Infinitely Depraved. Infinitesimally Good.

I think if there's one thing I'm grasping better than anything else, it's the depth of my simplicity.  That sounds ironic, I know, but what I mean is that I'm learning just no matter how deep I dig, I just come up with more of what I already know about myself.

... I see how this may be confusing...

The more time I spend being introspective, the more I realize I am simply a depraved, selfish coward.  I apply these thoughts to most any situation I'm in and discover that same truth.  As a human being, these are simply my most glowing attributes.  There is nothing about me that is worthy of recognition or admiration or praises.  I am all about me and I do that so well.

Some would think that this is me digging for compliments or even dealing with some major self esteem issues.  I truly wish I could explain this in a way that helped you understand it's none of that. The more time I spend thinking about "me", the more I realize that (on my own) I am a terrible being.  I am easily corrupted, weak, hateful, angry, selfish, fearful.  I'm so very deeply flawed.

I think what I'm getting at is I'm coming upon a revelation of what "goodness" is.

And oh, dear, the more I write the more I realize this is going to make little sense to anyone that's not crawling inside my brain and taking a long, hard look at all the mess swimming about in there.

I'm just not sure that anything "good" I do (whatever your system of goodness or badness may be) is of myself.  I don't think if you keep digging deep and hard into my humanity that you'll really find anything that I am that is good.

Look, the thing I'm most worried about is that you'll think that I'm proposing some sort of theology or that I'm bashing people who are good or whatever.  I'm doing none of those things.  I'm drawing from a girl who has spent most of her life dealing with some major pride issues, thinking she can do it all on her own, that she doesn't need anyone's help.

I suppose the thing I'm realizing is that I suck.  The only goodness I can find in me is from what God whispers to my heart.  The only reason I'm concerned about someone is because He's nudging me.  I think if it was up to only me and I just ignored Him completely, you would be hard pressed to find anything redemptive about me.

Again, I'm just speaking of myself.  I know plenty of people that don't know Jesus, don't love Him that are so very nice and compassionate.  I don't know that I would be those things without Him.  So outside of whether or not you believe in a God or not, you should throw Him a thank you anyway for grabbing my heart.  I know the way I am, my pensions for stupidity WITH God and a conscience (whatever it pleases you to call it) and without that.... Well, I'd either be dead or a lot of other people would be dead.

I think the reason it pleases me (in a sense) to think this way is because it makes it that much easier for me to lean on Him when the last thing I want to do is lean on anyone...  It makes it that much easier for me to eat a whole humble pie knowing that anything "good" that comes from me isn't really from me.  I'm someone that's really good at leaning on me.  It's easy for me to pick myself up, dust myself off and not wait for anyone to ask me if I'm okay.  It's the way it has been for a long time and I don't think I ever really expected that to change, but lately it has been.

I like knowing that I'm depraved because it makes it so much easier for me to get on my face and thank God for Grace, and Love, and Mercy.  It makes me want to be more like Jesus, which at the end of the day, whether or not you believe He lived and walked, is pretty good news for anyone.  He loved people in a way that you and I could never even dream of.  He healed people of their afflictions.  He treated everyone equally regardless of what they'd done.

More than anything, I'm learning I really LIKE Him.  I've always had a sort of indifferent reverence toward Him.  But I'm learning I like everything He stood for, everything He did.  I understand little of it, but the more I read about Him and learn about Him, the more it just sends warm fuzzies all to my heart just like Ray does when he looks at me.

Most of all, I'm just finding it so completely hilarious how we can arrive at the conclusion that we've learned all we need to learn about Him.  I'll never stop learning.  Each day I'll be surprised by something new.  I just know it.  Because there are moments where Ray completely surprises me with something he'll say or do and I'm shocked because I thought that I knew him oh so well.  It turns out when you love someone, there's always something new and exciting to learn about them.

And I have to admit something that may weird you out in a sense, but I am totally and completely in love with this Jesus guy.  He's a better man than anyone I've ever met or ever even read about.  And that's why I'll never stop learning. Because I want to find out everything there ever is to know about Him.  And I don't mean in a creepy, "I'm in love with this dead guy" sense.  I mean as though He still lived and breathed and walked.  And you know, since He's fully man and fully God, that's not too far of a reach.

