Cold, cold winter

Why am I still at home? I pondered impatiently. I had been standing upright in my gleaming, spotlessly clean kitchen for the past three hours, barely moving as much as a couple of steps in any direction. It was almost midnight. My shoes were still very new, in almost perfect condition, and I needed to leave, to go somewhere that would force them to look old, torn, beat-up. They produced a slightly irksome 'tap' whenever I lifted one and let it come back down to the linoleum, making a step toward a decision ascertaining to my plans for the rest of the evening.

I gazed out of the window of my kitchen, past my yellow picket fence and out to the highway... And then far beyond the highway, to the brilliantly silhouetted trees, plastered over a golden cloud covered night sky. Maybe I should just go, I offered myself. Maybe I should just go and climb one of those trees. I could see a lot. I could sure see a lot if I were way up in one of those trees.

I longed to venture to situations that had not yet changed me, places that would employ an appearance on me, that of a man torn between the meaning of life, and the thrill of living a dangerous one. Perhaps I need both.

My dear friend Zeke was supposed to call me when he was done working. We were talking about going to see that new World War Two movie. He was going to call around nine when he was done working. Zeke always forgets about me.

Primarily, Zeke had been my trouble tonight. But now, my only wish was for my father to be in my life. Somehow, somewhere. I never knew my father, even though there was much debate about him. For the most part, I heard the highest of compliments given to him. Why I didn't just call his number, I still don't understand. I'd very much like to meet him, but I definitely shouldn't be the one doing all the calling. I'm always the one making calls, initiating friendships. If my father really wanted to be my friend, he would let me know.

Another half hour crept by, slower than molasses in the winter. Then it was one a.m. Still I occupied my kitchen, blowing my own mind with how stubborn I was to do anything with my life tonight.

And then it dawned on me.

I had to call my father.

When you sit in silence and solitude, producing absolutely nothing from your life, for as long as I have tonight, you begin to ponder things your mind has not yet considered. And I was considering the history of my life right about now. Even though my father never called my phone, or showed up in my life, physically, I never realized just how much he wanted to be friends with me. To tell me, and show me, just how much he loves me. Come to think of it, he was probably more anxious than I was. So it was decided. I must call him at once. My next thought was to run upstairs, and fish out his number I had written down so very long ago. It was in the bottom drawer of my desk. But before I could do anything else, my emotions took control of me. I made a weird half-step towards the stairs to go to my room, and then I turned to face the window once again, and I couldn't help it -- my back up against the wall, I slid, slowly and surely, to the floor, meeting that hard, flat, and somehow very comforting kitchen floor. What is it about the floor in your house always being there for you during an emotional breakdown?

I was crying harder than I ever had before. I didn't need to find that number. I already knew it by heart, due to all the times I dialed and then hung up.

Several minutes passed. Some of the longest minutes of my life.

Keeping my eyes clear enough to pull out my phone and see the screen clearly, I typed in my father's number. I hesitated for a long, warm minute, and the pressed the green 'dial' button. A few beeps went through, as I sat there with bated breath, in total silence.

What happened next, I still don't really believe one hundred percent. I heard a sound in the living room, just on the other side of the wall I still sat against. It sounded like the swish of water. For the first time in nearly four and a half hours, I left the kitchen to find the source of this noise.

This time, I not only heard it, but I saw it.

There was my father. He was drinking something, and the swish was the sound of him taking a swig from the bottle. He seemed much too indifferent for suddenly appearing in my living room.

"Hello, Son. I was wondering when you were going to call."

The excitement, bewilderment, and ecstatic joy I now felt made up for any emotion he was lacking. I had about a hundred question to ask right off the top of my head.

"Are you drinking a beer?"

"Nah.... This is just a cream soda. Want one?" He grabbed another one out of the darkness behind the chair and handed it to me.

"Would you like to be friends now? Because I've been ready since day one!" He asked me, beginning to show slight signs of excitement.

"Yes" Was all I could muster. I took one swig of my cream soda and hit the ground hard, just like I had done in the kitchen, only I met the ground much sooner. This time, I didn't need the ground to comfort me.

