I moved.

The Things I Love About Chattanooga

Getting to know and love Jared, Deb, and Leo.
Getting to know and love their friends.
Venturing off and making my own friends.
My room for which Deb spent half of her Saturday finding awesome deals on furniture and the cozy result.
The amount of alone time that I'm discovering I need.
God.
Invitations.
Downtown Chattanooga--even more charming than downtown Fredericksburg.
Developing [the fun kind of] routines.
The gratefulness for my presence & what I have to offer.
Writing letters.
Playing Rock Band.
Watching Scrubs and movies with Jared.
Leo running up to me and holding up his arms to be picked up for cuddle time.
Leo learning how to talk!
Leo calling me "Kakie" unsolicited.
Leo's smile. Leo's sweet, angelic voice. Leo's laugh. Leo's energy. Leo's life.
Leo.
Coffee!
Painting!
The midnight train.

A Transition Mix

Or "Those Songs That Play at the End of Any Arbitrary Dramatic Episode of Anything Dramatic"

Whichever you prefer.

For all of you going through times of major transition out there (but really only those having just graduated from college--I can't empathize with weighty transitions), I've thrown together a playlist of sorts. It won't do anything for you if you listen to any or all of it. You might like it, but you might actually hate it. I like it, and this is my blog. It might be kinda similar to this, but the descriptions make this one more fun. Plus, I'm currently in a whimsical mood, which you'd have known already if we were on Myspace. *whimsical emoticon*

1. "Dog Days Are Over" -Florence + The Machine
--The song playing the last time I got to watch my roommates dance. Commencement of transition.

2. "Livin' on the Edge" -Aerosmith
--Aren't we, though?

3. "Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise" -The Avett Brothers
--This one is obvious. I just blog-referenced it a few days ago, during this transition period.

4. "Good Life" -OneRepublic
--Same reasoning as above.

5. "Take Your Carriage Clock and Shove It" -Belle and Sebastian
--It has beautiful violin, and it's about sticking it to the man. If I ever stick it to the man, I want violin accompaniment. It glorifies the experience, no?

6. "You Don't Know Me" -Ben Folds ft. Regina Spektor (I highly recommend watching this video.)
--Because as much as we feel like we've grown in college, we still have a long way to go. I don't know you. I don't even know myself. Or something like that. The more I learn about myself and other people, the less I assume I know about myself or other people. Life is a paradox like that. Babble babble. You don't know me!

7. "Imma Be" -The Black Eyed Peas
--If all else fails, youma be doin' your thang.

8. "The First Day of My Life" -Bright Eyes
--
So if you want to be with me
With these things there's no telling
We'll just have to wait and see
But I'd rather be working for a paycheck
Than waiting to win the lottery

9. "Untitled Hymn (Come to Jesus)" -Chris Rice
--This song has moved me on several occasions, and I don't know that I'm all that easily moved. I recognize that I would normally find these sorts of lyrics cheesy, but I can't deny the promise they hold.
And like a newborn baby
Don't be afraid to crawl
And remember when you walk
Sometimes we fall...so
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus
Fall on Jesus and live! 

10. "Don't Panic" -Coldplay
--Don't panic, because we live in a beautiful world. Yeah, we do. Yeah, we do. This is on the Garden State soundtrack, and that movie just makes me think of life in its every gross-yet-beautiful nook and cranny.

11. "Holding on to Good" -Delta Rae
--For the moments goodbye seems a bit too harsh.


12. "And Winter Came" -Enya
--A song exemplifying transition from fall to winter. This is an encouraging time for me, because I love winter. It brings me the solace that summer seems to bring most everyone else.


13. "Extraordinary Machine" -Fiona Apple
--A vote of confidence, if you will.
If there was a better way to go then it would find me
I can't help it, the road just rolls out behind me
Be kind to me
Or treat me mean
I'll make the most of it
I'm an extraordinary machine 

14. "In the Sun" -Joseph Arthur
--So cliche! I'm pretty sure this song just played at the end of an episode of Scrubs I watched yesterday. I still love it, and it makes casual mention to an elusive God, which means I can pull an *insert belief here* and hijack it for Christ! 10 points for Christ-the-Lord (said with same syllabic emphasis and syncopation as "Gryff-in-dor")! [K, I'm finished blaspheming.]

15. "Still Alive" -GLaDOS
--A fun song and a video game reference to represent the end of the transition... meaning my transition into the world of my sister and brother-in-law, two hardcore gamers.

I guess 15 isn't very many. Here's to hoping this transition feeling doesn't last much longer.

a post without a title

Wednesday night service in an obnoxiously red chapel, a setting I only recognize from February 14, 2009, when my oldest sister betrothed herself to Jared. Tonight, I sit in a pew instead of standing behind my sister on the altar.

"What has God been teaching you this week?"

It's only Wednesday, but God has been apparent in my life with uncharacteristic ubiquity. I wouldn't know where to begin, so I'm silent.

"He has shown me again that he is in control, the Provider," says one man.
"He is Holy," says another.

Anecdotes are told, and God gets the glory he deserves. Then, a woman's silence breaks along with her spirit and composure.

"I don't love nonbelievers...not at all..." As she melts into tears, a knot forms in my throat. I start thinking about all of the people I love, noting this time the demographic of nonbelievers within this pocket of people I have chosen to love. This woman has decades on me. Her mind is running years into the past, searching and hoping for an indication that she can't be all wrong. Coming up short, she falls apart and succumbs to the inevitable selfish response of guilt. She's lived this long, but she missed the point.

I've missed the point. I will be that woman in a couple of decades despite my greatest efforts. I will crumble into tears at the realization that I don't know how to love my God or His people.

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.
-Psalm 51:17

There are a lot of points to miss. The infinite facets of God's character cannot be counted or understood by even the most fervent of His followers.

Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit.
Then I will teach transgressors your ways,
and sinners will return to you.
Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God,
O God of my salvation,
and my tongue will sing aloud of your righteousness.
-Psalm 51:12-14

As important is the call for yielding to all God has planned for us, so is a ready understanding of our humanity and ever-looming failures. Pride may not have infinite facets, but I still haven't been able to count them all. It's ready to catch us in a web of guilt for all shortcomings and failures transpired.

God can't fail. Lessons always become those simple truths we were taught as small children, even when we're fifty-years-old and still guilt-driven.
God loves you.
God is in control.
God has a plan.
Philosophers really do get it sometimes. Kierkegaard said that life can only be understand backwards but it must be lived forwards. Solomon writing Ecclesiastes is a clear enough implication of that truth. If all I can ever truly understand is that I won't ever understand it all in this life, then I can only hope to let my pride take that beating and recognize God's glory and power over my own little life in a big, big world.

It's almost done. Changing the background some and trimming her ginormous forehead a bit. Feel free to buy it for a lot more money than it's actually worth.

