This Bitter Red Sea

The Angry Sea by Thomas Moran

It was a simple invitation, and yet the wave of anger within me that rose in response was far more than anticipated. Apparently, i'm still bitter. 

Tonight, like every other Wednesday night, my housemates had friends over to watch movies, play games, and generally socialize. And tonight, like every other Wednesday night, i headed to my room to avoid them.

The pattern this week was no different: Guest show up, they invite me to join them, i politely decline then make like a tick and flee, and we all go about our nights as we please. This night would have a twist though. 

While hiding my room, i received a text from Petra.

Care to join us in the basement for some worship?

I replied with a thanks but no thanks. 

So far so good. We're sticking to the routine and everyone seems happy. The dam of smiles and polite responses remains intact to insulate us from my bitterness and allow for civil conversation.

Then she responded, and the dam i've so carefully kept intact collapsed. 

She gently chided me for letting the opportunity slip by, for missing out on something i was once passionate about. Her text wasn't harsh - heck, she used two smiley faces - but the blindness in which it ignored so much history seemed arrogant. 

I realized i was furious.

For over a year, i relentlessly invested my social pull to positively influence the lives of my friends. Towards this end, i created more social get togethers than i can remember. People would show up, have a great time, and probably make new friends while they were at it (whole new socialspheres were created.) 

Behind the fun though, i meticulously crafted these settings to have a deeper purpose than mere socialization, one that would draw them deeper into their own depths or connect them with God or hope or... hell, anything that mattered, if i could.

They might, like flies to a picnic, faithfully show up to enjoy the benefits of my labor, but they never joined me in my efforts. After a year of investing my time and resources into what seemed to be a battle only i cared about winning, the only fervor i had was a fervent distaste for anything that would remind me of what had once mattered so dearly to me.

Then suddenly, magically, randomly, months after i called it quits, Petra, Charity, and a few of the others decided they actually did like these get togethers. So much so, that they would get together EVEN if i didn't organize it for them. Shocking! Who would have thought?

Soon enough, they were regularly convening at my house (being attached to the location, i suppose.) Being the good sports they are, every week they would do the polite thing and invite me to join them. Every week, i would politely decline. Up until this week, i thought this system was fine, if not slightly annoying.

It's not like what they're doing is bad, bland, or boring. In fact, many of their activities are the very things i would have initiated myself back before i became so confoundedly antisocial. But i think that's what i hate about it.

Now, i know logically that i should be thrilled. It seems like - to some degree, at least - they're finally beginning to run with my ideas. I should get off my butt, tie my shoe laces and run with them, or at least bust out my wagon and let them pull me. Yet i feel a sense of disgust at the thought doing so. 

Maybe i hate it because i fought for it so long and hard but never achieved it. Maybe i hate it because they can do it without me and that's a blow to my ego. Maybe i hate it because they do so nonchalantly what i did so passionately; on a whim and for fun they do what i did with such deep conviction and intentionality.

My ego, of course, would like to believe the last of these reasons, but i realize it's likely a combination of all three - plus another dozen still unbeknownst to me.

...

I never did responded to her. Part of me wanted to turn it on her head, to remind her of how she and the rest had failed to support me when it mattered, to say the time for it had long passed. Part of me felt like i should join them. Maybe that's what my heart needed. Part of me was just tired and thought i might handle it better after a full nights rest.

This Bitter Red Sea

I see i still have a long ways ahead of me in my journey towards the healing of my perceived failures and the failures of those around me.

I just wish God would part this bitter Red Sea, leaving my heart a dry path on which to cross.

21

This week, i became a legally alcohol consuming citizen. As the days slid by and 20 came to an end, i found myself thinking a lot about the past few years and i can't help but view 20 as the least impressive of the bunch. In fact, it wasn't just that it didn't have the same rate of growth as the past years, it seemed to slip back and undo much that was accomplished in the past three. I beg Your forgiveness as i'm about to consider a long-winded, egotistic recollections of the past few years. I only hope they'll give You more insight into my current thoughts and actions.

17 

Ah, when everything was bright and new! I had just made the switch from being a depressed introvert into what seemed to be a charmingly outgoing, enthusiastically optimistic individual. (This surprised me more than anyone.) I entered an internship at New Life Church (Colorado Spring's largest mega church) and soon found myself as a poster child for the youth group and at the top of the social food chain. I went from having 3 friends (thank You Saralee, Will, and Hilary for sticking with me) to being introduced as "the guy who knows everyone." Music exploded as i found myself leading worship as often as 5 times a week, as well as leading a handful of Bible studies and prayer meetings.