My father was there before another thought could run through my mind.

Sometimes nonsense just makes sense

I just can't do everything the world wants me to do. I refuse to participate in the same activities all my life. People get so confused/upset by things I do and say, but I'm not out to hurt people's feelings and be a jerk. The truth is, inside of me sings a very joyful, god-loving lunatic.

Are people like me really immature? According to the dictionary, immature means 'having or showing emotional or intellectual development appropriate to someone younger in age'. So yes, I suppose I am immature, according to the world, but is that really such a bad thing? The dictionary also tells us about its antonym, mature. It means full-grown physically, mentally at a development of an adult, middle-aged, or even just 'fully developed'. But fully developed in what ways? Alright, so a mature adult doesn't say weird things, climb buildings, join nonsensical, immature thought process, no, they don't do anything that would offend anyone, make people think hard about something important, or shake anyone's lives up at all. But they go out and get drunk, and that's normal, that's mature. They call a woman a 'bitch' because they were yelling at their boyfriend about something dumb, and that's mature. Yeah, that's normal. Things like this are accepted in society, it's just part of the status quoe or whatever you call it. I am not above and beyond the decisions anyone makes, but it annoys me that people point the finger when they're already way in past their head. I know I have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, and honestly, look at it logically -- how can we humans, even if we did evolve from nature, know what is okay to do and what is not okay to do in our every day lives? There's someone who can tell us a lot more than just what our moms told us not to do.

In my dictionary, mature is knowing who you are. If you do everything the way everybody else does it, you will never find yourself, and if you are on the pursuit of happiness, you will never be happy. Find your place, what you thrive on, and live in it. It's where we all belong; in our god-given place. It's all about what you have now, and what you do with it, that matters. Love people more than you love yourself. Love God more than anyone. That's mature.

The Truth Will Set You Free

The first time I watched an episode of 24 was sometime about 4 years ago. I got the first season from the library, and I didn't like it much, but like any show, it can grow on you, and it did. The story pulled me in like a stay-at-home mom gets hooked on a soap opera, and many of my friends who loved the show began 'dropping out', saying that the show was becoming too repetitive. True, each season is a day full of terrorist threats and political sub-plots, but I have, and will, always be a die-hard 24 fan. My heart goes out to Jack Bauer, and in a very heterosexual way. He became one of my heroes, and he still is today. I know he has problems just like the rest of us, but sometimes, above my attempts to love each and every person like Jesus does, I just can't help but care about certain people and have such intense compassion for them that it is as if someone else has placed those feelings in my heart.

Even though Jack has 'slept' with so many different women, been addicted to drugs, killed people he didn't have to, had terrible alcohol problems, and exercised more contempt in his heart than a dozen men put together, he is just as lost without the LORD as I am. He is my number one cultural hero because he never seizes standing up not just for what he believes in, but for the truth. He always starts by working with CTU (Counter Terrorist Unit) to save America from nuclear threats and the like, but what's different with Jack than any other character, what makes him the star of the show, is that there always comes a fork in the road. He can either succumb to the demands of the president, the terrorists, or even fellow CTU agents, but he cares to much about what truly is the greater good. And that isn't always what's 'best for this country' (which really means 'most comfortable for this country). It's always the truth. He constantly goes outside of protocol, goes rogue, has been tortured nearly to death countless times, and even killed once or twice, because he believes that the truth must be told every time, no exceptions. And there is nothing more important than the truth.

I watched the last two episodes of season eight tonight, and boy, were they good. This one probably had the best ending yet. However, to my great displeasure, those two episodes may very well have been the last two I will ever see. I won't speak too soon, since all I have heard are rumors arguing two different things, but for a kid who has seen every single episode of 24 ever made, it was like a brief moment of history in my life, captured in the last moments of the last episode. I won't give anything away if you are looking forward to the finale, but I will tell you that I was very impressed. I'll face it, my friends are right, the story is made by some very rushed writers, and the story is not too different from season to season, but seeing what happened between two p.m. and four p.m. meant the world to me. I even came close to tears, which I can assure you is rare.

