good enough

I'm currently sitting in the library finishing up my letter of intent for Teach For America.  I'm almost done...except for answering the most important question: "Why do you seek to join Teach For America?"  Until now, I wasn't quite sure, and then, on a whim, I went back and read my letter of petition for re-admission that I submitted two months ago.  This is why I want to teach - to give students a taste of what the "real world" outside of high school, outside of academics, is like.  In fact, teaching is the real world, for any teacher, but the mantras of "you must learn this because this is what the system requires" or "so you can go to college" seem...jaded.  Just as the mantra in college of "do well so you can go to grad school or get a job" is so narrow in its focus.  Anyways, I'm not really sure what I'm talking about anymore, but even if I don't make it into TFA, or even teaching, I want this next generation of students to know that you can explore - indeed, you should - you can make adjustments, that things don't have to have to be perfect to make a difference, that they often make a huge difference in the lives of their teachers without even knowing it...

Okay, stream of consciousness over.  Below are a few (very slightly edited) paragraphs from my petition for re-admission...maybe it'll explain better.

Dear Dean:

        
It has now been a year since I started my senior year.  During that semester, I suffered from acute depression and anxiety, as well as obsessive thoughts about both my past and future.  I would read one paragraph and be consumed by cycling thoughts about irrational fears –  that I would suddenly sever ties with my friends, for example – for hours at a time.  During those episodes, I could not do anything besides just sit there, trapped.  To escape this, I threw myself into anything but schoolwork – checking email constantly, hanging out with my suitemates – anything so that I did not have to think.  If I did not have to think, I ceased having to feel, and that would make things better for a short time.  I still cared a lot about schoolwork, and I did it when I could, but eventually, I ended up with three incompletes and one dropped course.

Looking back, the first two weeks were possibly the toughest I’ve ever faced.  Knowing that I would not graduate with my class really hurt, and I questioned the significance and my ability to do anything ever again.  Ever since elementary school, I’ve had to prove myself because of my visual handicap – and since I couldn’t do so athletically or aesthetically, I had to do so mentally.  I had to be smarter and work harder than everyone else.  What happened senior year was the culmination of four years of believing that I wasn’t good enough for medical school, for college, to achieve my goals.

Gradually, the effect of separation from the school, my friends, and seemingly, any shot of achieving something meaningful in life, began to seem more real, but also more down-to-earth and manageable.  Over the past year, I’ve learned that it is the imaginary that seeks to destroy me, and I have to look out for opportunities to keep myself grounded.  When I do find that opportunity, I have to move on – acknowledge and reconcile with whatever past mistakes or thoughts I may have made, and dive in.  I think the problem through the years for me has been perfectionism – if it’s not perfect, I don’t want it.  This is why I used to take such an issue with people telling me to “just do it” and “take some responsibility” – because they did not understand that for me to “do it” meant that it had to be perfect, and until it was according to my standards, there was nothing in the world or in my head that would be able to convince myself otherwise.

One of the biggest stumbling blocks for me has actually been imaginary standards – I have to do “this” in order to be “that,” and if I don’t, I’m not good enough.  Upon getting into college, I had grand dreams of becoming a physician-scientist.  Over the next few years, I had to lower my expectations again and again, until there was such a gap between the standards I aspired towards and the expectations I realistically had that I broke down.

I remember one conversation where a dean asked me what they could do to help students like me.  The answer is exactly what you did – give me a real-world perspective.  Too often, students at top universities are locked into one vision, to which they must complete a specific order of tasks that are set in stone.  The need to uncouple the chain between academic success and real-world fulfillment is so important – and one that many students either ignore – or when they can’t, attach themselves to.  The thing is, all of us have “pure potential” before we actually try or do anything.  Life is an experiment, so we should not be afraid to try things out, because we have plenty of potential to spare.