18 

This year saw the culmination of my passion and popularity. I was invited to speak at two different events: City Wide Night of Worship (attendance: 700 some) and the Desperation Conference (attendance: 3000 some). I also started and ran a healing team at youth group as well as a prophecy group. 

During 17, i got involved in many prayer meetings in which i saw not only the physical results of prayer, but the intense uniting effect they had on the individuals who prayed together. I heard many churches talk on the importance of prayer and i read of it's importance in the Bible. Seeing the logic in this, i went to the many pastors i knew, asking them why the churches in Colorado Springs didn't get together to pray for our city. They all kindly told me it was a nice idea but no one was heading it up. So of course, since someone had to and i was someone, i started the Kingdom Come gatherings. We met on a quarterly basis, representing quite a few different churches from around the city, and had as many as a hundred some individuals there.

But, after a year, i hated it all. I remember sitting on the floor, watching the proceedings of our fourth event and thinking how it would be impossible for me to be more involved with church and yet i hated my life more than ever. I was exhausted and burnt out. The team i had started Kingdom Come with had all eventually bailed and i was running everything myself.

Not only that, but i had long sat in the chairs of youth groups,  taking everything my pastors said to heart and running with it. I could not be more involved or committed to church yet there was no support or accountability. There was no community. The other groups i was running (which, while verbally encouraged by my pastors, they had no time or help to offer me in their sustenance)  were having visibly good, life-changing effects in the lives of my friends, but were being run by little more than a combination of my social charisma and passionate dedication to ideals i knew were worthwhile. They couldn't be sustained. Soon, i stepped out of it all.

As i struggled with growing doubts and began ending the groups i had ran, i found no comfort in the church. I remember opening up a message (there were others like it) that read along the of "Whatever You're going through, You need to get over it. Lots of Your peers look up to You and You're being a bad example." There was no offer of advise or of meeting together to help me get better, just the idea that i needed to suck it up. Fuck it, i thought.  If i had consider going back, now it was decided; i'd had enough of churches.

Around this time, i started going to Manitou, a part of the city that's known for it's artsiness and hippiness. It's seen as the anti-Christian side of town. Yet, time after time, i found myself experiencing a closeness with strangers that i hadn't found in the churches i frequented. I'd sit in coffee shops breaking bread with people i'd only met that night as we talked about life; i was offered wine (and weed) by strangers i played music with under the bandshell. I found acceptance and joy. I found community.

19 

19 was very good for my ego - or very bad, depending how You look at it! I seemed to accomplish everything churches should but didn't. It reenforced a pattern that has confused and saddened me through my life. While i believe it'd be best to submit to older, wiser leaders and support them in their efforts, the lives of my friends seem transformed not when i connect them to a certain church or pastor but when i take matters into my own foolish, enthusiastic hands.

At the beginning of the year, i was given a book, Beautiful Outlaw by John Eldredge, that  did much to refresh my spirits. I began gathering a handful of friends - individuals like me who had been burnt - to share a meal and study the book. Soon, though, our get togethers quickly became less and less about reading a set chapter and more and more about ministering to whatever needs someone might have that night. Our focus was on community and following the Holy Spirit's leading. Our size exploded as in the youth of the city we stumbled across a vein of desperate, unmet hunger for authentic Christian community.

I became interested in sustainability and different ways of doing life than the self-centered, materialistic, suburban world i had been raised in. I started boring many friends with long talks of theoretical economics and how society should be set up. I got rid of many my belonging and had lots of friends live at my house for extended periods. Some never left.

By summer time, Ekklesia had 75 some members, with as many as 45 showing up to cram into the basement each night. I was dating a beautiful girl who i was convinced i would marry, my friends lives were being transformed, i was leading (with the help of two dear friends) a ministry - no, a movement, rather - that seemed to only be growing and gaining momentum. And, and long last, it seemed that i had  finally found community.

20

And then came 20. Beautiful women had broken my heart twice, closing me to love and romance. Ministry wise, it seemed like i was just repeating the patterns of 18, in which i poured everything i had into a a group and there was great success in the lives of those involved, yet it was sustained by my drive alone. I had assumed that if i sacrificed long enough, the vision would catch on and others would join in, yet so few saw need to support the thing that benefitted them. I became bitter at the people i served, seeing them as lazy and selfish for i wasn't older or wiser or smarter than them. I was just dedicated. I would show up to the building that we were now based out of, do my part, and head home as soon as possible. The community i had fought so hard to create had turned into little more than a social club.

