008

[More appropriately titled: Crap.]

I have a confession. I've been online dating again. As a result, an inner struggle is rising to the surface...

Head or heart?

I didn't get any bites for a few days. I messaged a couple nice girls, but they all seemed to lack something essential. I know...my standards are impossible. Anyway, on day five I received a message from a woman that found my profile. She seems nice. She cares about discipleship and church reformation; she's incredibly stable and organized. I wouldn't have to fear my heart being broken, and I know she's spiritually mature and ready for a relationship. For lack of a better term, she's domesticated.

This is what my head has been telling me. Stop fooling with the restless gals. Leave the adventurous ones for another sucker. Offer your strength to someone that can appreciate your sincerity. Settle down and raise a family. Ignore the uninteresting features and appreciate the steadfast heart. I spent the entire night trying to convince my heart to get on board.

Tonight, I looked at my visitor list. Bad mistake. It took .0000000748 seconds for my heart to flutter. Vulnerability, sensitivity, humility, redemption, sacrifice. And a complete mess. She checked out my page without messaging me -- didn't presume to be good enough. My head told me I was stupid. It reminded me how I'm certain to get hurt.

I ignored my head...again.

She replied in less than 30 minutes, flattered by my sincerity.

It's not too late to jump ship. Why can't I jump ship?

007

Yesterday during bible study, Byron pondered the enigma of feeling alone while physically being around many. His contribution helped me identify why I often find casual engagements to be futile. For me, loneliness has not been a physical thing -- I become lonely when I lack spiritual common ground. Yes, I greatly desire the physical presence of those with whom I've found spiritual unity, but their presence is secondary to the comfort of their understanding.

This explains the human draw towards denominational lines. If we can surround ourselves with enough people that share a philosophy on the finer points, we don't need to search for unity -- it is understood. What I attained by remaining true to the Missionary Church was a group of like-minded people that could share spiritual life without debating the approach. The foundation of our conversation was established, and we could comfort one another within the boundaries of our common experiences.

Do I find these boundaries limiting and proud? I do now. However, I am no more zealous to defend my current boundaries than before. Let's be honest: most of us have made up our minds. Fielding a billion questions about my church theology would serve one of two purposes: to convince me that you're right or to convince you that I'm wrong. Since my faith is based chiefly on experience, there is no room for debate. I will continue to trust that I have found truth because I have seen it. You can continue to defend that I haven't found truth, because you haven't shared the same experience.

It can't be both ways, can it? I can't own a truth sound enough to unify AND heretical enough to debate! [Isn't this what made Christ so frustrating to the Jews?] We inevitably must agree or disagree -- my experience refuses to waver, thus our unity hangs in the balance.

[Elijah] replied, "I have been very zealous for the LORD God Almighty. The Israelites have rejected your covenant, broken down your altars, and put your prophets to death with the sword. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me too."

The LORD said to him, "Go back the way you came, and go to the Desert of Damascus. When you get there, anoint Hazael king over Aram. Also, anoint Jehu son of Nimshi king over Israel, and anoint Elisha son of Shaphat from Abel Meholah to succeed you as prophet. Jehu will put to death any who escape the sword of Hazael, and Elisha will put to death any who escape the sword of Jehu. Yet I reserve seven thousand in Israel—all whose knees have not bowed down to Baal and all whose mouths have not kissed him."

So Elijah went from there and found Elisha son of Shaphat. He was plowing with twelve yoke of oxen, and he himself was driving the twelfth pair. Elijah went up to him and threw his cloak around him. Elisha then left his oxen and ran after Elijah. "Let me kiss my father and mother good-by," he said, "and then I will come with you."

"Go back," Elijah replied. "What have I done to you?"

So Elisha left him and went back. He took his yoke of oxen and slaughtered them. He burned the plowing equipment to cook the meat and gave it to the people, and they ate. Then he set out to follow Elijah and became his attendant.

As the option pool continues to shrink, can I expect the company of friends?