[Leo] and Zooey

I'm back to painting again. I set up shop on the floor of my room in the Martin house. There probably won't ever be a time when I consider this my house. It's all too temporary. After a year or so, I'll be out of here. Maybe not out of Chattanooga, but out of this house. It's been fun so far, though. I painted with the door to my room slightly cracked open, just so that my music wouldn't interfere with Jared's out in the living room. When Leo got home from daycare, he waddled down the hall straight to my room and peeped through the crack. His face lit up at the sight of me painting (really at the sight of so many bottles of paint to play with), and he pushed the door open to waddle toward me. He handed me his little penguin bath toy, which I took as his way of bartering. "Here, you take this, and I'll take over the painting." He proceeded to point at the painting, looking back and forth from me to the painting and babbling all sorts of nonsense. That I took as him giving me instructions, so I listened. This is as far as I got today. Thank Leo for his eye. It wouldn't be the same without him.

Psalm 51

"When nothing is owed, deserved or expected
And your life doesn't change by the man that's elected
If you're loved by someone you're never rejected
Decide what to be and go be it."

Decide what to be and go be it. So simple, so my current mantra.

A lot can happen in a day. Today was one of those days. The meaning behind all the things sprung up when God brought me here and reminded me what I want to be so that I can go be it:

Psalm 51

1  Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your steadfast love;
according to your abundant mercy
blot out my transgressions. 
2  Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
and cleanse me from my sin!
3  For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is ever before me. 
4  Against you, you only, have I sinned
and done what is evil in your sight,
so that you may be justified in your words
and blameless in your judgment. 
5  Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity,
and in sin did my mother conceive me. 
6  Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being,
and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart.
7  Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;
wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. 
8  Let me hear joy and gladness;
let the bones that you have broken rejoice. 
9  Hide your face from my sins,
and blot out all my iniquities. 
10  Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a right spirit within me. 
11  Cast me not away from your presence,
and take not your Holy Spirit from me. 
12  Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit.
13  Then I will teach transgressors your ways,
and sinners will return to you. 
14  Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God,
O God of my salvation,
and my tongue will sing aloud of your righteousness. 
15  O Lord, open my lips,
and my mouth will declare your praise. 
16  For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it;
you will not be pleased with a burnt offering.
 17  The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.
18  Do good to Zion in your good pleasure;
build up the walls of Jerusalem; 
19  then will you delight in right sacrifices,
in burnt offerings and whole burnt offerings;
then bulls will be offered on your altar.

this could really be a good life, a good, good life

And so it begins. Tomorrow's schedule is ridiculously busy, as I've actually set goals for myself here and have to do real things to achieve them. You know, like a real adult.

Already met a friend my age who has invited me to a Wednesday night Bible study she's just starting up and to come do volunteer ministry with high schoolers.

His mercies are new every morning, I tell you.

This is gonna be a good life.

I feel like I'm going to summer camp. If I actually did feel like I'm stepping into the rest of my life, I'd probably be flipping out a lot more. Life is a day-by-day, season-by-season. God doesn't give us the power to look beyond that. So here I am, going to summer camp, also known as the rest of my life.

sex parties

Something that my family kind of tries to hide is just how crude we actually are. I'm not sure how it happened. It was maybe all that MTV my sisters and I sneakily watched when we were little that we gradually used to infect our parents, or it is equally likely that both my mom and dad have harbored their dirty jokes in dirty little corners of their minds, waiting for that stage in their three daughters' triune maturation when it could all be unleashed. Either way, we're gross.

That being said, it has recently surfaced that my pastor's wife has mono. Consequently, my pastor has been under the weather as well. My investigative mother made the connection that another young lady in our church had mono not too long ago. Mom's conclusion: all the young couples at our church are having "sex parties." Her greatest concern is not being young enough to be invited.

Remembrance

I visited Sally yesterday, and we talked about some things that I realized I really wanted to write down. I could write them in a journal, I suppose, but my possessions aren't known to be very well cared for--when they even exist. I just threw away stacks of old papers and things yesterday without even weeding through for the good stuff. It's not that I get stressed about having so much extra stuff; I just don't see much purpose in it. It's possible I threw away some notes to myself and notes from friends. Perhaps I did toss some good reminders without affording myself the opportunity to be reminded. While talking to Sally yesterday, she started a lot of sentences with, "I so often forget..." and followed with some constant Truth from Scripture. Because for us thinkers and analyzers, that's what we do most often: forget Truth.

That's been the most important part of blogging for me. I can get my words and thoughts out quickly, and they're very easily stored in a place where I can't crumple them up in a wad of old school assignments and toss them away. As a disorganized person by lifestyle, I do lose things and forget to do certain things somewhat frequently. My disorganized lifestyle extends to my spiritual life as well. There is little organization to my communication with God and to my understanding of the things he tries to teach me. I can read his promises in Scripture and five minutes later find myself lost in doubt. Somewhere inside of me, there is a lack of connection and communication that keeps me from holding onto the promises that "I so often forget."

Sally pointed out something interesting about our analytical type. She said the only fix she has discovered for getting out of the mind-stirring effect of over-analyzing everything is to finally pour it all out into others' lives. Often times I feel really selfish for wanting to be around people all the time, and I tiptoe around my introverted family and roommates, trying not to force them to be those people I use for my mind dump. It's not that I am unloading heavy burdens all the time, but my mind is an ever-discerning machine. It churns out ideas and theories and concepts and questions and hopes and fears, but when those have nowhere to go, they start to rot and spoil my brain. Basically, my brain desperately needs people. It just does, so the most difficult environment for it to be in is going to be a place like Mathews where there just aren't many people. As life goes, I currently stand at a sort of impasse where I can't know which route is the right route: to get out of a place like Mathews and go to a place like Chattanooga where there are more opportunities for my mind to thrive and explore and live up to its greatest potential or to stay in a place like Mathews and learn to train my mind to function purposefully in a new and possibly better way. I wonder how much God wants me to follow my passions and indulge the most obvious, easy joys in my life versus how much he wants me to stretch myself and my perspective on who he is and his sovereignty over the things I can't understand. I see purpose in both directions, so I've found myself rolling with the beats. I've been invited to stay in Chattanooga for a while, and I can so that's what I'm doing.

I don't think it's supposed to be a matter of Chattanooga being a right or wrong choice. I can't predict what God knows to be right or wrong about my future experiences. I'm just going to jump in and do this, working toward a remembrance that these things do work toward God's plan and purpose even in my darkest pits of doubt. If life really is all about remembering, maybe I should start plastering pages of the Bible all over my walls, but to refrain from surrounding myself with tacky decor, I should instead work harder on plastering them all over my heart.

Uncomfortable

I like to imagine what I will say about this blog of mine ten years after I abandon it. I will likely laugh at my ignorance, my immaturity, and my general young-twenties-ness. Ten years ahead is a funny place to look. It's important for me to focus on the far distant, not guaranteed future during these times of transition, though, or else I get sucked into the vortex of my paralyzed present. I've spent the greater part of this day holed up in my room, occasionally stepping out to grab lunch with mom, sit outside, or desperately search for a distraction from my present depth of thought. I can't be left on my own. My mind never ceases to amaze me in how well it can beat me up and cast doubt on everything Good in my life.