Maybe I chose Christianity because I see the whole thing as a huge challenge.  Those of you that have walked the walk know that this is so.

And I do love a good challenge.

Mini Anna's Running Rampant?

I've been giving a lot of thought to this whole kid business... That is, having them.  It may seem like it's silly for me to be thinking about such things, but with marriage on the horizon and my womb being "most fertile" only so much longer, it is naturally on my mind.

I've been saying pretty consistently to people, "I never want to have kids."  Granted, I'm saying this BEFORE I'm even married and when few people my age even want kids.  And I think I go about things like this, or saying things like this before I even really know why I'm saying it.  The more I say it, though, the more I question why I'm saying it.  I know that there are reasons, I just haven't really thought about them.

So I sat down and got to thinking about why on earth I would never want kids.  I LOVE kids.  They're so much fun to be around and there's so much we, as adults, can learn from them.  They see the world we should all see it and say the funniest things, really love people wholeheartedly and don't care not to color in the lines.

I love all those things.  I wish I was still that way.

But to want kids for those reasons... I don't really know that that's reason enough.

I think people, especially people my age, don't REALLY think about what it means to have a baby. I don't think they understand the gravity.

You are responsible for developing the belief system, morals, habits, mannerisms, intelligence, etc. of a HUMAN BEING that will eventually lead their own lives and have their own family, and a majority of the time, if they're screwed up, it's because of you.

People want to have babies because the Bible says "Be fruitful and multiply" (mind you, this was when the population was a whopping two people and when parentage was teaching your child a trade and literally spending EVERY moment of every day with them before public schools and a bad economy and a global population of 6.5 billion) and because kids are so cute or it's good to procreate or whatever.  But I don't think many people actually consider the repercussions or the gravity of being responsible for a little one's life.  It's your responsibility to provide for them and make sure they're cared for and loved.

Honestly, and I'm being 100% honest, I don't know that I'll ever have that time or energy.  I want to. God, I want to.  If I knew my husband or I wouldn't have to work a 9 to 5 and put our kids in a school where the odds are a teacher can't really provide them with personalized attention or a stellar education or if we could put them in a school where they would get both (but we can't afford it), if I knew I could love them every day to the end of myself and draw them closer to God... If I knew I could do all those things, then you know what? I would have 8 kids.  Because I love them.  And I love family.

But I can't do any of those things.  And I can't, in good conscience, bring beautiful, wonderful, innocent children into this world and put them in a place that will most definitely corrupt their innocence at a younger and younger age.

So most people will judge me for saying I don't want to have kids.  Most people will think I am a selfish, self-serving person.  But I think that not having kids could be the most selfless thing I'll ever do.  And that's just me being honest.

Passion Plays and Discretionary Dreams

There are those films that we all know and love that are given “epic” status.  They are films like Gladiator with Russel Crowe and Braveheart with Mel Gibson, Remember the Titans with Denzel Washington and Freedom Writers with Hillary Swank.  Movies like these are considered “epic” because they center around one person or a group of people that will quite literally stop at nothing to obtain their goal.  They will not rest.  They will not be swayed. They will not be distracted.  They all feel doubt.  They all feel despondent. At times, they feel as though it cannot be done, but it does not change the goal. It does not change the journey.  They are the picture of resilience and fortitude and eventually, victory.  They are the stuff of legend.  That’s often times why there is a movie about them.

We love these movies. We relish in these books, drinking up their pages.  Everyone loves an underdog.  We love the stories of those who come from nothing eventually being victorious; not taking society’s “no” as their final answer.  We love this, but today, we will not adopt this. These great movies and moments and stories all occur within an hour or two on a big screen and so when something takes years or even weeks or months, we’re disheartened, discouraged and assume that it’s really not worth fighting for.

This mentality of self sacrifice and wholesome ambition, refusal to compromise, to step down has all but disappeared. We have made it so easy to “get famous”, to accomplish our “goals”, to get what we want NOW.  Anything that takes real work is laughable, a joke, or seen as unrealistic.  Few of us know what perseverance and steadfastness and pursuit mean.  It’s manifested in our “mating rituals”, in our pursuance of a mate, in our work ethic and job searches.  We want our “dream jobs” which often times are nothing more than get-rich-quick schemes that involve something we’re “good” at.

