Vulnerability

The word vulnerability. It's not a word I use in my everyday vocabulary, but it is one that continually makes its way to the front of my mind.

I have a confession to make. I don't know what I'm doing. I have absolutely no idea. But I'm extraordinarily skilled in the art of putting up a front. I like to pretend I have things together and am carefree. But I am falling apart at the seams quite honestly. I stumble through life, hoping I make a couple good decisions in the midst of all the bad ones, and pretty frequently disappoint myself.

If someone asks me how I'm doing, or what's been going on in my life, I'll tell them. Definitely.  I'm a pretty honest person. But there is a difference between honesty and vulnerability.

That's the discrepancy that most people ignore. I can be honest with you without letting my guard down. I've mastered that in fact. True vulnerability is really, really tough. It's something I think is incredibly important, but I can't seem to get a firm grasp on it. And it really causes me a lot of problems. My friendships are shallower than I'd like them to be, my music is less real, my conversations hold less value, and my insides are more cluttered and dark and heavy than I think I'm really capable of handling.

My last blog post was a challenge to the reader and myself regarding faith. This one is also a challenge. One regarding vulnerability. If you look up the definition of vulnerability, it seems negative. It means "susceptibility to attack or injury; the state or condition of being weak or poorly defended". However, when it comes to people, I think that might be just the thing we need. We are all such a mess, how can we judge our neighbors for their imperfections? Perhaps if we allow ourselves to be weak, or susceptible to injury, our relationships will be strengthened, and our friends and family can help us and understand us better. Perhaps if we gain strength in our relationships with people, we will also gain strength in our relationship with God.

Vulnerability. It's the condition of being weak. However, I think that my lack of vulnerability might just be my greatest weakness.

Faith

Faith. It's a funny thing.

Christians have a really hard time having faith in God.

Wait. What? That's what being a Christian is, though. Isn't it?
Sure, but think about it. Sometimes as a Christian, it is crazy hard to put all your trust in God and rely on Him. To let go of control and say, "I know you can do it, God." It's also hard to believe in Christ's miraculous power, even when we see it at work. We'd rather write it off with a logical explanation (typical human response) than have faith in God's abilities, even though He does some awesome stuff all the time. God is outrageous.

This is what makes it hard for non-believers to accept Christ's love and turn to Him, and what makes it hard for believers to evangelize. Faith is way too difficult. It's much easier to turn to science, the media, and ourselves. These things are much more accessible and allow you to rationalize things. Non-believers can just say, "I don't need your crazy God. I have logic and clear-cut answers already." There's only so much you can argue to someone who is wholeheartedly against having faith in something and will never accept the inexplicable.

This is heartbreaking for evangelists. We say, "Why can't they just believe?!" We love on them and pray, but inside we shout our frustration, wishing they'd just open up to Christ. Wishing they could know Him.

Let us look at Christians, though. We always accept God's plan for us. We never get upset when our prayers aren't answered exactly the way we want and immediately. We never feel begrudged in our Christianity, and never have any frustrations or doubts. Because Christians hold everything God says to be true, we always love our neighbors, obey our parents, tell the truth, pray without ceasing, and give thanks. We always show Christ-like love. And we never look at extraordinary events as coincidences or the result of our own actions. We put all our trust into the Lord no matter what, and never subconsciously doubt His omnipotence.
FALSE.

The Bible says, "There is none righteous, no, not one". We are imperfect. We are human. And as humans, we struggle with our faith all the time. We say we have faith, but when God doesn't do things the way we want Him to (as though we know what we're doing - ha), we get frustrated with Him. We think He's making a mistake. We can't understand why He's doing what He's doing. And when God says, "Here's something astounding. I am God and I am all-powerful, so I can do this. And I think I will," we always try to make sense of it. We try to make it out to be something other than God. Not because we don't believe in God. Just because we're stupid and have trouble letting go of control.

It's a big problem. We are to fully rely on God, but we have a heck of a time doing that. I can speak for myself on this one. I always try to do it all by myself. I say, "Yes, Lord. I have faith in You. I pray your will be done. You have all the control. You're the best." And then I try and take care of things as soon as I unfold my hands and open my eyes. I can't really tell you why we humans do that. We do, though. And it's not okay.

I challenge you, and I challenge me, to make a real effort to let go. Faith is tough, but we as Christians profess our faith all the time and it's important we actually have it. How can we expect non-Christians to turn to Jesus when we can't even believe in Him?

