#'who said anything about safe' jesus christ I know I myself am a relatively new fan but I have to ask

[alexjcrowley]

Just saw the F1 (Brad Pitt) movie trailer thanks I hate it

[the-arg0naut]

A Song For Every Moon

soulmate auuu where they hear the thoughts in their soulmate’s head! anyways i wrote this in collaboration with @you-call-those-glasses and!! yes!!! (also i forgot to post this for like three weeks shhhshshh)

also blood tw! its not big described but its there so Yes

~~~~~~~~~~~

Well this certainly isn’t ideal, now is it?

It all happened so fast. He was on set crew for the school’s various shows, he always was. So it was expected that he knew his way around the various machines used for set, yeah? Usually, yes. But today was just not Virgil’s day at all.

First, he had to step out of class first block due to a panic attack caused by some stupid freshmen who thought purple was a “girl’s color,” (Who gives a shit, it’s just a color. Last I checked, colors don’t have penises or vags.) Then, Logan had to take lunch to their math class to make up a test they missed so he had to sit alone-because god forbid he go up and actually talk to new people (They’re all looking at me, I’m all alone and they’re staring at me and calling me a loser). 

And then he gets to set construction, the one place he truly does feel safe, and secure, and comfortable.

And Grant just had to yell something from across the shop to him, when he knew he wouldn’t be able to hear him with the saw running.

He had turned to try and make out what he was saying. Kept feeding the wood into the machine. Didn’t even notice when his hand went just a little bit too far past the guard.

Honestly, he didn’t feel anything. Not initially, at least. Just a bit of weird tingling in his left index finger, something warm yet cool at the same time over the rest of his hand. A bit of a loud noise when the machine forced itself off, but he had earplugs in anyways, so it made no real difference. 

He only realized something was wrong when Grant started screaming at him, yelling something, good lord what’s all this yelling for-

Well. That’s quite a bit of blood. I didn’t even know I had so mu...

He barely had looked at his hand, barely had time to think a single thought before passing out. Blood and all really isn’t so cool when it’s cascading down your hand and onto the piece of plywood you were previously trying to cut.

He faded in and out of consciousness for a little while. Caught glimpses of things. Grant and Brandon carrying him out of the building. Flashing lights. Latex gloves. 

He came to in the ambulance, two EMTs and Grant beside him. He registered that his hand hurt, jesus christ my fucking hand hurts, good god, can’t they give me some drugs or something-

Drugs? What would you need drugs for? And what do you mean, your hand hurts? Oh goodness, this has to do with the blood you mentioned earlier, doesn’t it? 

Whoops. No one had thought to contact Logan, his soulmate. They must’ve heard him when he saw his hand, and promptly passed out. God, they must’ve been so worried, just a mention of a shitton of blood and then nothing, can’t even imagine-

Yes, it was very worrisome, and even more so when you wouldn’t answer my phone calls. What the hell happened?

Just a… bit of an incident with the table saw.

Table saw?!

Calm down, it’s got that cool thing where if it senses, like, warmth or flesh or whatever, it forces itself to turn off. Breaks a bunch of the parts inside, but- oh god, James is gonna be pissed, those parts aren’t cheap-

Virge, I don’t think how the saw’s doing is what we need to be worrying about right now. How bad did it… cut you?

No idea. I passed out after seeing all the blood. I never got a good look at it. I could ask the paramedic next to me.

Oh good, you’re in an ambulance, at least you’re getting treatment. Yes, ask them, and then ask which hospital you’re going to.

Will do, love.

He turned to Grant and the paramedic currently busying herself with a bag beside his head.

“Hey, Grant. Hey, uhhh, I don’t know your name, paramedic person,”

“My name is Annabelle.”

“Cool, hi Annabelle. So, uh, how bad’s the damage?”

“Well, we’ll be able to better tell exactly how much got lacerated when we get to the hospital, but from just getting it cleaned up, it doesn’t look too bad. A cut maybe half a centimeter in on your left index finger.”

“Cool, I won’t lose my finger. Where are we heading, by the way?”

“Since your friend here let us know that you’re still 16, and legally a minor, we’re headed to B. Major Children’s Hospital.”

“Grant, how dare you snitch on me.”

Grant only tentatively chuckled. Dammit, he blames himself.

Huh?

Grant. I’ll explain once we get there. We’re going to B. Major Children’s.

I’m on my way. What did the paramedic say?

Nothing awful. Just a cut on my left index finger. Half a centimeter, she said.

Okay, good. You had me worried that you’d lost it or something.

Nope. It lives to do homework another day.

Does it still hurt?

Like a mother trucker. Hurts like a buttcheek on a stick.

You’re insufferable.

You know you love meee.

Yes, yes I do.

I’m gonna ask Grant what’s eating him. See you in the ER?

See you in the ER.

“Hey Grant?”

He startled a little bit, having been staring off into space. “Yeah V?”

“You alright?”

He looked away again. “Yeah. I’m fine. You’re the one who nearly lost his finger.”

Virgil laughed. “Oh, hush, you heard the paramedic. It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah…”

Virgil sat up some, looking at him. “Hey, dude, it wasn’t your fault. I was the one who turned away from it.”

Grant continued avoiding his eyes. “Well, yeah, but I was the one who distracted you. If I hadn’t tried talking to you with the saw on…”

“Bro, it’s alright. I don’t blame you. Just think of it as me testing out the saw’s safety feature. We know it works!”

He finally laughed some. “Yeah, but I’d rather that feature not have to be used.”

“So does the school. Oooo, and James. Imagine, the one day you’re not there, one of the kids gets his finger nicked by the table saw. I’d hate to be him right now.”

“I’d hate to be him any day. I mean, the guy drives a Volkswagen Beetle. A damn Beetle!”

“Man, imagine. Tragic.”

“Truly tragic.”