I think often times the problem is that we expect the achievement of our goals to look similar to popularity and acceptance when in reality they almost never go hand in hand.  I’ve heard it said that what is often right is not always what is popular.  Our dreams and ambitions turn into passing fancies and whimsical fairy tales.  We know nothing of what it means to wait patiently for something.

We’re afraid of being alone. We’re afraid of what it may mean to pursue our dream at all costs.  For what price do we ever pay for the things we desire today?  I want that boy. It’s as easy as smiling just so and maybe even winking.  It’s as simple as a little playful banter and just with a snap of your fingers, he’s yours.  For a moment.

There’s phone and tv and car upgrades every six months—something flashier, something newer, something with more capabilities.  We don’t know anything about sustainability.  We don’t teach the importance of quality.  We plant a million saplings and when they don’t withstand gale force winds are in utter shock because well, there was a million of them!

I’m not saying technology and advancement and industrialization are all bad.  I am infatuated with technology.  I think it’s fascinating.  I also, however, believe there’s something to be said about simplicity and quality as opposed to the quick fix.  I was in a store with my best friend just yesterday and there were so many beautiful looking furniture items, but the moment I touched them with my hand, I was disgusted.  They looked great, but I could snap them like twigs (let’s remember I’m 5’4” and 120 pounds. Breaking things like twigs is not exactly something that comes naturally or easily to someone of my stature).

I suppose I’m learning so much more than I ever wanted to learn about the word “compromise”.  Depending on the circumstance, the connotation of this word changes.  In a marriage, compromise is a good thing.  It teaches us that we are not the only beings on the planet and that just because it’s my way, doesn’t mean that it’s the only way.  But when it comes to our dreams, our hopes, our morals, the things we love, compromise becomes something cowardly and disgusting.  Despite this, compromise has become synonymous with advancement or a practical grasp on reality.

We experience opposition with the things we love, the things we’re chasing and at first sign that it may not go the way we expected, the way we wanted, assume it just simply isn’t mean to be and shy away.  This has become so adopted, so ingrained that this is even how we deal with people.  “Working at this marriage is way harder than I want it to be, so I’m out.”  We’ve grown so accustomed to short-lived, wild, passionate flings that when the flame flickers because there’s more to a relationship than passion and whim, we run.  It’s lost its luster so it’s time to just buy an upgrade, right?  It’s not functioning the way it’s supposed to so I just get the next best thing.

My whole point isn’t even about relationships today.  It’s really that I’m astonished that I don’t know what it means to be ambitious without being deceitful or without posturing, bowing and scraping.  I don’t know what it means to be accomplished without compromising something along the way.

Dreams are no longer dreams, but agendas—strategically mapped out, planned, day by day, month by month.  And if it doesn’t go the way I intended, then the plan is faulty. Realistically adjust.  We meet people who are jaded and bitter from pursuing dreams with no success.  We meet people who pursued their hopes and failed and will assure us we will meet the same bitter end.

But the best stories are the people who don’t listen.  There are some that will stare the bitter and the broken in the face and use it as fuel.  They will raise their faces to the clouds and shakes their fists and roar that they will not stop, they will not rest until they see fulfillment.  They will fight against racism, sexism, ageism, discrimination and prejudices of all kinds to win their heart’s desire.  These are the heroes of all time past, present, and future. 

These are the stuff of legend, because I fear these people do not exist any longer.  I fear the flames of the hopeful, of the dreamers are flickering out in the face of statistics and realism and surety.  I am afraid that we have exchanged risk for certainty and adventure for a time punch card.

