The beginning of the end

Lately I've been saturated with the constant reminder that nothing lasts forever. My high school career is coming to a close, I'm moving to a new place, my best friends aren't going to be there for me so tangibly. Trust me, world, I was acquainted with this whole notion when my gameboy broke in third grade. Everything breaks, you can't depend on anything outliving you, nothing in this world is going to make it out alive. And I'm okay with that.
In elementary school I can recall breaking a pair of jelly sandals that were clear with sparkles and had a heel filled with colored, plastic sea creatures swimming around in the water-like substance. I went through three pairs of those that summer. By the second pair I was reminded that they were cheap, but I could just buy another pair and remain stylish until school rolls back around. Eventually the blisters on my feet and the sore ankles I received from having twisting them so many times finally got to me and I stuck my toes into a pair of Sketchers for the remainder of that August.
All I ever wanted was to be able to wear those sparkly, jelly shoes, and for awhile I got away with it, until the ice baths and permanent dirt lines became too much for me. I had to simplify and do something that was totally socially unacceptable at that time--heck, at this time! Those Sketchers were hideous, but they outwore that summer and bled into the next. They allowed me to jump higher and run faster. They weren't very cute but they were the shoes I felt most comfortable in. I just had to break my feet to realize what would be best for me.
We read in the bible, and hear in the news even, how Israel is repeatedly on God's bad side. They do something their own way and God has to dig them out of themselves and come save them. He breaks his legs to bring them back.
It's easy to examine a country and point out their flaws but I know I find myself doing the same thing. I try to do things my way and I ignore God the first time when He tells me no, this isn't the right way. I hear Him the second time but I continue wearing those adorable sparkly, jelly shoes; it's not until He breaks my legs and says I told you so when I actually listen to Him. I don't know what part of my humanity that keeps allowing this to happen but it's time for that to be chiseled out. If I'm constantly having to be reminded of God's will, His good, pleasing and perfect will for my life, I'm never going to be able to get anything done! So today, I surrender my adorable sparkly, jelly shoes and I'll wear those grotesque Sketchers until I'm mature enough to jump higher on my own.

The Parts of Speech

     I'm one of those people who corrects people when they use the wrong tense of words or grammar. I know, it's a curse and extremely annoying for me and everyone around me. I was on the phone with a friend the other day when she was telling me about her Friday night. She mentioned that something "kinda" happened and it wasn't "really" anything big but she "sorta" didn't know what to do. She never actually said what she had done but by her context clues I could take the hint.
     It's true that sin doesn't become real until you say it. So often we try to water-down our behavior by adding in words that don't even exist to make something that you did sound less terrible. Instead of admitting you stole a pack of gum from the store you might say you may have taken a stick of gum while walking out of Walmart. Oh, so that's not bad; you only sort of hit a guy with a knife, but he made you angry. That doesn't change the fact the man is now dead. Constantly, myself included, admit to things we have done only to subconsciously feel better about it to those around us who we know won't judge us too harshly for our actions but dare not say them around those who we know will unveil us for whom we truly are. I mess up, I make mistakes, and I'd hope I'm not the only one who can admit that. But all of that dirtiness is brought to the surface once we actually say it, but all of it is suddenly wiped away once we repent.
     That's the funny thing about sin, it doesn't matter how you say it or whom you admit that sin to, it's still real and unmistakably faulty if you don't clean that slate and start fresh by letting it go. You'll begin to be molded once you let go of who you are and allow who you're supposed to be take place.

Life Isn't A Diet.

     Today I woke up in second hour. My brain hadn't officially turned on until I walked into class partly because it's Friday and partly because well, it's Friday. I was ready to rush through my day when I heard that our student council was having senate exchange. Well the lights turned off in my second hour as a movie began and again I went back into sleep mode. While I was supposed to be watching the movie I remembered Camp Barnabas, for a large amount of the people I knew from Barnabas went to the school that had came over for this senate exchange. I ran through my thoughts as I remembered most of those barnstormers had graduated. Oh well. The lights turned on in second hour as the clip ended and I turned to my right and saw a familiar face, sort of. I knew this kid, he went to Barnabas with me. Suddenly all of my thoughts of my most life shattering moment came back. Camp Barnabas was one of the biggest impressions on my short life.
     So many of us try to treat our Christianity as a diet. Barnabas molded me in such a short time and helped shape who I am today. And I treated it like an intense workout on the path of my spiritual walk. Our walk with Christ is a lifestyle choice. Barnabas put me in the best spiritual shape I had been on in a long time and lasted longer throughout a lifestyle. As I left for second hour I thought, "I have to get back." I didn't know exactly where or what exactly I meant but I've been asking where God wants me this summer before I go off to college, and that's where. I have to go back.