Dear world,

     This isn’t easy for me to say. We’ve been through so much together. Whenever I was in trouble, you were the first one I turned to. I spent every waking moment with you. We shared everything.

     But I’ve come to realize, you just aren’t good for me. I am breaking up with you. And to be frank, it’s not me. It’s you.

     You tempt me constantly, and somehow I am never able to make my own decisions. Maybe it’s because you’re so captivating. Maybe it’s because you’re so convenient and ever-present. Maybe it’s because everyone I know seems to love you. Maybe it’s because I am weak. Whatever the case, I’ve gotten myself into a lot of trouble because of you, and I can’t let this keep happening.

     I’m stronger now. I was blinded by love (or maybe simply lust), but now my eyes have been opened. I am going to be better off without you. I was attracted to you for a long time – I always go for the bad-boy type – but I’m growing up. And all I see now are your flaws. You were a terrible influence on me, and it’s time for me to leave you.

    Also, I’ve found someone else. Maybe to some he’s nothing special – he was born into what many would see as a broken home, lives on the road, and a lot of people think he’s crazy because of his “save the world” attitude. In fact, I know a lot of people who don’t want anything to do with him. But despite all of that, I have fallen head over heels for him. He’s strong, wise, and above all, he loves me with an unbridled, incomparable love. Willing to die for me. And forgiving of my imperfections – he loves me no matter how many times I mess up. Where you pointed your finger at me, he holds and comforts me. Where you left me to deal with my problems and offered me nothing but more problems, he gives me everything I need and is right there with me every step of the way.

     It was very sudden. He was always there, but I always turned and looked away. You had me in a trance, and I thought you were everything I could ever hope for. He finally got my attention though, and I realize he has more to offer than you ever could.

     I’m sorry if this is harsh. But it needed to be said.

     Goodbye.

 - Revived and In Love

P.S. You can have your stuff back. It’s all dirty and useless anyway. I’ve found better. 

This world is loud.

Where are You now, God?

I've seen passion. I’ve seen goodness. I’ve seen God’s grace.

It exists. Sometimes it’s hard to find in the midst of all the darkness in the world, and sometimes it’s hard to recognize. But I promise it’s out there.

Often, I ask myself, “Where are You now, God?” I have such a hard time seeing Him sometimes. All I can see is the brokenness of the world. All I can see is the pain of my brothers and the weariness of my own heart. All I can see is how messed up society is.

So I look in the most Jesus-y places I can think of, figuring He must be hanging out there. I look in the church, in worship services, in Bible studies, in youth group activities.

And then I still can’t find God and I freak out a little bit. If God isn’t here, where the heck is He? He’s gone forever. We’re all doomed.

That’s the initial reaction.

I don’t see God’s love where I expect it to be. All I see are smiling plastic deacons with firm handshakes who can’t remember your name. I see mouths forming the words, “Good morning” beneath eyes full of judgment, and an upturned nose right in the middle. I see eighty-thousand different translations of the Bible, made so anyone’s simple mind can understand it, but causing more confusion than anything else. If we can’t trust the Bible to say the same thing every time we open one, why do we even call ourselves Christian? I see people singing the same songs over and over and over and over and over – until the songs finally lose all meaning.

But if you glance back up at the first thing said, I have seen passion and goodness and the grace of God. You might be wondering then, where is it?

I’m finding God in different places, and I’m feeling His love the strongest in places where it’s not expected. Worship seems natural in different settings, and things considered “Christian” or labeled “praise” seem fluffy and less honest and real.

I’ve seen God’s love in a laundromat in downtown Canton. I’ve seen it in the honesty and raw emotion of a song performed simply by a guy with a guitar. I’ve seen it in the gathering of friends, reading Scripture, singing songs, and sharing what’s on their hearts. I’ve seen it in the hospitality of young men, who open their home and their arms to their friends and community. I’ve seen it at Roadhouse Monastery, at Dueber House, and at Logan House. I’ve seen it in the determination and positivity of people in desperate situations. I’ve seen it in the encouragement to follow dreams given by those who have already realized theirs. I’ve seen it in the fervor for missions – missions in Skid Row, in Native-American reservations, in third-world nations, and in Canton, Ohio. I’ve seen it in concern and care for friends by friends, and in listening ears and enveloping arms and encouraging smiles and words of wisdom. I’ve seen it in the souls of authors laid out on paper. I’ve seen it in the souls of musicians breathed out into the air through their songs.

I have found God in places beyond the sanctuary. In songs not sung by a worship team. In people not on a church staff.