I’m not saying “stick it to the man!” or “freedom, bro!”.  Some little boy or girl’s dream is to be an accountant or a doctor or a salesman.  There is nothing wrong with these dreams.  I’m saying what is the price that you are willing to pay for your dream?  Because dreams fulfilled do not come cheaply.  They will cost you years of your life, blood, sweat, tears and a whole lot of pain.  But the thing is that when you are old and you have lived your life, I don’t think you will look back and be at peace with living your life securely or risk-free.  I think we look with fondness at children because every day they are fighting pirates or dragons or climbing towers to save the princess or fleeing the kingdom to love the peasant.  Adventure is in their marrow, but it is not for children alone I think.  I think we get jaded as we get older.  We forget what it means to take risks, to walk the plank, to climb the tower without a rope, to fight the dragon without a shield because why bother to fight the dragon at all?  I don’t really even want to fight a dragon, do I?  Why climb the tower for that princess when there’s a perfectly good one just sitting yonder?

The best things in life are the things we have to fight for.  I don’t care whether you’re Christian, Hindi, Muslim, or an Atheist.   There was a point where we all drank adventure and dreamed dreams until it eked from our pores and lit up the horizon with hope and joy and love.  And we’re losing what it means to be adventurous, to fight for the things we want because they’re only ever a click away and if it’s anything more than that, then we just decide we don’t want it.

I want to be a fighter. I want to remember what it was like to take all day to build a sand castle and dig a moat around it for my mutant alligators, to only play in it but for a few moments before the waves started to overcome it.  I want to remember what it was like to work for the things I loved, the things I wanted instead of having them handed to me like some pampered, spoiled brat.  I want to dream wildly and chase those visions regardless of the cost.

I want to write and pursue being published regardless of the fact that you essentially have to sell out and write trite, shallow crap to have a best-seller.  I don’t need a bestseller.  I have a realistic dream.  I want to do what I love and before I die have one hard-cover copy of something I have written and have had ten people that I do not know purchase that book.  Whether my writing pays the bills or not, I don’t care.  I don’t need it to.  I just promise myself that I will write and see the above goal accomplished even if it takes me the rest of my life to do so.

I believe that is passion.  I believe that is perseverance.  I forsook it for “reality”.  I gave it up because I didn’t believe that dreams do come true.  I abandoned it because of naysayers and doubt and fear.  But I know now what it is that I’m after and I will have it.

“My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius. Commander of the Armies of the North. General of the Felix Legions. Loyal servant to the true Emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife – and I will have my vengeance, in this life or the next.” (Gladiator, 2000)

“All right, now, I don't want them to gain another yard! You blitz... all... night! If they cross the line of scrimmage, I'm gonna take every last one of you out! You make sure they remember, forever, the night they played the Titans!” (Remember the Titans, 2000)

"Fight and you may die. Run and you will live at least awhile. And dying in your bed many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that for one chance, just one chance, to come back here as young men and tell our enemies that they may take our lives but they will never take our freedom!" (Braveheart, 1995)

“I don't want excuses. I know what you're up against. We're all of us up against something. So you better make up your mind, because until you have the balls to look me straight in the eye and tell me this is all you deserve, I am not letting you fail. Even if that means coming to your house every night until you finish the work. I see who you are. Do you understand me? I can see you. And you are not failing.” (Freedom Writers, 2007)

The Ascent

They say phoenixes rise from ashes.  I suppose this means at one point they were consumed in flames. Or perhaps they're burning all the time. Birds on fire. Birds of fire. Fiery birds. Are we humans so different? Being consumed by fire. Flight from ashes. Beauty from death. Glory from pain. If we're living according to Christ... Dying to ourselves... Carrying our crosses. Everyday.  Does that mean that every day a phoenix arises in my heart? Only to die, to be extinguished with the sunset.  Could it be that miraculous, that majestic? 

If I'm not ever dying to myself, though, what does that mean?  Am I unchanging in the worst way?  Not steady. No. Predictable. Boorish. Is my flame slowly going out?  Is it a mere sputter from time to time?  Am I a flightless phoenix? Destined for the ground since it is in my combustion that I take flight.  Am I not a phoenix, but a chicken? A flightless, pathetic, edible, realistic bird.

Am I destined for the chopping block where I'll run around, headless, for a good ten seconds or more for the entertainment of some bored farmer?  Am I already running around headless?  Is that my existence?  Dead.  Not really knowing. Not really registering.  Just scrambling around in a yard with a bunch of other headless chickens, bumping into one another, picked up one by one to be eaten.  To be seasoned, stuffed, cooked and devoured.