You're missing out.

     It's hard to be a Christian and not allow your human side get in the way, but it's even harder to but a human and not allow your Christian side get in the way.
     My dad came home today and told me his best friend's brother, who has been sick for some time now, celebrated his birthday and death today. My dad proceeded to tell me of all the unglamorous things this man had done in his life; from breaking into people's houses, stealing from family, and so-on. But on his death bed he was saved. How gracious it is of our God to offer salvation to the less deserving: everybody. I used to think it was unfair that some people could live their life wrong but come in at the last second and ask for forgiveness and just get it–that easy. At TPX I work with a group of middle school students whom we ask the "hard questions" of. "Why do you follow Christ", "What have you done to better yourself or someone else", "When was the last time you did something selflessly". Most of the time when these questions are asked I sit with five pairs of eyes on me until I say something else. So I keep talking (it's a bad habit). Last night this reoccurred; I wasn't as polite as I usually am and this time when I kept talking it wasn't about the subject.
     If we, as Christians, can't recall the last time we heard from God that's a problem. Not with God but with ourselves. If you can't tell me why you follow Christ then you're just as dead in your transgressions as the rest of the world. If you're still in the middle school mindset of not knowing why you have the faith you do then the thief will come for you like a roaring lion waiting for something to devour. If you're weak minded in your faith you'll be just another of the many high school students that don't attend TPX anymore, for worldly reasons. You must ALWAYS be prepared to give anyone who asks you the reason for the hope that you have.
     I think we get confused on when eternity starts. Most of us live through our lives in hope of making it to the next level: Heaven. But what we forget is that eternal happiness doesn't start at Heaven's gates, it starts the second you accept Christ into your heart. The man who was saved today after living an unholy life, even though he has the blessing of eternity in Heaven, we, as believers now, are already living in our eternity. The only thing unfair of somebody being saved on their death bed is not that they get to reap the benefits of what Christians have built up their whole life for, it's that they don't get to reap the benefits here on earth! As Christians our eternity starts now, our call to be holy and praise God in all our actions began yesterday. What is God calling you to do that you're actually doing?

You give and take away.

I think it's easy to think of God as a glorious man in the clouds who is forgiving, merciful and full of grace; but we tend to forget that that same man is righteous, asking, and above all: a choice. No one said you must follow Christ. It's an option, a suggestion even. If you want a fulfilling life with a great eternity than be as Christ was and in the process you will be overflowing with joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, love, self-control, and–I'm sure there's one I'm missing–things will go the best way possible, maybe not in your eyes, but they're all apart of a greater plan anyways.
God is viewed too much as a fairy god-mother: if you're really real than tomorrow I'll ace my algebra test. Then we're upset when we don't get what we want. God isn't going to hand you good grades, the perfect companion, or you dream job without you giving your all to Him, too.
I'm young, being 17 is probably one of the biggest things that holds me back from living up to God's standard. I know it sounds lame but there's just so much more intriguing things for me to do, so many more things cloud my thoughts. But then I look at my peers; I'm no one to judge but the ones who claim to be as Christ is aren't always acting as such; some more visible than others but it's all the same. I know God is a merciful god but he is also righteous, you can't keep messing up and expect Him to be cool with it.
Like any team or sport you have to try out to be officially on the team, if you're not good enough for basketball, what happens? You get cut. If you suck at dodgeball you're going to be the last one picked. Now, luckily God has already chosen us, and as his starters we must endure, for if we don't there's a million other bench warmers that are ready to take center stage that much more willing to step up and fulfill God's will. 1 Corinthians 9:27 says, "therefore I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached I will not be disqualified for the prize." If we lose sight of what we're going after we can get cut! Very few and far between but God has done it before, and He can do it again. Nothing on earth is worth losing that. Even through those rough spots or dumb decision making moments, move on and come back from that injury, for it you sit out too long you might forget how to play.

I apologize for my scattered mind.

English Paper

We had to write a life philosophy in my English class and this is the regurgitation of the assignment :)

     The smell of the sterile room was starting to get to me; with every inhale I anticipated my next exhale. A film began to cover my pupils as I slouched in the plastic-covered chair starring at the fragile life that had machines breathing for her. Noises around me were muffled as my mind struggled to comprehend what to expect. For the fourth time in a year’s span I found myself sitting in a hospital room where I had spent my last three holidays and birthday. The tasteless food and four cable channels became a norm to my family for as long as I could remember, but this year was different. My grandmother was always sick but she’d bounce soon enough; yet the lifeless body that lay in front of me now wasn’t the same woman that served me applesauce in a wine glass before Sunday night football. I drowned in the memories of my childhood when I suddenly realized: sometimes, things change, and they are never the same again.