006

What do you say to an awesome 12-year-old whose mom has told her on multiple occasions that she doesn't want her?

005

In the pre-Challenger 1980s, I wanted to be an astronaut.

My parents never told me that pursuing astronautics was impractical, and most Americans figured that we would be taking leisure trips to the moon by 2012. So why shouldn't I be the driver? The spacesuits, moon boots, and glass-visored helmets were the essence of cool. And Tang was one of the few drinks I could prepare myself at age 7. It was perfect!

The timing was purely coincidental, but shortly after the explosion -- and with it, the American disinterest in the space program -- I had my first change of heart. Over the next ten years, I wanted to be a chemist, a children's author, a teacher, a sports broadcaster, a mathematician, and a newspaper journalist.

At each stage of life, I considered my dreams attainable. My world was full of people telling me what I could accomplish and what was required. The rulebook was standard: by finishing steps A, B, C, and D through hard work, the sky was the limit.

The same rulebook that placed my dreams within reach also made them less dreamy. As a 7-year-old, flying to space was a lifetime goal; if I reached it once, my dream would be fulfilled. Since it seemed so far away, it never occurred to me that I would need another dream. My next birthday seemed far enough in the future.

Unsurprisingly, I referenced the same rulebook when I grew serious about my faith; even less surprising, I attained everything I sought with my own hands. Degree? Check. Growing youth group? Check. The favor of parents? Check. Visibility within my denomination? Check. Freelance speaking engagements? Check.

The danger in discovering that my dreams could be accomplished was that my talents began driving them instead of my imagination. Even if I had connected the dots that God provided these talents, there wasn't a single facet of the ministry rulebook that required His help. By my late 20s, my "dreams" had been completed.

On the other side of ruin, I have found that my new dreams are all beyond my reach. Like the 7-year-old staring in his telescope, I hope for fulfillment which I am too small to attain. Without the hand of God, my dreaming will cease.

Should I dare wonder for the impossible? Can I boldly proclaim these dreams with the certainty of a child? Gazing at the moon outside my window, do I trust our Creator to fly me into the black?

004

When well-meaning believers ask me if I've considered [Single Female X], I kindly share the variables that shape my relationship decisions. In reality, it's simpler than this: I want a helper that bears His cross for their own sake. I've been told that I should pursue a relationship and allow this woman to accept my zeal in her own time and trust. Perhaps this is my stubbornness, but no. If she decides to minister in the inner court, we can find one another there, seeking our only inheritance together.

Or do I have this "leading" thing all wrong?

003

One of my first impressions of St. Louis was on account of the sunlight. It was bright and intense. Whereas Northern Indiana humidity dampens because of the lake, Missouri humidity suffocates the lungs. I prefer Missouri heat; it is not worn, but internalized. The first time I experienced an "overcast" day in St. Louis (according to the weatherman), it mirrored a "partly cloudy" day in Indiana. Likewise, a "partly cloudy" day in Missouri is equivalent to "sunny" in my homeland. Because I had never experienced true sunshine growing up, I didn't know that my "sunny" wasn't as "sunny" as it should be.

In Matthew 6:22-23, Jesus said:

The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are good, you whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!

I wonder how many believers think they have experienced light when they've only known "Indiana sunny." If we convince ourselves that we have attained the purest form of light, yet ignorantly live in darkness, then our standard becomes skewed. We see the world physically through misguided eyes, thus defining corrupt things as light. If placed under spiritual eyes, we would discover that our light has been less-dark darkness!

This has me wondering: how much "ministry" do we justify as God's work, simply because the world around us is that much worse? How little light have we known that we look to dark things to shine upon darker things?

002

How can we allow believers to be uneducated about the Holy Spirit? Why are many lifelong believers scared to say or hear His name? In light of Christ's words, how can we pretend to have a context for our faith without the Spirit?

001

If my perception of beauty is skewed, how did I get this way and what must be tranformed in my heart?