Sunday, October 02, 2005

Pleasure, pain and Homecoming

Why must pain be a prerequisite for growth to happen and why did God make it that endurance only happens after tribulation? Why unintentional hurt coming from sincere attempts at intentional love? These thoughts have rolled around in my head for the latter part of the week and most of the weekend.

Yes, I know that man is fallen. Yes, I know too that although God did not originally intend for man to be in his current sinful state that man and the world still give him glory somehow. But I also know that he could have made getting my fingers slammed in a door over and over again his prime means of bringing about growth if he wanted to make things that way, but he didn't, so why couldn't his main pressure points for my spiritual growth have been green mint ice cream and rainfall at night on a tin roof. Why the pain before pleasure? I'm honestly at a good place right now, though you may think me sacrilegious. I've felt that sting that comes from hurtful words lately but also the warmth of acceptance and love.

After looking in the mirror Friday morning and not really recognizing myself, I escaped for much of Friday and Saturday into hermit mode, and I think it was one of the best decisions I could have made. I still had to cover Friday night football in Cleveland, but the obligation provided the opportunity to venture where no one knew me...a thought most cherished at the time. I left home 1.5 hours before I had originally planned in search of solitude and anonymity, but quickly discovered the surprising loneliness of not being known. Not just known by recognition but known for who I am. There are times when I really feel like I need to brace for the blind side tackle of an angry softball mother charging from behind the coke display at the grocery store, and in those times anonymity is definitely needed, but I realized Friday that I just wanted to be known...to fill the basic need of someone understanding not just what I am but who I am, and walking around a crappy mall just didn't give me that. Still, I was somewhat comforted by the fact that I was regaining some idea of myself and that I was able to distinguish what needs were coming from the "deep waters" of my soul.

After a 61-2 stomping that seemed to last six hours, I returned home around 11:15 to find the always-ready-for-late-night-adventure Ritterbush planted on my living room sofa watching the Yanks and Sox play, and 30 minutes later we were off to buy wieners and buns at Bi-Lo before bedding for the night in the Pocket Wilderness. There's something beautiful for me about going camping exactly when I need it, and it's even better when the person you're with is experiencing that same need. That's the way it was for us. By 12:30 we were set up with a blazing fire, tent and bags ready and dogs over the fire, going through the therapeutic process of picking each other apart. Later that night in the tent, Dave asked me a question, and after 20 minutes of rabbit-trailing and "expounding" I realized that I hadn't heard much from the lanky riddler for quite a while. I turned on my headlamp to see if my suspicions were true, and there he lay, a pleasant smile gracing his completely comatose state.

I laid there awake for a long time, drinking in the early autumn Tennessee night air, listening to the crickets' song and catching glimpses of stars through the tent's moon roof, playing hide-and-seek behind swaying tree limbs. It occurred to me that in spite of all we make life to be, the hardships, struggles, and discomfort, it really is good when you break it down. Sure, mankind is dark and disturbing and is gradually turning the world into a place full of traps waiting around every corner, but creation is good and and was made for believers to enjoy it. Talk about Heaven all you want to, but don't, out of discontentment, overlook what God's given here.

Those of you expecting Homecoming updates will be sorely disappointed or likely ready to chastise me, because even though my apartment was on the campus of Bryan College I did absolutely nothing related to our beloved school's 75th anniversary. I ate lunch at Cheezee's and then plopped down in the two-toned (by mistake of course) leather La-Z-Boy that the school provided me. I don't know who came or didn't, who recently got married or brought a dog along or who's primed to be a lawyer or primed to need one. It's not that I didn't want to see people; I just wanted to get to know the back of my eyelids a little more while Tennessee and Ole Miss played. And Dave wasn't putting up a fight about it. He did the same thing, and that was Homecoming enough for me...finding acceptance and comfort in the companionship of an old friend.

I can't say that the rest of the weekend was all blue skies, butterflies and roses, but I can say that the Lord met me in each circumstance, taught me more about myself, himself and the world around me through the pain and tribulation and let me know that he did know me better than anyone. That's what Homecoming should be.