Procrastinating Christian December 26, 2009

It wasn’t with much excitement today that I accurately labeled myself a “procrastinating Christian.”

It’s that feeling where you know you have tons to do–There’s all that homework, and the messy kitchen, and the living room floor because you have people coming over, and what is the source of that awful smell?!–but there is always something to do before you can get started on all that. But, at least you’ve made the list of things to do, right? I’m not sure whether we consciously or subconsciously decide not to do all that work, but somehow it just never gets done. Am I right?

There is so much that I need to do and figure out before I could do something like devote myself to a God about whom I know relatively nothing. It would be like ordering a bride in the mail! Still, the longer I wait, the more I feel like a seamstress (in keeping with the mail-order bride analogy). I feel like I’m going to expire for God. …And now I’m resisiting the urge to go for a cheese metaphor.

Anyway, I know what I’m waiting for. I have zillions of pseudo-answers lined up for when people ask me why I haven’t accepted God into my life yet and confirmed myself as a Christian. They are all true, because there are SO many things I’m waiting for, but there is only one for which I would ignore all the others. I am torn, knowing that I will be forever waiting in vain, but knowing that I can never turn my back on the remote possibilities, and also knowing that the remote possibilities would be less remote if I was a confirmed Christian.

It all comes back to Love, which apparently I am not familiar with anyway. If I knew God, then I would know Love. If I knew Love, perhaps I would know God. Which comes first?!

The Vault. December 25, 2009

You know that part of “The Polar Express” where they’re trying to slow the train down before it hits the lake of ice, but the piece of metal flies out of the brake lever, so they can’t stop the train? For what seems like minutes, they grasp and grasp for that piece of metal, while it slips out of their fingers, down a grate on the floor of the train, down a man’s throat, until finally it is coughed up… only to fly out of the train’s window and puncture the ice, causing gashes in the surface that nearly signal the end for every passenger.

That little tiny piece of metal, and that moment where they’re so close to losing it… that’s what Love feels like to me, too much of the time. It’s exhilarating, and it’s definitely a rush of adrenaline, and that piece of metal is so precious and valuable… but it never really feels safe. It seems like it’s always something I’m trying to grasp, something that I need to hold on to but just can’t seem to get a grip.

I can’t remember the last time I really felt safe in Love, but I do know when it all fell apart. Ironically, it’s one of my most meaningful and cherished memories. At that time, I learned what it would take to fully be able to relax into Love and let it be my life.

Why is it so difficult to take that challenge? I hate feeling like I’m missing something, or like I’m too inadequate to be able to hold on to it. That’s not the way this is supposed to work. From a Christian perspective, if God is Love, and God made man in His own image, are we Love? I know we are capable of Loving and we are meant to Love, but what in the world does it take to access that? Why do I feel like by being born, I was given the key to this secret vault and told to open it and use what is inside to create and spread Peace, but I can’t use the key or access the vault or something?

WHY do I feel like I’m missing something?!

And why is it that whenever I receive a gift from people who mean so much to me, I feel like I’ve been given a clue?!

I want to give clues! I want to be a strong person who knows how to tell people to Love!

__________________________

Trust me, I know what this allegory is about, and it’s not Harry Potter. Or the Matrix. I wish it were that simple!

A Love Letter From John And Yoko: To People Who Ask Us What, When And Why December 22, 2009

Sunday, May 27, 1979

The past ten years we noticed everything we wished came true in its own time, good or bad, one way or the other. We kept telling each other that one of these days we would have to get organized and wish for only good things. Then our baby arrived! We were overjoyed and at the same time felt very responsible. Now our wishes would also affect him. We felt it was time for us to stop discussing and do something about our wishing process: The Spring Cleaning of our minds! It was a lot of work. We kept finding things in those old closets in our minds that we hadn’t realized were still there, things we wished we hadn’t found. As we did our cleaning, we also started to notice many wrong things in our house: there was a shelf which should never have been there in the first place, a painting we grew to dislike, and there were the two dingy rooms, which became light and breezy when we broke the walls between them. We started to love the plants, which one of us originally through were robbing the air from us! We began to enjoy the drum beat of the city which used to annoy us. We made a lot of mistakes and still do. In the past we spent lots of energy in trying to get something we thought we wanted, wondered why we didn’t get it, only to find out that one or both of us didn’t really want it. One day, we received a sudden rain of chocolates from people around the world. “Hey, what’s this! We’re not eating sugar stuff, are we?” “Who’s wishing it?” We both laughed. We discovered that when two of us wished in unison, it happened faster. As the Good Book says — Where two are gathered together — It’s true. Two is plenty. A New Clear Seed.

