I'm a pretentious jerk.

I enjoy music of all kinds, and always have some song or another playing in my head at all times (a trait I inherited from my mother). My house was always filled with music, either my mom practicing piano or three of us cooking and singing in three-part harmony, spontaneous and unrehearsed. I like music, but some music I love. It's not specific to a genre... what I love is a musical artist who paints. But rather than painting a picture, he/she paints a feeling. Like an abstract piece of art, my favorite musicians create a canopy of sound, with vague and artful lyrics that allow me to interpret and enjoy whatever feeling they elicit. They don't force a story or meaning on me with bluntness. The feeling is my own, the meaning is my own and it hits hardest when the song resonates a current experience like a finger sliding along the edge of a crystal glass. It rings clear and perfect, leaving nothing but an echo when the moment passes. My favorite artists shift and vary to match the seasons and the weather. I like folk in the fall, I like electronic pop in the spring. I like anything acoustic when I'm in love.

My favorite song lately is one I've had for years... it's the opening track to Kishi Bashi's 151a album, "Intro/ pathos pathos". The song, aptly named, is very emotional. Mostly strings and synth, the song opens up with soft strains of melodic violin layers. It's the feeling of a slow awakening, the fibers of a dream still clinging to eyelids and the momentary confusion that comes as they slip away. The tune slowly becomes erratic and almost cacophanous. Eye lids flutter open, the chaos clears quickly and bursts forth to drum-driven, toe-tapping beats with a harmonic vocal backdrop of Japanese lyrics. This is the first draw-back of the blinds to find a brilliant early-day sun streaming in. High-pitched looping strings and vocal beats almost mimic a flock of birds. The song makes me feel the way an awesome morning feels, and I love that.

The lyrics vaguely describe a scene that fits the mood already set by the music. A couple sits beneath a tree discussing birds in the branches, urging each other to enjoy them before they fly their own separate ways. The Japanese chorus translates to "what would happen if we could meet?" and "aetara iina" means "I wish I could see you". It's a cute, bright setting with an undertone of temporality. I seems like the couple is being compared to the birds, who perch and enjoy each others' company for a time, and inevitably move on. The nature of birds and the nature of love seem implied to be both similarly flighty and impulsive. I also get a message to not let opportunities for love and life pass, because they are fleeting.

And I fully realize this makes me look and sound like a pretentious ass... but I really, really like this song. In fact, the whole album is just stellar. I could go on for ages about it. Literally.

The Fault is Not in Our Stars

I guarantee the first Man and Woman never thought to compartmentalize their "religion", their bonds with God. To them, the connection to the Maker was their life's blood. It breathed through them, giving them a sense of vitality and security so potent that they knew no death or shame.
I feel my own foolishness when I realize my attempts to compartmentalize my connection to God. Sundays, occasional (often distracted) time in the Word, and unfocused and infrequent prayer; it is a sorry substitute for that all-sustaining, life-giving bond known in the Garden. I suffer quietly and unknowingly, slowly being overtaken by the symptoms of a weakening soul that hungers in silence. My spiritual body wastes away, all the while I convince myself that the diversions I crave will fulfill it. But the most decadent desserts do nothing for the malnourished, it's only farce that hastens me to the grave.
The signs of my poor diet slowly emerge almost imperceptibly. They do not even seem particularly spiritual in nature, but I know well enough after all this time walking that they very much are.
- My security, previously supplied by His heart beating in time with mine, is gone (or so faint it's barely palpable). My thoughts become as wild and wavering as the sea as doubts and worries sweep over. The ebb and flow is constant, and it seems all I can do to tread water.
- My thoughts, now untrained to Him, lie with filth and filth emerges through my pores in a feverish sweat.
- My sense of self-worth vanishes as my venom is loosed on myself in the forms of self-deprecation. Oh, how it must hurt Him to see me treat the gifts of my body so critically!

