I Need . . .

I really need to get it together.

I need to be on top of things.

I need to manage my time better.

I need to clean off my desk at home, and contribute more toward keeping the apartment clean.

I need to be a more productive employee.

I need to do make better meals for myself and stop relying on oatmeal, cereal, and PB&J for dinner.

I need to be more fiscally responsible.

I need to be more generous with my time and money.

I need to grow up, to be a freaking adult.

I need to get over myself, to let go of all my stupid hang-ups.

I need to be a better, more attentive husband.

I need to be a more faithful friend.

I need to not be so angry when the Yankees lose.

I need to stop wasting so much time on the internet.

I need to be a better son, and write more e-mails to my mom.

I need to step up and be a good older brother.

I need to stop making the same stupid mistakes over and over again.

And so I bring these needs to Father and expect his help. After all, he wants me to be a better person, right? Surely he'll give me the strength to improve in all the areas I'm failing so horribly. But it seems he always takes me somewhere else -

The need to be assured of the Father's affection.

The need to know a God who smiles, and even laughs.

The need to know forgiveness, and mercy that cleanses me to the core.

The need to experience grace amidst my failures. Daily.

And, most importantly, the need to let the process work. To let life and relationship replace 10 easy steps to self-improvement. To let go of my timeline, my agenda, my goals, my control.

Are those other needs important? I think they are. I think Father cares about them too. But I'm wondering if maybe it's possible to become much more efficient and effective in what I do, but still miss the point. Maybe it's not so much about what I am, as who I am. Maybe the process works from the inside out.

And, of course, maybe I'm talking out my ass.

Who am I?

I am

A work in progress

A collection of contradictions

Cognitive dissonance personified

Aching to express

Stifled by halting tongue

Trembling hands

I am

A little better

And sometimes worse

A little kinder

Yet so very selfish

A softening heart

A repentant soul

A troubled mind

I am

A hesitant child

A blind follower

Tentatively reaching out my hand

Afraid of touching nothing

I am

A little slow on the uptake

The tryer of patience

Stumbling and mumbling

Grieving and grasping

Learning to be loved

Maybe to love

I'd like a side of extra narcissism please

So everything is about me. Surely you've figured that out by now. What's wonderful is that I am this truly amazing blend of paranoia and narcissism. I fear that others don't like me. That they tolerate me. That they see through this flimsy facade to the ugliness underneath.

Since everything is about me, I imagine that others are always thinking and talking about me. Since I'm paranoid, I believe it's all negative. So now my life is a series of reactions to imagined negative thoughts about me. Wow, that's healthy.

No joke, when people in the office start whispering I immediately have a sinking feeling in my stomach. "Oh no, what did I screw up? What did I do wrong now? How much trouble am I in?"

And it's never about me. None of my co-workers have ever been anything less than kind and gracious and friendly. I've been blessed with an amazing boss. But still, that murky fears always lurks just beneath the surface.

On a somewhat related note, I've been struggling for years with the idea of being loved by God. Lately I've felt like a rebellious child, always pushing a little further to see if he still loves me. I do something just a little more selfish, a little more indulgent, a little more stupid. Does he still love me now? How ugly do I have to make myself before he stops?

In the past, when I had screwed up, I always found myself running from God. This has a lot to do with my past perception of who he is. Lately, even after I've just finished doing something incredibly stupid, I've dared to take a look over my shoulder. Just to see his reaction.

Each time, I've been disarmed by his love. Each time, I've seen nothing but eyes full of kindness and arms reaching out in affection. Each time, he's affirmed that I cannot remove or disqualify myself from being loved by him. Each time, my heart is won to him.

I'm getting tired of pushing the envelope. I'm still not convinced he always loves me, but I'm quickly running out of excuses to doubt his love. I don't deserve it, I've made my peace with that. But somehow, and I don't understand this, his love has nothing to do with how well I've performed. I'm slowly becoming okay with that.

Amazing

So have I found your secret weak spot baby?

Can you pretend I'm amazing?

I can pretend I'm amazing

Instead of what we both know . . .

Emotions? WTF mate?

A busy and somewhat emotionally charged weekend continued today. It seems I'm gathering a new appreciation for the wonderful friends in my life. Yesterday I came across something from an old friend that really helped redeem a crappy day/week/month. Today I went to a roller derby bout (pretty freakin' awesome btw) and got to hang out with some good friends. And in the midst of it all I even got to talk on the phone to my best friend for a bit.

Yes, I'm almost 27 and I still have a best friend. A BFF or whatever kids these days call it. It's one of those amazing friendships where even though life gets in the way and we don't connect for months at a time . . . as soon as we see each other it's like we were never apart. He's closer to me than a brother and yet again I feel guilty about doing such a poor job of keeping in touch.

But anyway, I feel more vulnerable than I have in months (probably years). It's like my defenses are slowly destroyed by the wonderful times I've spent just being with people I love and who actually love me. For much of the past 30 hours or so I've felt on the edge of tears. Maybe it's just that time of month (yes, I made a PMS joke, live with it).

I find myself slowly becoming more invested in the lives of others. Recently, other friends finally closed on a house after a long, difficult process. I'm so happy for them! Yes, I know, chastise me as you will, but that's rare for me. Not that I'm necessarily mean or uncaring toward others. But I had mistakenly believed that it was wise to keep from caring too much. The way I protected my heart was to remove it far away from possible disappointments or let-downs.

For me, the hardest part of having close friendships is knowing that one day they probably won't be there. Or at least they won't be the same. People grow, get married, have kids, move to other cities. We say we'll talk, write, e-mail, keep in touch. And it's probably unfair to have those expectations. But we do it anyway.