I think perhaps without Christ that is, indeed, my existence.  I'm being fattened, plumped for the chopping block and I'm none the wiser because my brain is the size of a pea and after all, what else can there be besides me and this coop?  The occasional other chicken?  Perhaps a turkey wanders by and looks up, drowning in the rain.  They're brains are rather tiny as well.


What is this? Existentialism?

Goodness.

I mean the fact of the matter is, I don't really care what you believe.  Yes, you're important. But today, you're not. Not to me.  I have to be honest, the furthest thing from my mind today is how to love you, how I can be more like Christ in your life.

Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.

I'm not about to give you flying lessons when I've forgotten completely myself that I'm not a chicken.  I'm not about to make sure your flight lessons are going okay when I myself have yet to take off.  I've never been good at sympathy.  I get compassion.  My attempts at compassion are feeble, at best, but sympathy makes me nauseous.  Duty and obligation and propriety make me angry.  I know I'm supposed to love my neighbor as I love myself, but truth be told, I really don't like myself.

I'm certainly not going to ask for forgiveness for telling you to take your stuff and your problems elsewhere.  Especially if you're not really looking to change anything about yourself.  If I'm listening to you, it means I want to be listening.  I'm not going to pretend to be interested. Not anymore.  Because when I look in the mirror, I'm completely bored with the pretty face that stares back at me.  She's nothing of substance.  She's vacant, unintelligent, and judgmental.

I'm all about being "real" with people and I think I've done a bang up job, but I don't know if it's been necessarily at being real as much as being blunt and callous.  I think there's maybe seven people on this planet with whom I'm actually real.  And when I say that I mean that know the dirty, ugly, gritty, evil side of me.  They're the people that know all my short comings and still look at me on a more or less daily basis and smile and say "I love you". And they mean it.  But I'm not real with anyone else.  Because being real in the sense of being open and honest and just letting myself be exposed... That's vulnerability.

I'm no good at being vulnerable.

It scares the living daylights out of me because I have perfected how not to be vulnerable.  I have perfected how to tell you my entire life story, all the pain, all the gore, all the joys without so much as removing a brick from the walls I've built around my heart.  And I'm so good at it that I don't even realize I'm not being vulnerable.  It's just as though I'm telling you someone else's story entirely.  It's moving. It's well-told.  It has ups and downs and climaxes and conflicts, but it's not really my story because I'm not sharing something with you that's close to my heart.

This.  All of these words on a screen. This is the most vulnerable I've ever been with people who don't know that I actually would love to take singing lessons and that I'm actually a huge foreign film fan.  Mostly of the martial arts persuasion.

And I don't really know that I owe anyone any vulnerability, but the truth is, I feel my walls cracking.  Someone has just taken a ginormous battering ram to them over and over and over again and I don't really know that I noticed until yesterday.  And it's left me feeling... hurt.  I'm used to anger.  I'm used to frustration and rage and fury.

But tears from pain... Tears from feeling like someone stomped on my teddy bear or scoffed at something I wrote... They're completely foreign to me.  I, Anna Molinari, do not cry because someone snaps at me.  I snap back with something witty, a solid defense either in my mind or from my lips.  But I can no longer muster anger.  There's no fight left in me.  I'm a wild mare that's finally been broken and I don't know that I can think of anything more heart wrenching than a horse, tamed.

I'm used to saying, "I'm ready for blood."  I'm used to swearing, "I'm ready to slit someone's throat."  I'm used to bristles and cussing and pretenses and just pure anger.  But this soft person that has over taken me I do not know.  This girl that allows people's words to get under her skin, to peel back her layers to her deepest fears, her heart's desires, her hopes and dreams... She's been hidden so well, so covertly disguised, but she's somehow been exposed.

I wish I could say I hate it, but I'm more confounded than anything.  I can't really point to a certain event or word or moment where all of a sudden she pushed aside the snarling me to take the jabs and wounds in an entirely different matter.  And now, I can't even muster rage.  It's frustrating in a debilitating way.  Not an angering way.  I want to be angry.  I want to be enraged.  I want to scrape and slash, but I've awoken to discover someone or something put me under and I no longer have claws.

