Conviction - The act of convincing, or compelling one to admit the truth of a charge; the act of convincing of sin or sinfulness; the sate of being convinced or convicted by conscience; the state of being sensible of guilt; as, the convictions of a sinner may be temporary, or lasting and efficacious. By conviction, a sinner is brought to repentance. Men often sin against the conviction of their own consciences.
So I had the night off for the most part tonight, but lately I've been convicted pretty heavily lately. Hence the now three part blog series in the space of three nights. Convicted of not spending enough time with my family. Convicted of lying to my parents. Convicted of being generally apathetic (see Pt. 1 for definition of apathy).
Convicted of being a resentful jerk.
Ok so maybe the whole February-June stretch wasn't exactly the best times of my life. It's not the Tale of Two Cities where it was the ultimate paradoxical paragraph that somehow opens up this classic when people can't even makes heads and tales of the opening sentence that borders on run-on status and. . . it was just the worst of times. And that's not entirely because it was just a horrible depressing stretch, but because it was the (peak?) of God-lessness. Like I'll say a million times from here on out if I haven't said it already, I'm not proud of anything that went on there. So having gone through extreme thought regarding everything that went on, analysis that will help me do the right from here on out (hypothetically anyways), I did what any self-righteous dumbhead would do - I harbored resentment.
Well, that's not entirely true. I still do. In an effort to kinda erase that as much as I can, I've completely (and happily, I confess) ignored Jace because bringing up the past in that way was a bit too close to home than me using it as a testimonial weapon to bring people to Christ (which so far to my knowledge has been ineffective anyways). So if she contacts me, it's like a plague-ridden leprous heretical illegal Muslim immigrant asked me to pop a pimple on their back - it ain't happening hun. I suffer through it, being short and sour and being in an all around negative mood. And it's even worse now with Kate around, because let's face it. I have a chance to do things right with this girl; I don't want to face the time of life where I made all the wrong decisions. It's like trying to win a basketball game when everyone is yelling "YOU BRICKED THE LAST SHOT! DONT SHOOT! PASS! PASS! PASS! PASS! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!". And by everyone I mean the coach, your teammates, the announcer, your girlfriend, the angels that even care about basketball. . . the other team even.
Resentment. One of the many things I need to work on.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Day 42: The Debts of Life, Pt. 2
It's 11:55 PM, so I'm starting a little bit early tonight.
Do you know where your mind is?
It's debatable whether or not I should really continue so soon, but we had an awesome worship service this morning, two of them actually, and both were all service worship services, which was completely refreshing. And then I got 8 hours of work where I got into with my manager right off the bat but as a whole the day was a success. I survived.
That makes it a success. [The favorable or prosperous termination of any thing attempted; a termination which answers the purpose intended; properly in a good sense, but often in a bad sense.]
The timing on this is amazing. I am off for tomorrow, which gives me a chance to go to Celebrate Recovery for the first time in ages. It really was an awesome ministry and it's one of the things that helped me get on my feet everything-not-physically-ally when I got back in May. Loved it. Why did I quit going? I had work on Monday nights for a long time. And now I don't for one week. What a blessing this is.
Success #2 in a lot of ways, even though the success isn't mine.
I hate that I'm writing this on a Sunday, because this is the day when everything is perfect. It's the 6 12.5/25 that's the rest of the week that stinks. So why write now?
Here's the skinny. It's a mindset change if nothing else. Mindset, priorities, that sorta thing. For the next week I'm going to awake at 7:15 to have a personal Bible study. I have no idea where I'll start, but I'll go somewhere. It's not like you can go wrong in the Bible - it IS entirely good after all. I'm going to try and keep that up because in all reality, (oh gosh, I didn't see this one coming. . . but how true) "relationships are about growing together", and I've ignored G-d on that level for far too long.
That must change. I can't ignore it.
Do you know where your mind is?
It's debatable whether or not I should really continue so soon, but we had an awesome worship service this morning, two of them actually, and both were all service worship services, which was completely refreshing. And then I got 8 hours of work where I got into with my manager right off the bat but as a whole the day was a success. I survived.
That makes it a success. [The favorable or prosperous termination of any thing attempted; a termination which answers the purpose intended; properly in a good sense, but often in a bad sense.]
The timing on this is amazing. I am off for tomorrow, which gives me a chance to go to Celebrate Recovery for the first time in ages. It really was an awesome ministry and it's one of the things that helped me get on my feet everything-not-physically-ally when I got back in May. Loved it. Why did I quit going? I had work on Monday nights for a long time. And now I don't for one week. What a blessing this is.