~~~

They pulled in to the ER not long after, Virgil awake, talking and laughing. The doctors got him in his room and began assessing it. Virgil looked away, not particularly wanting to pass out again. He tuned back into his/Logan’s thoughts (it was hard to tell the difference sometimes), only to hear a stream of frustration from his partner.

...stupid bureaucracy, the hell do you mean, “I have to wait,” my boyfriend got his damn hand caught in a table saw! I think that counts as urgent enough, and I’m practically family at this point, which doesn’t even matter to them because either you’re blood related, married, or complete strangers by their standards-

You’re rambling again.

I’m aware. These damn receptionists won’t tell me where you are, because you’re in the ER and I guess I’m not close enough related to you to go back and see you…

Lo…

...which is stupid because some people don’t have blood relatives that can or want to come visit them…

Logan…

...which means that some poor patients here are probably all alone because they won’t let their friends go and see them-

Logan Sanders listen to me or I’ll come and find you myself!

...that would be preferable.

It was a threat, nerd, and anyways I can’t even move, they’re sewing it shut.

Did they at least give you Dilaudid or lidocaine?

I’ll guess those are painkillers?

Yes, and Dilaudid is a highly addictive painkillers, which is why I hope they didn’t give you that and just used a nerve block like lidocaine-

Lo.

Sorry.

They did numb it with something, not sure what. Either way, it’s numb, but I can still kinda feel them messing around over there. I am choosing not to look so I don’t pass out again.

Yes, don’t do that again. Radio silence from my boyfriend isn’t exactly a pleasurable experience.

Doesn’t exactly sound like it.

One second, the receptionist is talking to me again.

I’ll be here.

Quiet for a moment. You usually don’t think about the words as you speak them, which Virgil found  little annoying, because it meant he couldn’t hear what Logan was saying. It was a couple minutes before Logan popped back into his head.

She finally told me where you were. I’m on my way up.

Oh good, I missed you at lunch today.

I heard.

Oh yeah. I forget you can hear me sometimes.

I wish I could forget. Remember that one thought from last week?

Oh my godddd let it gooo.

“Teenage meetant neeja teetles”???? What does that even mean???

Shhhhh don’t try and figure out my shitpost brain.

Wouldn’t dream of it. Have the doctors finished sewing you up?

Yep, it’s all pretty and clean and bandaged. They told me not to move it too much but jokes on them, I’m left handed, so catch me wiping my ass with my fucked up hand.

One, ew. Two, do not do that.

Y’all can’t stop me.

“But what if I could?” they said as they walked into his room, sitting in a chair beside him.

“You wouldn’t.” he teased. “You know you’d just watch me be stupid and shake your head at my ridiculousness.”

“It’s almost as if you’re speaking from experience.”

“Me? Being serially stupid? Never.”

Logan laughed, smiling at him. “... Are you okay though? Like, getting your finger lacerated by a table saw probably isn’t that fun.”

“I mean, nah, it’s not that great, but hey, I get to miss school for a day or two.”

“Are they keeping you overnight?”

“Yeah, just for a night, to make sure the saw didn’t have any bad garbage that got in my finger.”

“Do you want me to go and bring you anything?”

“I’ve already texted Patton about what happened and he’s gonna bring me… food. He didn’t specify what, but he yelled about bringing me sustenance.”

“Sounds about right. Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“Honestly, Lo? I just want you to be here with me.”