     Change is a fear stricken concept for most, if not all, people and I am not the exception. I stand firm to the saying, “if it’s not broke don’t fix it”, yet I find my life going through more changes than most celebrities go through spouses. I think of things in a very realistic, present-term way; and most of my feelings towards life all trace back to change. My grandmother was one of the only people I could ever depend on; she was the epitome of everything wholesome and now that she was gone I didn’t see a point in looking for any good in the world, knowing it would be a lost cause anyways.

    To the spectators I may seem like a pessimistic, cynical, brutally honest person; but frankly, I just don’t get excitement in living in your dreams. I’m a person of action, I’m far from lovable, and I know fairytale endings are left on the silver screen after the credits role. After my grandmother passed I quit trusting people and did my best not to get too close to anyone. I knew that–even if it wasn’t intentional–they wouldn’t be there for me forever. Once the school year came to a close and June rolled around I had to get away from these artificial smiles. My grandmother always said, “If you’re bored: go help someone.” So I took her advice and spent a week in Purdy, Missouri.

     I went to a camp called Barnabas that is designed for children with disabilities to ensure they have a full summer-camp experience granted their situations. There I met Olga, an adopted Russian about my age whose motorized wheelchair she controlled with her only two fingers. Olga’s biological parent’s survived the Chernobyl disaster but as a result everything in them and on them was poisoned with radiation, thus was Olga. They gave her up for adoption and Olga spent her first years of life hungry and neglected in a metal crib. On the bottom bunk in her cabin she told me these stories through her teeth as she made bracelets for every camper, counselor, and cook there; with the embroidery string looped around her only big toe she held the loose string with her two fingers and pulled the knots tight with her teeth. Olga’s hard past carried her into a brighter day. She never forgot where she came from and counts her disabilities as a blessing because she’s able to share her light to other sorrowful souls. There I modified my view of happiness and was shown how important simplicity really is.

     Olga reminded me there still is some good in the world. This day, 3 years later, I can still look down at the colored strings tied around my left wrist and be reminded of the 14-year-old smile that dragged me out of myself and instilled all those morals my grandmother talked about. That pessimistic, cynical, brutally honest person is still apart of me but now she’s not hopeless. Unlike the majority I no longer have to live in my dreams, but I know I have the power to live them out. Change chases after us and attacks without warning but we have the choice to run with it or let the it smack us in the face like a frigid wind on our already cold cheeks. We have the choice to sit in that numbness or become a child to our new situations and absorb all of its experiences. I am strong, I am wise, I am realistic. I think I’ve lost just enough hope to grow up and kept just enough of my innocence to remain a child for as long as I choose.

I can't speak for the crowd, but as for me....

     Being a high school student, I'm continually reminded of the ignorant, shallow-minds of the majority of my peers. It's as if no one knows how to think for themselves; with all religion aside I think it's important to have a stance for something, ANYTHING. But that being said: there will always be a critic out there anticipating to jump on ones back at the first sign of a chance. I hate being categorized. There is so much more to me than what meets the eye–both good and bad–and so many people aren't willing to give it a second chance because of whom they've made up in their mind to be who I am. But when it comes down to it, you are what you do. If you're in band you're socially awkward, if you play football you cheat on every test, if you wrestle you must smoke, or if you dance you must be easy–and the list goes on. Stereotypes, even if they are true, have broken man's ability to make up their own mind thus becoming subconsciously judgmental of everyone. I try my best not to fall into this trend but as a human I find myself thinking less of people who don't have the same beliefs, morals, or insight that I do. And even more so to those who DO claim to have the same beliefs, morals, and insights that I do!

     No one is perfect, I have overlearned this concept eight too many times, but if you are going to claim to be something–than be it! If you claim to be an starting running back, score some touchdowns; if you speak of being extremely intelligent, let your grades speak for you, if you say you're a druggie, get high. In the same way, if you tell people you're a Christian be a Christ Follower and show them the truth. 1 Peter 3:15 says, "Always be ready to give anyone who asks you for the reason for the hope that you have, but do this gentleness and respect." I can't speak for every "Christian" when I say this but I will remain prepared and I will continue to be set apart and open minded, ready to take on my next trial.