I'm going to be in Mathews for less than a week, and I can't even handle that. Like a distraught child sneaks out and runs away from home, I want to run away from my mind. But just as that child can't ever truly escape, nor can I. We have to deal. I was sick of being at college. No, I don't want to go back, but there's not much more comfort in the unknown--even less comfort in liminality. Clearly, God won't stop trying to show me true comfort in himself. Stubborn child, it's time to sneak back home.

That Time I Jumped on the Chattanooga Choo Choo

       One thing procrastination can't destroy is desire, and I've put off planning for this next stage long enough. It's day one of being a college graduate, and my blond-haired, blue-eyed nephew is sitting here next to me, babbling about the remote control. I want to get to know this kid even as far as getting to know this remote. I have a desire to be part of his life. On this Mother's Day and beyond, I also desire to let my mother know how much I truly care about and appreciate her for not just the things she does for me, but for who she is as a person and who God has shaped her to be. I desire that for every member of my family. The prospect of still having many prospects gives me some variety of choice amongst all of the things I desire.
       And yeah, there are a lot of other desires on my heart. For being a cynical, doubtful person, this list far exceeds the bounds of expectation. I started reading Quitter, the latest book by Jon Acuff, last week thanks to Claire ordering it in time for dead week. I'm in the middle of Jon Acuff exploring this concept of a "dream job," the one you are always kind of working toward or wishing for while in the throes and woes of your settled job. Acuff discusses identifying your dream job and working toward it. Timely for a college grad, no? That's what Claire was thinking, and I agree with her. She asked me if she should read it right away. I said maybe, probably. Mostly I suggested that she should read it in bits and pieces. This man has endured over a decade of wasting his life on strange suppositions about careers and misguided pursuits. He had a lot to write in just a few hundred pages.
       He writes quite a bit about hinge moments, which are defined to be those times you usually note in retrospect when something in your life was pointing you toward your dream job. One of his hinge moments was when his first grade teacher laminated and "published" a book he wrote in first grade, because she believed in his writing even then. After years of working for IT, he has finally recognized his dream job, writing. Looking back, he knows he was headed for it all along.
       This seems like some worthwhile reflection, and I've done it from time to time in the past. I know people who are stuck in their not dream jobs currently and live for retirement. Ludicrous. I'd like to believe God gave us passions for a reason, and I'm going forth to search the depths of what God has laid on my heart. Now that those silly academics are out of the way, Imma put my pursuit pants on and get it. In Chattanooga! See you on the flip side!

Note: I still think I have mental issues. I plan on getting that checked out in Chattanooga, too.

I'm including this video for Sadie Smith:


Chattanooga Choo Choo by brainstorm

*EDIT*
I changed the layout, because that other one was super hard to read. I simply didn't care enough to change it until now. Sorry about the pain it may have put you through while it existed.
*EDIT*

Dead Week Alive

Thus commences dead week. Quite a name to live up to, yeah? This whatever I have, which I've come to term "the disorder" doesn't seem to understand the connotations of dead week. As Claire said earlier today, we can't easily deny the reality of having something medically wrong with a brain if we clearly see that we can have knee, liver, and stomach problems (amongst others). It's been verified (again). There's definitely something wrong with my brain.

That, compounded with the knowledge that I could have done so much better in college but didn't, drags me down to a feeling of being nearly dead. What am I even doing to show God my gratefulness for all he's done for me? How am I rejoicing in him despite my circumstances, or even due to these circumstances. I am by far not the worst person off on this planet, and all of this doesn't have to feel so alienating. I've had some of the most amazing conversations with friends and family over these past few days that have shown me that I'm not alone and I'm not a lost cause. For that I am grateful, and that's where I slowly start to find joy and peace through these trials. God could leave me moaning in the corner, but he has equipped my friends and family to pull me up from that place even when they don't know how. Love finds a place in these times and spreads until it's finally all I can see.

Questions

I am that crazy person who checks her motives at the first sentence of each blog post.

Why am I writing this?
Why am I writing this here?

When I was around the age of five, my second cousin Christopher threatened to give me a "knuckle sandwich" every time I spoke, because I had to question everything. Considering how terrible my memory is and how few specific childhood events reside in my memory vault, it's pretty pertinent that I can remember multiple family members tirelessly telling me to, "Stop asking questions!" You may be thinking that was rather insensitive of them, seeing as I was just a young, curious child. No, they had reason. I really did question everything, including the answers. I played, "But why?" on repeat.

It can be somewhat unsettling to look back on childhood patterns and say, "Oh, not much has changed there..." In some of my processes of psychoanalysis, I've been fairly certain that I asked the same questions over and over because I never listened to the answer. I was too invested in the question.

If this pattern doesn't sound familiar to you, I can point you to more than half of the posts on this blog.

The ringing truth in this assessment gets most unsettling when I think of that mantra: "Jesus is the answer!" The side of me that wants so desperately to remain kindred to my non-Christian friends is the one that won't accept the answer, the one still playing "But why?" on repeat.

But I also know I can't go on a schizophrenic attack against the curious side of myself. The God who transforms hearts allows for renewed minds, and I have no clue what He actually, specifically wants that to look like in me. Still, I don't think it means God wants me to stop questioning things, because there are a number of things He has told me to question.

But anyway, I only bring this up and blog about it, because it has been a consistent characteristic of my four years of college. Through all of the change I did undergo, this string of sometimes dangerous curiosity continues. I'm hoping a future Katie on the edge of mental crazy can look back on this and recognize the pattern for what it is. There's only so much I can beat myself and others up about until I have to get to the answer.

Underqualified

Here's a sort of reflection-y post for you. I am currently sitting with multiple tabs open for editing my class website. It took me entirely too long to weed through the CSS in my chosen wordpress theme just to change the background color of my header, so now I'm taking a break, realizing how long this could actually take me. My professor intends for these websites to characterize our professional selves in order to tempt potential employers with the endless possibilities of what we can do based on what we have done.

One thing about college that has always eluded me, though, is how little it actually does prepare you for the professional world. The greatest of my digital endeavors is an edited image of Justin Bieber's head on the screamer in Edvard Munch's "The Scream." Hardly professional. Sub-amateur even.

I can't help but wonder if my professor is just mocking us or giving us a reality check. Like, "See? You're not ready for the world. All you can do is fiddle around with CSS for half an hour and then get distracted by YouTube, Twitter, and Facebook." Is it true that I won't survive in a digital age if I don't catch up on CSS and HTML? If I don't run my own domain, will I really be that much less successful at life? I like a challenge, but I don't like living my life in or-else mode. My mathematics degree supposedly wants to send me off to some sort of computer or engineering job. That is, unless I want to teach. Still not sure about that one either. The seeming problem is that after all of this time and supposed preparation, I'm still daydreaming about what I could be and where I could go. I fear the slap in the face I'll get from my diploma next Saturday will crush my daydreams with the harshness of reality.

It's like I'm slipping into survival mode.
"Get a job!"
Which job?
"A job!"
Oh... well, okay.

I have a tendency not to fear the future, and I figure everything will be fine no matter how much effort I put into that guarantee. Part of it is laziness, part of it is because I've always had parents to make sure everything really is fine, and part of it is because I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.