“That I can do.”

~~~

Patton walked into Virgil’s room, tupperware in hand, humming some sort of something. Probably some of those lo-fi songs Roman deems “not dramatic enough.” He smiled at the two, asleep, Logan holding Virgil’s good hand. He left the tupperware container on his bedside table, set Logan’s glasses beside it, kissed them both on the forehead, and walked out, still humming.

Virgil would later swear he heard his humming and would aggressively question him on what song it was (“I know it, I know I know it, I know I know I know it!”). But he wouldn’t let up. “Just know it’s definitely a love song.” (“Of course it’s a love song, it’s Patton”).

“It’s a song worthy of the moon.”

[idlev]

181019

Chapter 24:

“Breakups, Trials and Self-Discovery”

Chapter 24 begins as just another day down south in my new home. I’m not happy about entering my mid-20’s. I still feel like I’m 19. I’m not happy and I make sure to let everybody know that. My sister brings me a cupcake with a small candle in it, followed by a bunch of people, marching into my room once I already said I was calling it a night. I’m upset because she didn’t knock first, but I let it happen anyway.

I’m not happy about turning 24, but really, I’m upset because I’ve not accomplished anything I’ve wanted to by this age and time is seemingly slipping through my fingers. I’m not nearly the person I wanted to be, I live in a town I don’t want to live in, and I just don’t know. I’m upset this day, but I guess you can say I’m pretty comfortable with my overall life. Which is probably the worst place to be.

Ending 2018

Entering into this season, looking back, I wasn’t aware of how much I was affected by being away from the only home I had ever known. I no longer had my friends and family surrounding me, no longer had a church or community to hold me accountable. Everyday I simply went to school, got good grades, ate Subway, went to work, then went home. I made one friend in school, a girl from Vietnam and I was perfectly content. I had no real problems. But you see, the problem with only having one friend is that when it comes to group work and you’re always super late to class, once group-work is assigned, that oneee friend may decide to find her own group without you. The next day, I decided to turn to a guy who I knew wasn’t in class that day either. I noticed he wasn’t there because I always noticed him but I never thought we’d be friends or anything. Little did I know was that day, by turning to ask him to work on an in-class assignment with me, my life would change forever. He was the first person I connected with in months and suddenly everything felt like it was about to be different. Meeting him was like having the sun come out after weeks and weeks on end of consistently cloudy days. As we spent literally everyday talking and getting to know one another, it seemingly felt as if no topics could ever be exhausted, and our connection never ceased.

I tell myself, he’s weird but I want to make it my mission to get to the core of whoever he is. He seemed simple on the outside, but he had these hidden layers to him like I had never seen before. I didn’t know what he was looking for, but I desperately wanted to help him find it. I wanted to see him in his fullness. I had spent so many days just going through the motions, but by the time winter came, everyone was noticing how happy I was but they didn’t know why yet. I finally told them all on Christmas because I felt like this could be something really special. Me and him were like yin and yang; we were polar opposites but somehow fit together like two perfectly made halves.

Finding purpose in the pain when you realize not everything is meant to be happy

Months go by and by now he is my best friend and my muse; I write about him all the time and I make mental notes of everything he does, interesting things he says, his expressions, his childhood stories, his favourite songs, his mannerisms. I analyze him to the point it scares me. I know in my heart that I wanted to do everything on the face of this planet with this boy, but something inside of me made me so afraid. Sure, we didn’t believe the same things but he demonstrated that 1 Corinthians 13 type of love: he was so patient and so kind with me; he never had an ego and always forgave me in my moods and instability. He sat next to me and held my hand when I was being totally irrational. He got angry with me but never at me. And he always had so much self-control and perseverance in our relationship. We all have our flaws, but when I look back, all of my problems and insecurities I was facing at the time were definitely self-inflicted. My own issues. I always felt like I never had much to offer him but my hope in Jesus Christ because that’s literally the only thing I had. I wanted to share with him my peace. I didn’t realize at the time, I was really unhappy with myself but hid behind a mask of Christianity and shamefully used it as my defense wall in every situation. Being with him began to expose the true condition of my faith, the true condition of my heart, my inability to handle my emotional responses and he revealed how incredibly double minded I was in all of my ways. I could never quite understand why I was struggling so much but I think it was because my heart desired him so badly when I knew I wasn’t ready for this level of relationship—but I didn’t want him to leave. I was selfish. My love for him was as real as my love for the Lord and something about that shook me to the core.