More and more we are starting to wish and pray. The things we have tried to achieve in the past by flashing a V sign, we try now through wishing. We are not doing this because it is simpler. Wishing is more effective than waving flags. It works. It’s like magic. Magic is simple. Magic is real. The secret of it is to know that it is simple, and not kill it with an elaborate ritual which is a sign of insecurity. When somebody is angry with us, we draw a halo around his or her head in our minds. Does the person stop being angry then? Well, we don’t know! We know, though, that when we draw a halo around a person, suddenly the person starts to look like an angel to us. This helps us feel warm towards the person, reminds us that everyone has goodness inside, and that all people who come to us are angels in disguise, carrying messages and gifts to us from the Universe. Magic is logical. Try it sometime.

We still have a long way to go. It seems the more we get into cleaning, the faster the wishing and receiving process gets. The house is getting very comfortable now. Sean is beautiful. The plants are growing. The cats are purring. The town is shining, sun, rain or snow. We live in a beautiful universe. We are thankful every day for the plentifulness of our life. This is not a euphemism. We understand that we, the city, the country, the earth are facing very hard times, and there is panic in the air. Still the sun is shining and we are here together, and there is love between us, our city, the country, the earth. If two people like us can do what we are doing with our lives, any miracle is possible! It’s true we can do with a few big miracles right now. The thing is to recognize them when they come to you and to be thankful. First they come in a small way, in every day life, then they come in rivers, and in oceans. It’s goin’ to be alright! The future of the earth is up to all of us.

Many people are sending us vibes every day in letters, telegrams, taps on the gate, or just flowers and nice thoughts. We thank them all and appreciate them for respecting our quiet space, which we need. Thank you for all the love you send us. We feel it every day. We love you, too. We know you are concerned about us. That is nice. That’s why you want to know what we are doing. That’s why everybody is asking us What, When and Why. We understand. Well, this is what we’ve been doing. We hope that you have the same quiet space in your mind to make your own wishes come true.

If you think of us next time, remember, our silence is a silence of love and not of indifference. Remember, we are writing in the sky instead of on paper — that’s our song. Lift your eyes and look up in the sky. There’s our message. Life your eyes again and look around you, and you will see that you are walking in the sky, which extends to the ground. We are all part of the sky, more so than of the ground. Remember, we love you.

John Lennon and Yoko Ono

New York City

PS. We noticed that three angels were looking over our shoulders when we wrote this!

From the back page of The New York Times
Sunday, May 27, 1979

Which came first? December 22, 2009

I have a conundrum for you.

The other day in church, the pastor asked, “Did you ever think about what the world would be like if God had not made music?” I had, in fact, thought about it, but this time was different.

I wonder, do you think God made the concept of music first and then humans, so that we could create it and enjoy it, or do you think he made humans and included in us the capability of making and enjoying music?

Optimism in Vogue December 19, 2009

I can’t decide whether “waiting on the world to change” is pessimistic or optimistic–not as a song, but as a concept. When my mom first heard the song, she did not approve. She said, “why would we just wait for the world to change? What an odd thing to promote. You’d think people would get up offa their asses and actually do something themselves.” Okay, she didn’t quite say that. Anyway I told her, in absolute defense of John Mayer, that the song was supposed to be ironic. John Mayer was trying to tell everyone that we shouldn’t just sit around all the time and wait for the world to change. I’m not sure if that’s true, but I guess I like it.

The point is, it’s an odd phrase. Pessimistic because regardless of what John Mayer might have meant by it, it sort of implies that we’re at a complete loss as to what to do or how to accomplish what we think needs to be done about our world. But it’s optimistic because at least we know something needs to be done, and we know that change is good.

That optimism is hard to find lately. I’ve been noticing with my friends that sometimes we tend to only bond when we’re complaining about the same things or bitching together. When we agree, we agree and leave it at that. I hate it. I’ve even brought this up to a couple friends, who agreed that they found it frustrating as well, and then we started bitching some more about it.

What is wrong with us, that we can’t find joy in even the lowliest sparrow, and share that joy with others?

Why is it so easy to find things to complain about, when really there is an exponentially greater number of things that we could choose to find fascinating, outstanding, awesome (in the REAL meaning of the word), or touching?

