanting, it will happen:

You will last, forever and intact, in my memory,
Sweet and untouched.

Little Excerpts of a Life in Writing

Just a collection of personal-though-public-worthy thoughts that I have collected over the past several months... Note your favorites.


Academic Complaints (sometimes college is bad for my health, I see)
written April 29th, 2009

I've allowed myself to slip through an unknown doorway, I've unconsciously drifted into a new and lonely place, and I find myself to be an essentially thoughtless, mindless robot of the academic system. For all the emphasis placed on free thinking and individual originality, it's really no wonder I've lost all of that itself in the mix. Too much effort with what little I already had to work with has seemingly used up all of the ingredients. Frustrating really, and I'm pretty sure it's even a little worse than I've made it out to be in my ruthless mind. My mind seems to have cushioned the fate it's endured, giving itself a false sense of hope in things to come. I am slightly aware that nothing is to come, and the idea horrifies me. I see again how the maze of existence makes it singularly impossible to be singular in any sense at all, and even still I strive for a rudimentary understanding--at best--of things surrounding me. I am overwhelmed with the idea that things may not go back to before, because "before" is the only existence I find any enjoyment in at all. Maybe I am hopelessly dissolved in my own pessimism, but whether my fears are based in reality or not doesn't matter any longer...there are real now, and that's the only significance.


Life Inside Literature written April 29th, 2009

Even as I write, I am struck by the re-recognition of a truly pathetic thing--I am non-existent outside of literary devices. If it isn't metaphorical, if there isn't a protagonist, if the plot isn't structured toward a neat finality, if everything that happens doesn't point toward an answer, I'm lost! ...And maybe I am.


The Unknown
written July 2nd, 2009

The dark places of mystery bring forth no sadness for me at the moment, only hope and joy and beauty in their very mysteriousness. When the day becomes brighter, the darkness will be wiped away and the secrets revealed, but sometimes secrets are better kept. As Paul says in the Bible, we see things dimly, and it is only allowed for us to know in part, so as humans we reconcile ourselves to this unknowing, and we delicately romanticize the mystery. The beauty of seeing only in part is that we are unable to know fully. The act of worrying about that which we cannot know is as futile as trying to learn the future. There is such great pleasure in the mysteriousness, such joy in the wondering. Wondering makes the road worth following in continual anticipation...until the road ends...



Thoughts About Life written July 6th, 2009

My heart is longing for the kind of inspiration it feels in little spurts. My soul is weary from little pieces of inspiration, rather than the kinds I feel in long, cool droughts like water consumed after laborious activity. The moments, like splashes of mist, awaken me little by little, but seldom fully. I want to submerge myself in inspiration, be pushed in deep, struggling with groggy arms and legs to get back to the surface while all the while longing to remain submerged. I want to taste it, to be wrapped up in it, to lose myself in it and take it into my pores so that it becomes mine. All mine.

Summer is heaven, and it lasts for such a short time. Almost all hope must be gleaned from its sunshine days, its warm winds, before they are gone. In this world, we can't help but to see the end of things even when it is only the beginning. We can't stop feeling disappointment in a lack of eternity even while we are still smiling in our newfound happiness. We are too used to living and living again, in the same moments as they strike: different players, different stages, different lines--but the moments, the twist that says "this too has ended"--all the same.

It doesn't always have to be like this, but reality dictates an eventual end to life as we know it. The "real world" begins when we first enter life and manifests itself in all life's experiences: loss, friendship, pain, pleasure, anticipation, disappointment...It is only the ignorant who assume the "real world" begins when bills start coming in, when we get kicked off our parents' health insurance, when we get better paying jobs, when someone wants to marry us. If this is when the real world begins, what happens when these things end? They always do...


Other People's Pain written July 6th, 2009
I am saddened by what is the most important thing in life being crushed by so many false dreams. I don't want other people to experience pain or sadness of loss, and yet I wouldn't relieve their pain if I could, because God has allowed it. Instead of praying for their lack of suffering, I should pray for their ability to learn, truly learn, from the pain. The ability to feel and survive give us the strongest sense of being alive.


Moments (one of many contemplations) written July 8th, 2009

In Citizen Kane, Mr. Bernstein has several moments in his singular interview that incite my interest. Of course, the most important moment is when he tells the story of seeing the girl on the boat, more than half a lifetime previous to his telling of the story, falls in love with her, and not only never forgets her, but actively remembers her. I imagine that a lot of the little moments in life are like this, that some of the beautiful times we spend, no matter how short or impermanent, end up lasting forever. Sometimes they don't last because of the things that come after, so is it better, after all, to lose the path and just hold on to the moment? Staying on the path and losing the moment in sad ends ruins the story as it was once known. I need to be better at letting go, leaving the past intact, because the beauty must be preserved forever or else there is no need to experience the beauty to begin with. Maybe there is no eternity of togetherness, but just eternity for each of us alone.

* * * * *

So many little things written in significant pockets of time. This summer was full of moments, but only looking back can I now see it as a time line leading to an inevitable end....