Former president Charles Logan says in the middle of the last episode, about Jack Bauer, that he will 'never be stopped'. That he 'will crawl his way out of the darkest hole' and that he will 'come after you and find you if he has been exiled to the ends of the earth'. Yes, Jack is a bloodthirsty killer at times, and he desires fruitless things like revenge, but there is something about him that guys like me desire. I think that in some ways, all men are required to be extremely violent. This doesn't necessarily mean killing everyone that gets in your way so that you can implicate a corrupt government, but seeing a man be more violent than any other man is, in some ways, very motivating. Don't we all want to save the world, or at least the damsel in distress, or slay the dragon? The part many people don't realize is that everything we desire most deeply is also the most difficult to achieve. Life is not supposed to be easy, and if it is, maybe it's time for us to ink our pens and start listening for the voice of God, and if he is silent, then we must do his will wherever we are, stopping at nothing to implicate Satan and let everyone at least get a chance at the truth.

It all comes back to the individual stories we are writing right now, even as I am writing this and you are reading it. Don Miller says that in every good story, the protagonist wants something and overcomes an obstacle, or many, to get to what they want. I think he's right, and that's why we like books and movies so much. It's really just that we like story. We like good stories, where amazing things happen, that we could never imagine happening in our lives, and we like stories where a character endures incredible pain and suffering, against all odds and achieves something they wanted.

Even though 24 is over now, my heart will still go out to Jack Bauer. And yes, I am talking about Jack Bauer, not Keifer Sutherland. I think we all know by now that's just a cover-up for his real identity. I pray that he will find the most important truth, more important than any truth he has previously killed people and been tortured for, and project it for all the days of his life, both on-camera and off. I pray that he finds his Father, and listens to what he has to say.

Perhaps things are simpler

Perhaps many 'puzzle pieces of our lives' are really a lot more simple. Just a thought. That's all.

Maybe it's time for something new

I think it is easy to underestimate Satan. His plans are relentless, he will always wreak havoc, rain or shine, sleet or snow. I find it important to watch out not only for myself, but more importantly, to be able to expose, and dispose of his plans, wherever they lie.

Tonight I watched a movie The Machinist. It was rather oblique, yet mesmerizing and very well put together, in my opinion. The protagonist, Trevor, hasn't slept in over a year. He looks like he's been hit by an Amtrak and he wants to sleep, to feel better, comfortable, livid, again, but no matter what, he cannot sleep. This guy Ivan shows up at random, supposedly one of Trevor's co-workers, and after his appearance, strange things begin happening in Trevor's life. Throughout the movie, it is hard to tell what is actually happening to Trevor and what he is seeing because of his insomnia. Nevertheless, he begins to believe that Ivan is the one causing all the ruckus, so he attempts to track him down, eventually losing what little trust he had in his friends (or lack of). Many people have watched this movie and said it was terrible, a sort of random disarray of scenes that are supposed to confuse you. I think there is something more to the story.

You see Trevor going down a road, and it doesn't look like a pretty one. There is even a brief part of dialogue where he says that he 'tried him [Jesus Christ]'. Most of the time, it would seem that Trevor has no choice but to keep living, keep going to work, keep trying to find out what the hell is going on, but there are a few scenes where he is offered a choice. I think that the story is really about Trevor coming to a fork in the road. He can either continue down the road he is on and destroy himself, or get help. Although Trevor's story in The Machinist is more violently and disturbingly illustrated, it's all too similar to our own stories.

We have a choice too. The Enemy can trick us into believing in our actions, or justifying them. He comes in spirit, the same way the Lord does. Do not underestimate him. Because next thing you know, you're going slow and steady down a path of self-righteousness, or a path of contempt, or idolatry, or sexual immorality, or apathy, or even murder. To me, it's like falling asleep at the wheel and inadvertantly exiting off the highway. Remember the part in Dumb and Dumber When Lloyd takes his eyes off the road for two seconds, and he misses the big left turn to Aspen?