Why is it that in thinking about this problem, all I can do is blame some people (like the media, for only reporting on negative news and issues)? Current events can be depressing, but why have we trained ourselves to never look at the subtexts? For instance, The Copenhagen discussions that have been going on about global warming– for a while, we were learning the facts about what was getting done. Suddenly the conference is over, and all we can do is talk about what didn’t get done. People don’t realize that we are so lucky to have come out on the other side of the conference with even more questions and topics at hand. For one thing, we’re strengthening our international relations. But also, it is so easy to forget that science is all about asking questions! When we did science experiments in middle school, the goal was to prove our hypothesis correct through our experiment. In high school, the goal was simply to explore more about our hypothesis. If it turned out to be right, we needed to know the variables that could actually make it true or false in difference cicumstances. If it turned out to be incorrect, we learned how to ask more questions to narrow down what might have gone wrong, what we needed to improve on, and what else we could consider for the future. The latter was so much more of a learning experience than simply proving ourselves right through the same steps that had been performed countless times before.

Why are we so afraid of asking questions and being unsure of ourselves? I do not operate under the belief that ignorance is bliss, but rather, that the road to enlightenment is paved with doubt, and the only way to recover from that doubt is to be optimistic. And the only way to be optimistic is to have hope. The only way to have hope is to have faith in humanity. The way to have faith in humanity is to have faith in yourself, as a member of humanity who will make a difference. And the way to have faith in yourself is by being the change that you wish to see in the world.

Be.Love.

Talking shouldn’t be this complicated. November 5, 2009

Sometimes I forget I’m talking to people. Like, I finish talking to them and then realize that I wasn’t really talking to them like they’re real people; I’m talking to them like I’m in a video game and the sentence I have to say to them is my challenge. I feel like I cheat them out of my real thoughts, but I don’t know if they can tell.

I don’t remember which school of thought states that maybe there aren’t actually multiple people in the world–maybe there’s just me, and God (or some external force) puts other people and situations on earth just to test me and teach me. It’s an interesting-if a little narcissistic-idea.

It also helps me think of things more linearly … as in, it helps me be more diplomatic in my approach to people. I don’t worry so much about figuring out how to please each person individually, because they exist as a learning experience for me.

But then, one has to wonder, what if they think the same thing? What if I’m simply a learning experience for them? Clearly, then, life is not this existential illusion. But that, too, is a learning experience.

A poem by Rumi: “An Awkward Comparison” September 19, 2009

[The formatting doesn't hold. I'll try to figure that out later. Also, I chose it randomly from a book of Rumi's poems that I have. I might decode it later in another post. Enjoy]

———-

“An Awkward Comparison”

This physical world has no two things alike.

Every comparison is awkwardly rough.

You can put a lion next to a man,

but the placing is hazardous to both.

Say the body is like this lamp.

It has to have a wick and oil. Sleep and food.

If it doesn’t get those, it will die,

and it’s always burning those up, trying to die.

But where is the sun in this comparison?

It rises, and the lamp’s light

mixes with the day.

Oneness,

which is the reality, cannot be understood

with lamp and sun images. The blurring

of a plural into a unity is wrong.

No image can describe

what of our fathers and mothers,

our grandfathers and grandmothers, remains.

Language does not touch the one

who lives in each of us.

There are two kinds of intelligence: one acquired,

as a child in school memorizes facts and concepts

from books and from what the teacher says,

collecting information from the traditional sciences

as well as from the new sciences.

With such intelligence you rise in the world.

You get ranked ahead or behind others

in regard to your competence in retaining

information. You stroll with this intelligence

in and out of fields of knowledge, getting always more

marks on your preserving tablets.

There is another kind of tablet, one

already completed and preserved inside you.

A spring overflowing its springbox. A freshness

in the center of the chest. This other intelligence

does not turn yellow or stagnate. It’s fluid,

and it doesn’t move from outside to inside

through the conduits of plumbing-learning.

This second knowing is a fountainhead

from within you, moving out.

[Something]’s Gonna Change My World September 11, 2009

I have about ten saved drafts of other posts I’ve started over the past couple weeks… but on this day, I feel more like starting anew.

You know how they tell you in high school that once you get into “the real world, then blah blah blah”? I never knew whether the Real World started after college, or before, or during, or at the moment of graduation from high school, or right when you became financially independent, or what. Who knows whether any of us are in the Real World at all. (I know that statement is a little too Matrix-y, but whether it’s a metaphor or not, sometimes there IS a world (or many other worlds) out there to which we are blind or deaf).

Occasionally, I know that I’m living in the world in my head. Occasionally, I know that I’m living in a fantasy world created by the media. Occasionally, I know that I’m living in the Real World.