You better bet this song will become traditionally blared into my children's rooms every Easter morning.

Intents and Purposes

"To the Life!" was my stab at optimism once upon a time. I was sitting on my bed in Arrington Hall when the concept popped into my mind. Surrounded by linoleum floors and cold, white walls, the clinical environment of Arrington aptly cocooned my healing soul. This was sophomore year when I built a slew of friendships and started to learn what it meant to love not only my friends but God. "To the Life!" said, "There is so much here for me to learn. There is a God I know so little about. I am now charging myself to learn those things and turn my compass to the life God has provided for me." I didn't want life to go by; I wanted to pursue it.

Of course, there have been a lot of fumbles along the way. As it turns out, life is as exciting as my naivete projected, but it's equally difficult. I knew there would be bumps along the way, but I really never grasped how severe those could be. My mind went to some dark places my freshman and junior years, and while I did say that I was "spiraling into depression" during those times, I didn't believe it to be true. I didn't actually think I had a chemical imbalance in my head. Instead, I blamed myself for letting those things happen to me. I put the blame on my "bad faith" and made desperate attempts through studying the Bible to figure this whole faith thing out. The knowledge entered my mind but couldn't penetrate some unknown barrier inside of me. I started to think that I was uncontrollably cold-hearted, as if I was the devil himself. It didn't make sense that my friends and family could praise God and the wonderful things He was doing in their lives, and I had to work ten times harder to even reach a semblance of that reality in my own life. These struggles stacked onto the depression.

My sophomore and senior years, I think, were only better because of the measures of distraction I took from the real turmoil boiling underneath the surface. My entire college experience has not been a terrible one because of this, because (I really do believe) God is good, and His goodness functions through my dysfunction.

Sophomore year, I charged myself to know God.

Now three months shy of 23-years-old, I charge myself to let God.

The reality of my mental disorder is closing in on me hard, so hard that it's going to take every bit of energy and strength inside of me to walk the two minutes to my class in an hour. Yeah, this is hard, but I am now starting to see how wonderful is that cross Jesus carried. Walking in faith through this haze of depression means knowing how temporary this is, and knowing that Jesus experienced pain one-hundredfold. My Savior exists for this purpose, to walk with me through the valley of the shadow of death.

And so, I press on "To the Life!"

[daddy] said there'd be days like this

Daddy always said this wouldn't be easy, but he said it with his eyes. Eloquence pours from his soul, filtering through the wisdom of profound silence. My daddy isn't a normal daddy by any standard. He is gentle only for lack of a harsh spirit. Doesn't abuse, doesn't praise. Proverbs say less words are better, so I wonder if it's the value of the mystery.

I climb the stairs to his study.

The mystery of life. Equipped with the knowledge and wisdom to fill books and ears of congregations, my daddy sits silently before his God. Churches fail, wars wage on, destruction spreads. Daddy watches and waits.

What is a wasted life?

Surely not the one that first chooses to seek the Lord. And yet,

To go forth in faith
To hold fast to the teachings, spreading the Good News
To trust and obey

That takes the strength of God.

My daddy is a weak man, limping with the thorn of humanity in his side, daily humbled by his powerful Father. His mind full of the knowledge of the grace and glory of our God.

I stand at the top of the stairs.
I see his books on theology, his Bible on the ready, the bookmarked sites of biblical scholars on his desktop.
But then I look at him and hear his heart speak.

"I feel it, too. This life isn't easy."

a response to ineptitude

Look, O Lord, for I am in distress;
my stomach churns;
my heart is wrung within me,
because I have been very rebellious.
In the street the sword bereaves;
in the house it is like death. 

-Lamentations 1:20

For the Lord will not
cast off forever,
but, though he cause grief, he will have compassion
according to the abundance of his steadfast love;
 for he does not willingly afflict
or grieve the children of men.

-Lamentations 3:31-33

ineptitude continued

I'd like to think that every moment is a moment of Truth.
I just took a pill, because I can't handle the heaviness of life.
Honesty sucks sometimes.

Truth sucks sometimes.
I've been having anxiety attacks.
I had one when I was laying in bed a couple of weeks ago.
I lulled myself to sleep by thinking about how nice death will be.
I know that's creepy.
But mostly, I was thinking about my Savior.

Another night, I muttered to Sadie that my head was going crazy.
She laid down next to me and said this person I am during the attacks is not me.
Maybe this needs medication.

Three hours ago, I was sobbing in my bed at school.
I just drove home, and I'm now in my bed at home.
I took the pill that my mind has been screaming for these last two weeks.
At least, I hope that's the pill it wants.
If not, I'm not sure what I'll do.
Part of me thinks this is ridiculous.
Another part just doesn't know.

ineptitude

As I've said before, I write the same thing over and over on this blog. Here it goes again.

Recently, I've come face-to-face with new levels of a weighty, uncomfortable issue I have with myself, which oddly enough, is not anything I'd ever want to disclose on a blog -- not in its entirety at least. It's been crippling me, but I don't know how to confront it or write about it properly. There is not much foreseeable chance I will ever handle this one well, so I'm trying to figure out how to trust and apply what God has to say to me about it. That's really hard.

It's kinda funny to treat blogging like therapy, though I'm pretty sure that's about all I use this thing for. Back when I actually did go to therapy, I mostly appreciated that I had someone to talk to who wanted to talk straight to the depth of my issues. Sitting in front of a TV, surfing the web, or any time I linger too long on surface matters in life, I just kind of go numb. The less deep I am, the deeper I want to be until no depth is satisfying. This is about as awkward as it sounds, yes.

I'm dissatisfied, and I'm not sure why.

I found out recently that a friend of mine is clinically depressed, which he didn't tell anyone or have diagnosed for about a year. I'm perpetually teetering on self-diagnosing depression and/or anxiety. Though it's pretty sick, I admit I'm a little jealous that he has actually been diagnosed and can now actively medicate his problem. Without a diagnosis, I keep wondering if I'm insane. I wonder why I can't function properly sometimes and why I periodically get so crippled by this (like right now). I can't say it's a chemical imbalance. I often say it's a spiritual imbalance, which is true of everyone. No one is spiritually perfect. Sometimes, I blame it on being in the college atmosphere, how it feeds this part of me that over-analyzes everything.

I don't really know what it is, but it hurts. I don't have depth, and I don't have clarity.

oh, for pete's sake

There are times I think back on my life before college and think maybe ignorance was bliss. I first heard this song, "Cynical Me" back then, probably around my junior year of high school when I received Iver's EP from Becca. I thought it was a beautiful song, but I didn't reflect on the lyrics, seeing as that sort of thing didn't interest me much. Nothing interested me much unless it had to do with my non-committal relationship with a boy or some other cheap teenage thrill.

Yeah, I was young. I was ignorant and even cynical in some of the more menial ways.

Currently, I am almost too exhausted to keep on with the thoughts and conversations I used to ignorantly go without. With God, about God, pertaining to some notion of God, pertaining to some notion of no God, with myself, about God and me. Relationships, right, wrong, success, failure, strength, weakness, faith, hope, love, joy, truth, Truth, peace, turmoil, purpose. People, this is exhausting. Simply put, I am tired, and I'm not even 23 yet. In fact, 23 terrifies me. This can't go on.