The first step to banish the disease is to purge; surrender everything holding me from Him to His control. Rather than allotting Him time in my day, I need to breathe Him. Intake every small beautiful moment and exhale gratitude for a life I do not deserve. With His permission, allow my mind to attend my business and daily tasks, and then fly back to Him upon completion. Pray without ceasing, and admit fully that I am wholly incapable of maintaining a connection with Him. Praise Him for patience in pursuing me, and ask forgiveness for my lack of response. In medicine a good doctor treats the underlying cause rather than each symptom, and I realize that once my connection with the Vine is restored, all else will fall into place.

Matthew 6:33-34 "Seek first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness and all these things shall be added unto you. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Love is watching someone die

He was a ghost of the person he was before. The last time I saw him, his belly rotund and his laugh boisterous, I found myself frustrated by his constant fighting of me. He fought me because, unlike his disease, I was present and palpable with a face to place on his struggle. He tired me.
Now, his hollowness and tiredness made me long for the fight. "Fight me", I pleaded inwardly, "fight what is happening to you!" The skeletal frame he now pushed around could not support the weight of hoping. I complimented his newly growing, greying beard and his laugh and his cheeks were sallow and sunken. I hated what had happened to him. I hated him because I could not help him, and his lack of desperation made me feel desperate. Sometimes you see what terrifies you most in life mirrored in the face of a person, and their mere existence forces you to confront the demon within your own self.
But how can I help someone when I can barely help myself?

Dishrag

I'm a damp dishrag. I find myself draped over the furniture, warming in the light of the morning after last night. Last night. My edges are curling and darkened as I try to collect my fire-ant feelings. I feel there are so many they blur to a swelling, swirling mass with no discernible border. Sadness, perhaps... anger? Not now. My anger is an aerosol can in a campfire. I'm sure I will confront it when I'm 30 and my toddler drops a dish.
Empty. Hollow. Shockingly devoid. A cave so dark you can not see your hand before your face, even when it's so close you can feel the heat of it. And him... I think of him and he's gone from the real to the abstract. I realize I can't think of him as a person right now, or else I risk thinking of myself as a person as well. Only a person can be hurt. Objects are safe, they can be broken but never hurt.
Soggy and limp and used, I watch the hands of the clock spin and spin like a record playing a stupid, too-long song about finding love. And I, I lie in my own damp chill and wait and wait and wait. Why hope for clean? For now I'll just settle for dry.

Totally Depraved

I've always believed in the inherent goodness of man.
That is, until I looked a little further into the controvery of the Augustinian stance of Total Depravity vs. the Pelagian views of Inherent Goodness. In reading 'What is Reformed Theology' by R.C. Sproul, he explores the two, and makes a compelling argument for Depravity that I can't help but agree with... It resonates with my own perceptions of the condition of the wild beast that is Man's heart.
The monk Pelagius held tight to a Humanist view of free will; that God gave man free will and power to do good or bad, and the Law was given to discern between the two. He believed that people were inherently good, but strayed towards evil post-Fall. St. Augustine argued that scripture indicates that post-Fall, the human heart is entirely incapable of doing "good" (from a godly standpoint) and the Law was only given to make us realize the extent of our own sinfulness and the unattainable nature of righteousness. Pelagius stated that God would not demand perfection without giving us the means to attain it. Augustine stated that God demanded perfection so that we would relent our hope in self, knowing fully that our only hope is truly in Christ. Our own totally depraved state enhances appreciation for grace.

*Sproul makes a distinction I think is important to note, between utter depravity (being as wicked as possible) and total depravity (every aspect of being is in some way tainted).