This is what the real world is like: In college, they don’t hold a moment of silence for the lives lost during 9/11/01. I remember in middle and high school (gawd, I’m old) when we would stand with bowed heads, and I’m sure it happens still. But I’m not in an environment where that’s done, and I don’t know why. It’s not that I want that moment of silence…

I think I just want to comprehend the suffering of others. Or maybe I don’t, but I feel like I should. For instance, I have a friend who is in Ghana right now (her blog is at http://heidigroover.blogspot.com/. She updates often and her insight is really great–check it out). She’s sort of a participant observer in the third world/developing country scheme there, and she witnesses first hand the conditions in which the natives live.

It seems like things like that are really valued in our society, because we like to think we’re pretty privileged (when it’s put in perspective). On the other hand, being able to step back and have an honest, solid empathy for those who are suffering is “good.” When Hurricane Katrina happened, the rest of the United States felt sympathetic toward the victims and their loss.

When 9/11 happened, people all over the United States empathized and mourned (partly because it was a threat to everyone, not just those in NYC and the Pentagon).

But what if I can’t comprehend that?

I end up feeling completely heartless simply because I don’t understand suffering. I know what it is, of course, and I’ve experienced a tiny bit myself on a very small scale, but I just haven’t been able to look at suffering in terms of feelings. In other words, I can listen to specific stories of people’s losses around 9/11 and genuinely feel bad for them, but I can’t share their sorrow.

I look at Katrina as a mass loss of homes, pets, belongings, finances, loved ones… but not as a loss of hope or a loss of esteem.

I look at 9/11 as a mass loss of lives and loss of assets (buildings, money). I know it is symbolic, but I have some sort of emotional block from knowing what that really means for our country and for the people more directly affected by the attack.

And I won’t lie; I feel quite awful about all of this. It’s not like I’m apathetic toward everything. It’s just that I guess I have no way of translating that sorrow, so far removed from me, to something closer to home.

But how important is it, to share that burden of sorrow? I feel like it’s a duty for me as an American citizen to feel personally hurt and scared by the events of 9/11. I don’t. But is that something around which the United States really needs to rally?! Do we really need to take on some more pain, and remember it every year?

I may not be very adept [yet?] at feeling empathetic toward others’ pain, but I can sure as hell share their joy.

Heidi, my friend in Ghana, said that she witnessed a funeral procession in one Ghanian village where one of the elderly men in the town had just died. She says, “It was strange to see the way they celebrated the life of the 85-year-old man who had died instead of mourning the fact that he was gone. Even the signs posted around town announced the ‘Celebration of Life,’ not the ‘Funeral ‘or ‘Ceremony.’” (http://heidigroover.blogspot.com/2009/09/830-first-little-big-adventure.html).

I think joy is more universal than sorrow. Even with all the famine, disease, poverty, and other misfortunes ailing many parts of the world, those trials only make small things easier to appreciate, therefore creating more joy. Why don’t we rally around hope? Didn’t Barack Obama’s campaign prove that hope is a much more effective tool?

For a while, I remember plans being laid for an “uplifting” memorial to 9/11 at Ground Zero. While I do think it’s important to keep such an event in our history, I remember a line from one of my favorite movies saying something like, “the best way to forget something is by commemorating it.” Are we afraid of seeming heartless if we just move on? Are we not saving the victims still suffering from the effects of the attacks from enduring further strife?

In a way, it’s not so bad to not comprehend suffering. In fact, I think it’s pretty normal. I think confusion is a more natural and positive response than anger and hatred (but that’s not saying much).

How long did the people who started blaming others for the attacks stop to ruminate on what had actually happened? Life should not be a grand “whodunnit?” setup. Some things are mysteries, including the human brain, heart, and soul, as well as their feelings and functions.

I am not saying that we wouldn’t need to find out who was responsible for something like 9/11. I’m also not saying that anger is not part of the grieving process (i.e., anger IS part of the grieving process). But what do we need to do (personally and on a larger scale) to ensure that compassion is ALSO part of the process, enough to the point where we realize that anger and hatred are only bred from not understanding. We don’t understand death; it has always been mysterious. But we also know that to every time, there is a season. In the heat of the moment, it’s impossible to recognize something like that. I just wonder when blame has solved a problem, and whether it’s reliable enough to keep trying.

Though I may live in a bubble, and only venture into the Real World occasionally, my bubble does facilitate some self reflection. If I’m honest with myself in admitting that I don’t understand suffering and I don’t understand death, I can also realize that I share more common ground with people in joy than in sorrow. Rather than using ignorance in a way that is harmful to myself and others, I would like to exploit the similarity of joy, and breed compassion, hope, and love. Love can penetrate any personal bubble.

“Limitless, undying love which shines around me like a million suns, it calls me on and on, across the universe.” -The Beatles.