I have a hard time letting go. I want to be bestest friends with everyone forever! Maybe I'm finally starting to learn that their are seasons in life, and sometimes some friends are only close for that season. And maybe I need to learn to be able to say "I have truly loved and valued our time together. I really hope to see you again."

It's too late, I'm rambling. I always do this. Then I read what I wrote the next day and hate it. I always seem to hate my past selves. But hey, that's a depressing rant for another day.

Blog Title

First of all, because I'm paranoid, I want to clear up something from the last post. I have no problem whatsoever with that guy from the worship service. I hope it was clear that I didn't actually dislike him, it was simply that situation brought back some difficult memories. That's all.

So in case anyone was wondering about the blog title, I've been on a bit of a Staind kick lately. So I decided to just steal one of their song titles. I'm actually a little surprised that I didn't use a Blue October song instead, like Conversations via Radio or X Amount of Words. But anyhow, here are the lyrics for your reading pleasure:

Are you afraid, afraid of the truth
In the mirror staring back at you
The image is cracked, but so it the view here
And the strength of a tree begins in the roots
That I tend to bury into to you
At least now the storm can't blow me away

So crawl inside my head with me
I'll show you how it feels to be
To blame like me

Should I be afraid of this face that I see
In the mirror staring back at me
So cold were the days when I listened to you
And you say that I'm weak so show me the proof
Cause I still exist in spite of you
But I won't compete with you everyday

So crawl inside my head with me
I'll show you how it feels to be
To blame like me

Schizophrenic conversations that
I'm always having with myself
I hear these voices in my head competing
Maybe I could use a little help
I still have Schizophrenic conversations

When there's no one else around to hear
I long for solitude and peace within me
Void of all the anger and the fear

So crawl inside my head with me
I'll show you how it feels to be
Fucked up like me

I'll show you how it feels to be
To blame like me
Ashamed like me

Deja Vu

So I found myself attending a worship night at a local church tonight. Our Friday night group decided to make a trip there, and I mindlessly followed along. I figured, "Hey, what's the worst that could happen? Maybe I'll finally enjoy worship time again."

On the occasions that I have attended a church service lately, I find myself asking more questions about why we do what we do than actually participating. I think it's just part of the transition I'm in. But anyway, I digress.

Shortly after arriving at the church (the first of my group, btw, gotta love awkward settings), I quickly picked out the guy who was more or less "leading" it (not the lead singer, more of the MC). I instinctually didn't like him very much. It's ok, I don't like most people.

Anyway, it took me a while, but I finally figured out why I didn't care for him. He was me. Or at least, the me I used to be. Seven-years-ago me. Every single word this guy said, I could so easily picture myself saying. It was flat out eerie.

Maybe some of you are only familiar with my current bitter/cynical personality. Believe it or not, back in late high school and college, I was "on fire". I was one of those youths that pastors and church leaders love to hang their hat on. "You see," they'd say, "this is a young man who loves Jesus. He's passionate about God."

And I would do it all. I was a leader of my college's Christian club, leading bible studies and prayer times. I even began a prayer meeting at my local church (which I attended faithfully). If there was a worship night somewhere in a 20 mile radius where they advertised being "desperate for Jesus" I'd be there!

Each time, I thought, "This time it will be different. This time I'll truly encounter God's presence. This time I'll be changed for good. And after this wonderful experience, my inside will finally match the beautiful exterior I've projected to everyone. I finally won't feel like a fraud."

I worked the system. I would sing, shout, jump, dance, kneel, and fall on my face in front of the altar weeping. I'd share God's word, teach lessons, pray for others, pray for the campus, pray for the city, and call down God's glory. I did it all.

And then a few years later I was in my apartment in Liverpool, on a mattress on the floor, curled up in a ball and begging God to take me home. Please, just let me leave this life. I'm so fucking tired. I had given everything, and I had nothing left. I was empty, a broken confused shell. None of it had worked.

God never showed up.

In the midst of this worship service tonight, as I sat in a padded pew listening to songs that were different from what we sang but so very much the same, God took me back to that time. An anger I didn't realize I had found release, and I vented my frustrations to God. At God.

And I cried a little. God restored me a little. I let some of that crap go. And you know what the funny thing is? Know what I finally realized? Amidst all my desperation for an encounter with God back then? In the middle of all my longing and yearning and reaching and grasping? As I cried out to see his face and touch him and know him?

He was already there.

As I stretched my arms out to heaven begging him to come, he was sitting right there next to me. The last place I ever thought to look. There was no magic formula. I couldn't manipulate God into showing up. He was already there, and I don't think it was because I impressed him with my passion or commitment. He was there because he actually wanted to be with me. I'm his kid. He likes me.

Huh.

Probably my biggest regret from that time is my impact on other people. Hopefully most saw through the charade. For those that didn't, for those who were convinced that they must be more passionate like I was, I'd like to apologize.

I meant well.

I mean, c'mon, is there a more damning indictment? I meant well. I had good intentions. My heart was in the right place. But that doesn't change the fact that I tried to convince people that just need to try harder, worship longer, pray louder, and consecrate better. And for their efforts I promised them an encounter with God.

The thing is, I really did mean well. I really thought that was what you needed to do. And in all that mess, I completely missed God sitting right there next to me. Right next to all of us.

Now I'm older. A bit more cynical. But I realized something else tonight. I don't want to stay where I am. I don't want to view this as something that's behind or beneath me. I'm truly looking forward to the day that I can go to a worship service and actually stand there and just love on the God that loves me. Not to twist his arm into showing up exactly how I want him to, just because I'm starting to understand the way he loves me.

I'm looking forward to that.