This, I believe, for me is the ultimate and only mind screw I've ever encountered in my entire life.  And I think that is so because mostly, now that this little girl that used to look at the world with wide brown eyes and drink it all in, that used to defer to others and actually, truly love life is resurfacing, I'm even more frightened to put her away.

I hear myself saying snarky, caustic things and they sound... wrong coming out of my mouth. Like that's something I would never say, but I've spent the last ten years saying things like that rather profusely.

I don't know how to be at square one.  I don't know how to be this all of a sudden much younger, much more naive version of myself.  I know her.  I recognize her as myself from when I was tiny and it was fine to be this way. But now... Now I'm a grown woman who has no business letting people hurt her. But I think it's all such a mind screw because I'm going to.  I'm just going to let this side of me keep growing until there's nothing left of the version of myself I molded out of fear and pain.

Because I think it might kill me.  Figuratively.  Or kill monster me.  And I don't know that that would be such a terrible thing.

Relationships of a Pharisaic Nature

As I was reading my Bible this morning for the first time in ages, something occurred to me that I hadn't really ever thought of previously.  I've spent my whole life being told to feel compassion for the "lost", to share God's Word with them, to love on them and preach the gospel.  Because a relationship with God is one of the most wonderful things that can ever happen to you.  All of this is true.

But what I realized this morning is that I really don't need to "feel bad" for those who do not know Him.  I mean, yes, there is an element of grief because of the choices people make, but I think this morning I decided my heart is far more grieved by those who claim to have a relationship with Jesus, but don't.

I'm speaking of the equivalent of the Pharisees.  Men (and women) who know the Law inside and out.  People that can recite all Ten Commandments and know all about the Bible in the original Greek and Hebrew, but whose faces do not change when they speak of Creation or of the Creator.  He is as text to them--something to analyze, something to read, but not someone or something with whom to fall in love.

Yes, this by far grieves my heart more than any lost soul.  Because I think generally those whom are lost don't very much like God.  (Generally)  And not liking someone deals more with a relationship than not feeling any way about them whatsoever.  I think God can do more with hate than He can with apathy.  Being that He's omnipotent, He can really do anything, but I mean as far as molding people's hearts.

If you love the Lord, and I mean really are in love with Him, then you feel when He's tugging on your heart, trying to speak to you, trying to mold you.  If you hate Him, I think you feel that just as easily, but instead of really listening, you fight and you argue or you choose to ignore.  I think those who feel no way at all feel nothing.  I think they've done such a wonderful job of numbing themselves to anything greater than themselves that that's all they can really see or feel.

I think when I decided to not feel any way at all, to numb myself was the time I felt the most silence from God.  And I don't believe it was because He was being silent although that is distinctly possible.  I think it was because it was far different from any relationship I'd ever had with Him previously.  I've always ever been angry with God or seeking Him out, seeking relationship.  But I think when I closed myself off entirely, I put myself in a sound proof room, locked the door and swallowed the key.  I didn't want anything to do with God or religion or Christians, so I hid myself from them and refused to acknowledge their existence.  That is, by far, the loneliest existence I have ever led.

I apologize for the rabbit trail, but what I'm really getting at is my heart now breaks for those who think they know and may really even know all there is to know about Christianity, but know nothing of the Father's heart for them or anyone else.  I think the Bible in and of itself is a wonderful, profound book from which we can learn many good things, but I think the real meat in it so to speak is discovering something from those who authored its pages.  Intimacy.  Many of them speak of this delightful intimacy with their Lord.  And I think those of us that only ever read it in the context of a text book (which can be a very good thing sometimes), miss that intimacy.

It's the equivalent to me of opening a letter from someone that I know and delving into their sentence structure and grammar and the voice of the letter and ignoring who its from or the heart behind it entirely.  I think often times when we read the Bible, we miss that it is a letter. Literally.  Most of the books in the New Testament were letters written to different churches and provinces.