I learn so much as I process through our relationship and look at the qualities he showed me vs what I showed him. [Not all of the time] but when I got wrapped up in my own head, I was caught up on this notion that I had something to teach him when in reality, God was using him to teach me. In the moments I wanted him to change, I realized that God was saying it was me that needed to be changed. I draw so many biblical parallels, and there’s a bittersweet realization of everything happens for a reason. I can spend hours and hours going back and fourth trying to analyze what went wrong, what I did, what he did, what I said and trying to justify my actions, but at the end of the day, I can’t change anything that happened. Even if there is regret, I NEEDED to experience that. And I know had it been anyone else, the lesson wouldn’t have been effective because the loss wouldn’t have made me budge.   My whole life, my idea of love was so distorted that when it was finally showed to me, I didn’t even recognize it. In a lot of ways, I feel like I let this boy down. Why couldn’t I be a safe place for him and love him in the way he loved me? If I’m being totally honest, I guess I just didn’t know how. I was being challenged without realizing and my intentions were always meant for good but they were so easily lost in translation. I hate to appear weak and so I guess my defense mechanisms kicked in. It took me a while to even begin to forgive myself and that entire situation - not that certain things I did were okay, but because I had to detach from past hurts so I don’t carry that pain into my future.

I respected him the most the day he decided to draw the line where I never could. I respected him for saying the things I needed to hear to give me a shock to my system. I’ve always been like this, quitting, running from myself, afraid to feel love, seeing the ending of something before it even begins. But it took a move across the province and a lovely boy from Hanoi to teach me how to love, the most important characteristic a Christian should demonstrate. And for that, I’m actually so grateful because even through all the pain and all the heartache, the lesson was too valuable.

We were BOTH in that relationship, we both wanted it to work. I loved and invested as well but I can acknowledge my emotional immaturity. That version of us has died and it took a lot of tears and screams and sleepless nights to accept that. But I also learned that with death comes a rebirth, and another chance at nurturing.

The Corinthians quote finishes off saying, “When I was a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”

It was time to move on and stop operating in my childish ways. I knew some things had to change.

Investing into myself & self-discovery

When things ended, I felt numb for a while. I immediately threw myself into the word, I immersed myself with hobbies, friends, family, I set strict gym goals and I decided that I was not going to break. I would become the best version of myself. And I did. I never really looked at the breakup or processed it, but instead busied myself with the upcoming pageant. By now, I’ve lost twelve pounds, taken vocal lessons, pole fitness / pilates classes, I’ve gone through pageant training and I feel so much more in my element. Spending time with family and friends was an everyday thing and as far as I know, this is the best summer yet, filled with people, activities and events to keep me consistently distracted.

It’s not until early August, when the days get slower and quieter; I begin to see my situation a little clearer. I realize I hadn’t had closure and that boy comes back to me in consistent flashes. The pageant is coming, I’m afraid and I want to quit so damn badly. Preparing for the pageant was also financially draining and eventually depression begins to close in on me as I realize that mentally, I was not okay. In every area of my life, I felt inadequate, like I couldn’t measure up. But the thought of letting my anxiety keep me from taking part in another great opportunity due to fear of failure made me sick.

I want to get real about the anxiety that comes along with thrusting yourself out of your comfort zone. As I explored this recurring theme of self-development this year, I think this summer was the first time I acknowledged it was time to do something about my own self-sabotaging, personal issues that came along with my fear of public failure. Success is relative, but I began to realize that failure is not. The only way to truly fail is to not try at all. But embarking on this journey would be filled with new and frightening experiences that would force me to break some personal barriers. I had to appear "confident and excited" when I felt weak and unprepared. I had pressures to press on, because I had people financially invest into it. I had people cheering me on and excitedly anticipating the event. I had pressures from myself to perform well and not look like an idiot, as everything would be documented. I had spiritual pressures to not compromise, and pressures from the pageant to be this image that I just didn’t know how to be. It’s difficult to explain just how suffocating it feels, but when you're constantly giving away pieces of yourself, it's bound to take a toll on you. There was also the social pressures of wanting to advocate for matters of mental health and standing firm in faith when deep down, I felt like, I, myself, was still struggling to overcome the very things I wanted to advocate for. I felt so fake. I had no strength, I had no faith and I had no belief in myself. But I could flex? The thought made me feel even worse.

So I chose isolation.

When I finally found some time to myself, I re-stumbled upon 1 Corinthians following Paul when he says, "I will boast only in my weaknesses, for when I am weak, I am strong". That passage really resonated with me. I was once again reminded that being weak and surrendering it all to the Lord was the only answer, as His power is made perfect in our weakness. Immersing myself in that understanding was like a weight off my shoulders and I finally began to feel a peace about proceeding. I also finally began to share and stop pretending like I was fine when I knew I wasn’t. Suppressing only worsens anxiety and creates an internal depressive state. I was only beginning to dread the pageant because the experience was becoming too vulnerable. I was once again having my biggest weaknesses exposed and having to confront them or drown. And just like that, I realized my prayer of wanting to be a vessel of greater use was being answered through my pain and discomfort. This was a continuation of investing into a person I could be proud of.

