songbook # 726: waitith on the Lord all ye eager sons of Adventure

I saw some awesome pictures this week.  My friend Laura is in Spain right now.  She's living for a semester in an apartment in Madrid next to a luxurious park.  Several of you who will read this just saw the Grand Canyon, and the Pacific, and a lot of stuff in between.  And I'm not going to lie, I've seen your pictures and I'm jealous.  My aunt and uncle just took their kids to Disney World last month.  I've never been to Disney World.  I'm not sure I really regret that to be honest though.  They're going to Portland in a few months.  I'm invited.  I was also invited to the Grand Canyon. . . and Spain.  When I meet people I could fill up hours with conversation about places I almost went.  

But the truth is that I don't give a damn about any of those places.  The world isn't a better place for me having seen it or not, nor am I really any different of a person for having gone or not gone.  I have to remind myself of that on weeks like this one.  

I could be recovering from sleep debt and attempting to salvage my grades for the grand experience of having spanned half of our continent.  Or, I could be working my ass off at a crappy hospital right now, saving money to go stumbling across Europe.  Those were definite options.  Instead, I tried to grasp how algae can stay alive inside a microscopic organism which for all intensive purposes should destroy them as food.  I got to learn a bit of how to make sense out of scientific jibberish as is published in massive volumes every month.  I got to reacquaint myself with the wonders of the human integumentary system.  And I got to read a little theology on the side.  These are my adventures.  People get bored when I try to recount them.

I hung out with a friend last night.  We reviewed the last few years, and how our friends lives have progressed.  I have close friends with kids now.  . . . that presents me with a major existential crisis in a lot of ways.  

Basically, I want more things out of life than I'll ever get.  Finitude is very disappointing.  

Seriously, how do we choose?  I'd like to do the family thing at some point, but that point appears on the horizon for me long after it is really something that is physiologically possible.  I'd also like to see the world and explore it like I've done in the past.  But, when I really boil it down, I feel like the greatest 'talent' the Lord has given to me is intelligence, and that being the case . . . I feel I need to act responsibly there.  Basically, I know on some essential level, that if I don't do a good job with that gift, I'll never be satisfied with myself or anything else in life if I let that opportunity slip me by.  So I live vicariously by looking at pictures of my friends who are looking at the Grand Canyon, dancing in the Pacific (however briefly), and aimlessly stumbling through the streets of Madrid.  Then I go back to learning how to differentiate sweat glands.

I think what really bothers me is missing out on community.  Or rather, I know that's what bothers me.  I always feel like God gives me quick little tastes of community to keep me alive, but I always miss out on the feast.  Sometimes God annoys the hell out of me.

Friend:  "Remember that time in Madrid . . ."

Other friend:  "Yeah, running from the bulls was amazing!"

(laughter)

Me:  "So the sweat on your forehead is actually much different from the sweat on your shoulder.  You see, you eccrine glands are much different from your apocrine glands . . . ."

(awkward silence)

This is my life.  It's not tragic, nor pitiable . . . just frustrating.

I guess I do it this way because I know that adventures are possible when your old; med school is not.  And one huge triumph/accomplishment seems to me a much better aspiration than a thousand small ones.  Delayed gratification I'm told tends to pay off.  So I chant it like a mantra.  There are days when it seems true, and days where the syllables are monotone and lifeless.  Still, I guess I'm satisfied in knowing that I'm not letting the difficulty of it all intimidate me.  I hate feeling that I'm missing out, but I would hate it much more to think I was settling for a life that wasn't challenging.  Say it with me people (monotone please):

(awkward Eastern instrumentation)

"Delayed gratification pays

Delayed gratification pays

Delayed gratification pays"

Thus someday in the future when my chanting leads me to Nirvana, I will return to you enlightened.  I plan to cure many diseases, and solve our country's political issues.  I'll then travel the world aimlessly with reckless abandon.  In my old age I'll probly write books for the New Age sections of nationwide stores.  I'll finish my illustrious writing career with a brief autobiography entitled,  Boredom:  How I Became a Badass.

Prerequisite knowledge.

So, I'm sitting at my coffee shop in Plano, listening to Ashley on my myspace. Sometimes people write lyrics I never really get over.

Tonight is the first night in a while when nothing's been going on, so I came here. I used to come here almost every night because I didn't know any people in range to go hang out with. It was a sad time. I made due with books. Now, I feel like I've gone a couple months with barely any nights where there wasn't something going on. It's been a good time. Floods follow droughts which follow floods.