Of course, I know that not every experience will be like these, and that I have to maintain perspective.  For example, getting a PhD might make me happy, but it might not.  It might get me a job, but it might not.  It might get people to respect me, but it might not.  The truth is, my only handicap is my vision – not my brain, and not how people perceive me – and I’ve overcome this limitation fairly well.  If eventually, getting a PhD is something I want, I am “good enough” to achieve it.  But, if not, I can enjoy working in the “real world” for all it’s worth.  This is why I am ready to come back to school – because I am good enough to finish my last semester, good enough to graduate, and good enough to achieve my goals.  Discipline and imagination can go together – it just means that I might have to make a few adjustments along the way, and continue to tell myself that I am good enough to do it.

I’d like to close with a story: One day, a piano player with really short fingers goes to a club to play.  A woman walks up to him and marvels “How do you play so wonderfully with such short fingers?”  The man replies “Who said I played with my fingers?  It all happens up here [points to his head].”  Everything we do that we care about, and want to succeed in, we do with our minds and with confidence – and that is the one thing I now know I have in abundance.  Thank you for all your guidance, patience, and advice this past year.  It has been well worth it, and whatever the final decision regarding my status may be, I assure you that I have what it takes to move forward.

Note: I'm officially re-admitted for the spring of 2011...here's to one more semester, and to what comes next.

what makes you rejoice?

Recently, the weather has gotten a lot colder.  The leaves are changing colors, and Halloween has passed.  To the consumerist masses (or at least the stores in shopping malls), this means one thing: Christmas is on its way.  The funny thing is that in the middle of transitioning from costumes to candy canes, one very important holiday is forgotten: Thanksgiving.  Then again, as is often said, every day should be a day of thanksgiving.  As my grandma puts it every single morning when she wakes up, "Praise the Lord!"

You ever wonder, though, what Thanksgiving means to non-Christians, or even those not so deeply rooted in the notion of giving thanks to a god of some sort?  There's a (somewhat feared) tradition at my church where everyone in the English congregation gathers in the chapel, and my dad (one of the deacons) gets up and calls on people to come up and give thanks.  However, given that this takes place in a church, what we give thanks for almost always involves God. What about the rest of the world?

This is exactly what the band Audio Adrenaline set to find out.  In this video, they drove around asking random people what made them rejoice.  The responses were quite varied.  My personal favorites:

"Seeing other people happy."
"To be perfectly honest, I don't even know if I know the meaning of that word right now."
"What makes you think I'm rejoicing?" (This one was particularly amusing because of the way she said it).
"God's grace makes me rejoice, because he knows me for all that I am, and he still loves me."

I enjoyed this video precisely because it wasn't "strictly Christian."  Yes, it was made by a (fantastic) Christian band, but it wasn't a Chris-Tomlin-esque "Oh boy, God's grace is so high like the sky, and his love is like the ocean, let's all be happy together!"  I grew up in the church, and, frankly, I've grown tired of the constant repetition of God's grace and love and mercy and holiness because it just seems so...stale.  Anyways, it really was refreshing to hear some other perspectives of what the concept - and practice - of rejoicing might mean, even for a few minutes.  Then again, those four statements above pretty much capture, in order, what I thought it meant to rejoice in the last two years or so.  The last statement, in particular, really hit home after this year's RUF Fall Conference, which I will post notes and commentary about at some point, hopefully soon.

So what do I have to rejoice about?  Well, for one, I was re-admitted back to school for my last semester of college.  This past year has been a rollercoaster of emotions and actions, and I'm starting to see how God was working even then.  I'm happy to be alive.  I'm thankful for family, that we'll be having a huge family reunion for Thanksgiving in under two weeks.  I'm rejoicing for so many things (even while I'm unhappy, angry, or upset for others).  I'm rejoicing that I get to go to church tomorrow and see my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ - not because we're a perfect church - far, far from it, but because I'm excited for God to work through, and with, us to continue to mold our relationships.  I'll have more to say about this in the future, but for now, it's off to bed and hoping for sunshine tomorrow morning.

hypothetical little brother

I had a conversation with a friend yesterday on how both of us just wanted to drop our overload of responsibilities and just do something for ourselves - community service, travel the world, whatever.  (In my case, it was "had wanted to"...and I'm going to try really hard not to make the same mistake if and when I re-enroll).