I'm starting to gather that there is a purpose in my incessant need to analyze these things and then analyze them some more and then analyze them to death (perhaps there's never a need for that last one, actually), but I also get that there need to be some pretty strict limitations on this as well. The fool wastes her life by constantly seeking and never reveling in the joy of Truth. It may never come naturally for me to do this, and the discipline to do it may be even more difficult than I imagine it is and will be. But there really is little joy in being jaded and cynical. The power of the mind is intoxicating, but living and dictating according to that power is exhausting and ultimately debilitating. Eventually, my mind is able to strip everything of its importance. Then I fail classes. Then I become a self-serving friend, sister, and daughter. Then I back out on almost every commitment. Then I curl up in this chair and write another blog post that enlightens me yet again as to how encumbered I am by my pride. Then, undoubtedly, I grieve the cycle and hate life.

I'm a puppy whimpering at the feet of my Master.

toward the end

It is exciting to look around and see my senior peers writing really awesome theses, stories, projects, what-have-you to wrap up the respective endings of their experiences in academia with big beautiful bows. A part of me wishes I could have that sort of ending, too. However, I left my meeting with Professor Lehman today the same as I do every week, feeling like a moron. I haven't understood a lick of what I've been "teaching myself" in this Independent Study. My experience with college-level math has been a humbling one to say the least. Consequently, I've had a lot of shoulda-coulda-woulda thoughts about how much I would have loved being a religion major, and how much I would love to be writing a religion thesis right now. Instead, I'm sitting across from my math professor each week with a blank look on my face, pleading for mercy. Not what I was hoping this whole academic experience would build up to, but that's where I've come.

Still, I haven't been able to bring myself to really hate these past four years and what has come of them, because college has been exactly what I projected it would be back when I was a freshman who didn't really even want to begin college. I knew this would be a place where I would be able to question life and seek out God. I didn't know how that would happen, but I knew it would bring a sort of fulfillment that would make all four years at college worth it, no matter what the academic outcome. Freshman me would look very happily upon senior me, because God did that work in her heart that she desperately wanted but didn't know how to seek.

But I'm not ready to get totally reflective on the whole experience yet, seeing as it's not even over. Just saying I see my own big beautiful bow at the end of all this. It just looks a little different.

Poison

We discussed in Religion in America today the fact that some Pentecostals in the early 20^th century decided they were going to handle snakes, drink poison, heal people, and dance around quite a bit as a response to the movement of the Holy Spirit inside of them. They took this from Mark 16:18. You know, choosing what to take literally. I have no personal semi-objection except to say that snake handling sounds just about as silly as skydiving (can be) to me, because you decide on one thing that is going to take extreme life or death trust in the Lord, unlike your simple walk around the park or a nightly cozying into bed. Sometimes we itch to know God more, and we feel limited by our comforts. Even further than that, I’ve noticed, we feel limited by our theology – our notions of truth.

I think the Pentecostals got restless. God was too boxed in, and they pulled Him out of that box just like they did the rattlesnakes. The sort of weird part is that this makes other people angry and divisive. The weirdest part that I’m starting to see is how much of our pride is dictating our love and worship of God. This is not a shocking statement, and it’s no wonder some of us are staying up late at night pondering how the heck we got here and what we’re supposed to do to get out of this pattern. On one hand, we yearn for the sort of tolerance that Jesus had toward people. On the other hand, we aren’t Jesus, and we want to separate ourselves from sin. We dance along that line between bigotry and acceptance – often questioning if we’re even doing any of this right. We desperately try to cling to the Gospel because that is Truth, but in our efforts to grow and understand the Lord, we find ourselves separating from not only non-Christians but even our brothers and sisters in Christ. At freshman group last night, our little study book for Mark asked us how we think we can approach people with the Gospel message, knowing how Jesus approached people. There were some blank stares.

Because as much as we want to proclaim Jesus as Savior because he is and that’s amazing, I don’t think we can do it like him. I think he did it already, and our job isn’t so much to follow in some fashion of mimicry but rather just to follow. We read last night about Jesus explaining the purpose of him speaking in parables. He did it so that what he said was hard to understand. What? Jesus didn’t want us to understand everything?

“No, O people, the LORD has told you what is good, and this is what he requires of you: to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God (Micah 6:8).”

Humilityhumilityhumility

I don’t think I can love enough. My rabbit trails toward truth, more often than not, are restraining my ability to love others. I’m reading J.I. Packer’s Knowing God right now, and he discusses this issue between knowing of God as opposed to knowing about God. To know of God is to have that relationship with God, but it’s an awful lot easier to know about God and think we’re actually seeking God through that.

Looking back over all of what I just wrote, it is all way too pedestal-y. I don’t know how to change that, but I would like to note that I know I’m not any real authority on anything. There is pride dripping through my words even now, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I can’t tell you how to properly seek God, because I suck more at that, I believe, than anyone I know. Just go back to summer-fall of 2009 on this blog to see that. But when I see and feel hurt and notice a great disconnection and division among both non-Christians and Christians alike, I no longer want to follow my instincts and separate myself from that angst. That only perpetuates the problem. People have been separating for ages. I believe pursuing God puts one in the middle of all of this division and turns a blind eye to these ridiculous notions people cling to as truth worth hating and judging over. I wish that were easier, but Jesus told me he intended it not to be. Oh, grace.

continued lessons in hope

Last night at 7:53, my friend Lucy from high school sent all of us old high school friends this message: "Rob got into Cornell! ..... We're moving to Yankee Land this summer!" Rob is her fiance, and they'll be getting married this coming July 9th. My heart burst with joy for my sweet friend whose confidence has truly blossomed these past four years she's been at college.

Three hours later on the same message thread, we all got this message from Kirby (also part of the high school gang):
"Hey everybody, I hate to break the mood here, but I wanted to tell you that my grandfather passed away yesterday evening. The funeral is not planned until Saturday the 12th as of right now, and it will be in Mathews. I think we are having a visitation on Friday the 11th. It would be great if you guys could make it to the visitation, because frankly I am having a rough time here in FL with all my family in VA and D.C. I don't think I am coming back to Mathews until the 8th or 9th because of midterms. (thankfully spring break is next week for me)"

And my joyful heart burst. Prayerfully, I considered what a blessing it is to see such a stark juxtaposition of joy and suffering. I considered what it is to love a friend who is on a mountaintop and turn immediately to another in a valley--to raise one hand in praise and simultaneously use the other to pull a man up. I thought of life bobbing in a universe of Good and Evil, but I imagined the divine orchestration of God's hand. Then, my spirit was humbled, and God showed his love to these friends through me.

Reconciliation

I usually like to shy away from using loaded Christian terms, but then I get to that place where I accept that it is there and used a lot because it holds a lot of Truth. If Truth is what I'm aiming for, we're gonna talk about reconciliation.

That's part of reconciliation, I think.