It was said by outsiders that i was starting a cult, that we were heretical, that we were rebellious. Perhaps that last one wasn't false. I had rebelled against the dead, lonely churches i had been a part of, trying to salvage both the religion of the God i loved and as many of the beautiful souls as i could that cold, institutionalize churches had injured. Yet i saw all my efforts, all my drive, all my sacrifice as worthless. There had been so much potential; we had been part of something that could have done so much, and we settled for okay. I endured from the inside watching what i had worked for turn into something i hated. I didn't hate it for what it was, but for what it could have been but wasn't. Finally, i felt God's release and i withdrew from Ekklesia, from most of my friendships, from anything that would remind me of my weakness, failure, and inability to create the world i desired, or of the apathy of those around me. Seeing the world and those in it as less than they could be was torment. So i simply withdrew from it.

21

Yet, as a new year begins, i find myself drawn once again to the ideals of community and the beauty and potential of life. God seems to have planted them not in my mind where ideas come and go, but in my very heart, where, for a time, they can be hidden and buried by the course of life and hope deferred, but never truly escaped. While the results of my efforts to change my bit of the world fell far short of my ambitions, they were not empty, although it is my tendency to view them as such. My heart is stilled pained but now it seems more akin to that experienced when feeling begins to creep back into the fingers after one steps near a fire after a cold night outside. Numbness gives way to feeling, and feeling to pain, but pain gives way to health and wholeness.

I've spent my past years teaching before i had really learned; healing others before i was healed; trying to giving others what i didn't quite yet have myself. I long to regain my youthful enthusiasm and optimism for life and i endeavor to go wherever i must to find it. I'll learn from what's passed and eagerly set out to find what's ahead. This year i plan to travel, to grow, and to learn from those around me. I won't fall into the trap of structuring my life around what's safe, practical and already in place but rather, with God's help and the love of You, my dear friends and family, continue seeking until my dying day to create the best world possible. Won't You join me?

The Me I Love, The Me I Hate

I was happy, until i realized i was. Then i was upset. It's funny and perhaps it highlights how emotionally unstable i am but it's not as odd as it sounds.

Despite how long we've been friends, i don't see Laura often. It was a really good evening though; i ran around with enthusiasm, climbing on things, dancing as i walked, talking and making friends with whomever i came in contact with. Despite the stress of the day, i found a loveably naive, enthusiastic side of me coming out.

It's been a while since i've seen this side.

Driving away from her house, i realized i was happy. Not just with how the evening had been but with how i had been. That's when it hit me. Suddenly, i was struck by the sight and contrast of two sides of me.

The first is the bright eyed boy; naive, enthusiastic, charming, optimistic to a fault, believing the best in everyone, ever ready to meet old friends and new. People feel welcome and free around him. This is the Dallas most people meet, and although this side is also foolish and overbearing at times, my heart is happy with him.

The other is more complex and harder to describe. He's colder, calculating,  political. This doesn't come out of malice or selfish ambition but out of a deep desire to see goodness achieved in the world, the systems of living reformed, and for those around him to step into the truth that will lead them into the fullness of their glory, beauty and potential. He'll sacrifice whatever is necessary to see these things come about. The difference he sees between the potential of what could be and the world that is is maddening, stealing his joy. His enthusiasm is twisted to become a cold drive. The apparent lack of interest on the part of those he aims to help only furthers to alienate him from them. He perceives his inability to bring about his vision as personal weakness, putting on him a sense of failure that drives him deeper into isolation. His friends, though loving, usually don't know what they can do to help, for there is little they can do. They feel a growing wall between them and the man they love. That is him at his worst.

Yet, this side of Dallas had been responsible for much good. It was this drive that created and sustained many groups and movements; Ekklesia, Kingdom Come, and the Healing Rooms being just a few. Many friendships were made, old wounds were healed, many were encouraged, gained wisdom, and stepped further into their potential. Heck, whole social groups exist now because of his efforts. It's good like this that validates his actions and drives him to continue down a path that he hates the feeling of.

So i drive home, thoughts and memories swirling through my head and through my heart. I realize how much i miss my bright eyed self. Yet it seems so hard to just go back, like i'd somehow have to give up some important key i was entrusted with that might just unlock the life i'm desperate for us all. All the worse, i feel awful that most days i'm so reserved and distant from friends that i know mean well.

A flash of anger goes through me. Ignorance is bliss. Why am i condemned to see things so few others do? It seems to be this vision of mine that keeps me from going back to the me i feel i should be, the me i want to be.

