sitting, waiting, wishing

There are so many layers to human nature. I know if we peeled them all away we would be able to all reveal our initial character, that of our Creator (in whose image we are supposed to be created). I feel heavy from all the layers, though. The concerns for things of this world. The world teaches us to plan, to predict, and to coordinate our lives. From the time we are children, we come up with lists of what we want and what we “need.” Kids know what they want to be when they grow up. I wanted to be a Supreme Court justice – too much Law and Order at a young age, I think. The world also teaches us to worry. We should worry about getting a job post-MVNU, paying schools loans, getting married and having he 2.3 kids, “starving children in Africa,” the state of the economy, the impending war with Iraq – we should always consider the instability of the world around us and plan accordingly. While all of these contemplations seem wise (and I’m not trying to set them aside as meaningless), I believe at the heart is self-preservation. I need to stop building up more layers that separate me from true communion with God. God is the giver of all good gifts and He longs to be our provider. How can He provide and direct us if we have everything planned and tended to? I am told not to be anxious about life. Instead, I need to practice a little thing called complete pursuit. The control freak in me needs to allow Him to work it all out. Right? My theory: sometimes when you need to feel the all-embracing nature of God, paradoxically you need to hang out in ordinariness, in a daily ritual that includes a sometimes forced submission. Then the patience will descend, the fretting will lessen, and the pacing will minimize. At least I hope so.

Love and the Likes.

Tonight I honestly believed - for the first time in awhile - that I was a loved person.

Love. It's such a complicated action to me sometimes. But, goodness gracious, it shouldn't be. Jesus proved that.

I have a small list of people that I would love to see in person before I die. One person on that list is the amazing author Margaret Atwood and I have the privilege of hearing her speak at Kenyon in a month. One of the books I'm reading right now is her newest novel entitled Oryx and Crake. It's a futuristic-prophetic-satirical type of a book, one not enjoyed by everyone. But if you liked any the classics like 1984, Animal Farm or even The Giver...then you'll like this. (Oh, my word. Such an English teacher's sentence.)

Anyway, the book I'm reading now is set in a utopia that ultimately destroys humanity. By definition, a utopia is a perfect place. Yet, this utopia was created without love. Can you imagine? That's why I can't put the book down. A world doesn't make sense without the concept of love. Without the feeling of love. Without the actions of love. And that's how humanity was destroyed in this book: the absence of love.

Now, I'm not going to do any lofty theorizing at this point. I won't draw out the obvious parallel. But it just made me think. Especially after the conversation I had with a wonderful boy. He loves freely.

It's complicated for me because it requires other actions. I know I can love. But I need to trust, as well. I'm working on it. Along with all those other fruits of the spirit.