The Answer

Before I knew it, the pageant was over and I had no regrets. I felt like I had overcome something, and had newfound desire to do it again. Like any other discipline, self-growth requires a certain form of training that makes you mentally and emotionally stronger but you almost never notice it right away. Like strength training in the gym, or getting over a heart break... these things suck at first, but once you see the results of enduring what you had gone through, you feel pleased. And you find the strength to want to do it again, but better. And you do.

When the school year began again, I began to challenge that weakness in other areas of my life as well. I’ve since got a job on the Student Services Board of Directors, I’m no longer terrified by public speaking, I can talk to a camera without reading a script. I went through so much this summer and realized I had began to develop a habit of not letting my fears control me. I proved to myself that I am fully capable of living a full life, without having to be a slave of fear.

Failure is never a bad thing.

When you fail, it gives you a new opportunity to build upon a new foundation. When you’re building something and there are flaws, you can’t just try to fix it mid-structure. You’ve got to tear it down, and start on a new foundation. Love, faith and stability are great starting points.

It took me 25 years to gain control over my anxiety. To finally know and believe that the demon that has kept me a slave for a quarter life is now a thing of the past, brings me joy. Twenty-four was a year of hard chastening and growth and preparation. I know twenty-five will be a year of establishment, paving the way for another quarter century of exciting and scary adventures.

A year ago til now, I can clearly look back and see how God has worked in my life. God (or the universe or whatever higher power you claim), almost never gives you what you want so easily. He gives you what you need... to grow you, to hurt you, to love you, and to change you into the person you’re meant to be. Through transparency, many many manyyyyyyyy conversation sessions, reading my bible and journaling, I found such a method of therapy. The parallels I’ve drawn are too many to even write about but I can definitely say that my love for the Lord and his word has only deepened over the last year as it comes more alive every single day. I learn new things about myself all the time, and that’s what the faith is all about: sanctification, growing as a believer and loving others as you love yourself. I want to be a person who doesn’t need to tell anyone about what I believe; I want to be a person whose character shines through because of what I believe. I want my actions to speak louder than my words. I love words and I want to use them to uplift, not to tear down. I want to be a light in the world. I want to be better. And with Jesus, the perfect healer and perfecter of my faith, I can find purpose and strength to get through anything. Every trial I face only makes me realize that in my moments of complete and utter brokenness, prayer is the admission that I cannot do anything without HIM. I cannot change any circumstance because I am not in control. But I can decide how I respond. And that’s the most important thing.

So to conclude, I’ll leave you with this: no one is righteous, not even one — I’m so imperfect but the fact that I am forgiven is so healing, and a reminder that as His mercies are new every morning, as am I, as He grants me the strength to press forward another 25 years if that is His will.

With love... Cephra Rose. Chapter 25,

[everydaychurch]

Beauty from Ashes (Part 1) by Warren

When I was a very young boy I was raised  in a dysfunctional home devoid of any resemblance of a consistent, safe, nurturing environment. I longed for what I believed to be a normal, secure life. This was all I recall desiring. I needed to feel wanted. I yearned for happiness. In comparison I was envious of the life my friends seemed to be experiencing. I Questioned why feelings of love were absent. Why wouldn't I be convinced that  I was a nuisance, a mistake, a catalyst that caused the battles my parents, myself, and siblings where dealing with? My parents were both over forty when I came into the world. Unplanned of course. I was told over the years my mom never loved my dad and their marriage was one of survival for my mother. She had no idea at the time he was a monster.

To keep a very long story short my life up to this point was a chaotic fight inside a landscape of insanity. I had no choice but to be tough  24/7. Always on guard and seldom without fear; I was ready to fight. 

I witnessed violent, dangerous, and threatening life moments no child, let alone adult should ever see. I was let down by most adults around me.I trusted no one; but I wanted to.

People in my realm of influence were far too concerned with their own traumas, especially my depressed, manipulative father. He died when I was 7.  My biological dad was physically, mentally, and sexually abusive not only towards his children but to other children as well. I never would ever know if there was a good side. He taught me to read at an early age I guess, and ride a bike, but heaven forbid if I did something he didn't like beyond his ever changing standards and emotional states. The challenge being  you would never know what that might be.