Soon i'm home and i don't have any answers than when i started driving, just questions and conflicting desires. Do i become the me i like or do i sacrifice my joy to fight for the greater good? If i take the second path, how long can i maintain it until i become so bitter from disappointment and anger that i stop being any good at all? And for those who would suggest a third path, i know it should exist, but i never can seem to find the balance. I'm a man of extremes with a single track mind. The balance, if ever reached, is so short lived as to be hard to even spot.

I can just hope one day i'll have the wisdom and strength to find this balance for good.

Why This Blog? pt. 2 : Ideas & Camaraderie

Over the past few years, as my philosophy and approach to life has become more developed and personalized, i've felt increasingly alone. Most people seem surprised when they hear this. Perhaps when they look at me all they see is "the guy who knows everyone" (this is often how i'm introduced.) Yet the fact remain, most days i feel so painfully alone.

Due to my naturally outgoing personality, the pool of my social life is more than large enough to supply me with people to spend time with. If i ever feel lonely, i have many loving friends, all of them truly beautiful people, who will be there for me. But there are precious few souls i feel a kindred spirit with. I don't think myself any better or smarter than my friends - far from it - but i must be honest in saying that the deep thoughts and ideals of life which consume my energy and passion, seem to be far from the minds of those around me. In this regard, though i love them, i am unable to connect with them about those things which seem to make up a part of my very soul. The connection we have seems somewhat empty, for, having to leave a part of me behind, it's only what's left of me that can connect with them.

I don't know why this is. It could be that, while caring about these issues, most are unsure of how to approach or discuss them. We're not taught to question things. When asked why they're living their life the way they are, most of my friends have no answer other than everyone is living similarly. As with honesty (see pt. 1), it's my hope that in writing about my thoughts and these things which drive me, You'll be encouraged to question, search out, and give voice to Your ideals and way of living.

Perhaps we'll find we have more in common than we

thought and my agonizing feelings of isolation will instead be replaced by the joy of camaraderie. 

Why This Blog? pt 1 Honesty

Something which seems ingrained into us is the propensity to lie about and hide our flaws. Not only does this create a culture of deception and isolate us from those around us, it's actually harmful to our attempts to improve ourselves.

It's as though i think i can hide my flaws from others while working on remedying them, leaving my friends to think i'm doing better than i really am. However, the wall i put up to hide the parts of me that i don't like, also keeps those who love me from being able to truly see me and either come to my aid when i have trouble or to help check me when i'm getting ready to make a mistake. The result is that i'm left to struggle on my own, proud and isolated, and my friends don't really know me. It's a sad price to pay to keep our egos intact (and who do we think we're fooling, anyway?)

My goal in this blog isn't to teach You but rather - to the best of my ability - give an accurate and honest account of my life in the hopes that You'll be encouraged to live Your life a bit more honestly as well. For the next year (at least), i'll use this blog to share with You stories from my day to day life, both the ugly and the pretty, the happy and the sad. Some days i'll be the hero, others, the villain. But whatever the day, i'll always be me. No masks or lies to hide behind.

Perhaps that degree of honesty makes You uncomfortable. Perhaps You're already perfectly honest and don't struggle with social pressure to maintain an image. Perhaps You're already perfect. 

But i'm not. 

I am who i am, and i want to be honest about who that man is. If and of that interests You, i'd love to have You come with me on this journey. We can travel across this confusing landscape together, finding answers to hard questions and understanding ourselves a little better as we go. 

The pursuit of honesty will at times be difficult, but i believe what's at the end of this adventure will be more than worth the cost of getting there.

Tidy Thoughts, Messy Thoughts

As i stare ahead at the blank page, i realize that i'm stuck. Try as i might, my thoughts refuse to order themselves into clear, tidy piles. It's funny though because it was just earlier today that she told me to let go of that need.

"You don't need to have them all nice and neat before You share them. I still want to read Your thoughts, Dal, even if they're not fully formed."

I was sitting in the Chick-fil-A parking lot after work, waiting to go in and satisfy my increasingly intense hunger but not wanting to interrupt our conversation. Every talk with her means so much to me, despite the fact that we seem to talk every other day. It doesn't matter the subject, just listening to her share her way viewing the world is a delight. I guess that's the side effect of adoring someone. But we won't wander down that road today...

"I guess i feel like i have to have a firm grasp on the idea before i share it. I have loads of things on my mind. I'd love to write about them but, i don't know... When i write about my day, that's easy. There's a clear start and an end to it. That's not usually the case with my thoughts. They don't seem to have a clear beginning or end to them most of the time."