Success #2 in a lot of ways, even though the success isn't mine.
I hate that I'm writing this on a Sunday, because this is the day when everything is perfect. It's the 6 12.5/25 that's the rest of the week that stinks. So why write now?
Here's the skinny. It's a mindset change if nothing else. Mindset, priorities, that sorta thing. For the next week I'm going to awake at 7:15 to have a personal Bible study. I have no idea where I'll start, but I'll go somewhere. It's not like you can go wrong in the Bible - it IS entirely good after all. I'm going to try and keep that up because in all reality, (oh gosh, I didn't see this one coming. . . but how true) "relationships are about growing together", and I've ignored G-d on that level for far too long.
That must change. I can't ignore it.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Day 41: The Debts of Life
"You'd only make the softest sound,
like sugar pouring into tea.
Darling let your Self pour down
and dissolve into the Love
who revealed Himself there quietly to me...
(Jesus have mercy on our souls)"
-Aaron Weiss
So its 12:19 AM. At 7AM, I will awaken to my phone chirping violently at me to get up, and I'll be strumming a guitar all morning and working all evening. It's Sunday, and it's both the best and worst mornings of the week.
The best for obvious reasons. It's the one day that I spend worshipping God for more than the time I can find during the week to play guitar and do it on my own, and it's a dip in the pool of Love. A refreshing of ideas and motivations. Sunday mornings revitalize me like no other time during the week. So Sunday mornings are the best of times...
... and they are the worst of times. It's then I realize I'm an idiot 6 1/2 days a week. For half a day, I'm where I need to be, and for 6 50/100 days I've regressed slightly a little past where I need to be. No, that's too nice. I'm way out of line.
This will be interesting.
True Christianity, what you read in the Bible no holds barred is a 24-7 commitment of action, thought, motivation, and the oft-said and seemingly never followed "dying unto yourself." Anything less is lukewarm, and it would be better if there was no commitment at all, which is scriptural. The problem is, I'm content with lukewarm. I see lukewarm, I've lived lukewarm and it's gotten me nowhere. Yet I continue to live a lukewarm because it's all I know, or all I've known, save for a small bright spot earlier this year, post-everything that I gave away to the wrong things at the wrong time for the wrong reasons, but that dimmed out and it's like. . . I'm an idiot. I know it. But it's hard to change.
Why change? I have everything I want. Money, a band, good grades, a girl, a clean slate, a chance to do things right, and all the time I have is now taken up. I'm finally actually BUSY, and its nice. I dont spend all my time sitting around accomplishing nothing; I'm actually doing something, and my work ethic that is so bent on accomplishing things loves it. I'm finally finishing what I start. To change from lukewarm to on fire, I'd have to change several things, some easier than others. The money should be tithed with more frequency. The grades should be higher. The girl, things need to reset because although they aren't far, it's more than far enough. I've definitely done worse.
I'm a sleep deficit because there's too much stuff stuffed into my time. I think when I went down the list with my dad it went (God, were it really #1), family, work, school, church, girl. That 6 things, and combined they are huge massive time commitments. Now what my dad doesn't know is that God isn't in that mix and my schedule is still stuffed. I'm behind on sleep, but I can't fit anything more in without rearranging time portion allotments. I'm at a sleep deficit because I'm a lukewarm idiot. And while this blog isn't helping the sleep cause, it certainly is helping in healing.
what am I on my own?
I picked that as a blog title because in a good moment of self reflection, I realized I am nothing without God. A nice cute moment of brilliance in the muddy puddle that is my life. For years my excuses have been "I have no idea what God wants me to do", and "Oh I'm a Christian doing God's will." and to quote Ke$ha (because the trashiness is equal to it), it was just "talking about blah blah blah." [Certainly never thought I'd quote Ke$ha in a post, much less one like this]. These I cannot use anymore. I do know what I am called to do, I certainly know I am not doing the will of God. I know where I am, and where I need to go, and I am painfully aware of how vastly apart these two lie.
I lack the possession of an active will. Apathy.
And because we can't have a blog post without going to webster, so we could find the definitions for closure, hasty and such, we're going to back for apathy.
Apathy: Want of feeling; an utter privation of passion, or insensibility to pain; applied either to the body or the mind. As applied to the mind, it is stoicism, a calmness of mind incapable of being ruffled by pleasure, pain or passion. In the first ages of the church, the christians adopted the term to express a contempt of earthly concerns.
Quietism is apathy disguised under the appearance of devotion. (Websters 1828)
My definition: The bullet that went through my head along time ago and left me with nothing but the memories of that which was.
