Monday, February 08, 2010
I went to Starbucks today and sat down intending to work on a book I've been writing, but all of a sudden I just wrote on the paper, for no apparent reason, "What does it mean to love God?" And I stared at it and I thought, "Hardly anyone knows." Of course, that's not the case. But in western society, the concept of "loving God" falls quite far from what Jesus actually meant. So I've been hammering out an essay (at six pages now) on what it means to love God and what it means to love people (since the two are intricately connected). Basically the first part of the essay (which I'm almost done with) is about how loving God is NOT about having positive feelings towards Him; there are many in the biblical testimony--i.e. David, Jeremiah, Job--who experienced negative feelings towards God but still loved Him. And there are countless many who have "warm" feelings towards God but who do not love Him. I believe that loving God is equivalent to being dedicated/devoted/committed/loyal to Him, and this is manifested in obedience. And in a Christian culture where people shout from the rooftops "I love God!" I wonder how many people actually sit down, examine their lives, and ask themselves if they're being honest in their proclamations. And I wonder how many preachers who talk about "loving God" really define for people what that means.
I'm sitting at home in the utter quiet. It is different. In Cincinnati I fell asleep to the sounds of airplanes and traffic and sirens. Here it is absolute silence. We don't really live "in the country" but we're not in the suburbs, either. I could stand out on the front porch for ten minutes and see not a single car drive by. I really do like it here. Cincinnati has its perks, that's for sure, but it's nice here, too.
Seeing all my great friends last night was fantastic. Rob, Mandy, Jessie, Tony, Amos. We watched the Superbowl and ate delicious (albeit fattening) food and drank soda and played Goldeneye 007 on the outdated but nonetheless exciting N64. I saw Sarah for about twenty minutes. I went by the house and we sat at the dining room table and we talked for a while. It was good. I really do care for her. But it was hard at the same time, because I still like her. It will take some time--who knows how long?--for my feelings for her to fade. I haven't thought about her much over the past week "in that way", but I've dreamed about her almost every night. Not sensual, sexual dreams. Just dreams with her in them. And then seeing her today made my feelings resurface, buried as they were. I must execute them. Behead them, crucify them, poison them. But it's difficult to do that, because the most logical step isn't to distance oneself from the situation but to color up the person in a light that you don't find appealing. And I can't do that very well with Sarah. Firstly, because there's not much NOT to like. And secondly, because doing that would almost be like doing a seek-and-find for all her faults. And that's not a very loving thing to do. But I have made a list that I read every day of reasons we wouldn't work well together. Not bad things, just differences of opinions and lifestyle that would bring an element of conflict into a relationship. But it doesn't help that much, because I know that there's conflict in every relationship, and the reasons we WOULD work--minus the fact that she doesn't feel the same way, which is a pretty hefty requirement--far outweigh the reasons we WOULDN'T work. But, in the end, I need to do something. I hate liking a girl who doesn't like me back. I've been here so many times and I've interpreted it in so many ways that I don't know anymore, I just want it to end.
A blog shouldn't be about "oh, pity me." And I'm not asking for that. I only know of two or three people who read this thing, and they know all this already. I guess I'm just writing it because while this blog began as a sort of online post-it-note of my beliefs and convictions, it's evolved into a telescopic lens that penetrates past my outer shell and into the core of who I am. And these are things that are really going on in my life. Oh, I could write about all the outside stuff: how I'm writing a book and revising another, how I'm doing a Bible study with Dylan, how I'm searching for jobs, how I go to Starbucks every morning to sit and write and think, how I'm a beast at Mario Kart on the Wii, etc. But no one cares. And, really, neither do I. Some people say that if they have it all, life will be great. But life without love is empty. Meaningless. Hopeless. (And, in fact, the primary theme of a book I'm writing, "The Boy Who Hoped.") And even if I were rich and handsome and popular and famous, I would give it all up just for love. Just to hold a woman's hand and see her not repel. To look into her eyes with passion and desire and to see that passion and desire returned. To be vulnerable and shaking and to have her accept that. In the end, being vulnerable and being loved is what I truly want.
Seeing all my great friends last night was fantastic. Rob, Mandy, Jessie, Tony, Amos. We watched the Superbowl and ate delicious (albeit fattening) food and drank soda and played Goldeneye 007 on the outdated but nonetheless exciting N64. I saw Sarah for about twenty minutes. I went by the house and we sat at the dining room table and we talked for a while. It was good. I really do care for her. But it was hard at the same time, because I still like her. It will take some time--who knows how long?--for my feelings for her to fade. I haven't thought about her much over the past week "in that way", but I've dreamed about her almost every night. Not sensual, sexual dreams. Just dreams with her in them. And then seeing her today made my feelings resurface, buried as they were. I must execute them. Behead them, crucify them, poison them. But it's difficult to do that, because the most logical step isn't to distance oneself from the situation but to color up the person in a light that you don't find appealing. And I can't do that very well with Sarah. Firstly, because there's not much NOT to like. And secondly, because doing that would almost be like doing a seek-and-find for all her faults. And that's not a very loving thing to do. But I have made a list that I read every day of reasons we wouldn't work well together. Not bad things, just differences of opinions and lifestyle that would bring an element of conflict into a relationship. But it doesn't help that much, because I know that there's conflict in every relationship, and the reasons we WOULD work--minus the fact that she doesn't feel the same way, which is a pretty hefty requirement--far outweigh the reasons we WOULDN'T work. But, in the end, I need to do something. I hate liking a girl who doesn't like me back. I've been here so many times and I've interpreted it in so many ways that I don't know anymore, I just want it to end.