Abruptishnessment July 30, 2009

Nearly all of my books on spirituality (especially Eastern philosophy and spirituality) have orange on their covers. Bear with me while I decode that…

Sorry for the obnoxiously short post; I’m barely at home before leaving to the cabin again :) Have an excellent day!

Savoring the Beat July 23, 2009

My mom is leaving tomorrow for southern Idaho, so for a while we had a plan to carpool a ways down there. She would drop me off at a monastery and I would spend a couple nights down there, volunteering and just hanging out, because I’ve never been in that kind of environment before. Then I found out that their facilities aren’t really open to that right now–only to retreats. Which means it would be two nights/three days in complete devotion to God, and I don’t think I’m ready for that. That’s pretty intense, and I feel like such an amateur.

Anyway, it turns out that they’re booked up for this weekend, so I’m not able to stay there even if I had the guts. It’s sad that I would even need guts to visit a monastery, for Heaven’s sake, but it’s true. Situations like that have always intimidated me. When I got to my middle/high school, everyone was familiar with the Bible and I barely knew where Genesis was. I’ve gotten a bit better, and a little more confident, but I still freeze up every time I enter a Catholic church. When do I kneel? When do I stand? With which hand do I cross myself?

It’s odd that I have some friends to whom this is all second nature… then, I have some friends who have only memorized the moves and rituals from movies, and some who have never stepped inside a Catholic church. I love them all, of course. But I do become wary of people who don’t really step out of their box.

That’s why Caleb and I are looking into “touring” some churches in the area, just to get some variety before I leave again. And when I do leave, I’d like to keep going to a church, because I love the experience. Last Sunday, after church, my dad asked me what it was like after the sermon. “Do people leave immediately, or mill around, or dissect the sermon, or what?”

After thinking for a moment, I likened it to the moments after a Sweet Adelines rehearsal. We sing a closing song, usually with hands held, and close with a big finish. We’re all smiling at each other and praising each other for a job well done, no matter how the evening went. Then, when we release hands, there’s a “beat” (as they say in the acting community) where everyone just sort of sighs.

It’s marvelous how similar things are in the churches I’ve been to. As the congregation closes with a song or a rousing chorus, everyone feels unified and vibrantly alert of each other and the reason they are all gathered there. Then, like the end of a rehearsal, there is a moment like a sigh–it isn’t silent, and it’s not particularly reverent, but it is somewhat thoughtful.

That’s a pretty cool moment, though it’s usually unremarkable. I mean, it’s also just the moment when everyone picks up their Bible and purse, begins talking to their neighbor, and makes their way out of the pew. Life goes on. It’s ordinary. But it’s the most comfortable moment, because there’s so much to think about, and yet it’s a very tense moment, because there’s so much responsibility. I always feel pretty pressured to keep up the kind of faithfulness I’ve felt for the past hour. And even that is a pretty awesome (yes, awe-some) feeling… but it’s also near impossible.

As many a pastor has said, “life gets in the way.” Sometimes I wish I were someone like Rumi or Aristotle or the Dalai Lama, for whom life probably does not get in the way. Feeling faithful IS their life. Hopefully they know how lucky they are.

Illuminating Ruminating July 22, 2009

[This article was originally a continuation of the post below, TwitterBurger.]

I can’t help it; I love looking at every single one of people’s Tweets. You never know what you might miss, I suppose… and some are really quite profound or inspirational. Take this, for example: I follow Deepak Chopra (if you don’t know who he is…look it up), and he has some really amazing quotes. Today he Tweeted: “We have fallen into the place where everything is music. -Rumi“

I would imagine that this has something to do with Rumi’s general teachings (I had to look this up too): He believed that he had been disconnected from his creator and had begun to think himself above it/him/her, but that he had the ultimate goal to reconnect with his primal roots and restore that relationship.

So at first, the quote that Deepak Chopra Tweeted seemed a little… derogatory, shall we say? towards music. If we have “fallen” to that place where everything is music, it doesn’t seem very positive. It makes me think of falling from grace, or “falling” as a sort of failure. So despite my unconditional love for music, my conclusion was that perhaps Rumi saw music as monotony? To say that “We have fallen into the place where everything is monotonous” would make much more sense, since monotony isn’t really something we strive for, and it could definitely be said that our world has become monotonous (despite all the Twittering).

However, even my extremely rudimentary Rumi research through Wikipedia told me that Rumi was anything but skeptical or pessimistic towards music. Apparently, he wholeheartedly believed that music was one of the best ways to get back in touch with his creator or God.

(At this point I must stress that if you know anything about Rumi, please tell me, because I’m completely at a loss and I’m a little distrustful of Wikipedia sometimes.)

