Is this real life?

Yesterday was my first day off where I just shut in and said no to everything. That is, until I got called in to work to help with packaging. I was happy to do it, and ended up sleeping here (still at work, witting my quick blog while I ease my mind) and its been surreal.

Same clothes, no shower, uncomfortable sleep for 4 hours...but I'm still plugging away; hopped up on coffee, trying to finish these videos. And I think about my life. I think about what this year had. I think that I share a lot of the same sentiment that Tadd has talked about in his blog and in person - 2012 sucked a lot. But it was also joyous and had many surprises.

I think about where God has graciously brought me. He has given me so much favor in so many ways, and in so many eyes. And I think about where he will take me.

For once in my "adult" life, I will not be touting Death Cab by singing, "So this is the New Year, and I don't feel any different." Because the truth is, I feel completely different.

My heart has changed, my eyes are focused (but I need a stronger prescription I suspect), I am going to buy a house, I am not saying resolutions, I'll just do them, and I feel lighter - not that things aren't hard, but God's grace has shown in the clearing, and a fog has lifted.

So, my course is set for this present hour, and I'll turn my eyes upon Jesus, as the things of this world have grown strangely dim in the light of his glory and grace.

Here's to 2013: Soli Deo Gloria

It's been difficult to know what to say recently. In person, and otherwise.

God is so kind - I get my breath taken away just by looking at nature and miraculous ways that carbon and chemicals swill together. There is really so much beauty in this terrible world. I want to see life, and good days, but only with my King; for that is only where it can be found truly.

The ferociousness of God is magnificent. I always postulate if I'll get to see his return while I'm in this tent, and how epic that would be. The trumpet, the loud voice, the fiery eyes, being caught up, war.

I haven't really had much to say most of the time, because I'm always thinking about these things, and looking at pictures. And I suppose that losing one's poignancy for articulation comes with the territory of long days and tired nights in front of a computer working.

Panorama shots of the ocean are so vast and sad, but incredibly beautiful. There's so much water, so much space underneath.

crossroads

I'm going to make this quick, because I just poured another glass and my battery is at 9% and I don't necessarily feel like getting up to get the charger...

I realized something today - I think I'm too real. To sharp around the edges. I think in our over-stimulated, and emotive cultural/personal mentalities, we have grasped a pseudo-superficial narcissism that makes everything but our own brain rigid. And everyone gets softer, in a bad way.

A brother last night had mentioned to me in passing that he appreciated that he feels I am relatable and easy to talk to. I appreciated the notion, but really didn't think about it until this afternoon. And then that's all I thought about.

Some get it, others don't. I guess that's just the way it goes too. 7% now, I must hurry.

I don't really know WHAT there is to do about this new realization. Am I brash? Am I the "TMI dude"?  I'm certainly the "WTF dude". I don't really know IF I need to do anything about it.

12 years ago I was stranded on a rock in Moab, Utah. I jumped down across a gap, and I realized that I couldn't get back up the other side. I was up there for 3 hours before two German hikers with paracord and harnesses came along and my mother solicited their help. I didn't die that day, nor any of the days following, but I certainly remember that feeling - jumping too far and having been utterly desperate. Oh God, don't let me feel that way again. Keep my feet, keep my heart, because I can run too swift and love too undiscerningly that I may just never have two Germans come to the rescue....


AND THERE I WILL DIE IN THE DESERT.
2%

I don't know where to begin, because I don't know where or when it began, and I don't see an end in sight. Good one Mayans.

Let's start with the facts:
I've worked myself into a panic and restlessness with 120 hours this pay period.
I don't have time for really much anything else, because I need to stay busy to keep the wolves at bay.
I haven't had a good solid quiet time in a few weeks, and that sucks. Terribly.
I haven't been back to the gym since going with Bry, and I'm feeling it. *sluggish*
Last night was the hardest it's been in a while, and God convicted me so hard.

