identity of the heart

So over Thanksgiving break I somehow managed to turn my schedule around something crazy.  I was sleeping all day and up all night.  My brother, Curtis, works third shift, so my family teased me that him and I worked it together - him in town and me at the house.  This wasn't entirely untrue; I managed to get a lot of work done on a few different projects I'm involved with.  Realizing my sleeping patterns needed to change, I woke up on Sunday night near to 10:00pm, cleaned out the attic, did some blackboard posts for a class, and then hit the road.  It took me a little bit longer to get back to school than I thought, and I didn't end up rolling in until 4:00am, with a homework session at Starbucks following around 5:30am.  When the sun came up it ended up being a beautiful morning.  

I had thought a lot over break about what it means to choose to be joyful.  It started when I had a conversation with my dad about someone I knew, and how they were really bubbly and joyful most of the time, and how I enjoyed being around them.  My dad's response was, "You need to be around more people like that.  Just make sure you don't bring them down, because you have a tendency to do that sometimes."

Initially, this comment made me sad, but as I stewed on it, I realized the power that it held.  

The older I get the more I find that my dad knows just what to say, and just when I need to hear it.

Now, most of the time I don't consider myself a very negative person, but something I'm beginning to realize is my tendency to extremely over analyze things, and intensely think them through over and over again until I'm so deeply immersed into what I'm thinking that my external world is something I'm kind of oblivious to.  I think sometimes people perceive me as upset when I'm like this, but the honesty of the matter is I'm really just in another world.

That's not just it, though.

When I was younger, I possessed a terribly shifty moodiness that found it's way mostly into my romantic relationships.  I'd like to think this isn't as big of a problem as it used to be, but I think this is more what my dad was referring to.

With a combination of my over analytical mind and my wearing my heart on my sleeve, it seems that the Jonny I see looking from the inside out, isn't always the Jonny people perceive that I am.

So who is right?

Well, back to when I returned to school the other day.  

I stayed up the rest of the day in an attempt to change my schedule around, and ended up suffering some consequences.  In my lack of sleep, I was especially moody.  With this, I also was really lonely, and could actually feel myself building emotional walls and becoming bitter and judgmental towards nearly everyone I encountered.  I was like this in class, at lunch... eventually, the guy who was buying my Jeep (who begged me to hold it for him over the weekend) made me wait 2 hours in a parking lot for him after he said he was on his way, just for me to ask him if he was still coming, and he tells me to find someone else. Through a text message.

Yeah.

Needless to say, all of yesterday I said some terrible things to a couple people that I really didn't mean... and I need to make amends today. 

I finally went to bed at 7:30pm last night, and woke up at 4:30am this morning feeling pretty crummy.  I felt like I had overdosed on the human condition.  

To make a long story short (too late)*, everything I've said so far is kind of backstory for what this post is really about.  

These happenstances have me thinking about what exactly defines us.  What defines me.

Growing up in a Christian home, I became very familiar with all of the Scriptures concerning our identity in Christ (Rom. 8:1, 8:9. 8:11, 8:28, 8:37-39, to name a few in this particular epistle). We are more than conquerers.  Nothing can separate us from His love. Everything will work our for the good of those who love Him.  Christ dwells in you.  You've probably heard some of these, too, right?

I don't know about you, but I find myself believing these with all of my heart.

While concurrently, I find myself living like I've never heard them before.

I used to think it was because I was just too sinful, and I have just too much tendency to turn away from God.  

But something else I've realized is this:

We, as people, have to have something we can associate ourselves with that is bigger than us, or else we cannot live.

Think about it.

Mac or PC.

Starbucks or Biggby.

Tigers or Bears.

It even comes down to church.

Calvin or Wesley.

Liturgical or Thematic.

We like labels because they make us a part of something.  They give us a place to belong, where we can feel welcomed.  We take sides not really caring what we are opposing, as long as what we are standing for can be home for us.

Maybe this is why it is so hard to allow myself to be identified by what the Bible is saying that I am, because most of my experiences with the church have not done the best job embodying what that is.  

What brings us to deciding our labels is our personal experience with them.  Like I said before, if they welcome us and give a place to belong.  That's the root of anything we associate ourselves with, really, and that is what the Church should be doing.  Christ is no longer walking the earth in his physical body, but actually is living in us.  We  are his body.

Get past the cliche of that for a minute and try it again. 

We are his body.

It is impossible to be identified by something abstract.  It has to be tangible.  We have to be able to feel it, it has to be personal.  

                                        .we have to be Christ to each other.

I could say a million things more, but I think I'll leave you to stew on that last sentence for a while.

*If you got that "Clue" movie reference, I like you way more now and our friendship just leveled up.

.to love fully.

Well, I'm home at Dad's house for this wonderful holiday break.  It's good to be here with family.  I'm currently sitting in a cute little extension of the kitchen that my dad is building - a breakfast nook!  It's beautiful.  I love it.

But I love a lot of things.

All of us do, don't we?

Family. Friends. A special girl or boy that captures our heart.

Food, clothes, TV shows, books.