Anyway, Wiki says that Rumi thought poetry, music, and dancing were the ways in which people were most spiritual and soulful. The idea of “whirling dervishes” (which I always thought were a kind of garden ornament) originated around Rumi’s time. They were so invested in the sounds that they would move in whatever way the spirit moved them, which often resulted in spinning. Pretty soon, this sort of dancing became a ritual, during which Rumi believed that the soul was damaged and repaired, and when it was repaired, there was a renewed devotion to God.

From Wiki: “In this journey, the seeker symbolically turns towards the truth, grows through love, abandons the ego, finds the truth, and arrives at the Perfect. The seeker then returns from this spiritual journey, with greater maturity, to love and to be of service to the whole of creation without discrimination with regard to beliefs, races, classes, and nations.”

Honestly, this sounds amazing. I was never one for believing that the soul could have just one point of revelation; rather, it is always evolving and maturing. But for the alternative, it’s an amazing idea. And of course, whether you believe the soul goes through one very powerful transformation or many, I do concur with the idea that music plays a huge part of it.

“Falling into music” is a little bittersweet, and actually I think I was partially right in my analysis of it. We’ve fallen into a place where everything is monotonous, but we can choose to see it as music, because that is all we have. And because music is so powerful, we can choose to make something of it and use it to our advantage, not just in the world but for ourselves, spiritually. And once we change ourselves, we are well on our way to changing the world anyway.

A Beautiful Friendship July 20, 2009

Wavelengths are powerful; sharing wavelengths with someone is even more so. It’s one thing to be in agreement with someone verbally; it’s another thing to share the same thoughts; it’s another thing to share feelings.

I don’t think all of that comes automatically with someone. People may talk about love at first sight, but even though the lusty feeling may be there, the synchronicity takes some work. And it’s not any different with a friendship. In fact, it’s even more difficult to develop mutuality, because you don’t have the initial lust from which to develop common ground. But when you do reach that ultimate mutuality, in any relationship, it’s the best feeling in the world–but it still demands attention and effort.

One of my criteria for having a romantic relationship is that we both have to have a mutual respect. We should share other things mutually as well, but respect is first and foremost for me.

So I often wonder if this isn’t my main problem with Christianity. If I want a relationship with God and/or with Christ, I seem to have this innate desire for it to be mutual, and that’s just not possible. The idea that we owe so much to Christ, who bled and died for our sins, is sort of a deterrent–meaning that we can never “break even” because of our sin nature and all that. But wouldn’t it be great if the phrase “what a friend we have in Jesus” was actually true, and it actually was a friendship?

“What a friend we have in Jesus,/ all our sins and griefs to bear/…/ Can we find a friend so faithful/ who will all our sorrows share?/ Jesus knows our every weakness/…/ Are we weak and heavy-laden,/ Cumbered with a load of care?/ Precious Savior, still our refuge/…/ Thou wilt find a solace there.”

Maybe it is mutual. Maybe Jesus does bear our burdens and we bear his, like friends do. Maybe he does want the best for us, and in a way, we want the best for him– for the ideals he embodied. The biggest difference is that a friendship with Jesus doesn’t involve immediate gratification. While it’s possible to have tons of fun with a best friend, it’s not really possible to have a party with Jesus… unless you dole out peyote as a party favor. But instead, the time when we get to join Jesus is at the “end” of the friendship.

“Soon in glory bright, unclouded,/ There will be no need for prayer./ Rapture, praise, and endless worship/ will be our sweet portion there.”

Or is it the beginning? Perhaps life is a long courtship with Jesus, and Heaven is the real beginning of a beautiful friendship.

[Song: "What a Friend We Have in Jesus," by Joseph M. Scriven.]

Turning Hearts Back to You, Again. July 17, 2009

I was just talking with a friend I haven’t talked to in quite a while–months, probably. We were never extremely close (in fact I mostly felt like his acquaintance), but we talked every once in a while and he was always very upbeat, if a little cynical and more focused on getting laughter sometimes than any actual meaning in a conversation. But, that just tended to make him more fun, even if we didn’t have a friendship that was really rooted in something.

As I regained contact with him, I braced myself for his humor and the old nature I remembered. But instead of random, detached jokes, a real story greeted me: a sobering one. While he’s been staying in the east for a while, his recently divorced mother had decided to shut him out of her house upon his return, and made it impossible for my friend to see his father. My friend has no money and still has two years left of high school to manage–needless to say, he doesn’t have the resources to figure out how to negotiate his situation.