In any case, conversation turned to a few people with whom we both served with in a student group two years ago, people we sorely missed.  This student group that my friend runs is now quite large, at least its executive board - and we both felt that what it gained in ability to do things, it lost in intimacy.

In my case, I woke up a few mornings ago really, really missing the person who once referred to me as her "hypothetical little brother."  This was during Meiklejohn orientation of my junior year.  I had no idea what I was doing, where my group was, where to sit, etc.  And then I heard "Hey Jon!"  And instantly, I knew everything was going to be okay.  I still remember the dress she was wearing (light pink, white, and brown, I think), and whenever I feel down, I just have to bring up that image of her to make me feel happy.

I've always felt closer to older people, girls especially, something I've come to call the "older sister complex."  To go way back, I actually think this has its roots in elementary school.  When I was in fifth grade (and I cannot believe I'm actually writing this), I once had a clear bottle of apple juice that I took out to drink on the bus on the way home.  What is the color of apple juice?  And what does that look like to immature little kids?  Exactly.

Instantly, a chorus of "OHMYGOD IS THAT PEE?" swelled around me, and to be honest, I no longer remember my reaction, but it was probably bewildered, scared, and hurt.  What I do remember is a sixth-grade girl standing up and yelling "shut up, you guys, it's just apple juice!"  I no longer remember her name, what she looked like, or what we talked about afterward (or even if we did), but that incident stands out in my mind clear as day.

Ever since then, older girls have very often taken on the "older sister" mentality for me - given me advice, listen to me rant, talk with me and make things okay.  The only problem is that I can be very clingy, both physically and emotionally (something I'm really trying to work on/pray about).  But back to my friend at Meiklejohn orientation.  Afterward, we sat down for lunch at a pizza place while we talked about our upcoming semesters, and how apprehensive I was for med school.  She didn't lecture me, and gave me a little advice, but more importantly, she made me feel happy, and good about myself - that whatever I chose to do was the right thing, and she had no doubts that I would do it well.  Maybe med school wasn't the right path for me.  Maybe science in general wasn't.  But that was okay.  And if I eventually decided I wanted to go to med school, there were plenty of options, and she would always be there for me.  I'm pretty sure we ended the conversation on the topic of palm-reading and heart lines, and I walked out reassured...something that I wouldn't begin to really feel again until a few months ago.

As I told my friend (the one running the student group) yesterday, I know that the two of us aren't going to be best friends, and she's not going to pour her life story out to me, even if I do it to her (I'll talk about reciprocity in a future post).  And that's okay.  We're still friends, and if I, or anyone else, ever need a "consult," she will be there and make things good again as only she can - to "just take deep breaths...you'll be fine; you're very qualified."

defeating demons, giving praise

It's been one year since my ability to control my thoughts fell apart. I'm now sitting in the same dining hall that brings it all back - the tortured nights trying to do work, scenarios crashing together one after another in my head. I'm here one last time to leave it all behind, to move on and live.

Let me explain. In the fall of my senior year, I was fired up to come back to campus, especially to start my immediate calling of serving faithfully as a one-on-one leader. A good friend had reminded me that summer that one-on-ones are about sharing lives and stories, not necessarily about finding the right things to say or questions to ask. That summer, I also met a wonderful pastor who told me that even if I couldn't discern my life calling at the moment, I could still do my immediate callings that were perhaps smaller in scope, but no less important. Armed with this knowledge and confidence, I plunged in.

As the semester progressed, I grew more disillusioned with fellowship, and tired of the responsibilities I had to fulfill. When Fall Conference came around, I was ready for a break. The last night of the conference, I spent the night in the dining hall reading for class. I was sitting opposite a dear friend who I knew was also struggling with similar issues. As dawn approached, she began to pour her heart out. I had no idea what to say - all I knew was that someone had hurt, and was hurting, my friend, and I would kill - or die - to make that pain stop. I did the only thing I knew how - give advice. The last thing I remember was my friend choking back sobs as we parted ways.