Ideas, songs, poems.

It's different though, isn't it?

I mean, different kinds of love.

C.S. Lewis talks about the four main words for loves in the ancient Greek language.*  This implies our (English) lack of variety when using this word.  I've met people that use the word freely with no meaning, and those who use it freely with much meaning.  I've met people who have never really said it that much because of the weight it carries for them, and more who are scarred to say it, thinking that if they call what they experience 'love' then it will quickly cease to be there soon after.

I've always been the sort to be quick to say it and quick to feel it.  I've fallen in love with probably a hundred girls, and told dozens of them that fact.  I'm a romantic, and have a tendency to thrive on the chase.  Some days with utmost confidence and others with an incredible amount of insecurity.  Generally, there have only been a few girls who could trump my suavity or quick wit to swoon and give me knees so weak that my stomach is convinced it's a foot because it ventures into my shoes, and my heart is convinced it's a candle and melts at the slightest bit of warming.

See what I mean? Romantic.

But is this love?

I mean, sure it is.

We only have one word to describe all these things we feel and do.  So hypothetically, I suppose nearly anything could be written off as love.

Now, there are enough people out there writing blogs about how love is not a feeling but an action, to which I must inform you that I agree whole heartedly.  I can't help but feel though that is being said by enough people, and I would rather talk about something that maybe isn't really being said.

I can't say I know what that is, though.


I guess I'll try and find it by going to the root of why I was compelled to write this post (aside from me being the only awake [wired] person in the house at 4:30am).



I'm convinced that I love a girl.  And I'm convinced she doesn't love me back.  But this isn't anything new to me.  I've been here before.  In fact, I've been here several times before.. with several different girls.

Before I can go further, I have to confess something to you:

I'm addicted to the Chase, and the more I can't get it, the more I pour my heart into it.

Isn't that strange?

What triggered this post was when my brother Jamie showed me an animation that someone created from his macbook.  It was a beautiful rough sketch animation done to a song by The Weepies, incorporating dance.  It was purposefully created with a lot of ambiguity for the sake of personal interpretation.  Afterward, by brother told me his interpretation, which was much like mine, though he worded it more beautifully than I could.  It was about the Chase.

The Chase for the ideal of a love that we create in our minds.  We chase and chase, and when we finally arrive holding what it is we were after, it becomes real.  It becomes known.  It becomes... like us.  And we don't want us.  We want a Savior.

As long as we don't have what it is we are chasing, we can make it a cure for us.  A cure that we can't have, but all the same we can convince ourselves that a cure exists, we just can't have it.  The makes the chase even more painful.

But you know what...?


                                                    It's not real.

The cure we're looking for, I mean.  At least, it's not where we have been looking for it.


Instead, what is real, is the person in which you have been chasing.

She is flesh, blood, bone, cartilage.  She is messy.  Just like you.

She has bad days, and even if she does love you, she will have days where she questions whether she wants to or not.  Just like you.

Her dirt is just as dirty as your dirt.

I believe this is what really makes or breaks a relationship, is understanding that your ideal of what you are chasing doesn't exist, and romance is what it is, and it's a beautiful thing if you let it be.  You just

          can't

                     make

                               it

                                       God.


                                                                   Because it's not.


But here's the trick.  Here's where I think people get hung up on this.  You can fully understand this, and still not get it.  

Because you can understand that people are messy, and they aren't perfect, but as long as you are ignorant to their specific dirt, you will still put a halo on their head, thinking it is something that it is not.

"Sure, a person is messy! I still want to love them!"

What about their addiction to pornography because their uncle sexually abused them? That hurts.  Do you still love them?

What about when they are needy and want to be around you and freak out when you can't be there.  Do you still want them around?

What about their anger issues when they start throwing things? Depression? Cutting? Drug use? Insecurity? Annoying personality?


          do you love them?


After all, their dirt is going to get you dirty.

What if their dirt is being addicted to the Chase.  Could you love them still, while always wondering if they really love you, or simply just pursuing you?


I am convinced that this idea you and I have of love is fragile and weak.  We desire love, but the love we desire and long for so deeply, we want it to be so close, but our ideals are so far away that we


                           miss it.

We miss what is really happening.

This person is too quiet.  I don't them for the rest of my life.


This person is too loud.  I couldn't live with that.

This person has too much baggage.  I'm not up to dealing with that.


Folks, we are missing it.  Some of us are terrified of love, some of us are addicted to it.  Some married people are starting to think they married the wrong person, and some single people are beginning to think no one will love them when honestly they have neglected dozens of people who were willing to love them.

I have another confession:

I don't really know where I'm going with this.

I'm definitely not talking about something I have figured out.  I guess I just want to talk about it because it's very real to me right now.


I am fully convinced of one thing, and this I am learning.  But let me tell you, it's hard to live.

It is what I believe to be the 'secret' here to love:


You. Are. A. Vessel.


And you have the ability to carry within you the love of Christ.  It is not your love, though it can (and will) transform you.  It makes things different.

With this love, you also have the ability to freely give it to everyone.