As I'm still searching and lingering on the sentiments of my last post, I continue to be bothered by myself, and I am increasingly aware of how much this is not a part of God's plan for me except as far is it will drive me away from sin and toward him. I haven't been called to frustration, resentment, complacency, apathy, jealousy, or any of those other things that I seem to be constantly trying to fight off to the eventual point of my submission to their evil wiles. I get these ideas of what's right, and then I like them a lot and ride them out as far as they'll take me because it's generally self-satisfying. A most recent example of this is how I have decided that my academics don't really matter. I use reasoning like, "It's just not my thing. My passions and interests lie elsewhere." While that might be true, it's still really stupid to deny that I am, nonetheless, at college. Whether it interests me or not, I am supposed to be open to learning, respecting the time and energy of my professors, and striving to be successful in this place that God has very clearly put me. Instead, I've been fighting and justifying my oppositions with startling consistency these past four years. I've let myself put in less than half the effort required for most of my classes (as a defensive mechanism from actual intellectual failure), and it's finally posing a threat. I'm failing a class that I need to pass in order to graduate.

But I'm not supposed to have even let it get to this point. Another thing I've been coming to understand is that life really isn't about pushing the boundaries until they break just so that I can frantically try to repair the rupture and try not to touch it again. There's more to this sing-song "trust and obey" concept than a little 6-year-old and now 22-year-old Katie can understand. I was always "the stubborn child." I questioned everything, and I resisted most things demanded of me. Now that I try to use this same attitude with God as I did with my parents growing up, I see what little effect it has as I keep trying to resist God's commandments. He's not going to bend the rules for me just so that I can live by my sacred idea of freedom to be me. Fortunately, he's been trying to bend and break this very rule I've made for myself. For this my heart breaks in two ways: first, because I know how disobedient I've been and, second, because this is as real as God's love has been in my limited understanding.

Trust and obey; you'll receive peace and hope.

Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person--though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die--but God shows his love for us in that while we were sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.

-Romans 5:1-11

I need to stop these fruitless and futile efforts in trying to reconcile all that God stuff with my own ways, because I've already received reconciliation for even these fruitless and futile activities in which I dwell. I can't just sit around questioning this love, joy, and peace that is always being offered to me. I'm fighting all the wrong battles and winning all the wrong rewards. I don't like the idea that I could just be typing all of this right now and turn my back on these convictions in just a few days, and I know it's all a choice formed by my own attitude and perspective that so desperately need to be nurtured through Scripture and prayer.

What I need is a place to start. I need to fill in these holes that spiritually plague me: being prone to loneliness and "needing" someone or something to hold onto, wanting to be right and know what's right, needing something new and different to make me feel alive.

Why I shouldn't be lonely and frequently "needing" worldly fixes:
"The Lord is my portion," says my soul," therefore I will hope in him." The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth. Let him sit alone in silence when it is laid on him." -Lamentations 3:24-28

The Right that I should care about:
And Jesus said to [his disciples], "To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside everything is in parables, so that 'they may indeed see but not perceive, and may indeed hear but not understand, lest they should turn and be forgiven.'" -Mark 4:11-12

The new and different that I *should* be striving for to make me feel alive:
Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. -Romans 12: 1-3

Excuses of my own depravity aren't enough to keep me from my calling. I am to be righteous, because that's part of the prize of salvation. God has already called me to be his. Now (and many nows from now), I must walk forth in obedience.

(Lastly, I'm making this parenthetical to say thanks to those whose faith has been such an inspiration to me that I have been broken: Claire, Sadie, Suzannah, Noelle, Gillian, Sarah (those are just the ones with blogs), my parents, my grandparents--just to name a few. I encourage you all to keep up the Good work.)

Things of More

I'm feeling that extra super crazy urge to get out of the norm. I want to write a blog post that doesn't really have a topic, and I want it to be as inconclusive as possible. I want to know that things aren't as they seem and that there are more possibilities than we can know.

I want this couple that is walking by in front of me, fighting, to make a drastic turn in conversation and start complimenting each other without warrant -- just because that's not expected or really all that desired by either of them right at this very moment.

I know I'm talking out of my frustration right now, but this is how I cry for help from God. It's not settling to just say, "God, I know you're in control. I will meditate on Jeremiah 29:11 now and let the peace take over." It's much more settling to say, "I know you're in control and that you really have the power to turn everything we think is true on its head. You are the God who has been doubted and hated with more passion than some thought they could muster and yet you love with more passion than we can ever understand. You're the one I meet when I stretch my mind past its boundaries of norms and search for something different and real. You're also the one I meet when I turn my attention to my heart."

My heart inevitably beats to the rhythm of God's plan. I can't thwart anything that he has set.

Here's the settlement. I am unencumbered by trivialities, traditions, norms, expectations, and all other limitations, because when I look beyond them and finally grab onto something more, what I receive is directly put into my hands by God himself, the giver of all good things. Boundless, limitless.

That is the awesome God I need to see before I can unmistakably serve him instead of serving myself. Today is another pretty day, much like days we've seen before, but there's more. I can't see it, but I am ever-reaching for it.

I cried this morning. A lot. I felt it building up even during a praise and worship service I'm usually so quick to judge. It's true. God can penetrate this stubborn heart.

The band started to play "How Great Thou Art" and that was when I finally let the tears flow. Ever since my dad's father died seven or eight years ago, I weep when I hear that song and really listen to it. My grandfather drowned his life away in booze, and my dad suffered the consequences. At my grandfather's funeral, I had to watch my father, whose scars could not have been more evident, stand up and give the eulogy for the man he had every reason to hate. I heard him suck back his pain with a gasping breath, and I saw him try to hide his tears within the confines of untouched memories.

But I cried. I couldn't look at him. My cousin Amanda proceeded to sing "How Great Thou Art," and I kept weeping silently. I didn't know my grandfather, but I was raised by his oldest son, the man who made it his desperate and consistent goal to make sure his daughters felt loved and secured in ways that he only ever dreamed as a child when he laid lost and alone in his bed every night. I'm crying now just thinking about it and typing it all out. If there's any time I feel truly unworthy, it's when I think about this unknown past of my father.

And I wonder what to do with that. Pastor Mike had us look up Isaiah 61:1 this morning.

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound.

And I thought of the man who did that for my dad--the one who pulled him aside after baseball practice and invited him to church. And I thought of my dad going to seminary. And my dad preaching for years and continuing in a role of spiritual leadership at my church. I think of the the wealth of knowledge and the wisdom my dad has, yet how humbly he nurtures and wields it. I don't know that I would have ever had a chance of being born had it not been for the good news being brought to my father. He might have decided to end it all and put himself out of his misery.

He needed the hope that is found in the love and mercy of Jesus. That very hope I take advantage of almost every single day of my life. The one I sometimes think I don't need, and without it I glance over Isaiah 61:1 without an ounce of love or compassion. I feel ill thinking about how happily I neglect matters of the heart, and I feel stupid knowing that I do it in the name of "reason."