I am grateful for thinking this way about the road I travel on. But my heart melts when it comes to people like Trevor. Being Jesus to people is important, but let us take steps of faith, like in The Last Cruscade when Indy steps out from the face of the cliff, not knowing what lies ahead, but trusting instead. Let's hang our lamps up high where everyone can see.

Grab your pen

Ever thought of your life in the third person, as if you were watching a movie? I often think of my life OUTrospectively, meaning that I feel at any given moment, like I am writing my own story, but I am a critic observing the work so far. With just a month or so until I graduate high school, I am starting to give more thought to my future. People have been asking me the question without cease since probably sophomore year. First comes the observation that I graduate whenever it is that I talk to them, and then, what I know I have coming to me... the question. It's almost always the same.

"So... What are you going to do?"

I'd like to ask them the same thing! But I'm not that rude.

So now you, reader, have got me. Now I have to answer the question. The truth is, I don't know what I'm going to do, and that's okay with me. It's okay because I'm going to tell you what I want.

Like what happened to Alice, I want fall down a rabbit hole. I want to launch myself into this big, wide world, and I never want things to be the same. I want to live in a community where I am the change that I want to see happen in church. I want to work hard and be compensated for it. I want to always stay closer with God than with any other human being. I want my convictions to point me in the right direction. I want to visit the places that I picture in my mind when I listen to songs and read books.

I could go on, but I would like to make a point. I think that people are often pressure by society and that question that people keep pounding into their mind, and so they feel they are forced to make a decision. I wouldn't mind if you made a career decision or big decision about your future if it was something God told you he specifically wanted you to do, but don't just pick something because the choice is there, don't just settle for a 9-5 job and a paycheck. Don't even settle for a wife and kids. Why live life like everyone else when you can change it? Why pluck one string when you can strum the guitar?

I'm right, and you're wrong

Fact: we all waste time by arguing with each other about things that don't matter. In fact, we even waste time arguing about things that DO matter. I have decided that there is a difference between arguing and challenging someone's beliefs, perspectives, thought process... their faith. Even if we think we can justify arguing with someone because it's an important subject, the fact remains that we are only satisfying each other's need to argue and be right. I don't even care if you're talking about salvation with a homeless person, because there is a door to get in, you don't have to try to break down the walls.

Have you noticed that if you disagree with somebody, trying to prove that you are the one who is right doesn't work all too well? I feel pretty convicted about this myself. I am learning that there is a way to respond in love, and ask questions that you yourself have, instead of trying to force someone to think the way you do. I don't like to be proved wrong, and neither does anyone else. Let's be open to other voices, take things into consideration, but most importantly, don't make everything people tell you your own beliefs. Unless, perhaps, that person is God. Does that make sense?

I've been thinking a lot about the bible and what it means to each person. I'm quite disappointed that there are so many different denominations of the church, but it's a perfect example of what I am thinking about all the time. It's all about relationship, not religion. We've bantered back and forth our whole lives, arguing over things that appear to be very important, and they are, but my thought is that many topics discussed are relevant only to a small handful of people, or even more often, a single person. Let me explain a little better.

If we read the bible just for the stories, if we just read it like a book, it's a decent book, albeit how confusing and contradictory it is. But when I read the bible, I ask God to provide me with knowledge, with His insight. Insight is, after all, knowledge provided by the Lord. So if I am thinking a lot about how my life is difficult and how to deal with it, and then God brings me to the book of Job, or even a single verse, telling me exactly what I need to hear, my day/life in general are totally illuminated with peace, contentment, and true joy that can only be provided by God. But the thing is, I got a completely different conclusion from what I read than the next guy who reads it. Read my entry entitle 'helicopter ride'. I now believe that God does not control me, but he puts people and 'happenings' in my life, knowing how I will react to it. He creates an effect and cause that is all part of His plan for me.

All this to say that maybe there isn't just one right answer to many questions. Certainly not all of them. Perhaps God has given me this insight and it's only for me, but somehow I doubt it.