That scene - and how even in my utter powerlessness, I had managed to not be there for her - haunted me in the weeks after. I've always prided myself on my ability to take care of other people, and almost nothing gets me more angry than when people - or I - hurt my friends. I couldn't understand why people who professed to be Christian could not live like one - would act so ruthless and hurtful. From there, it was only a matter of time before my thoughts spiraled out of control. Violent, irrational scenarios of my friendships blowing up, confrontations with people I needed to set straight, and so on. I had no foundation in faith - no reason to believe anymore.

Even after months of therapy, I still had thoughts of throwing myself into the lake at this year's conference. If I couldn't get rid of my demons, I would freeze them in place and end it at the ultimate personification of everything I felt was wrong with our fellowship, with Christianity, with me, and with God. Tonight, though, as I sit here, I know two things: God loves me even when I can't love myself and will continue to break down my idols to reveal how beautiful He is; and that He is more powerful than any of my idols that became demons, and that when I keep my eyes open in pondering, daring faith, God will indeed show us what He can do. For this, I rest secure in His promise fulfilled of joyous judgement through Jesus, and will "join with the earth and...give my praise to You."

follow the instructions as directed

...and you will not feel like a huge idiot after a whole day wasted trying to do something really simple.  I'm sure I could tie this into a "follow Christ and everything will be awesome" analogy, except that 1) that's not true, even most of the time, and 2) I'm too excited about changing the colors of my newly-sync-ed calendars.

My next post will expand on the first point, though - it's already in draft mode, so should be up soon.

Read and following instructions, guys (and girls)!

thank you audrey

...for having one of the most encouraging, insightful, relevant, and faith-centered blogs out there.  Read her blog at: http://moomooaudrey.wordpress.com/.  Also, I'm so happy that her first EP, Midnight Bloom, was just released!  Listening to it right now... hooked already.  Listen here.  And purchase here.  I'll probably write a blog post or two about her songs at some point... for now, I'm just thankful for this dose of much-needed encouragement this morning.

pounding heart, pounding nails

One of my favorite C.S. Lewis quotes goes like this:

"To love at all is to be vulnerable.  Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken.  If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even an animal.  Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.  But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change.  It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."

I first read this during a Family Group study sometime during my junior year.  I don't remember what the study was about (sorry Josh...), but this quote stuck out to me.

I just don't understand why it's so hard to love and not get hurt.  Why can't everyone just love one another and be happy, all the time?  This sounds so... happy-go-lucky, it's sickening.  Of course I know why.  We all sin, we want what's best for ourselves, and in the end, whatever love we find with another person is only temporary.  If a host of other factors doesn't kill the relationship, death will.

In college, I screwed up a lot of friendships with my "open book" personality and habit of delving into everyone's personal lives to make sure they were "okay."  Even now, any defensive, flat, or hostile comments from friends are bound to set me off into a tailspin of "oh my God, what did I do wrong?  Why can't I love people?"  On the one hand, this is arrogant - and on the other, it's completely impractical - you simply can't live that way.

Many times, I have tried the opposite tactic - of nailing my heart in that coffin - of ignoring and breaking friendships in my head in drastic scenarios.  My thinking: if I can't love everybody equally well, and all the time, then I'm not going to love anyone - I can't deal with the hurt.  The problem?  Every single time I pound a nail into my coffin of security, I come up short.  Relationships, more often than not, revive, and it's only myself that I'm torturing.

Every single time I pound a nail into my coffin, I feel like I'm pounding one into Jesus, stretched out on that cross.  And this is why I cannot stop loving.  This is why love is "the greatest of these."  (1 Cor. 13:13).  This is why, even though it hurts like hell sometimes, I will keep loving - because Jesus did it first.  May all of us continue to follow His example.

Edit: The C.S. Lewis quote comes from his book The Four Loves.

total depravity, irresistible grace

It is currently 4 am, and I am somehow still up, trying to fill an empty page with a string of words that actually means something. Spent an hour looking for jobs instead of writing my paper, which, interestingly enough, is on Crime and Punishment. Actually, I think the whole theme of the story can be summed up by the four words in my entry title. Then again, they also summarize my whole life up to this point. There's a reason why these two phrases go together (besides accounting for the T and I in TULIP, something that I'm not equipped to write about at this point, but maybe someday...) I don't think you can live in total depravity without realizing irresistible grace - to do so is to diminish God's boundless love for us.