Now, much later in the day, i find myself staring at my computer, trying my best to formulate... well, anything really. What's keeping me from typing, what it is she said i need to let go of, is a mixture of my insecurity and my perfectionist side. In a world of thousands of boring, egocentric blogs and status updates, i don't want to waste Your time. If i write something, i want You to be able to take something from it. What i write has to have a message. It has to have a message. It has to be great.

But she's right. Maybe it doesn't. That's the thing about honesty anyway. You don't need to have it all together. You just have to be open about what You do have.

I turn back to my computer and begin to type.

Right or Reconciled

It's hard to look at it so i don't. Instead, i pick up my wallet. The leather is old and worn and its fat size shows it's been a while since i've decluttered it of the receipts, loose change, and unused punch cards that like to make their home there. I rifle through it, sigh, and toss it back onto the desk in front of me.

Maybe i should clean my room a bit more first, i think. Perhaps then my thoughts will be sorted out and i'll know how to reply.

To be fair, it is a difficult situation. It'd been months since i spoke to him last. It was a run in at a movie some mutual friends had invited us to. We sat at different ends of the theatre and didn't speak except to say good-bye but we did shake hands and our smiles didn't seem as strained. I seemed time, as i had hoped, was mending things. Apparently not.

I'd wanted to write to him for some time but not knowing how to voice my desire for reconciliation and fear of his response both kept me silent. Finally, after hiding in the back of my mind for months, the desire was brought to the forefront by something i watched. There was very little special about it - i was just wasting my night watching Netflix - but something about how the various heroes interacted through their adventures and trails reminded me of the many joys and challenges we once shared and the memories we'd made.

Before i knew it, i was in front of my computer looking him up. As i pulled up his Facebook profile, i saw we were no longer friends. That did little to quiet my nervousness. Still, i had to write to him. Despite not knowing how to articulate the feelings of both love and pain that felt so strong, i found the words pouring out.

I wrote of my long felt desire to contact him but the impasse i felt. I wrote of the memories of ours that i cherished, from the late night talks to how we were baptized together. I wrote of how i suck at balancing things in life, particularly relationships, and how i get so consumed in big, impersonal ideals. I apologized that in my attempts to create a better world, i hurt many people, and how much i regretted that he was one of them. I wrote of my desire for reconciliation with him but that even if i was past that place that i believe in him, in his heart, in his love for people and how through that love he'll change many lives. Lastly, i wrote that i love him, and i pray that his life may be blessed.

I was nervous but full of hope as i sent it. Regardless of his response, i thought, i know i've done the right thing in reaching out for reconciliation. A few hours later, his response shattered my peace.

He wrote of how he doubted my words. He wrote that my message was a poorly written attempt to get pity and extend my social influence. He did pity me, but not because he believed what i wrote. He pitied me because i act selfishly and hurt people to build my own kingdom. He wrote of his "admiration" for my ability to manipulate and hurt people yet still be loved by the masses. He wrote of his prayers to God to help him forgive me for the pain i'd caused him. He wrote of the pain in seeing my transformation from a man he admired into a selfish, manipulative man and how he can't be aligned with someone like that. He wrote that he hopes one day i'll realize what i've become and have a change of heart.

For days i've held my response as two sides of me wrestle over the direction to take. The logical side of me sees the humility in my first message. I put aside the many destructive things he'd done to me and offered a fresh start. I was gracious and he responded with insults. My mind creates walls to defend myself and arrows to pierce him, showing him his faults. On and on it goes until it's no longer an attempt at peace, but rather, a war to prove who's right.

Another side of me wants to agree with him, to let him be right if it means healing might come. I should let go of my rights, forget about what he's done, and just apologize. He's hurt but not a fool. There's truth behind his words. I should find it so that i can become a better man.

I heard a story once, told by an old Native American to his grandson. "There are two wolves within every one of us," the old man began, "one which is dark; full of hate, anger, greed, arrogance, and envy. The other is light; full of love, compassion, peace, joy and wisdom. The two wolves are always fighting one another, contending for supremacy. The boy thought about it intently before he turned to his grandfather and asked, "Which wolf wins?" "The one we feed," he replied.

As i sit here, ready to write my response, i feel those two wolves contending within me. I could argue and prove him wrong. I could cut him down and prove myself blameless. But i'm not. Neither of us are. Proving him wrong won't help him, or me, become a better man. So easily our emotions make us view things as black or white, men as either angels or demons. But we're not angels, nor are we demons. We're human, flawed and beautiful, and though we make mistakes, our lives contain glory.

I know which wolf i want to win. I'll just have to feed him my ego.