I am without. There is still greater love that I cannot understand.

and tonight it's clear to me how a country could secede

"You accept religion emotionally or you were born into it. You do not accept it rationally." -Ayn Rand

No, according to Scripture, you don't.

"For Christ did not send me to baptize but to preach the gospel, and not with words of eloquent wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power." -1Corinthians 1:17

"Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world."-1 John 4:1

Ayn Rand was not proclaiming any sort of message from God. She was denying his existence, not just his power and supremacy. In an interview I watched, she talked about the supremacy of man and what a genius she has always been. According to her testimony, she began her life as an Objectivist from the moment she could think at the age of two and a half.

"See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ" -Colossians 2:8

I can't view Ayn Rand as some sort of prophet. Though she professes rationality and reason as her God, and I salivate at the thought, I know she is talking about her reason and rationality. It is inherently flawed by consequence of her humanity. Evil, to Ayn Rand, is altruism. You don't help your neighbor for the sake of helping. You help your neighbor by consequence of helping yourself. That's the closest you get to altruism.

As odd as it sounds, I can be very attracted to this idea. I love it until I take on the burden of being my own god and feel far less than adequate at the job. All the while, this is happening:

"The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance." -1 Peter 3:9

I'm just saying, I'd rather see all of my energy and desire to know the answers go toward knowing God and not so much into knowing myself the way Ayn Rand did. There was a sad desperation in her eyes when I watched the interviews. She clearly feels trapped in a world that doesn't get it. I feel that way, too. She wants to be right and do right at all times. I want that, too. She wants it so badly that she has constructed her own right that she proclaims to be the only reasonable way to life. It's hers, and she owns it. She can't fail because its merit and direction is founded within her own being. She can't be wrong. She has constant assurance of herself.

It makes perfect sense that she made her life into a philosophy for all. However, as much as she tried to make it free of holes, it's hard to see how community can really survive in her philosophy. If everyone was an Objectivist, all would be living solely through their rational thought. The odd thing is that each person is also to be driven by his/her passion. Since when is passion an element of rationality? Were the Vulcans passionate creatures? You can't cut emotion out of inherently emotional beings. It's just not truth.

It's easy enough to look at any single element of Ayn Rand's principles behind her philosophy and find weaknesses.

I admire brilliant people, whether they are Christians or non-Christians. We see in the Bible that our spirituality and lives as Christians aren't fueled by our brilliance. Faith came to the salesman and faith came to the rocket scientist. Faith, however, doesn't always come easily.

"Now faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see." -Hebrews 11:1

I remember my mom asking me to memorize that verse when I was very young, and it has always stuck with me. When I think about it, I have to laugh. God knew this would be my hang up. So often I am ashamed of my faith, and I think it sucks. I think it's not enough, and I start to imagine how far that separates me from God and my Christian brothers and sisters. But that's just not true, nor can it ever be.

Of what am I sure I hope for? I am sure that I hope for God to be Truth and Sovereign. I may not always get it, but I always hope for it.

Now, I'm not always certain of what I do not see, but I will fight for that certainty. My soul can't rest until I do.

That's how I see my salvation, and at that, my sanctification. This looks far different from anyone else I see, but that's because I have a far different specific purpose. God is using and will use my restless soul. He won't let this come easily for me, because I can't work toward perfection without it. It's a glorious agony, and I can't wish it away.

(These last three blog titles have been brought to you by Bishop Allen:
)

...well I know, I know, I wanna be liberated

In continuation of the previous pathetic post, I proceeded to write whatever desperate thought came to my mind on the sheet of paper nearest to me when I was laying in my bed, whimpering myself to sleep. I read over that sheet this morning, watching my pride build up and finally explode into the final furiously scrambled line.

"I wish I cared more that Jesus loves."

So I popped the movie Saved! in and started watching. The beliefs portrayed in this movie are so distorted. They don't know Jesus at all, and I thought about how little I know him as well. That's when I wanted to open my Bible. I grabbed that sheet of paper from last night and flipped it over to the other side and wrote this:

"If I'm going to find a way to reject Christianity, I'm going to have to find a way to reject Jesus. Mark 6: 1-6 gives an example of Jesus being rejected.

He went away from there and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. And on the Sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astonished, saying, “Where did this man get these things? What is the wisdom given to him? How are such mighty works done by his hands? Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him.  

And Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor, except in his hometown and among his relatives and in his own household.” And he could do no mighty work there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and healed them. And he marveled because of their unbelief.

And he went about among the villages teaching.

That's likely how Jesus looks at me, marveling at my unbelief, unable to do mighty works because of it. How foolish."

Here We Are, Winter Again

I'm not sure which makes me nuttier: having nothing to say or saying something equivalent to nothing. Calling the most attention to both of these is my blog mindset. What motivates me to pick up my computer and start typing these words on my blog? Looking back, I know there have been times when it was a cry for help. Other times I've purely been looking for a place to gather thoughts, and this is a good enough forum for that. But then there are times like now when I have nothing to say but I wish so much for the words. I've simultaneously become aware of parts of my life that are spiraling out of control and the parts that are finally pulling together. I lament the bad and rejoice in the good.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. No words, remember. I can't write anything, because I know it will be a lot of nothing. My words are empty right now--even my thoughts. It's easy enough to tell. I don't want to be anyone's friend right now, because there's not much for me to offer. Receiving is difficult when you have nothing to give. I've puffed myself up with all sorts of knowledge that friends and family members sometimes admire, but I know how empty I can be in those moments. My faithlessness makes me want wisdom. If I can't have faith, I should at least try to understand what I'm supposed to have faith in, right? Then I can engage in those conversations, attend Bible studies, lead Bible studies, live in [a facade of] like-mindedness with my family and roommates.

I don't know why my thoughts often turn into a dungeon and I'm not sure when I will figure out how to keep that from ruining my relationship with God. It's come to the point that when I get a glimmer of longing to read my Bible and talk to God, I hold on for dear life, knowing it'll pass soon enough. Then I'm back in the slump where I read the gospel with a mental shrug, listen to my Christian friends with a skeptic's ear, and harangue my own mind out of faith.

It's a stupid cycle. I've probably written all of this before. Here's my love/hate with God: He is always right.

**EDIT**
In conclusion, I would like to get out of college.
Also, this counts as a cry for help and thoughts-gathering post.
**END EDIT**

The Prepping For "Real Life" Soundtrack

"Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise" -The Avett Brothers

"To Be Myself Completely" -Belle & Sebastian

"Home" -Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes

"To Find My Way To You" -Bebo Norman

"A Crooked Road" -Darrell Scott

"One Day I Slowly Floated Away" -Eisley

"Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pt. 1" -The Flaming Lips

"Let Go" -Frou Frou

"Now or Never" -from High School Musical

"Wait It Out" -Imogen Heap

"I'm Ready" -Jack's Mannequin

"Priorities" -Jane Gilmore
 
"Oh My God" -Jars of Clay

"If I Stand" -Jars of Clay

"Urge For Going" -Joni Mitchell

"The Future Freaks Me Out" -Motion City Soundtrack

"Awake My Soul" -Mumford & Sons

"Time is Running Out" -Muse

"Teenagers" -My Chemical Romance

"Riot Gear" -Regina Spektor

"How Great Thou Art"

"Be Thou My Vision"

"Change is Hard" -She & Him

"New Soul" -Yael Naim

A Message I Sent to a Friend

I just read part of an article about "hipster faith" that one of my high school friends wrote about on his Tumblr and sent the link to Sally along with my own attached message to her. I'm putting it here as a reminder to myself.