This was a stressful week. In cell biology they call it a cascade when one chemical triggers a reaction that results in thousands of other chemicals swirling around in a cell to make _______ happen. Tuesday I went to college algebra. I haven't had a true math class in nine years. I knew this when I was signing up for algebra. See, the problem is, most of the science classes understandably require algebra or some higher form of math as a prerequisite. On the whole, I get science. It comes pretty easy to me. Math on the other hand, while not incomprehensible to me, does not just come second nature. But, I needed it to take chemistry, which I need to take organic chemistry, which I need to take biochemistry, which I need to take fancy tests that might qualify me for med school.

This is the problem I hit lately. When you're dealing with left-brained subjects, they all require multiple undesirable classes be taken before they will grace you with their own abstruse difficulties. And everything I had included in my three year plan begins to stretch into four, then five. Suddenly I'm overwhelmed with the terrible thought that I'll be 30 before I can apply for med-schools, and 35 at best before I'll be earning minimum wage as a resident.

I'm not scared of school, nor of turning 30 . . . only of living on the strained good graces of relatives and hellish part-time jobs until I'm ready for my mid-life crisis.

All these things considered, every set-back at school turns into a ridiculous amount of stress for me. So, you can imagine how I felt walking into algebra Tuesday morning and not having a damn clue what the prof was talking about for an hour and a half. I have completely forgotten 90% of the mathematical concepts they begin teaching you in 8th grade. Now I probably get to tack basic math and intermediate algebra on to the front of the already lengthy list of classes that are all prerequisites of each other. Lovely.

I've talked to a few friends about it. They all look at me with the look that implies they would be sympathetic but that they ultimately have no clue what the hell to tell me to do. I think that might be comforting in its own way . . . at least they're there.

It's amazing to me how often I find myself in this place: feeling suspended by the question of whether I'd rather sacrifice aspirations or independence and all the facets of life that rest outside my head.

I've been thinking I might just say the hell with it and stick with nursing for the immediate future . . .

I don't know.
I hate not knowing. Stupid life decisions.

Next time you see me,
A. Buy me a beer.
B. Give me a hug.
C. Tell me what the f*** to do with my life.
D. Any of the above.
E. All of the above.

I love you all.




. . . and choose E.

Why I'm probably still a Christian . . .

So, my friend Richard is too good for posting comments. Instead, he chose to write an email to get me to clarify things. There are two points I figure I should throw out for everyone:

1. Am I still a Christian?

I was recently reading a theologian I respect a lot who was pointing out the extent to which we all rely on other people to understand ourselves. In a way, it can be said that the only way to really know ourselves is to know other people. There's always this level of uncertainty in each person's self-understanding, and we all rely on other humans to tell us what kind of human we are. That's kind of what I was getting at with the title of this blog . . . essentially people will define you however they see fit, but if you're expecting me to stick a label on myself you might be waiting for a long time.

One thing I read this last year that really messed me up was a quote from Gandhi saying, "Ask the poor, they will tell you who the Christians are." I started thinking about Acts where the title came into being at Antioch. The early Christians didn't label themselves as such, the word was given to them. Probably in a pejorative sense at first, and maybe over time others adopted the term with a different tone of voice. Whatever the case, I basically feel that the word "Christian" is better employed as a compliment than as a self-imposed title. If we are being Christians, then the world will let us know, and we should pay careful attention to the tone used with the term since it carries all the significance.

But, I digress. All my ideals aside, my straight forward answer would be: maybe, by who's definition? If I am allowed to delineate the meaning of the word, then definitely. But, according to the way most people define the word . . . I would definitely distance myself, and possibly respond with a 'no'. Regrettably.

2. In light of my views on the atonement . . . what do I make of the relationship between Jesus and God?

I don't think I could ever say this enough: the first disciples to meet Jesus, met a man, not a god. I think we need to do the same. I think in our context we often work in reverse: we start with the divine Christ and try to reconcile the earthly Jesus to him. But it took his closest friends and followers months if not years to believe in him as a messiah. They initially encountered a rabbi, a miracle-man, a prophet. This is what the knew him as first. With time those labels seemed inadequate, so the began attributing other, loftier titles to him.

It was only 50 years after his death, after transferring the gospel into a polytheistic Greek culture where divine incarnations were commonplace that any Christian community dared attribute divinity to Jesus. It was controversial at that point and took the course of 200 years before it was generally accepted.

My personal stance is that to work backwards from God down to Jesus is to make much too big a claim of understanding God. We begin speaking in grand metaphysical mythic terms, that assume we know the mind of God. To me this is blasphemy; it makes a joke of the God whose ways are forever above our own and whose thoughts are never capable of being brought down to our level. Rather the Christian belief is in a man who reveals the heart of this mysterious God. Not because he IS God, but because God reveals himself through him.