My God is alive, and he is living among the poor and the weary. He is living among the hopeful and the passionate. He cannot be contained. He cannot be boxed in.

When asking “Where are You now, God?” we must simply open our eyes a little wider. We mustn’t look toward the conventional, comfortable places. God is not hiding behind the pulpit, and He isn’t sleeping in dusty hymnals in routine worship services. He is living and moving, out in the world, and His love is alive.

Desperate are the destitute,

the broken, starving, poor.

Yahweh, Yahweh!

come their breathless cries

between gut-wrenching wails of despair.

And we sit in suburbia,

comfortable in oblivion,

as our impoverished neighbors

grow weaker and weaker.

Their malnourished bodies

lie under our tables,

where we fill up our bellies

wishing charity were cheaper.

We take creative liberties

with what it means to give.

“So sorry, we’re too busy.”

The excuses reach their ears.

And they strain to listen closer

for a whisper from a Savior,

but their senses just aren’t strong enough.

It’s only us they hear.

So we think the problem goes away,

as it’s covered by our cushiony style of living.

We shrug off the needy, and look the other way.

It’s better to avoid the discomfort than start giving.

Their hungry, vacant stares are haunting.

We struggle to avoid their gaze.

We throw them crumbs so they’ll leave contently

toward thinly masked, inviting graves.

We feel them look at us through sunken eyes,

and hold out their trembling, skeletal hands.

We turn our heads quickly, slip a dollar in the offering

to tell everyone that we’ve done what we can.

Then we gather up the rest of our healthy income

and set it aside for a rainy day

to add to our pleasure, and mask any pain,

because as long as we’re cozy, everything is okay.

Dying are the destitute,

our neighbors, weary and weak.

But we’re confident they will be fine

and we pray

for the poor every evening at dinner before we eat.

Broken are the suburbanites,

the strong and happy crowd.

We follow routine,

but we don’t hear God’s plea

through the voices of the needy.

We block out the sound.

Empty are the wealthy ones,

the ones who have it all.

God wake us up.

Fill us full.

Let us love.

Let us follow you into the world.

Realism is for the Weak

I sort of find it super ridiculous
that pessimism has been dubbed realism
and optimism has been dubbed idiocy.
Like,
what the heck?

What would happen if we were all "realists"?
If anything awesome happened,
no one could say "Wow! What a dream come true!"
Because no one would dream.

When asked what they wanted to be when they grew up,
little kids would no longer reply with "firefighter", "ballerina", or "superhero".
Instead you'd hear things like "insurance adjuster", "real estate agent", or "dental hygienist".
Or maybe just a cashier, or waitress, or factory worker
"until something better comes along".

Art in all its forms would probably be nonexistent.
Because who looks at an aspiring slam poet, folk musician, or street artist and says,
"He's sure got a good head on his shoulders."?

And Ohio's motto would simply have to change.
With God all things are possible?
Psh.
Come on.
All things?
Let's be realistic.

...

Let's not be realistic.

Humans

Humans are messy creatures, falling apart at the seams. We can't hold it together. Our emotions well up inside us until they spill out through our eyes. Our heartbeats pick up speed because of anger, excitement, fear, and love. The organs pound inside our chests until we feel as though they're going to burst through the skin. We lose sleep consistently. We have blood-shot eyes with bags below them and low-hanging lids above them. We are noisy, with our weary sighs, exuberant laughs, shouts of frustration, and wails of despair.

Humans are peace-less creatures, too. Ever restless, ever discontent. We always search for something more. We always are in want and in need, and we can't control our desperation.

We are a broken people. We are a people littered with imperfection. We are an unattractive, fumbling disaster.

But we need each other. Arms stretch out for hugs, handshakes, and pats on the back. Heads meet shoulders as tears flow and ears listen. Fingers lace together. Lips softly touch. Eyes gaze into each other and see into souls. Footsteps and breaths sync up.

We need each other, despite our lack of grace. As we stumble together and fall, we hold on to  each other, bracing ourselves for impact.

Humans are messy creatures, but we are not alone.

Greater Things Have Still to be Done.

I have been thinking a lot. Overthinking, probably. But I don't regret it. Sometimes good things come from overanalyzing.

I realize why I'm so...overwhelmed, so unfulfilled, so unsatisfied. I realize why I consistently feel a tugging from some unknown place and can't figure out how to simply let it lead me.