Let me explain. For the past two years (and intermittently before that), I've been living in what amounted to an emotional black hole - all my life experiences, good and bad, and all the feelings associated with them, disappeared into the mass of unfulfilled expectations and failed attempts to be "happy." As time passed, my daily attitude became "wow, I suck at life, and there's no hope for me." Obviously, this didn't exactly help my mood or productivity, and I felt, in a sense, "totally depraved."

Now, as a senior facing an uncertain job market, (still) unfulfilled expectations, and a questionable future, I still have those moments, quite often, actually. Recently, though, I've come to the realization that my attitude of "there is no hope" is actually quite accurate - but missing a crucial piece - that of reconciliation. To quote Paul, "For if, when we were God's enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!" (Romans 5:10).

The implications of this verse are enormous - it is not enough to realize that we are saved from our sins through Christ's death on the cross. True, that is an integral part of Christianity, and probably the concept most of us would use when justifying our own failures. We must realize that in addition to being freed from sin (a sort of negative construction), we are also free to live without it (a decidedly more positive one). This isn't to say that we will never sin again (because of course we will) - but that our actions need not be hindered by the fact that we are awash in sin and can never do anything right - because we are reconciled and justified in Christ. In essence, Christ's death means that our guilt is taken away, and we can live with Him forever, but His resurrection means that our shame is taken away too - and that we can actually begin to live through, and for, Him.

I'm going to end this with something a dear friend once told me: "Of course, God's always there to be like... 'Hey guess what, I'm in charge. You will never be successful enough that you won't need Me, or such a failure that I leave you.'" When we finally realize how totally depraved we are, that's when God's irresistible grace comes in - and shows us why we truly live.

EDIT: I wrote this sometime last fall, before I took a year off from school.

reflections on unified 2009

So last night was our third annual Unified Praise Night. I was pretty excited about it, as I was expecting a lot of energy and passion. The set started out strong, with two songs by Chris Tomlin and one by Starfield. I remember thinking that it was taking me a while to get into the music, but I didn't think anything of it as this occasionally happens. Divine Rhythm, WOV (With One Voice), and Catholic Choir were all great, as was the speech for Hope for the Homeless. At that point, I was feeling pretty content, and I waited for the sermon to start. After the first few minutes, however, I sort of got lost, because I couldn't figure out why the speaker seemed to jump in between Bible verses. I eventually fell asleep, probably a result of my having gone to bed at 6 am the previous night, and being in the library all afternoon. When I woke up, the sermon was nearly over, and I naturally felt really bad. I thought "hmm, maybe the music will help me get back in the right mindset for worship." Unfortunately, I only knew about half the songs in the latter set (Hillsong and Starfield), and I became frustrated by the fact that I still couldn't get into the "right" attitude. When we got to the song "The Stand" by Hillsong, I finally felt some emotion, particularly with these lines:

"So I'll stand,
With arms high and heart abandoned,
in awe of the One who gave it all.

So I'll stand,
My soul, Lord, to you surrendered,
all I am is Yours."

When the final prayer ended and I walked out, though, I felt strangely unfulfilled, but I didn't know what was missing. It had nothing to do with the worship team or the speaker, and I did enjoy the experience. It just felt different from years past. Ironically, the last two years I went, I couldn't see the song lyrics, which usually does take away some of the passion because i can't sing along, and I still loved it. Yesterday, however, I could see everything, but I just couldn't sing.

