Wednesday, August 18, 2004

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

What's that they say about the road to good intentions?

Oh yeah, it leads to Dayton. Specifically my apartment. At least that's the way it seems right now as I've momentarily stopped and taken inventory of the last few months of life. I've officially entered the busy season of work for me: August-October. If only I could wear that super-cool , relaxed look of John Cusack's on the cover of Say Anything inside my hurried head. On a side note, who ever decided that flipping up the shirt collar of your polo or trench coat wasn't cool? Not that I want it to become some ridiculous "Ashton Kutcher-infested" fad or anything, but I am trying the style out again in hip Daytonia. I walked around the office for the better part of a day last week with my favorite John Cusack-ish polo's collar flipped up. I got a few weird looks, a few of the dear Southern ladies tried to help smooth my collar ("bless his heart") but I think they could get used to it.

I spent the better part of tonight paying bills long past due and tending to finances that I've been ignoring for weeks. I had so many receipts in my wallet that I think I might need to visit a chiropractor to straighten my back out. I folded/hung up the clean clothes that had been waiting in the "clean clothes pile" (created three weeks ago) on the floor. Then I did the same with the clothes in the "second clean clothes pile" which was created last week.

Also, let me warn you: don't expect to hear more from me than a "hey, I'm sorry but I'm busy" or a "we should do something sometime" or if you're lucky perhaps a "I promise I'll call you tomorrow." Funny how I feel more regret in not talking to friends or family for long amounts of time or not folding my clothes or making my bed than I do in forgetting to converse with God. I know that it must relate back to the 'here and now" mentality of my culture.

In pondering this, I'm reminded of an unusual occurrence involving my brother. Back in the 80s, I hated my brother's birthdays. Twenty-one months younger than I, he felt like the day entitled him to a bit of everything. The television remote (used for incessant viewing of the incredibly gay Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles), the Nintendo and Super Mario Bros.(where he would literally jump/ lean to the left when leaping over the mushroom men), the right to sit in that certain chair (that years later bore the evidence of abuse by an assortment of snack foods, farts by both kids and adults (sorry dad), and other unidentifiable scars that need not be speculated upon. Regardless, I'm digressing.

My brother and I usually had similar likes as far as toys and games go, so it wasn't unusual for him to gloat over a certain gift while I tried my best not to let him know that he was making me want to slash his bike tires. The thing that really got on my nerves though was a certain habit that he picked up early in life: he would always leave one package wrapped and would refuse to open it for weeks and sometimes months later. It wasn't a certain present from one individual and seemed rather arbitrary, but fear not, for several years he would retain one gift for a rainy day. This drove me crazy, because what good is a gift if you're not dying to tear it open and see what's inside? It defies the purpose of a gift right?

I'm not sure what my brother's reasons were. For those of you that know Tim you know that he's a fairly complicated person. But I have to wonder if the gift meant something more to him than simply an immediate pleasure. It seems that it was almost more like a promise of something good in the future. Perhaps he had more patience or restraint that I or maybe he simple had vision where I did not.

I wish I could have that sort of vision when taking stock of my life. This picture came a bit clearer to me while recently studying Matthew 7: 7-11.

In the passage, Jesus is basically says that if unbelievers know how to give good gifts to their children, then how much more so will God give his children good gifts. Well that seems logical, except for the fact that some of the things that God allows to come into my life seem to be everything but "good." And here is the difference: what I and God see as "good" do not always correspond. And when they don't I tend to turn to my own source of understanding, that being myself. And of course, God should really change his semantics on account of me....(please don't kill me).

But if we know that God is purposeful (Jer. 29:11), and we do, and that He is working for our good (Rom. 8:28), and He is, then the gifts that He sends will ultimately be used for the betterment of his children. Yet, it's in my "open-the-present-now-dangit-because-I-want-to-see-what-I'm-getting!" mentality that my vision becomes very nearsighted. I tend to see things in their perfect state, and when I'm not matching the ideal I turn to myself. I guess my prayer is that I would view my path in life as a future promise, a gift that needs time to reach its fulfillment. A wine that needs time to age. Yeah, that's right. I reference to alcohol in this purely spiritual commentary.

On to a few other notes, I took part in Jason and Amanda Erickson's wedding on July 31. I'll work on uploading some pics tomorrow morning. It was another wedding for me (the 10th I've taken part in) but a very rewarding experience nonetheless.

Check out Donald Miller's book Blue Like Jazz sometime. The guy writes in an incredibly open way that I believe speaks to the Christian 20something crowd better than any other writer I've read. He's not without his faults and I don't always agree with his views, but he is challenging. Kudos go out to Kelli and Dwila in Loveland for blessing us with the book to read on the way home last month.

Matt and Michelle Snead leave for China Friday afternoon. They'll be in language school for two years but plan on staying permanently after that. I'll be posting some info about them soon.

And finally, the latest sign of the Apocalpyse: someone actually attempted to engage me in a debate the other day on why cheerleading should be considered a sport.

Said person messed with the wrong guy.

Currently Reading Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality By Donald Miller see related