In this way, I can understand how Jesus becomes inseparable from God, but to me that does not make them the same. It makes sense to me that on taking the gospel on to Greek soil, it became beneficial to identify Jesus with God. But, in our modern world, Greek thought has ceased to reign supreme. In our humanistic setting, I find the human Jesus to be the necessary starting point for all theology and spirituality.

hooray for the holidays

So, 2007 went out with a bang, and 2008 came in with a lot of coughing and catching up on sleep.

where to begin . . .

Christmas Eve has been monopolized by my Mom's side of the family for more decades than I have been alive. As a kid there was this magic about it all. That was the rich side of the family so I could always count on getting some awesome ridiculously expensive present. . . . Now, it's mostly just awkward. We proceed through the same formulaic evening we've had since I can remember.

Christmas day I woke up and opened presents with my parents. I got a few new sweaters and a bunch of books, which I've already made significant progress on. God bless time off. I proceeded from there to the one Starbucks in Plano that was open Christmas day. I sat reading up on genetics, when one of the hottest girls I had ever seen (at least that day) walks in and sits at the table opposite mine. In the course of the next two hours I managed to read a grand total of 3 pages in whatever book I was working on at the moment. I was going through all the checks in my head:
1. Left hand - had a ring with no rocks on it . . . appeared to be a promise ring or some lower form of jewelry.
2. Yes, she's hot enough to venture getting shot down.
3. Pretty sure she's playing eye tag . . .

for 2 hours.
Anyway, a friend of mine walked in, and upon figuring out what was going on, offered a sufficient amount of peer pressure. I catch the girl outside and ask if she'd like to get coffee at the same table at any random point in the future. She proceeded to explain that the ring on her left had was indeed an engagement ring. I have a newfound respect for diamonds . . . something I never thought I'd say.
Christmas evening, recovering from the afternoons disappointment . . . we go out to get Chinese with my Dad's parents. Yes, it was reminiscent of A Christmas Story, only the kitchen staff didn't sing Deck the Halls, and I didn't get a bb gun for Christmas.
Then I met friends at the bar for a much needed drink.

Thursday. . . . Texas kicks the crap out of Arizona State! all is right with the world.

Friday I meet Joel Thelton. He's cute. Congrats to Kristin and Travis. Me and Jacob see my second extremely heavy movie in a couple days.

Saturday . . . oh Saturday. I kick everything off with my Dad's side of the family. Three rambunctious cousins crawl all over me for several hours. They're cute, but man that can tire you out. Then I move on to the bar, for a friends birthday party. A&M loses, and life is splendid. Then the decision is to go get our groove on at a bar down the street which tends to have a DJ playing. We go. A good time is had by all until about 1:30 in the morning, when it turns out that one of the girls has lost some keys. Cell phones out to illuminate the floor and booths . . nothing. 10 minutes later, it turns out the car is gone. All these years I've lived in Dallas and this is the first time I've been on the scene for a stolen car. We call the cops, who were immediately on their way. Meantime: credit card cancellations, dialing up hotlines, 10 people standing in the freezing cold after sweating for hours prior. Wet + cold= not so awesome. 30 minutes go by . . . cops on the way (play triumphant background music). Meantime: other friends call who (driving the same model car as was stolen) had been t-boned and flipped on their side just the other side of the highway. Friends leave to rescue. 45 more minutes to by, the cops are still on the way (dissonance in triumphant background music) . . . evidently there was a fight at a ritzy club that left a guy in the ICU, and this had taken precedence. I leave somewhere around this time. From what I hear the cops finally came . . . and saw that there was a report on the computer of a car matching the description having been wrecked just across the highway . . .

I don't remember much about Sunday aside from being tired.

Monday . . . NYE party, cordially titled "Eff you 2007, bring on 2008!!" I tried to sleep up all day.
let's start with the evening . . .
9:00 - food, lots of greetings.
10:00 - stylish people show up, looking like rock stars.
11:00 - I finally move away from the bar and start being social.
12:00 - lots of yelling, everyone kisses everyone
12:10 - dance party commences
12:15-2:30 - I'm kinda fuzzy on all the details, all I really remember is trying to dance with anyone who was female . . . I hear it was provocative. Also, there were community bottles of champagne contributing to the madness. There was lots of other drama, but I'll refrain from recounting any of it in order to protect the guilty.
next morning . . .
9:30 - I wake up on Luke and Kerri's couch, surprisingly not hung over.
10:00 - Back to the apt. for clean up.
12ish - Breakfast finally.
1530 hours - movie watching - sinking feeling that a sore throat is about to kick it into gear. . . .

all in all, it was a pretty amazing way to finish out december and kick off 2008 . . . i love you all, happy new year
(cough)