November 22, 2017

God With Us

In my life, it's become a pretty solid habit to be skeptical of people and things as a matter of course, and if for no other reason than to offset my propensity toward gullibility, it's a good habit to have.

However, it's been used often enough by the Devil to bring into question God's love for me, his grace toward me, and his will for my good. I think in my head that the thoughts in my head have nothing to do with him or his desire for my sanctification.

Be there any goodness in my thoughts and actions?

Why, it must be my "good Christian upbringing," and an "innate favor toward honesty," of course. A moment of generosity or kindness, hospitality or forgiveness...

Ah, the character of Noah. What merit, what heart, what unending patience.


What folly that I should think such high thoughts of myself. So many of the confessions we say in church sound so pompous and foolish to me as I say them, but perhaps if I weren't a pompous, arrogant fool it wouldn't sound so.

It would do me good to see God's hand more. My cynicism assures me time and time again that God doesn't do that sort of thing, he isn't really near or in, it's all in your head, perhaps in your heart too, but God?

This habitual cynicism bears down upon the miracles of today, as well. I grew up Lutheran and Presbyterian, and never had much faith for miraculous healing. I remember once cautioning a friend that one couldn't always believe what one read or heard from friends of faith and belief, change and healing.

None of this to say we should have minds free from skepticism; skepticism is extremely valuable; it is the darker side of the coin that is discernment. I'm not sure what I'd call the other side of the coin, but as is often the case, the analogy will break down if I spend too much time on it, so I'll pass on.

All this to say, I must remember that God IS present, he IS powerful, and he IS changing me, despite my best efforts and without immediate regard for my own comfort or understanding.

The goodness in me, generosity in me, the hope in me, the love in me, the grace in me, whatever good I have or show or am...

All is not only owed to Christ, but owned by him, and proceeds to purchase souls to glorify him and love him more.

Unfortunately yours,


January 23, 2017

Blockhead Sans Belonging

I do not belong here.

That's what's been knocking around in my head for the last several months. I got a job back in April which (for the last two to three months) has put me in the company of friends between the hours of 4 PM and midnight, in a sufficient but not extravagant kitchen somewhere in Dinkytown.

I've known since before I got the job that I wouldn't enjoy it. I was hoping, at the time, that I'd stop cooking and start serving within a few months, something I, despite being an introvert, have shown some aptitude for. Not so.

I don't belong there. I love my coworkers and have only rarely resented their company, my managers are between neutral and decidedly familial. I have often enjoyed parts of my job, but as a whole it's something I desperately want to put behind me.

The same applies to my childhood home. I'm 23 at present, going on 24, as a pair of young lovebirds might say, and haven't the means I think I need to enter a new stage of life.

In case I found cause, at this point, to revive my efforts, motivations, and pursuits, I've had a number of personal defeats as of late; rejection, temptation to addiction, solitude simultaneously excessive and insufficient.

So here I am, screaming unto the night. And why?