 I ended up being the peacemaker in the middle of the violence. I still find myself doing that as an adult. Always trying to appease everyone. You try to appease everyone you end up pleasing know one. Its not you job anyways. It’s something I am still working on.

I grew up in shame. I attended 11 different schools and moved far too often. Many fistfights, suspensions, and one sided counseling sessions with school principles. People were scared of me.  One school even brought in then U-dub Quarterback Sonny Sixkiller to talk with me. He had no clue what to do. I can still remember the look on his face as he walked back to his car. The look of defeat.   I punched a nun once who slapped me and wore it like a badge. I was in 4th grade.

Single parenting was looked down upon in the 1960′s. My hardworking, strong willed, New York native mom worked multiple jobs so I was often left on my own to fend for myself; even as young as 5 years old. It’s no wonder I later lived through my teenage years willingly participating in the old 1970′s adage “Sex,Drugs,and Rock and Roll”.  One week a rebel  and next week Young Life meeting guitar player. I wore my many masks well. I fooled many a parent, pastor, friend, and teacher - but I was a mess.

You see, even though life settled down somewhat when my mom remarried, I remained rough around the edges. I had a good man in my step-father. No telling how bad life would have gone without him in it, but I was still carrying a darkness and sadness inside my soul without support or skills to change my situation. Yet know one knew or wanted to know. It was enigma because on one hand I wanted someone, anyone, to notice but on the other hand making every effort to hide it.

As an above average athlete, with a strong mind, and a budding musical gift  I had no lack for popularity. A good fastball, straight A’s, and an electric guitar are great smokescreens This fueled my ability to cover up the deep rooted pain I carried. 

These young years were where my view of the world was shaped. Experience being the teacher that shaped my view of God. I think it can be said life events often do. Good or bad.

Strangely I think I always believed in God, even as a young 3 year old. I once viewed an old family 8MM movie my father filmed, since long lost, where at that age I stood on a box pretending to deliver a fire and brimstone sermon to the neighborhood kids. This was double interesting since my family certainly never regularly attended church and if they did it was Lutheran. 

So not a huge surprise, even though my beliefs were so messed up in regards to the nature of God I made a formal “Altar Call” commitment to follow Jesus at 13 years old. 

In the years that followed, as far as I was concerned, I failed with that commitment over and over again. It was a yo-yo faith at best. I truly in my heart loved Jesus, yet at one point I screamed at God with my hands stretched to the sky, “ You obviously don’t love me”. For me I was the dirty, ugly kid void of any understanding of security, hope, love, and joy. I certainly had no grasp of the true heart of God. Yet I still sought His approval and acceptance based on who I believed I was, not on how God actually sees me. I didn’t understand how the creator of the universe viewed me until much, much later in life.

I left home at 18 and joined the Air Force. Yo-Yo faith in full action. I had my periods of going to church and living by all appearances a Christian Life. I also had spans of numbing drunkenness and partying.

Marriage to Kathy was the next big life event at 20, then my daughters came into the world. I loved them at the time the best I was capable of. My wife was a trooper as our foundation was rocky from the start due to all the baggage listed above. She had her own issues to deal with as well. By the age of 25 I had 3 daughters, spent 3 years living overseas, bought and lost a home, had a car repo’d, and gone bankrupt. By the time I hit 28 life was better but far from whole. I knew as a family and as a person God was needed to intervene and I recognized I had to make changes, which I did. I recommitted my life to Christ. It was good. For a while anyways.

By 30 I was already studying and preparing for the ministry. I remember fondly the happy day when I knew I was called. Kathy was excited too, but the deep rooted issues in my heart were still hanging around. Our first step of entering church ministry was a huge failure, taking a horrible toil on my wife and daughters. Our marriage never fully recovered after that. We were living with an open wound. It was already on a cracked foundation even before ministry life began. There was always a limp. 

When stress comes into the game of life  whatever foundation your life has been built on will test how well your home will respond. Will it stand? Will it have devastating damage? Will it crumble to the ground?

For me, every time stress arose I entertained the old thoughts; God is punishing me. He hates me. He really didn’t call me. Its all in my head. In times like these its easy to start passing blame on someone or anything. Hear me when I say this; “that attitude only magnifies your problems”. However, Ministry could at times look incredibly successful in the middle of a mess and there were times when it was. But the truth is there was always a mask. There was always a skewed understanding of the nature and character of Jesus. I could preach the truth of Jesus to others, but not understand those same truths for myself. I knew things in my head that my heart could not grasp.

in 2010, after continued ministry struggle, I quit the pastorate. My marriage was hanging on a thread now. My adult children didn’t like or want to be around me. I was barely surviving as a person. Kathy was beyond her boundaries of reasonable relationship with me, I don’t know how she felt about God at this point, but I know she was disappointed. My own confidence in church life was broken.I think she felt the same.