A blog shouldn't be about "oh, pity me." And I'm not asking for that. I only know of two or three people who read this thing, and they know all this already. I guess I'm just writing it because while this blog began as a sort of online post-it-note of my beliefs and convictions, it's evolved into a telescopic lens that penetrates past my outer shell and into the core of who I am. And these are things that are really going on in my life. Oh, I could write about all the outside stuff: how I'm writing a book and revising another, how I'm doing a Bible study with Dylan, how I'm searching for jobs, how I go to Starbucks every morning to sit and write and think, how I'm a beast at Mario Kart on the Wii, etc. But no one cares. And, really, neither do I. Some people say that if they have it all, life will be great. But life without love is empty. Meaningless. Hopeless. (And, in fact, the primary theme of a book I'm writing, "The Boy Who Hoped.") And even if I were rich and handsome and popular and famous, I would give it all up just for love. Just to hold a woman's hand and see her not repel. To look into her eyes with passion and desire and to see that passion and desire returned. To be vulnerable and shaking and to have her accept that. In the end, being vulnerable and being loved is what I truly want.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Jess Lynn and I decided that we are going to move to Alaska and start a coffee shop. They only have one Starbucks in Ketchikan--where I want to move--so there's not much competition. Of course this is just a fantasy and I'll probably never move to Alaska but we all have dreams, right?
Superbowl is tonight. Colts vs. who? I don't know. I'm not a big football fan. But it'll be good spending time with my Cincinnati friends. I'm currently hanging out with Jessie. We're sitting on the couch in the Lehman house and she's on the phone and I'm on here, obviously. I won't be back in the Dayton area till later tonight, but at least I'll be tired and able to sleep without using Nyquil! This coming week should be pretty good and relaxing. I'll probably hang out with friends, continue the job search, unlock more karts on Mario Kart Wii, visit Starbucks, and continue working on the revision of "36 Hours" (I am still selling ten or twenty copies a week, which blows my mind, because I hate the book; but I am rewriting it, reformatting it, tweaking it so I won't be totally ashamed of it; and maybe I can make a few more books off those who really enjoyed it). And I'll keep eating right and working out and the fat will keep coming off and I'll look better and better. Life is good.
Superbowl is tonight. Colts vs. who? I don't know. I'm not a big football fan. But it'll be good spending time with my Cincinnati friends. I'm currently hanging out with Jessie. We're sitting on the couch in the Lehman house and she's on the phone and I'm on here, obviously. I won't be back in the Dayton area till later tonight, but at least I'll be tired and able to sleep without using Nyquil! This coming week should be pretty good and relaxing. I'll probably hang out with friends, continue the job search, unlock more karts on Mario Kart Wii, visit Starbucks, and continue working on the revision of "36 Hours" (I am still selling ten or twenty copies a week, which blows my mind, because I hate the book; but I am rewriting it, reformatting it, tweaking it so I won't be totally ashamed of it; and maybe I can make a few more books off those who really enjoyed it). And I'll keep eating right and working out and the fat will keep coming off and I'll look better and better. Life is good.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
I love the fact that I move fifty miles north to escape the drama and somehow it keeps following me around. The guy Sarah likes sent me a message asking for permission to talk to her. He knew what Friday night did to me and now the problem is exacerbated. So I sat there and wondered what to do. Be the good guy that everyone says I am and tell him, "Do what you want"? Ignore it? Be selfish and think of my own emotional hell before Sarah's happiness and tell him not to talk to her?
I told him that people have gotten in the way of my happiness again and again, and I'm not going to get in the way of his happiness. Or Sarah's happiness. So I told him to do what he wants in regards to her.
The reality is, I love Sarah. I really do. I would never tell her that. And I know she doesn't read this, so she'll never know--unless some reader tells her, "Hey, look what Anthony wrote about you!" Several months ago I preached a sermon on biblical love and how love has at its foundation sacrifice. It isn't love if it's not sacrifice, and it isn't sacrifice if it doesn't hurt. I know that if they end up dating it will hurt me. But at least I'm in Dayton now and won't be subjugated to it. I won't have to see it thrust in my face. And I guess this is the most loving thing to do. If she wants to be with him--if he will make her genuinely happy and (of this I am quite skeptical) be good for her--then so be it. And if something happens between them and it gets blown to smithereens and she ends up regretting it, it's not my fault. There's no blood on my hands.
I told him that people have gotten in the way of my happiness again and again, and I'm not going to get in the way of his happiness. Or Sarah's happiness. So I told him to do what he wants in regards to her.
The reality is, I love Sarah. I really do. I would never tell her that. And I know she doesn't read this, so she'll never know--unless some reader tells her, "Hey, look what Anthony wrote about you!" Several months ago I preached a sermon on biblical love and how love has at its foundation sacrifice. It isn't love if it's not sacrifice, and it isn't sacrifice if it doesn't hurt. I know that if they end up dating it will hurt me. But at least I'm in Dayton now and won't be subjugated to it. I won't have to see it thrust in my face. And I guess this is the most loving thing to do. If she wants to be with him--if he will make her genuinely happy and (of this I am quite skeptical) be good for her--then so be it. And if something happens between them and it gets blown to smithereens and she ends up regretting it, it's not my fault. There's no blood on my hands.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
