The Guy In The Corner

Allow me to first begin by saying that I am a freak. My Apple dictionary defines a freak as: a person who is regarded as strange because of their unusual appearance or behaviour. I am a person who can't seem to fit in regardless of where he goes. I am a Christian, and yet I stand out among the church-goers because I smoke, drink, watch rated R movies, and think 98% of Christian music is a misnomer. Among non-Christians, I stand out because I believe the Bible, love Jesus, acknowledge the existence of Hell, and openly proclaim that I believe there is such a thing as right and wrong, truth and falsehood. In short, I'm a liberal among the conservatives, but too conservative to fit in with the liberals.

And if that didn't make things uncomfortable enough, I am an introvert. I don't have a lot of friends, I don't make friends easily, I seclude myself often, and, unless I am with people that I am very comfortable with, I get increasingly uncomfortable in groups of more than 2 or 3 people that I don't know very well. And it's a vicious cycle, because introverts often seem to have a giant "fuck off" sign written over their heads because of their behaviour, and so others are far less likely to approach them and make an attempt to befriend them. All the while, many of us long for meaningful friendships and relationships but cannot seem to find a way to cultivate them.

Being a freak and an introvert has led to one regular outcome: loneliness. I've even noticed that within the Christian church, there doesn't seem to be a place for people like myself. For a long time I thought there was something wrong about myself, something that needed to change about my personality, until, thank God, I found an article that felt like the first cool breeze in the scorching sun I'd been sitting in for years.

www.experimentaltheology.blogspot.com/2007/06/walk-with-william-james-part-8.html

It's nice to finally realize that sociability does not equal spirituality.

Looking Ahead

I'm not even going to pretend like I'm a man. I know full well I'm not. I'm a boy with a beard, who yearns for the benefits of a man without the responsibilities. I know myself well enough to know that much, and by the grace of God I know the difference well enough that simple ignorance is not an option.

I also know that He loves me. I know that deeper than anything else I hold in the vast vault of useful/useless knowledge in my inflated frontal lobe. I know that God does love me, and the men that He loves He does not allow to remain infants. Those He justified, He sanctified, and will glorify. It is, unless my love for Christ is mere inflation in and of itself, inevitable that He will chasten and discipline me to become more like Jesus. Whether I go willingly or kicking and screaming is my prerogative. (weird spelling in my opinion)

And if I know myself at all, it will not be all that willingly.

And so, if we do a little theological calculation, there arises an almost certain probability:

God's love, sovereignty, and will + my stubborn rebelliousness = Pain.

I can almost put money on the fact that the next year, if not longer, will be a period of periodically intense, constantly throbbing, self-inflicted pain. I spent several years experiencing physical growing pains, coming a year or two earlier for me than most, having shot from four foot-something to just over six feet tall in two and a half years. And now, my soul has some catching up to do, and I have a feeling it will make physical growing pains feel like a rug burn feels in comparison to a gunshot wound.

But do not mistake this for complaining.

The thought of the probability of incoming pain and discomfort has never been so calming in my life. Occasionally borderline exciting. Not in the way a masochist anticipates their next lashing, but how a fresh recruit anticipates his first day of training, his first deployment, his first battle. You know what pain likely lies ahead and your body often trembles at the thought of what is yet to come. For men of God are called to be soldiers, and the best of their kind. And the training soldiers are called to undergo will test their every fibre. And yet it is the anticipation that through that tribulation you will know the taste of honor, the taste of glory, and that through what others consider Hell you will become something beyond what is currently in your grasp: you will become a man. Your spine develops an iron core, your chest develops a gentle spirit, your mind becomes a razor with which to cut the teeth of the ignorant and foolish, and your whole being stripped of all juvenile ambition and replaced with a dose of reality, molded to a cause of something beyond even yourself.

And so I sit, a fresh-faced recruit. Bright eyed and occasionally ignorant of what lays before me. Pain, discomfort, abandonment, betrayal, scars, casualties, loss, gain, victory, defeat, exhaustion, despair, depression, trauma, struggle, and what keeps the blood flowing is a vision. A vision of things that are yet to come and yet make everything now seem worth it. I see the promise of what lays at the end of the road. I see the face of a loving Father and the joy His purpose will supply with endless measure.

I see the storm coming over the horizon, literally and metaphorically. I know what lies ahead. And in everything, what sustains us is the knowledge of what lays on the other side.

I Normally Don't Do This

I normally keep personal stuff out of my blog, basically because I don't think it's the entire world's business to know my personal stuff. But I feel like screaming at the world and this is my only real way to do so.

I am tired. I'm tired of being in the middle. I'm tired of getting involved with groups of people, drama ensuing, and me always getting the short end of the stick for it. It doesn't seem to matter what city I'm in or who the people involved are. Somehow, something always happens. Some gigantic rift in some form occurs. And suddenly, I'm the one getting demonized and accused or implied in picking one side over another. Or I'm stuck there against my will with no explanation. Or I get ripped because I see the error in both sides and thus have both sides turning their sights on me. Or, because I'm associated with someone, I get shoved to the sidelines and am isolated because me being around reminds so-and-so of so-and-so and that creates awkwardness and it's better to just ignore the spare piece than to risk any awkwardness.

If I thought it would actually solve anything I'd give the finger to everywhere I've been and nearly everyone I know and move somewhere where nobody knows me at all. But it would happen again some time in some way because that's just simply what happens. And I know there will come a time, probably the following morning or week, that things will settle down, or at least my mood, and I'll be humbled by some reminder or some expression of my own pride and prejudice, lost within these feelings of self-pity, practically begging for God to smack me in the face and remind me of my place. I'll be able to suck it up and bear through another week. I've been through this before. I'm used to shit hitting the fan and splattering me in the face. I'm used to being ignored and forgotten about. I'm used to good intentions with no backing actions.

I am a Leaf's fan after all.

And, despite what Raine Maida says, I'm not all that innocent myself.