Let's continue with the non-self centered facts:
God has made a man to work.
God has a plan for my life.
God knows all and is always with me.
God is incredibly kind and gracious to me through all my f-ups and willful fleshiness.
God is showing me things through the minutia of my days - even when they blur together.

Last night, something happened. Between the terrible last minute shopper's traffic, a sleepless work week built up in my fatigue threshold, and feeling so alone, it broke. I broke. God ripped me apart with conviction and truth. A floodgate of seemingly simple things, amazing things, that were monumental pillars of light amidst a dark and asphyxiating world. I tried to begin to pray, but my weeping was so deep that I couldn't drive, and I couldn't breathe, and I couldn't see, and I couldn't even speak. I well up with tears even now as I think about it. It was a particularly hard Thursday, but a hard week too. And God came through, God was close, and is close, and said, "I became like you, to redeem you and relate to you, and save you from all of this that constricts your heart." And it went on for what seems like forever, until my heart felt like it emptied out, and then I began to form words and actually pray.

I need brokenness and desperation before my King. I get so proud, even in my pursuit of obedience - I get like Martha, or the brother of the Prodigal son. I get so mad at God too, because I feel like all I try to do is incline my heart to his will, and so many things I don't understand continue to happen, or not happen, and I get to this point of complete faithlessness. God is showing me things unseen, and bringing me places I otherwise did not expect.

That's the way it goes I guess. Is there any injustice in God? May it never be said so. 2013 will be a monumental changing year for me. I will buy a house, and I will keep praying for a wife, and keep pursuing pastoral ministry. Boot camp for now, training is always hard, until the harder things come to pass. This is the way it goes.

Lord, give me strength to carry on.

It's terribly disheartening how much I really love winter. Like it'd be wonderful if the years just switched between fall and winter over and over again. It's perfect for hot coffee always, jackets, an occasional Lucky Strike at a social event, and so nice to walk out of the gym after a few hours, and stand in the chill air. But then it gets so cold. So damn cold. Paralyzingly numb. This life is cold. My office is cold, and my black couch is common place to just bury my head in my hands and think/pray/vent.

Being a grown up, like my parents always used to tell me growing up, is a big responsibility. I didn't know it was like being Bruce Banner trying to hold in the Incredible Hulk. I've already worked thirty hours in the last two days. I'm feeling it. But, the secret is, it's always stressful - and grace deals ever so severely to my cold heart. Thank you Jesus.

Cover up death up with a white blanket. Don't think about it, let it just slip away for months on end without notice. Maybe sometime I'll know. For now, I keep pressing strong.

At the end of a sixty hour work week, I feel like I've retired to the eye of a storm. I made apologies to everyone last night, as I was and am a little off. I seemed rude or impersonal and didn't really know how to have a conversation or think past what I still have left to do.

With slight delirium, things are sadder and funnier, and it's inevitable to have bad dreams. So I laugh harder, and cry more, and wake up in a cold panic.

I'm learning, and God is still my focus, even when I can't focus on anything else, or engage with what Brother A or Sister B said to me. Grace as I continue, grace in what I've done, Jesus make me holy, grace til Kingdom come.

Lets just say it is probably really intense when you get to 11:46 in the evening, and you sigh, and it feels like the first time you've breathed all day.

My first thoughts were:
God, things are heavy, but you are strong.
Where's my whiskey.
Thank you Jesus that you're coming back.
If I had a girlfriend, I'd fail miserably right now with whatever it is that boyfriends do, considering how stacked I am, and I wish I didn't think about THAT thing.
Oh, there's my whiskey.

And then I read through some articles, and then I finished my glass and poured another. And I sat in thought, looking at nothingness, until I decided that I need to write it all down, pointless I know, but I wanted to since I found that writing clears my head.

I should get better at writing so my head is clearer, but my heart is full, so I'm looking for that remedy too.

And now, I'll just lay here, wide awake, engulfed.

I've always been the easy kill...