"I was reading this thinking about my own tendency to betray the uncomfortable stigmatized norm of Christianity in our country, which I know we've discussed to some extent. I've been convicted recently about how scary it is to step into the extreme of this so-called "hipster faith" (or certain variants thereof), which I recognize as being more appealing to me if I don't check myself and my priorities. If anything, this article just reminds me how necessary it is to be constantly checking ourselves in a manner open to necessary conviction rather than settling on a new "right" way. I don't think hipster faith is really terrible unless it is only being performed for selfish ends, which I know it often can be for me when I start straying into looser practices. We're always gonna find something to point at in every Christian practice and say that it's wrong. The only way to deal with that reality is to be open to seeing where we're wrong as individuals and within our groups in order to fight hypocrisy and strive for the servant attitude of Jesus. I'm starting to see how much more constructive that would be than constantly pointing fingers of blame, which is all I ever want to do. I don't want to be sick of the church and not be able to do anything about it. I would rather be sick of the state of my own soul and then work with God to see a change there first."

PLUG

This is where I plug my class blog, because I want it to actually function properly--meaning I actually do need comments for it to work. Don't worry, I don't *need* them in the EVERYONE MUST LIKE ME AND MY BLOGGINZ sort of way, but the comments feed into a sort of project I'm doing with the blog. So if you'd like, check it out. Read the "About" section to understand my mission here, and then comment your quick song recommendation. I'd appreciate it greatly. Thanks, all.

Click here to go to my site or any of those other random hyperlinks you may find in this post.

Here's a song!


The Shins - So Says I
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Yes Man and a Life Plan

Okay yes, I know there is too much blogging lately about what/where/why/how/plz_help with my life, and I know you probably don't/shouldn't really care all that much about it.

So I'm gonna name drop Zooey Deschanel right now to get you interested. *interest ignites*

Some of you may have made the connection. Zooey. Yes Man. She was in that. Yeah, I only saw that movie because I knew she starred in it. She played her typical strange, mysterious girl role, so I was inevitably endeared to her but that much more. I watched the movie with the Kirby over winter break, and I guess you could say I was inspired.

There was an overarching satirical theme mocking religious tradition (specifically Christian) in our country. Kirby looked over at my pure-holy-temple-Christian self at one point and asked, "This isn't offending you, is it?" With a hearty laugh and furrowed brow, I responded with a very strong, "No, not in the least." We've talked religion before. He knew what I meant with that response.

But I wasn't really inspired by the satire. If anything, it is a disappointing thing to watch when I let it bother me in that, "grr, you're attacking my people," sort of way, which I've all but entirely dismissed as a train of thought. I love my Christian brothers and sisters, but I see the flaws in them the same way I see the flaws in my non-Christian companions. It's not fair to expect a lot out of a sinful people. It is fair to expect a lot out of a perfect God. This is what I'm focusing on right now, and it's helping.

That being said, I was inspired by the "Yes Man" theme. Sure, it is extreme to say "yes" to absolutely everything requested of you, but I don't think it's too much to ask that we be willing to go and do. In a Jesus context, be willing to go and be a servant.

Through all of this applying for the DC Teaching Fellows and being invited to interview for it and now trying to prepare for the 6-hour interview session, my fears and doubts have been pretty consistently crushed by my desire for a "Yes Man" attitude. I would Christianize this and say it's a desire for the "Yes, God" attitude, but I think I'm not quite there. That's where I want to be, and I'm working on it.

The mindset that I have to figure out what to do with the rest of my life is futile. I know my life is not ultimately up to me or even about me. Being career-minded is a huge unnecessary burden, and I'm not looking for a life of such entrapment. This helps my yes--forcing a plan that laughs in the face of fear.

let's focus on tomorrow instead of right now

This funny thing has happened.

This funny thing where I applied for something and now they want me to interview.

And it's only January. This isn't the January wedding I would have anticipated, but I'm rolling with it in a haze of semi-denial.

Perhaps not denial as much as it hasn't really set in. I'm still going to classes and working and tutoring and playing with friends, and by "still" I mean all of that has just started again for the last time. During winter break, I figured I should start looking for jobs or something. It was another practice in planning a theoretical future, a safe and distant observation of possibilities. Suddenly the ideas, fears, and questions I had not all that long ago are that much closer to being real. Gaps are closing. I'm a hot potato bouncing on my parents' couch, and soon I'll be bouncing out the door instead of settling in for a nice summer's stay. It's exciting. Terrifying. And still a decision away.

It's only an interview.

Thoughts on Therapy or Therapeutic Thoughts--Pt. 2

I went to therapy again. I walked into the session this time with an agenda. During the first session, there was only so much that could be done or said about my psychological issues and what-not since we were limited to an hour. In retrospect, I probably could have increased my words per minute average and maybe gotten a little further. Time is of the essence, folks, especially in instances of restoring sanity.

So my mouth started moving the moment my butt plopped on the couch. One part of my personality that I find to be the most annoying/troubling (SPOILER ALERT) is my obsessive nature. I won't dive into it much here, because quite frankly, it's hard to explain. But I told dear Eva my woes and troubles with this tendency I have. We discussed why I am this way, which after years of psychoanalyzing myself I've basically already figured out, but when we proceeded to talk about how to change it, we were faced with two options:
1. Divert the fixation onto something healthy -- Eva's example: therapy for the rest of forever, or
2. KILL IT--the obsessive nature, that is, not the objects of obsession.

With regards to option number one, I know (stress here--know) that the correct biblical response would be to divert my fixation to God. Probably not in some creepy Mandy Moore in Saved! sort of way but in the I-know-God-can-sustain-me sort of way. I have a hard time talking about my struggles in this area, because I think I tend to rub up against the danger zone when it comes to my questions of faith. There are times a question will form in my mind, and it turns everything I believe upside-down in an instant. Fickle, I know. Foolish, yes probably. Dangerous, perhaps. Neurotic, most definitely. But to ignore those questions would only lead to an existential crisis later on. I know this because it has happened before. However, I do believe and can't help but believe in Truth. I believe it exists, and I believe it's God. Cryptic and open-ended as that may seem sometimes, it is my comfort. I would like to experience consistency of faith in salvation and constant appeals to God, and I do suppose that is what I should be striving for all the time. But sometimes it's not. That's all I can really say about it. It's just not.

As for option number two, I'm not really sure how to kill it. The obsession is like a hunger, but I've also discovered it is largely bred from fear. Fear of purposelessness, unimportance, unfounded routines, etc. Having a healthy fear of God would probably be helpful with this option, too. In general, I don't see how God is not the answer, but I also struggle at times to see how God is the answer. All I know is that God is the only thing that ever really makes sense, and there is a reason for that.