One of the Chris Tomlin songs we sang yesterday had this line: "How can I keep from singing Your praise?" I thought about that question through the night, but I couldn't answer it. There was one point where I wanted them to play quieter, slower, more reflective songs, but of course, this should have had no effect on me praising God. Right? I just felt... almost empty, like this was just another event to go to, to let pass by. Of course, the fact that I didn't know half of the worship set probably didn't help, and I probably should have slept more the previous night. Was this just an off night for me, then? Or am I making excuses for a deeper problem? Why couldn't I appreciate or understand the sermon? Was it arrogance or just an unwillingness to listen? I was really looking for renewal, but maybe I was searching for the wrong thing, or in the wrong way. Now, just a few hours before I leave for church, I still don't know exactly what I'm looking for, or why I felt so lukewarm last night. I hope things will turn around today... we'll see if I find any answers.

EDIT: This was sometime during the spring of my junior year, imported from a previous blog.

foundations

So, it's been a few weeks since I last posted something here. A lot has changed in those few weeks, not the least of which was a three-week period in which I got hit with two colds and a stomach virus. Aside from physical ailments, though, what I've really been struggling with is the reason I'm alive. This isn't in the "oh, I'm so sad and I'm useless - what am I doing with my life?" type of struggle. This is more "why was I created by God?" Previously, I would have considered this from a philosophical standpoint - what am I supposed to do with my life to fulfill God's plan for me now that he's given me so much?

Now?

I'm angry. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do, and honestly, at this point, I don't really want to know. This doesn't mean I don't care - in fact, I care way too much - about being such a renowned man of God that people will point at me and say "wow, he certainly is following the Lord with all his heart." Selfish and narrow-minded, I know.

But, you know? I don't actually care. Over these past few months that I've been out of school (more on that, perhaps, in the future), I've found it increasingly hard to find something that I actually give a damn about. So, what to do? I promised myself when I left school last December, that I would do whatever it took to get better again - emotionally and mentally. Since then, this has involved mental health professionals, drugs, and *shudder* talking with my parents.

Has all of this paid off? I'm not sure yet. My point is that tonight is where I begin the same process with my spiritual life - breaking down all the foundations, all I've ever known about Christianity and my faith - and starting over.

The first step?

God doesn't exist.

I know, I know - this is supposed to be a blog about my spiritual struggles, joys, journey, and what not, not about my path towards rejecting my faith. But, I have no faith left. I've realized over these past few weeks that I believe in God's existence - because that's the way I was brought up. I don't actually believe that he can - and will - work miracles, in my life - or even do anything to change me, little by little. I have nothing left. Total, complete burnout. I don't want God to exist - because that means that I've failed him, and that there's a plan for my life that I'm not following - and I don't want that anymore. I want answers. Why am I here? If God can't answer that, I don't want to know him.

Shocking, yes. I talked with my pastor tonight after youth fellowship, and he basically said "throw it all away." Start from scratch. If I'm going to build a faith that I can rely on, and if I'm going to believe that God is real in my life, that I can - in my dreams still, be a useful servant for him - then I need to completely and utterly tear down everything I've ever known about my faith.

If it means that I have to start from ground zero - that God doesn't exist - and challenge myself until something begins to grow - then so be it.

Practically, how is this going to work? I have no idea. I'm not going to stop going to church. I'll still sing songs and maybe even feel worshipful. I'll listen carefully to the sermons. On another level, nearly everything on my ipod is Christian music. My parents and I watch a Christian testimonial program every night during dinner. I have a lot of Christian (and non-Christian) friends whom I talk to about spiritual matters. How is this going to fit with my now-supposed rejection of God? No clue.

To be honest, though, I'm excited. I want to be angry at God, to question him, to rail against what I think is unjust, whether in my personal life or otherwise. I want to be challenged - intellectually, then personally, and maybe finally, spiritually. It's going to take a while. In fact, it might just take my whole life. But starting tonight, I'm putting down a new foundation - and we'll see what buildings rise up from the rubble.

lemons into lemonade, water into wine

"What makes you think that God doesn't love you?" As we sat in his car in front of my house, my friend's words didn't pierce my heart - instead, they landed with a dull thud. In a perfect world, his question would have sparked a great insight - "oh, so that's why my life hasn't turned out the way I wanted it to!" (Then again, in a perfect world, my life would have turned out the way I wanted anyways, removing the need to ask the question in the first place).