Scripture, as well as real-life observations, would support the human condition of total depravity. Sproul addresses arguments about free will, saying that though man's will is free it is wholly bent towards disobedience and even enmity towards God. We may in fact do things that appear "good" from a human standpoint, but will always be colored by self-preservation, desire for praise, self-promotion, etc.
Romans 3:12 gives a blanket statement covering all of humanity, which may be taken literally or as a superlative. "No one does good, no not one."
Romans 7:7-25 supports that the Law is given to show us our sinfulness... and is followed by a context of grace and despair in our own power to fulfill the commands of a perfect Deity. For if we had it in our power to fulfill the Law, there would have been no reason for Jesus' sacrifice. For He said, "I have not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it."
There's something sort of freeing in relenting my belief that I could strive for righteousness. All the trying and failing always led to shame and frustration, pulling me farther from God. But depending on Jesus to be my righteousness and my daily bread pulled me closer, grateful and unashamed. The gratitude increased my love, and here's the kicker... my love increased my desire to be obedient. The system works, and though I believe Pelagius had a genuine walk with God I have to side with Augustine and Paul when I say, "Christ came to the world to save sinners... among whom I am the worst."

Naked and Unashamed

My favorite part of the Genesis description of life in the garden was the phrase noted several times, "they were naked and not ashamed." I've read a couple studies on Genesis and my favorite one emphasized this point: that Adam and Eve were in such close communion with God, their sense of security and self-assurance was so perfectly intact, that they did not even realize their own nakedness.

I've found this beautiful concept coloring my alone time with God in a new way. I used to dislike my devotional time, seeing it as a chore and an obligation. Now I see it as time to be transparent and naked in the most freeing way. Going about daily life, we all hold our cards close to our chests. There is some vestige of a blockade 'round our hearts, even around closest friends and family. Fear of social pressures, fear of rejection, fear of saying/doing the wrong thing are nearly constant. Pressure to look our best and behave comes from every angle. Time alone with my Savior means I can finally drop every form of self protection and step into the blessed state of being fully known and fully loved. Naked. Naked, and unashamed. I run my fingers over Words from a living Savior and the weight lifts. I breathe a sigh of relief and feel breathe and sun on my skin, fresh like a newborn.

What a relief.

Ezer Kenegdo, the sustainer beside him

Once I was in a hot tub with a group of girls from a church I visited about two years ago. We were discussing relationships and what we desired for our future marriages. One of the girls to my right tossed her damp ponytail and chirped, "I feel like all we women really ever wanted was a strong man to be a cheerleader for!" All heads 'round the circle nodded curtly in agreement as I swallowed hard against the bile I could taste in my throat. Was I broken? Am I built wrong that I wanted to have my own adventure, rather than tagging along someone else's?

My mother, bless her heart, taught me to be a strong woman. My father, bless his heart, taught me to be a strong man. She taught me to not be lazy, to go after what I want, to love big and never stop pursuing the heart of God. My father taught me to shoot, fight, camp, survive a zombie apocalypse, plan ahead and never compromise my values. Being a strong woman is my burden and my blessing. The biblical role of a woman is something I've rebelled against my whole life. Independence and selfishness steered me towards dating men who allowed me to be the leader, and I thoroughly enjoyed the sense of power and control. But despite feeding into my sin nature in a satisfying way, I could feel how poor a fit it was. But the curse of being a strong woman is that I know that for a relationship to work, he must be an even stronger man. Yikes. I found it impossible to allow the men in my life to lead me, but I realized it wasn't because I was broken... but it was because I hadn't found the right man! I started asking myself some difficult questions regarding my dating life.

-Do I see active growth in his life, and a passionate pursuit of God?
-Do I trust him, both in day-to-day life and in matters of the Spirit?
-Can I respect this person, even when we don't agree?
-Am I guarding my heart?
-Am I in a good place spiritually to be lead, to encourage, and to uplift?
-Are we both surrounded by godly, intimate community able to speak truth into the relationship?
-Does he have a good character to endure in tough times? Do I?
-Is he strong enough in character and faith to lead me when I stumble?
-Is he considerate and gentle with me?

It's quite a laundry list, I know... But I believe in God's design for relationships. I believe it because I've done the opposite for years and it is such a poor substitute. *Sigh* This is going to be another one of those half-baked posts to process through some thoughts, forgive me. I'll do another when my brain isn't so scattered. Goodnight!