I don't want to go much deeper here.  It's honestly not my intention to rant about theology.**

More than anything, I just want to learn one thing, and with this I will conclude my post:


I want to learn (eventually, when I am in a relationship again) to finally give up my dirty rags I've been holding on to, thinking they were worth something, and love this woman by the power of the love of Christ shining through me; bursting through my chest like a cannon, until nothing she could be, say or do could stop this love.  Even if she chose not to have me.


Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.  Enjoy your family today, and enjoy the love of Christ among you.


Jonny

* "The Four Loves" - C.S. Lewis
** Although if you did consider any of this theology, I would like to think it is practical theology.


      

the healing of creation

It's been most of this semester now that I've been thinking a lot about the healing of creation.

When I was younger, I think I had a certain perception of what healing was and how it occurred that didn't exactly line up with how it was happening around me.  Some of it was probably due to the American culture I was immersed in, and our being accustomed to immediate gratification, while another contributor was possibly the facet of Christian spirituality in which I was raised that viewed healing as a primary and immediate means of God's correspondence with humanity, that was always His will and always happened (and happened fast) as long as you had enough faith.  However, this blog is neither about discussing American culture, nor is it about ecumenicalism.  It's about bloom being a whisper.  Let me tell you what I think that looks like.


Last week I took was what supposed to be a quick trip to Wal-Mart to do a follow up at the vision center for my contacts I was about to purchase.  I found myself not having enough money beforehand to buy my new contacts, and asked them if after the follow up I could come back in a week or so to follow through with the order.  They agreed that this was fine and I began my follow up.  To make a long story short, I ended up having an ulcer on my right eye and the doctor prescribed me some medicated eye drops that ended up costing me $25 that I didn't have, and a charge for the prescription write up of $40 that I also didn't have.  I was stuck wearing my glasses for another week, and being in more debt that I honestly had no desire to be in... The pharmacist told me it would be a thirty minute wait, so I started to walk around the store rather irritated.


My excursions around the mall began at American Eagle.  At the semester's beginning, I started a new work out routine to get in shape, and as Christmas is approaching I'm finding most of my clothes don't fit anymore, so I'm trying to decide where to rebuild my wardrobe at.  I've always liked American Eagle, but not always the stigma that is associated with it.  As I was walking around in the store, my heart began to sink as I was thinking about our culture's priorities.  Most of us are okay with buying a $30 shirt at AE once a month, but find excuses as to why we can't send $30 a month over to Honduras for clean water and education (myself included).  That thought quickly led to an urgency to boycott all industrial outfitters in American.  That was short lived, however when I realized I lacked the ability to make my own clothes.  Besides, I don't think that would be hitting the issue on the head.  I don't think it's where we buy our clothes that makes the difference, but how we spend our money.  I'm starting to believe that when it comes to making money, we as Christians are responsible to meet our own needs and then give the rest away.  Not to say a little luxury isn't acceptable, as long as it proves to endure with purpose... I've yet, though, to understand fully how this should unfold in my own life.


I walked around a little more before coming back into Wal-Mart, where I happened to see a man probably in his fifties in a wheel chair, missing his right leg.  I normally wouldn't have thought much about it, except what made this situation unique is that he had a friend of his, close to the same age, pushing him around the store, and carrying on wonderful conversation together.  Neither of them were dressed particularly nice, but actually had somewhat old and ratty flannel and sweat pants.  Immediately, however, I picked up on a beautiful friendship between the two.  I walked around some more before having to use the restroom, where I happened to see the wheel chair man's friend standing by the hand dryers.  I was only going in to wash my hands, but while I was doing so, I heard a voice call from the stall to his friend, "Frank, I'm done now." Now, this man had a name.  He was a real person - they both were... Frank urgently went to aid his friend in the stall as I was walking out.  At that moment something hit me:

these men probably didn't stand out to everyone.  In fact, they probably wouldn't have stood out to me if I had not been contemplating my own priorities.

We are often so bombarded with media and commercialism.  Their voices are so loud and dominant, and we want what they have to sell us so much, that I think we are missing some of the most beautiful whispers that are happening right in front of us. We are missing the subtle healing that is taking place in God's creation.  We are missing the grace that is being whispered all around us.  The whisper that has a plan - it has always had a plan.  A plan of redemption and restoration, of grace and healing.

 If we don't look, we might miss it blooming.  But either way, it's going to bloom.  We're just invited to see it's beauty and to smell it's fragrance.

I don't know about you, but that's something I want to be a part of more than anything else that is happening on this earth.

From here to there...

Here within this text will lie the insulators to my journey.  I have recently decided to make a drastic decision in my life, and after coming to an end on my 5th college career semester, I will be transferring to Belmont University to pursue a dream.  Until then, I have a mini adventure ahead of me: living in Grand Rapids, MI until next fall.

This is a road I am excited to take, and invite you to share it with me.

In this blog you will find my innermost thoughts on the changes taking place and my response to it.  It will be filled with poetry, prose, pictures, thoughts, and questions.  I'll do my best to be honest.

Let's see what's gonna bloom.

Jonny