It's now 1:11AM. I feel like I have so much more to say, but to keep myself somewhat sane, I'll head to bed. Do not worry, I have a feeling there will be a part two.
And I sure hope it's in a more positive state of mind. . . or better yet, a healed state of mind. Not healING. healED.
And while I want to quote song lyrics here, I'll instead live vicariously through myself and quote myself:
Guide my fingers. They're the only thing moving forward.
like sugar pouring into tea.
Darling let your Self pour down
and dissolve into the Love
who revealed Himself there quietly to me...
(Jesus have mercy on our souls)"
-Aaron Weiss
So its 12:19 AM. At 7AM, I will awaken to my phone chirping violently at me to get up, and I'll be strumming a guitar all morning and working all evening. It's Sunday, and it's both the best and worst mornings of the week.
The best for obvious reasons. It's the one day that I spend worshipping God for more than the time I can find during the week to play guitar and do it on my own, and it's a dip in the pool of Love. A refreshing of ideas and motivations. Sunday mornings revitalize me like no other time during the week. So Sunday mornings are the best of times...
... and they are the worst of times. It's then I realize I'm an idiot 6 1/2 days a week. For half a day, I'm where I need to be, and for 6 50/100 days I've regressed slightly a little past where I need to be. No, that's too nice. I'm way out of line.
This will be interesting.
True Christianity, what you read in the Bible no holds barred is a 24-7 commitment of action, thought, motivation, and the oft-said and seemingly never followed "dying unto yourself." Anything less is lukewarm, and it would be better if there was no commitment at all, which is scriptural. The problem is, I'm content with lukewarm. I see lukewarm, I've lived lukewarm and it's gotten me nowhere. Yet I continue to live a lukewarm because it's all I know, or all I've known, save for a small bright spot earlier this year, post-everything that I gave away to the wrong things at the wrong time for the wrong reasons, but that dimmed out and it's like. . . I'm an idiot. I know it. But it's hard to change.
Why change? I have everything I want. Money, a band, good grades, a girl, a clean slate, a chance to do things right, and all the time I have is now taken up. I'm finally actually BUSY, and its nice. I dont spend all my time sitting around accomplishing nothing; I'm actually doing something, and my work ethic that is so bent on accomplishing things loves it. I'm finally finishing what I start. To change from lukewarm to on fire, I'd have to change several things, some easier than others. The money should be tithed with more frequency. The grades should be higher. The girl, things need to reset because although they aren't far, it's more than far enough. I've definitely done worse.
I'm a sleep deficit because there's too much stuff stuffed into my time. I think when I went down the list with my dad it went (God, were it really #1), family, work, school, church, girl. That 6 things, and combined they are huge massive time commitments. Now what my dad doesn't know is that God isn't in that mix and my schedule is still stuffed. I'm behind on sleep, but I can't fit anything more in without rearranging time portion allotments. I'm at a sleep deficit because I'm a lukewarm idiot. And while this blog isn't helping the sleep cause, it certainly is helping in healing.
what am I on my own?
I picked that as a blog title because in a good moment of self reflection, I realized I am nothing without God. A nice cute moment of brilliance in the muddy puddle that is my life. For years my excuses have been "I have no idea what God wants me to do", and "Oh I'm a Christian doing God's will." and to quote Ke$ha (because the trashiness is equal to it), it was just "talking about blah blah blah." [Certainly never thought I'd quote Ke$ha in a post, much less one like this]. These I cannot use anymore. I do know what I am called to do, I certainly know I am not doing the will of God. I know where I am, and where I need to go, and I am painfully aware of how vastly apart these two lie.
I lack the possession of an active will. Apathy.
And because we can't have a blog post without going to webster, so we could find the definitions for closure, hasty and such, we're going to back for apathy.
Apathy: Want of feeling; an utter privation of passion, or insensibility to pain; applied either to the body or the mind. As applied to the mind, it is stoicism, a calmness of mind incapable of being ruffled by pleasure, pain or passion. In the first ages of the church, the christians adopted the term to express a contempt of earthly concerns.
Quietism is apathy disguised under the appearance of devotion. (Websters 1828)
My definition: The bullet that went through my head along time ago and left me with nothing but the memories of that which was.
It's now 1:11AM. I feel like I have so much more to say, but to keep myself somewhat sane, I'll head to bed. Do not worry, I have a feeling there will be a part two.
And I sure hope it's in a more positive state of mind. . . or better yet, a healed state of mind. Not healING. healED.