It sort of feels ridiculous and cliche when I talk about this. It's true, though. When I look ahead at my future, I am completely unable to see a 9-5 office job. I cannot see a comfortable suburban home with an even more comfortable income. I cannot see what everyone else seems to consider the "American Dream". Because I don't want it. Sure, I want a family someday. And when I have a family, of course I'll want to give my children a good life and a good home, food on the table, shoes on their feet. But stereotypical suburbia - I don't want that at all.

Suburbia isn't a bad place. It's just so hollow. It's so plastic. I have a comfy little brick ranch right in the midst of it right now. I went to a highschool that looked more like an airport and was all about success. I have younger sisters that play softball and basketball and soccer. I have a little dog, and an average-sized back yard, and neighbors who make big money. And I graduated with the state champion basketball team. Living the dream. And yet...I don't miss it. Aside from my family and a couple really close friends, I don't miss it at all. And why?

It's because I believe that this world can be changed. Maybe not the whole thing, and maybe not even very much of it, but I believe that greater things have still to be done.

People are selfish. That sounds harsh, but just take a moment to think about it. Why do we go through 13 years of school? So WE can be prepared for college. Why do we go to college? So WE  can be prepared for the "real world" and have a successful career. Why do we go to work? So WE can make money and have a good life. It is always selfish. And that's the norm. Doesn't anyone else see a problem with that? Why is self-centeredness considered typical? I don't miss suburbia, because the suburbanites don't care about anyone but suburbanites. Little league games are more important than soup kitchens. Dance recitals are more important than foster homes. Youth groups are more important than missions. And a steady income is more important than giving back.

I talked to a friend the other day and asked him what he had been up to lately. I haven't talked to him in awhile, so it was a valid question. His response was very matter-of-fact. He said he and some friends had planned on going to England, but one friend decided he really wanted to return to Skid Row in L.A. and do some more missions there, so they'd all be going sometime in November. He told me this as if it was the most natural thing in the world. If I were to have reciprocated with what I'd  been up to lately, the answer would have had something to do with school, friends, family, music, and looking for a job. All fine things, but all so selfish.

This is why I think I am so unfulfilled all the time. I'm trying to be content with the mundane. I'm trying to force myself into satisfaction with the ordinary. I sit and do some homework, listen to some music, do some laundry, watch a movie with some friends. And I don't feel productive at all. I want more.

And I believe that we have the capability to do more. I believe that if we just stop being content with conceited routine, we can make something happen. Something great. Something bigger than ourselves.

So right now, I pray we never be satisfied with selfishness. I pray we never be at ease with simply going through the motions. I pray we do something more. I pray for revolution.

Lovers and Liars

Happy people wink.
They smile wide.
They set their coffee on the table, so their hands are free to
Lock up all the feelings deep inside.


They're all just hiding.
They're all just lying.
They're just like you, just like me.


Dust is collecting in the corner,
In the corners of their minds
Where murky memories lie dormant;
They're untouchable.
And surface tension's nonexistent
'cause every surface is bright, carefree.
They laugh, shake hands, give hugs;
They're so lovable.

They're all just hiding.
They're all just lying.
They're just like you, just like me.


Where did they buy their impressive disguises?
How did they get so good at telling tales
About how the sun's so pretty,
How their tea tastes great,
And their books are fascinating?
I know I've tried.
I know I've failed.

When conversation gets too deep
They wade to the shallower end of things.
Their eyes shift quickly from the matters at hand
So nobody can see in.
They plaster wide grins over stiff grimaces
Just in case someone glances their way.
They wear comfy things that allow them to breathe
Because their charade suffocates.
The air they exhale is thin.


They're all just hiding.
They're all just lying.
They're just like you, just like me.


Beauty is squandered by the the corpses like us.
They are hollow, but they look so good.
We secretly wish to be laughing like them,
Because we know,
Oh, how we know what their insides look like.


We question so frequently:
How are they so vibrant?
From whence does the rosy color in their cheeks come?


When we know they're just hiding.
When we know they're just lying.
When we know they're just like you, just like me.


Something is different,
But we still resolve
To resist the urge to be counterfeit.
We know they're just hiding.
We know they're just lying.


No one is different.
No one is clean.


Perhaps some have simply accepted
The darkness in their souls?
Perhaps they have found some miracle,
Something resembling hope.
Perhaps something else gets them through the day
With smiles on every face.


Happy people wink.
They smile wide.


I choose this time to smile back
Despite the turmoil inside.
God, help the people, carefree and bright.
God, help the laughers, the lovers, the dreamers.


They're just like you, just like me.
No one is different.
But some are free.