Of course, we do not live in a perfect world. To anyone - Christian or not - it is pretty clear that we live in a fallen world. War, famine, disease, scandals and injustices of every sort imaginable. Do these things bother me? Of course they do - but my recent questioning of what I believe is not based in the typical "if God is all-powerful, he can stop evil - and since he doesn't, he must not exist" argument. No, my thoughts are much more specific - and selfish: if God loves me, he would fix my life so I can serve him better. See what I just did? I used my desire to serve God as a self-serving excuse so that he would give me the gifts, talents, experiences, and lifestyle that I wanted - instead of those that would actually further his plan for my life.

But, back to the conversation. I responded that I felt like God had opened so many doors for me - and I had slammed them shut in his face. One. By. One. Because of this, I am now living at home while taking a year off from school, to figure out the next phase of my life (more on that in the future). I wasted so many golden opportunities - and now I expected God to love me? Not a chance.

My friend gently reminded me to look for the small blessings in life - sort of like making lemonade out of lemons. Qualitatively, I think this is different than finding something to be happy for each day. How so, I'm not exactly sure, but here's a great read on lemons and lemonade from a Christian perspective. As you may have guessed, I have trouble finding (or telling myself to look for) these blessings. Why? Simple: I want BIG BLESSINGS. Like, REALLY BIG BLESSINGS. Blessings like getting into a top grad school (epidemiology and/or global health, in case any kindhearted admissions committee members read this). Like earning a lot of money. Like being respected by all my peers. Like traveling the world stamping out malaria and all the other diseases that we are protected against, but many more people are not. Like finding my other (bound to be better) half and raising God-loving, intelligent, athletic, compassionate kids. Like being able to go back to school without breaking down under the pressure of societal expectations - or my own.

It was getting late, and I was feeling tired. (Also, it was a dark and stormy night. Just kidding - it was just dark). In any case, I knew he was right. I also knew that both of us really needed prayer. So, trying to cast aside any illusions that I knew what I was doing, I prayed that the Lord would protect us, lead us, strengthen our resolve. I honestly don't remember most of what I prayed - but I do remember this: I asked that he transform our lives as he transformed water into wine. That no one would know where this transformation came from - but there was no doubt about its authenticity, and its power to heal. That when people asked us how this happened, we would have the courage to proclaim our faith. That we would have the faith to believe that Jesus can indeed change our lives - that we can indeed live as the "best wine" he - and he alone - is turning us into. My friend prayed for God to show us patience and how to be humble - to trust in his grace and plan for our lives, that he is sovereign over all creation, including us - among other things. That, above all, we would know that God is good, that he does indeed love us, that he will continue to mold us in his fashion, and that we can take wonderous enjoyment from it in our day-to-day lives.

I walked out of the car feeling encouraged - that God had been watching over our very conversation just now. Yes, there will continue to be struggles, drama, confrontations, missteps, and heartbreak. But in spite of all that, God is in control, and he loves us. This is just one of many steps towards regaining - and building upon - my faith, family, friendships, and future. But as for tonight? I think I've found a blessing.

allusions, anyone?

So, why create a blog? Especially when I have another one that I haven't updated in forever? Well, that one was supposed to inspire me to do - and record - my daily devotions. It didn't work. So, I've decided that I want my other blog to be more about public health issues that interest me, or anything exciting going on in my life that's not related to spiritual or philosophical issues. (Which means I probably won't start blogging on that one again until I perhaps go to grad school, but we'll see). As for this blog, I wanted another place where I could put down thoughts more related to spiritual issues - probably more struggles than triumphs, at this point.

Did anyone catch the musical allusions in my blog? (Hint: there are three). If not: the title comes from the song "Take Me to Your Leader" by Newsboys, the sub-title comes from "Like a Child" by Jars of Clay, and the site name comes from "Dare You to Move" by Switchfoot. All wonderful songs. Check them out! And maybe, check out this blog once in a while, if you're not busy, or you're bored, or something. I'll try to update it more often than I did my last one. Well, sink or swim, I'm diving in!