Some things are timeless and will always get to me.

The days are wrapping up quicker, and I'm finding that somewhere between turning on my headlights, and letting my head fall on the pillow, there is this lingering unspoken angst and tension that rials my heart strings. And it gets harder to breathe, even though I haven't smoked a Lucky Strike in over two months. The days are getting stranger, and soon the common good will be antithetical to what my God tells me; it will make my Bible blacklisted. I want love. I want my rifles. I want people to know God and live. This is just a puddle of sitting thoughts that have rushed in after a long day as I sit in my office, on the couch, writing momentary thoughts on a mobile phone.

These times are the end of the day. These times are what always get referred to. These times are the hardest parts, because days long filled with conviction are tired and worn, and have no real place to call home. Yet.

It's times like these we learn to live again.

this is how I really feel

honest

Journal, Copy, Music, Blog and otherwise...

I'm not a terrible person, I'm just figuring it out just like you, and if you were honest, you'd say the same stuff about yourself as you do others. Things that irk me about others are usually tenfold in my own life. Busted.

excess

At the outset, I must disclose that I am not attempting to in any way boast or brag of myself. Merely stating an objective condition on which I live by. Giving and learning to give. So please, for the sake of text and tone, understand that I'm not touting how nice or good or cool or well off I am. I'm mostly a tool, and a full time jerk who is befuddled as to why anyone likes me...haha. And that's sarcasm and half true.

Without further delay:

Losing things, on purpose. Fat, items, clothing, thoughts, feelings. I like to keep things, for some reason. Maybe it's because growing up I didn't have the coolest this, or neatest that, so I made it a point to keep everything I had because it might be cool later. Maybe it's human nature and everyone is really like this underneath. Maybe it's a man thing and I really just want a garage and work bench and shelves. Who knows. All I know is that now I have a desk piled with old socks, junk mail, and receipts.  Clutter and disorganization. I haven't had any time for myself to get reorganized at home. Things that aren't looked too kindly upon, like making out in a library, so I'm working on it.

I'll even work on making out in a library if that'll help.*

As a Christian, stewardship and generosity are always on the forefront of my mind. I think God wired me that way, because I acquire things easily, and if I kept them all, I'd be buried in my kingdom of material things and other assets that will fade and die and burn, and that's not what He wants for me. So I give things away. And I need to get in the habit of getting rid of extra things that clutter my life. They may be awesome, but not useful. They may be worthless and looked over. They may be bad habits. They may be emotional stresses.

Whatever it is, unless I'm going to honestly be productive with it - it's out. Cleaning house. God is good and gives many good gifts, and my goal is to worship him with those things by blessing others, and not worship those things to forsake others and dishonor him.

Cleanliness is next to godliness...and next to something else, but I'll have to use the Dewey Decimal System to make sure...*meet me in fiction.

the morning after

On waking, I thought, "This is going to take some getting use to..."

Learning how to handle things that have no handles is a difficult place to be. Everything in it's right place, I guess. Sovereign God, how wonderful you are. How great are your ways. How mighty is your hand. I'm in awe.

Loneliness isn't a reality when I'm a son. It's self deception.
Loneliness is self deception.

I'm tired, and I'm breaking apart because of time, age, external influences, the sun and radiation.
I wish I would be able to do everything right, to make you happy, and to make you happy, and to make them all happy. But, part of it is realizing that Jesus is collectively the savior; of me, and them - and even when in their stage of life they want me to be savior or solve their problems or blame me, I own up to the fact that Jesus is the only answer. I repent for forgetting that, or not living in that.

Yesterday was amazing, taxing, long, tiring, busy...a lot of things. Amazing really.
I pray people fall to their knees in desperation before Jesus, King and Lord.
I need to make that adjustment myself. My posture is not what it should be, and God is showing me grace and my errors, and how his grace covers and corrects my errors.

I learn to be repentant, not regretful. And whatever God brings my way, I'll submit. Glory to God alone.