I don't want to get all metaphorical and say the Bible is a love letter which I've heard so many times.  It shouldn't be a chore to read it, truthfully.  I like to think that if I had a husband over seas and I could only speak to him via letter, I'd read anything he sent me til the pages tattered in my hands.  I don't care if he spoke of the weather wherever he was or it was some ridiculous story.  I love him and I want to cherish every letter, every word and store them in my heart.

As far as I'm concerned, I want to view the Bible in this light.  Most of what I write or read on here is my opinion alone.  It's my journey--things I'm discovering or learning or musing over at my own pace.  I don't express any of it as fact and I truly hope you don't take any of it as that.

All in all, I think I'm just realizing that there is so much more to God than I've ever been taught and it very much grieves my heart that this is so.  It grieves me that at age 22, I'm only now realizing the roots of Christianity.  I think when I was younger, it really was a list of do's and don'ts.  I really was quite intelligent and knew Bible verses and was the little goody two shoes.  But I think only now the idea starting to take root in my heart and in my mind is that Christianity is really about Christ.  It's not do's and don'ts as much as "did".  I think studying the life and the deeds of Christ and doing my best to replicate them not for the sake of righteousness, but for the sake of Love, is the closest I can get to Christ.  I think we've marred the term "Christian" meaning "little Christ".

It leaves me feeling slightly lost because although I do love the Lord, I really don't know where to place my tent so to speak.  I feel torn in all of this because all I want is those who are sincerely seeking to live like Christ as opposed to living religiously.  I know they're out there, but I don't want to run away to find them. I don't want to go to Africa or India or Korea to meet those that are shaking the foundations of hell with every baptism, every healing, every person brought back from the dead. I think that is as much for me here as it is for them there.

I guess I'm letting you know I'm learning. I think that will always be the way of my life--learning and growing.  But I think that's necessary to stay humble.  I don't want to rely on me. I don't want to have everything figured out. That's scary because that puts me in the place of no longer really needing God.  And I always want to need Him because He's never let me down. He's never disappointed. But I disappoint me on a regular basis.

I guess I'm saying maybe some of us need to think more.  What do you really believe about this "Christianity"?  I don't think many young Christians raised in the church ever ask themselves that question.  And I think not to ever really explore the depths of your beliefs, to never let their foundations be poked and prodded at is to let them be in danger of becoming ignorance--of becoming something that you've just always believed and always will without much reason other than that's what you were told.

It is rumored that Gandhi was questioned as to why he wasn't a Christian, why he so adamantly rejected becoming Christ's follower being that he so often quoted the words of Christ.  And his response went something like this: "Oh, I don't reject Christ.  I love Christ.  It's just that so many of you Christians are so unlike Christ."

And whether he actually said that or not, to me, that's worth thinking about.

She's a Witch! Burn 'er!

There are a couple reasons for the video.  A friend has always encouraged me to vlog. So it begins.  And in light of the election/win for Obama 2012, my heart was greatly grieved.  Not because Obama won.  But because I was in disbelief how we turned on one another so quickly, so ravenously.

Below is the video is the poem I'm reciting which I wrote. It's called Cannibalistic Endeavors.

Congratulations to the cannibals

Who can now join Hannibal Lecter

Eating the loins and livers of humanity.

But I think maybe he has a sliver more decency than we

Being that he would've outright just killed you and me.

Instead, we kill slowly with our words and with hate.

We preach so avidly about "human rights"

But will bleed each other out in the process.

We're all blood-thirsty wolves

Caught up in throes of opinion and fact

Missing the woes of states destroyed by a storm.

Do you think they stopped to hate?

Did they refuse to slake the thirst of someone with a different belief?

They still offer relief to all.

But some of your fists are still curled into balls

Hungry for blood, for death, for "justice".

The saddest part of all isn't who won or who lost

It's that we lost our dignity

By being concerned with our own indemnity.

Making sure at the end of the day,

Our agenda is proclaimed.

The thing that we've missed entirely

Is that America is the home of the brave and the land of the free

Which means you get to believe FREELY what you believe,

But so does he. So does she.

So where does that put us? Did you win? Did you lose?

At what price have you chosen what you choose?

America's biggest battle isn't welfare, healthcare, or debt.