I didn’t think my struggles could grow any larger than they were at this time. I hate to say this but oh how wrong I was. 

After leaving ministry I went back to college. Kathy had a good job. My kids were on their own. I had grandchildren. I certainly loved my family,  but...I was horribly shell shocked. Ministry had become my identity. I had no other developed work skills outside of church, music or military, I had to bring in some money while in school, but my honest attitude was any job outside of ministry was below me. Then it got worse; much, much, worse.

My heart was broke - literally. It was revealed that I had, unbeknownst to me, long term diabetes. Diabetes had destroyed my heart. After 3 heart attacks I was rushed into open heart surgery or die. This mess brought out the absolute worst in me. Anger, fear, accusations toward God. My boiling point had been reached. In my mind these latest events were nothing more than continued failure, more punishment. I was mad at God. My wife Kathy had had enough. On Valentines Day, only a few weeks after surgery she asked me to leave our home. I was homeless or living with relatives for the next 6 months.

I began working on myself. I didn’t walk away from God, even in my anger. It got better. I worked hard. Kathy and I reconciled. We moved east to Detroit where Kathy grew up. Life was getting better again- for a while anyways.

Unfortunately the damage ended up being too deep for her.Two people who I will always believe loved one another could not get past it. I didn’t want to give up, but after 3 more off and on reconciliations she no longer wanted to be married. I was served the divorce papers on my birthday while in the empty apartment I had just removed all my possessions out of into storage. I was soon to be homeless again. A few weeks later I lost my job, then shortly later lost my mother to a brain infection.

The worst time of my life ever.

But something was different. I didn’t go through the mental up and downs with God. My church provided some money for a Motel 6 where I could  stay and eventually I got an apartment. I was still working, as my termination date had not yet approached .I still secretly tried to win Kathy back. I just couldn’t fathom what had happened and my marriage ending in divorce. After realizing nothing was going to change I let go and came home to Seattle.

I also went to counseling during this time and that helped tremendously. I began the journey of dealing with the childhood abuse and divorce. Through counseling during this horrible period of time my perspective on God’s nature in the midst of pain initiated the early stages of change. Wasn’t perfect of course. I had some follies and made some serious mistakes, but God proved faithful and likely had a plan of fixing me long before I did,  He was determined to renew and restore my life. My expectations were far short of His. His ways were certainly not my ways.

After moving back home I was pursued by a couple of ladies and I entertained the thought of dating. Bad move. One of those follies I mentioned earlier. I soon swore off the thought of dating and women. I needed to focus on myself. I was still obviously wounded. I still had difficulty with church and anger to some degree. It didn’t help that I lived across the street from a church I was once was on staff at (it was the only apt complex I could afford) I had to look at that church every single day.

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2

[recordingtheyear]

Finding God in the Waves - Mike McHargue

 This was the perfect book for me to have read when I did. It fits perfectly with where my thoughts and questions are. I felt so many parallels between me and Mike. I love the feeling of being known and that is what this book felt like. I like too that Mike does not end up with a new clear theology. He is not peddling a fix – it’s not replacing Baptist Fundamentalism with another denomination, but landing in a place of uncertainty and happy exploration. As much as part of me wants to land somewhere secure and certain, I have a really hard time engaging with books or podcasts that are coming from a place of having it all figured out.

These were my thoughts while I was reading:

-          I don’t know that my doubt was initiated by scriptural inaccuracies like Mike. I think it began by seeing good worldly things that didn’t match up with what I’d been taught; like Kendra teaching me about gay rights– good morals can come from outside the Bible. But more so, I think it came from a general feeling – in the gut more than the brain. Feelings that had not quite been refined into real argumentative challenges to the Bible, but that led me to lose interest in the faithful practices I had.

-          “Stratton and I saw the Bible differently. I believed the Bible was inspired and inerrant, which is Baptist-ese for saying that God wrote the Bible, and, therefore, it is perfect. In this way of thinking, the Bible is accurate in whatever it talks about, including science and history… That’s not how Stratton saw the Bible. He said the important thing about the Bible was its stories and the way they revealed the nature of God and how He relates to people. Stratton told me that the Bible’s narrative was the important part and that trying to describe God as a logical system was a flawed approach. God, after all, is beyond any system of human thought.” I think that maybe a while ago, as a child, I thought like Mike did. But with doubts, I adopted A Stratton perspective. And I am comfortable there and have been defending that as my own – suspending my disbelief comfortably there. And now I am questioning that too. But I can see myself returning to it.

-          I think I’m hoping I can read his account and then jump spiritually to wherever he’s at now. But I think I’ll have to actually do some of the work and thinking and feeling myself.