And while I want to quote song lyrics here, I'll instead live vicariously through myself and quote myself:
Guide my fingers. They're the only thing moving forward.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Day 40: Scatterbrained
So I've been sick alot lately, and while most people blog more while sick, I just watched football. Funny story though. I missed my classes on Thursday due to sickness, and then when I went to go to Philosophy on Tuesday (my last class of the day) there was no one there. So I checked my email, where I had a notification that due to the genetic disease that the professor had come down with and talked to the class about last week, we were moving our lecture class online to a self paced thing.
Seriously.
WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON? SINCE WHEN DO PROFESSORS COME DOWN WITH RARE GENETIC DISEASES THAT KEEP THEM FROM BEING ABLE TO TEACH PROPERLY? I've never heard of fictional stories where that's happened. It's unreal.
So beyond philosophy, what else is new?
I have a hard time writing now. I have little interest, little time to devote to it, and without being able to attend writers club meetings regularly means I really have nothing to do with my writing anyways, so it's kinda a "Eh. . ." thing. I hate not having the time for it, but at the same time, I'm beginning to wonder, do I really miss it?
EVANGEL MONIES V BEN GATHRIGHT ROUND 3!
So I get this letter saying "Hey, we miss you (and your pocketbook). We'll give you a discount if you wanna come back!!!!" Heck yeah, I'd like to go back. I hate commuting, and I hate living at home. It feels like high school all over again. Now I know I was blessed with only two years of high school, but GET ME OUT OF HERE! So I called Evangel. Evangel was like, heck yeah we missed you, we want you back etc etc etc Oh wait. You know what Ben, you had a great GPA for your Fall 09 Semester, posting the 3.64, but that Spring '10 1.6 was a bit worrisome. We don't want to put our monies behind you.
EVANGEL MONIES TKO'S BEN GATHRIGHT FTW!
I'm two months into the "Sampson experiment".
I'm 6 months into my employment with Whataburger this stint.
And I have no idea whats going on.
Seriously.
WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON? SINCE WHEN DO PROFESSORS COME DOWN WITH RARE GENETIC DISEASES THAT KEEP THEM FROM BEING ABLE TO TEACH PROPERLY? I've never heard of fictional stories where that's happened. It's unreal.
So beyond philosophy, what else is new?
I have a hard time writing now. I have little interest, little time to devote to it, and without being able to attend writers club meetings regularly means I really have nothing to do with my writing anyways, so it's kinda a "Eh. . ." thing. I hate not having the time for it, but at the same time, I'm beginning to wonder, do I really miss it?
EVANGEL MONIES V BEN GATHRIGHT ROUND 3!
So I get this letter saying "Hey, we miss you (and your pocketbook). We'll give you a discount if you wanna come back!!!!" Heck yeah, I'd like to go back. I hate commuting, and I hate living at home. It feels like high school all over again. Now I know I was blessed with only two years of high school, but GET ME OUT OF HERE! So I called Evangel. Evangel was like, heck yeah we missed you, we want you back etc etc etc Oh wait. You know what Ben, you had a great GPA for your Fall 09 Semester, posting the 3.64, but that Spring '10 1.6 was a bit worrisome. We don't want to put our monies behind you.
EVANGEL MONIES TKO'S BEN GATHRIGHT FTW!
I'm two months into the "Sampson experiment".
I'm 6 months into my employment with Whataburger this stint.
And I have no idea whats going on.
Day 39: It's Gone
My mother once told me that the dreams of believers are God-given; perfect. That the dreams you had helped you live life. I've always wanted to believe her; I really have. For the longest time, God was supposed to give me the things I wanted. Afterall, there is that verse that says "I will give you the desires of your heart." - but where were my desires? Where were the things that I desperately wanted? My dreams. "God works in mysterious ways" I suppose.
But there comes a point when thoughts are challenged. Ideas are tested. And you see either how right or wrong you were. Scary moments. The moment of truth, as some people would say. They're moments that when you're older, you look back on and. . . and you smile knowingly. Those moments are key. Those moments are turning points. Those moments make you who you are. Those days, those nights, those glances, are YOU.
God gave me one of those moments. It was night that I still don't believe I slept, because I had this sense that the reality I was experiencing wasn't real. I remember the ceiling I was staring at, and then I was on an empty stage. THe cool moving air, the pregnant silence, the aged wooden floor, soft lighting, and the intense focus of a house, building. Building for a climax. Their nights, our nights, our lives had been building to this point - a point where the essence is ripe for the picking.
I walked out into the light as a single violin filled the air with a slow melody. No lines came to mind, so I let the violin play undisturbed. Why speak? It was a moment where words were ruinous, gasps were ruinous, stray thoughts were ruinous. A moment, fragile, for the music to say all that I couldn't say; do all that I couldn't do.