Through the conversation, the optimist inside of me tried desperately to cling to other options for my friend and possible things to distract him. Finally, I claimed that “if nothing else, there’s always the youth mission, or whatever it’s called.” Without having any idea of how he would react, I think I was kind of buffering the statement (or myself) with the “whatever it’s called” part. And sure enough, my friend would hear nothing of it.

“You know I don’t accept charity,” he said. I didn’t, in fact, know that about him, but I would soon enough. “I need to work for it somehow, and, more importantly, that people worse off than me should take that opportunity, not me.”

I guess I still don’t know what to make of that. Some of those places to make kids work for the privilege to stay there, and they’re run by volunteers who are happy to dedicate their time to the shelter or whatever place it is. I said, “it’s all relative,” but he disagreed.

You just can’t argue with some people. But that’s not the point.

The point is that sometimes, all you can do is pray. And what I’m slowly realizing is that as I and my friends grow up and start encountering things that we’ve never experienced before, we can’t always act according to “best interests” or “the right thing to do,” because we just plain don’t know what those things are. So I guess people pray that some other force can guide them. I don’t know why that’s better– either way, we feel like a situation is out of our control; sometimes we ask for help, and sometimes we don’t.

I’ve never really been very good at prayer or interested in it, but I’m starting to think that the most meaningful part is not necessarily the connection one makes with God through it, but the connection one makes with fellow humans through it. Whether we think anyone “up there” is listening, we feel good about it. If we pray for someone else, we are comforted by knowing we may be doing the only thing that’s in our power to do; if we pray for ourselves, we’re comforted knowing that even if nothing comes of it, we’ve asked for help.

Maybe that’s my gut feeling about what my friend said to me about charity. Personally, I like to be asked for help. It makes me feel capable, loving, and needed, as well as a mutual nurturer. And I know there are other people in the world like that–some of them work at youth hostels, I would bet. (As I side note, I just happened to wonder if God likes to be asked for help… interesting.) So besides the fact that hostels and other “charities” exist to be taken advantage of by anyone (just like how anyone can pray, not just those who “really need it”), the people involved might actually feel privileged to help.

I don’t want to see my friend suffer, but I also don’t want to undermine his beliefs–I have the utmost respect for his opinions about charity (and sympathize with them, to some extent). But we, his friends, would probably rather see him swallow his pride than pitch a tent on a street corner.

I rarely, if ever, pray. But whenever I do, the thought or wish that usually surfaces when I’m grappling for something to pray “about” is that most of all, I would like some guidance in prayer itself. This time is no different. Do I pray for my friend to find a roof over his head, no matter what the conditions are, as long as his beliefs are upheld? Do I pray for him to, just this once, abandon his rules and take advantage of the charities that are available to him? Do I pray for his mother, who can really be seen as the root of this problem?

As usual, I can’t decide… and luckily, I don’t think it’s for me to decide. The prayers I do come up with can usually be boiled down to one theme: peace. I know, hippieness blah blah blah. But really, is there anything more powerful that I can pray for than for my friend to be at peace? The actual events at stake here are out of my control; they’re out of my friend’s; and they’re out of the control of everyone else who is praying for him. So ultimately, I would like to pray for him to be at peace with whatever ends up happening, whether it’s his will or not. And for all of us to keep love in our hearts first and foremost. ((w&f))

Title courtesy of Jon Foreman’s, “Again”

Lucky. April 19, 2009

I had this moment of epiphany (among many, the other day) where I realized that this picture I had was of something very different than what I thought it was. 

It’s the picture I uploaded for the pic of this site– the peace sign one. That was painted on the side of a building in Laurel Canyon in Hollywood, where many many stars have lived and live now. 

It has been my desktop picture for some time now, so I’ve been looking at it for quite a while. And I always saw the white form on top of the peace sign as a white dove, which made sense since they’re the symbol of peace.

But the other day, while I was staring at my computer and shedding more tears over the dumb situation with my parents, I realized it was a hand holding the peace sign… and of course, in my weakened state my whole world came together at an apex at the moment I realized that and what it meant– we all hold peace in our hands, and when we don’t realize that, we keep “waiting for the world to change,” and nothing happens. 

I have fewer doubts now that peace WILL spread, as long as individuals take advantage of the power of peace that each holds in his hands. 

It’s not a joke that I believe in music so fully. It’s not just because I’m so at a loss for something else to believe in, it’s not just because I’m so lazy that all I do is listen to music anyway, so that might as well be what I have faith in. It’s not just because that’s what I grew up with instead of a religious background, so that’s all I know. All of those things may be true, but in my defense I will say that it’s not for lack of thought that I’ve come to the conclusion that music is the most real and most powerful thing we can believe in.