-          “Belief in things unseen is one thing; belief in things without evidence is another. And this latter kind of belief has a problem: How do you know what to believe? If God reveals Himself to us, but we have no empirical way of verifying that revelation, how do we know if that revelation is correct? Catholic, Protestants, Jews, and Muslims all claim that God was revealed Himself to them in different ways. Most people believe in the revelation that is most established in their family or community. But imagine for a moment that you didn’t know anything about God. How would you choose among all the various world religions?” This is one of the theological questions I know I’ve had since childhood – though not put as articulately. And it still rings true. Is one truer? If they all share truths, is it okay to choose Christianity as the one that is most meaningful to me? 

“To accept one person’s claim of revelation without evidence is to accept them all… Finding an understanding of God that was plausible in the face of skepticism was relatively easy, but doing the same for Jesus Christ was not. Jesus, a man who walked the earth in the first century dispensing radical teachings about God? Sure. But Jesus Christ, the reconciling member of God’s Trinity? No.”

-          “Believers have a rich neurological network that encapsulates God through feelings and experiences that are difficult to articulate with mere language… Because I had prayed every day for most of my life, the roots of God in my brain were deep – my neurological faith network developed with years of practice. The problem was, that network wasn’t keeping up with the new model of reality that my brain was building… I spent so much time analyzing God that I didn’t have time to experience Him. Over time, this caused the feelings I had about God to fade. God was becoming nothing more than an abstract idea, and one that could easily be torn away by the thinkers’ books I was consuming. The process of losing God took months of reconditioning, but when the loss finally hit me, it felt like a heart attack: sudden and violent.” (P. 61). This helps explain why I don’t feel the same personal relationship with God the way I used to. My brain is out of practice. It’s such an accurate description – when I think about God, my brain doesn’t feel like it’s firing in the same old way. It doesn’t fire up much at all. And that hurts.

It does raise a chicken and the egg conundrum. Did I stop believing in god and then slowly those neurons dulled? Or did I stop developing those practices and the dull neurons gave rise to the idea that God was not what I had once thought? Could all this have been avoided if I prayed more? Can it be reversed if I pray more? Would I want that?

-          “Tears came first. Many Christians believe that people become atheists because they’re angry at God. My experience didn’t involve anger at all. I felt grief – a gnawing sense of loss. I felt empty and alone. God hadn’t been some controlling sky king to me. God had been the embodiment of love, who cared for humanity with unknowable deity – and, by extensions, cared for me as well. God had been my hope. God was the magnet that moved my moral compass. He was my Redeemer and my friend. I probably talked to God more than I talked to anyone else. After all, God was always there. When I learned God wasn’t real, it was like hearing that a dear friend had died unexpectedly. I smashed into this insight like a skydiver whose parachute refused to open.” This rings very true. Consistently I have felt that I really love Christianity and the Christian God and Jesus, but it doesn’t feel true in the same way and there are a lot of holes I need to reconcile with if I am going to carry on following.

-          “But in the search for meaning that followed my loss of faith, I discovered humanism to be a beautiful movement. Humanists see value in humanity; they see our species as full of potential and goodness. They seek solutions to life’s problems of suffering and need, concerned only with improving the conditions of human life. Humanism helped me salvage bits and pieces of my faith, such as those parts of the Bible that emphasized taking care of the weak and needy. Humanism made me feel more comfortable pretending to be a Christian on Sundays. Although humanists seek to solve problems through rational thought instead of religion, it seemed rational to me that religion was a particularly powerful way to motivate religious people to do good in the world.” I like his outside the box labels: nontheistic, mystic follower of Jesus, secular humanist. It expands my ideas of what’s possible and makes abnormal beliefs feel safer.

-          I know the story is about the journey, but I would like to know the details too. When he talks about sparring with is mom and having a retort for all of her apologetics, I want to know those too.

-          “If feeling close to God or confronting doubt is important to you, prayer is going to be more effective than just about anything else you can do. Prayer might not help you solve the mystery of God rationally, but it may help you encounter God.”

-          I like that Mike describes critiques of Christianity, but without anger and with fairness. It feels like a validating and safe place to explore, and even concede, these ideas. I don’t want these ideas brushed over, but I do think I would be more hurt, flailing, dark, reading Dawkins et al. without having read this.

I love Mike’s axisoms and want to spend more time thinking about them. He says they helped him begin to practice Christianity again without  having to pretend or suspend disbelief. A jumping off point. I’ve often said I just want a binder and checklist of my beliefs once and for all. I think that’s ridiculous and maybe dangerous, but I think these are helpful and smart and good. 

http://mikemchargue.com/blog/2015/3/24/axioms-about-faith