It's you, it's me, who are whet by the scent of death.

We'll kill each other's spirits, watch each other take our last metaphorical breath.

The biggest problem with America is me

Who can't seem to get past what I see, what I want, what I need.

America won't be lost because of one man.

It'll be his band of followers

Or those who see fit to overthrow him.

We didn't gain or lose a president, a candidate.

We lost our humanity and gained a whole lot of vanity.

My argument here isn't Obama or Romney.

It's to see that we're obsessed with arguing about so-n-so's rights

But we'll fight to the death over it if it means being right.

God is Bigger Than the Boogie Man

Do you ever have those moments where you're just completely blown away by how loved you are? And I don't mean adored or how many crooning fans you have or anything asinine like that. I mean true, unadulterated, unconditional love.

So really what I mean is that you're blown away not by how MANY love you but how those who love you, love you. I mean those who know all your crap, all your nitty-gritty, nasty stuff. But when they look at you, their eyes still shine with adoration and you know their heart is full of you.

They don't hold your weaknesses over your head. They don't nag you to be "better" or to be "more". They love you just the way you are. And it's by not really ever asking you to be that better version of you that you're capable of being, by pouring into and loving the crazy person that you are, they're pulling that better version out of you all the while.

They make you want to be more in a good way. Not in a manipulative or insecure way, but in that selfless way that makes you want to be the best version of you for them because you sincerely feel they're being that for you.

It's funny how God's love incites this. It also incites terror. What if I'm not worthy of this love He so freely gives? What if I fail? What if He realizes I'm not worthy? I did nothing to merit this after all... But that's not unconditional love. It doesn't exist in human form so how can we really fathom a being that knows all of the evil thoughts and whims of our hearts and yet, loves us, wants to spend time with us, longs for us? It's unfathomable.

I'm sure many, if not all, of you have been in love. I am in love. I'm not going to tell you all the reasons why. I'm not going to say that he's just perfect and writes me love notes and bla bla bla. He IS one of the most amazing men I know, but he's flawed. Which is a relief because God knows it would be exhausting to be with a human who was perfect. That's a lot to measure up to. But I do love him. He's stood by me through many a dark place and never once looked at me and asked me why I'm so awful. He's never demanded retribution for my deceitful heart even when it has affected him. He has only ever offered me his hand, that wonderful look in his eyes. He sees in me what even I can't and I don't know that I'll ever thank him enough for that.

He puts up with my childishness. I don't know why. I don't know how. But he does.

I have lately found it difficult to fall asleep at night. I don't really think it's insomnia. It's just I get scared. I all of a sudden feel as though I'm 5 years old again, afraid to peek out from under my blankets for fear that the boogie man may be lurking near. I usually just turn a light on, play some music and fall right asleep. Tonight, however, I texted Ray because I thought he'd be dead to the world since I knew he went to sleep much earlier.

I asked him if I could call him before I went to bed and he said I could try but his cell phone service had been weird all night. I told him it was fine and asked that he just pray and go back to sleep.

As I started surfing Facebook, my phone rang with his custom Super Mario Dubstep Remix. Because nothing befits him more. What followed was a ridiculously simple conversation. But I think it is in those simple things that he knows exactly how to calm my storm and remind me that in simplicity is peace.

"Hey!"

Rushing through all of his words: "Hey I don't have much time 'cause my phone is being weird and I don't have service in my room but I just wanted to tell you I love you."

Smiling. "That's all I wanted to hear."

"Good."

"I love you, too."

"Don't be afraid.
...
It'll be okay."

Pause.

"I know."

"I'm gonna see you tomorrow morning and I'm gonna give you a huge hug."

Laughter. "A bear hug?"

"Yea. A bear hug. Now get some sleep."

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you, too. Good night."

You know, I really don't think I know all that much about love or about loving people the right way, but I HAVE gotten pretty good at spotting what's love and what's selfishness. I've experienced both ends of the spectrum. I've been guilty of both ends of the spectrum. But I'm pretty dang certain that now that I have something that's so incredibly mutual, that's based on something that really is give and take, I'm not going to let it go anytime soon.

You can bet on that.