If I really wanted to go out on a limb, I would proclaim my belief that furthermore, the Beatles have everything one needs to live. Again, my ignorance is “at fault,” because I’m sure many people would say, “well, that’s because you haven’t heard ________.” I realize that the Beatles themselves aren’t the epitome of perfection (though they’re pretty damn close). I realize that they aren’t even very good musicians or musical geniuses, in comparison with people like Hendrix or Santana, or the classical greats like Bach or Tchaikovski. But personally, their music speaks to me more than anyone else I’ve ever heard. 

Anyway, can I hear an Amen?! I’m sure there are others out there that have felt music resonate with them more than any sermon or revelation. Maybe not. Can I hear a Nay from the others?

I’m Lucky I’m in love with [the Beatles]. Ironically, I haven’t listened to the Beatles at all today… Jason Mraz (who is also a musical god) has been my soundtrack so far. And yes, I do go some days without listening to the Beatles at all. Just like many people go many days without going to church. It doesn’t mean we’re without worship or recognition of the Greatness.

Declaration of Faith December 10, 2008

This is an essay I wrote for my senior high school lit class. The prompt was to write our “creed.”

*___*___*___*___*___*

Man’s mindscape in the dawn of time: questioning everything from his five fingers to why his fish died. From how to balance on his two feet to why plants grow, or even why he’s alive. Questions flood man’s mind–some questions have answers, but some will still remain mysteries thousands of years later. Grappling with potential answers becomes man’s main priority. Answers form the basis for his faiths, because he has the need to believe something.

It’s inevitable that at some point, man will discover new things that nix his original theories. Man will have to reform his beliefs according to these new ideas, because some instinct tells him that it is reasonable for his faith to be at least somewhat based on fact. 

Faith is a very personal topic, unique to every human being. But even so, we use external conflicts and situations to strengthen our beliefs. Our spirituality is shaped by the events and people around us all the time, and therefore it would stand to reason that it is constantly changing. Part of change is the process of doubt. True faith can never exist without doubt.

When someone is able to justify and defend his or her beliefs, it conveys the impression that those beliefs are powerful and well though-out. It also usually heightens the sensation of wanting to agree or disagree, which fuels argumentation and so continues a cycle of conflicts that strengthen one’s faith, as well as one’s doubts.

A period of doubt and questioning will lead to an even stronger feeling of faith. Once a person answers his or her own questions, wouldn’t they feel stronger, like their ideas were more powerful? But each phase of doubt is harder to overcome, because with the maturity of answering questions and even more (and more important) questions and responsibility to answer them. This, I believe, is the natural process of gaining one’s own unique faith. Every person has to go through it personally.

Faith has no reason or strength without a background of doubt. People need the balance of doubt to reason their way to faith. Doubt gives man the least sense of security of any other aspects of faith, so of course men would want to avoid it. But actually, doubt and questioning give and unmatchable power to a man’s faith. Men always have the choise to accept doubt, but most will ignore it, thinking that it weakens them or gives less meaning to their faith. In fact, it’s the opposite. Doubt offers more depth to a man’s understanding or journey to understanding religion or the possibility of a higher being.

It is part of human nature to doubt, argue, and solidify one’s own beliefs by any means possible, with the help of other people and situations. Having faith is part of human nature as well, but I believe that people don’t want to go through the process of questioning to achieve true faith. They feel that questioning would weaken them, or they’re afraid of the answers they may arrive at, or they’re afraid of not finding answers.

Also, I think that Christians play a big part in making questioning taboo. Many Christians believe that when people question their own spirituality or ideals in faith, it’s really the devil trying to tear apart their religious beliefs. This is wrong mostly because questioning is not evil in any way. But even if this is so — if the devil exists and is trying to break people’s faiths — it only makes it more meaningful when people overcome doubt. People might feel like they’ve defeated an inner demon. Regardless, regaining answers and beliefs should lead to an even more powerful level of spirituality.

Questioning never ends, so perhaps the time of strongest faith that humans ever have is at death. Even though there are very few people who claim to understand death, many have ideas about what happens when we die or about the possibility of an afterlife. Though these beliefs are mainly shaped by religious teachings, some are influenced by raw faith, strengthened by doubt.

The most faithful people are characterized by not only their moments of weakness, but also by times of undying love. This could mean love and optimism for mankind, or a vision that includes peace and happiness for the world. These people are also very well-balanced in their journeys through doubt and questioning, and strong in their beliefs and faiths. When people recognize that faith and doubt are inseparable, is becomes much easier to realize their full spiritual potential.