A lighter sound, a cleansing sound joined the violin; a single note that morphed into another and then, after being repeated I was able to make out. "Sono mie care e lui, e il mio" - I felt the gaze of the house shift focus, somewhere to my left, behind me. I slowly moved my head and I. . .
I don't know what I felt; it overwhelmed me completely. I do know what I saw, and it is likely a sight that I'll never see again. She stood there. Barefoot. Yellow rose in her hair. Blue silk dress, flowing. Golden band. She was the source of the cleansing tune. She was the source of the beauty.
We took one step towards each other. Another. Another. Another. We locked in an embrace. I heard a whisper on my neck, "I am my beloved's, and he is mine. . . he is mine." This was it! The climax! Overwhelmingly everything I'd ever wanted, here in my arms. All the disappointments, the battles lost, the hoops I'd jumped through only to fall flat on my face meant nothing. There was no me and and my struggles, there was only --
I felt a stabbing pain in my chest. Not like heartbreak, but something else. I felt my shirt begin to grow warm and stick to my body. My arms went cold; my embrace loosened. "No! Not like this!" I was screaming that in my head, "Not like this!", but I didn't utter a sound. I fell back, like a loose sack of flesh. She knelt over me and put a blood-covered hand to my lips "Shh.. it'll be ok. It'll be ok." A tear slipped, caught the light, and fell onto my cheek.
I cried in the dark cold comfort that the (dream) was over, but the tear, the many tears! remain. It's so true though. I may not blame her for trying to kill my love. I can point to no single or multiple wrongdoings that she has transgressed against me, not one. Yet, I blamed her. I blame her.
Given the chance, she shut me down. So, I guess after two and a half years, and everything I've been through, I can finally say that my mom was right. Dreams are God-given. A forewarning.
Perfect.
But there comes a point when thoughts are challenged. Ideas are tested. And you see either how right or wrong you were. Scary moments. The moment of truth, as some people would say. They're moments that when you're older, you look back on and. . . and you smile knowingly. Those moments are key. Those moments are turning points. Those moments make you who you are. Those days, those nights, those glances, are YOU.
God gave me one of those moments. It was night that I still don't believe I slept, because I had this sense that the reality I was experiencing wasn't real. I remember the ceiling I was staring at, and then I was on an empty stage. THe cool moving air, the pregnant silence, the aged wooden floor, soft lighting, and the intense focus of a house, building. Building for a climax. Their nights, our nights, our lives had been building to this point - a point where the essence is ripe for the picking.
I walked out into the light as a single violin filled the air with a slow melody. No lines came to mind, so I let the violin play undisturbed. Why speak? It was a moment where words were ruinous, gasps were ruinous, stray thoughts were ruinous. A moment, fragile, for the music to say all that I couldn't say; do all that I couldn't do.
A lighter sound, a cleansing sound joined the violin; a single note that morphed into another and then, after being repeated I was able to make out. "Sono mie care e lui, e il mio" - I felt the gaze of the house shift focus, somewhere to my left, behind me. I slowly moved my head and I. . .
I don't know what I felt; it overwhelmed me completely. I do know what I saw, and it is likely a sight that I'll never see again. She stood there. Barefoot. Yellow rose in her hair. Blue silk dress, flowing. Golden band. She was the source of the cleansing tune. She was the source of the beauty.
We took one step towards each other. Another. Another. Another. We locked in an embrace. I heard a whisper on my neck, "I am my beloved's, and he is mine. . . he is mine." This was it! The climax! Overwhelmingly everything I'd ever wanted, here in my arms. All the disappointments, the battles lost, the hoops I'd jumped through only to fall flat on my face meant nothing. There was no me and and my struggles, there was only --
I felt a stabbing pain in my chest. Not like heartbreak, but something else. I felt my shirt begin to grow warm and stick to my body. My arms went cold; my embrace loosened. "No! Not like this!" I was screaming that in my head, "Not like this!", but I didn't utter a sound. I fell back, like a loose sack of flesh. She knelt over me and put a blood-covered hand to my lips "Shh.. it'll be ok. It'll be ok." A tear slipped, caught the light, and fell onto my cheek.
I cried in the dark cold comfort that the (dream) was over, but the tear, the many tears! remain. It's so true though. I may not blame her for trying to kill my love. I can point to no single or multiple wrongdoings that she has transgressed against me, not one. Yet, I blamed her. I blame her.
Given the chance, she shut me down. So, I guess after two and a half years, and everything I've been through, I can finally say that my mom was right. Dreams are God-given. A forewarning.
Perfect.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)