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Friday, March 19, 2010

i wrestled a bear once

About two weeks ago, my assignment with my job ended, so I found myself unemployed. I started applying at restaurants around town and today landed a job as a server at Logan's Roadhouse in Castleton. I'm definitely psyched about it. Not only is this a new job that could very well prove to be both exciting and lucrative, but it feels this is the start of a new chapter in my life.

I'm entering a different realm of work than I've been used to for the past three years. I'll have to deal with people on a daily basis. At first, I would tend to shy away from that sort of thing, but after I think about it, I realize that it most likely will greatly develop more interpersonal skills and more of an ability to adapt to different situations. I really want to be good at this job, not only to stay employed, but also to expand, or rather, broaden my knowledge and experience in life.

Getting this job has also given me a big boost of confidence. I remember saying once that I would never work full-time and go to school as well. That fell through. After I had been working full-time for a while, I said I couldn't go back to a variable-schedule (part-time) job. That fell through, too. Even before both those cases, I said I wouldn't be able to do a job serving tables. Now, that claim is crumbling as well. This confidence also lets me know that I can do well in school if I really want to. The thing is, I really want to. I've fallen behind in my homework, far enough behind that I can't turn it in for points. This weekend is gonna be rough because, though it will no longer count towards my grade, I'm gonna catch up on my math homework. There's a lot of it to do, but I need to do it so I can understand and master the rest of the course. I need to stay on top of the rest of my classes, too. The rest of the semester is just gonna be a bear, but I've wrestled a bear before. This one, I have to make sure to pin down....

Sunday, March 14, 2010

my new nephew

As of March 3, 2010 at 5:08 p.m., I became an uncle for the first time. My sister had a baby boy weighing 7 pounds, 5 ounces and measuring 21 inches long. He is oober cute and very tiny right now. It's odd to see how small we all used to be. His name is Evan, Jr., but we call him baby Evan. It's gonna be awesome watching him grow up. Click HERE to see some pictures.

Friday, March 12, 2010

march 11, 2010

Wow, what a long day; yet, what a good day. My day today started with waking up at around eight a.m. I ate breakfast at the house (lower east side), got on the computer a bit, then left for a car place (northwest side) to see if they could fix my alarm. They weren't able to, so I decided I'd get it fixed later. I then drove down to one of my old workplaces (southwest side) to visit some former coworkers and to check if any job opportunities may lie in the near future. After that, I drove back to the east side to apply for some jobs at some restaurants around where I live, and a couple others a little farther out east. I then drove home, grabbed some stuff, then left to go get gas, then off to Logan's (northeast side) for lunch with mom, Michelle, Linda, Adam, and my new nephew, Evan (more about him in a future post).

After a delicious lunch and good conversation, I drove down to IUPUI (downtown) for a class, after which, I drove home (east side). Soon after I got there, I left again to get some cash out of the ATM, grab a little McDonald's for dinner, than go to a house in Fishers (northeast side) for an Andrew Osenga house show - which was awesome, by the way. After some good music and some socializing and purchasing of merchandise, I took a nice short (one hour) drive from Fishers (northeast side) to Greenwood (far south side) for some volleyball and eventually some food at the Dubs. After the Dubs was a little more volleyball, than back home (east side) to update some financial data, check Facebook, and write this post.

All in all, I was up for 19 and a half hours, inquired about jobs at six places, had my last class before spring break, helped a guy named Mack jump his van, stopped at a total of 21 places, and drove somewhere in the vicinity 160 miles.

What a great day!

Monday, March 8, 2010

the theory of increasing ridiculousness

I have started developing a new theory. It started when I heard that some "experts" say that a man cannot move on emotionally in a relationship until he has slept with the woman. Once I heard this, I simultaneously thought and said, "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

I call it the Theory of Increasing Ridiculousness. The theory will state that once someone says the phrase, "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever (insert adjective)," there always will be something down that person's path of life to which that person will utter the same phrase, thus, making THAT thing even more ridiculous than the previous one.

Some groups of people, however, are exempt from this theory, not because it doesn't apply to them, but because the chances of it applying to them are very rare. These groups include, but are not limited to: war veterans, martians, stuffed animals, the Batman symbol, people above age 93.

Friday, February 5, 2010

untitled

I feel that I am coasting through life. I'm in school, I work, I have a set goal in mind. It just feels that there is a lack of definition. I feel that I'm missing something, or perhaps someone. Nothing seems written in stone, and I feel that I'm holding the chisel, but I can't find my hammer....

Monday, November 9, 2009

fiery torment of white-knuckled love

I've noticed recently just how drastically different the people living in the non-Christian world view certain things as compared to how the people living in the Christ-centered world view them. Because I'm not perfect, however, this is certainly not dead-on accurate, so I welcome your comments and/or criticism. This is essentially a comparison between the way things are, and the way they ought to and will be.

                                                           

The world seems to get caught up in a pursuit of destruction. The people who think everyone is hating them, perhaps they're hating on everyone else just as much. There seems to be so much tension, turmoil, so much twisting, and clenching of teeth. I feel there is a lot of exhaustion from holding up this image of perfection (some people call that religion). So many people seem to view life through this filter of plagued reasoning called sin.

God is making all things new. He is binding up the broken-hearted (Is. 61:1) and orchestrating everything for good. Those who are part of the body of Christ don't live in fear, or in anxiety, or in hate. While those attributes might be present in their lives, they are not the center; they do not rule. They have no crown, no throne, and they will not stand forever. All things are being remade to the way they were originally created to be: good, full of hope and joy.

                                                           

"Hot and Ready. If only marriage were like that." This is what I saw on a billboard advertising Buffalo Wild Wings carryout. "Driver carries no cash. HE'S MARRIED." A bumper sticker. The 'International symbol for marriage' (Google Image search it). There are, I'm sure, many other similar examples of how the world views marriage. I guess, somewhere down the line, people kind of missed the point. Mainly through places I've worked, and other places as well, I have noticed that a lot of the world views marriage as a contract: something that can be broken, changed, manipulated, negotiated, or destroyed; something that says, "I'll love you as long as you give me what I need."

The original purpose of marriage wasn't supposed keep people in despair. The original purpose of marriage wasn't to make people feel better about getting laid. The original purpose of marriage wasn't to take away freedom, or to have someone to grab you a beer, or make you a sandwich, or take you shopping, or to make things go your way. Marriage was created by God to be a reflection of Christ's love for the church. Let me explain that a bit... Jesus was brutally beaten, mutilated, and killed for the church (His people), so that we could have access to His Father, the giver and sustainer of life, the creator of all good things, the giver of rest, peace, joy. I believe marriage is supposed to look something more like this: "I am going to love you, no matter what, even if it kills me."

                                                           

SEX!!!    I figured I'd just throw it out there. It seems to be the latest thing these days. You know, just freely and openly throwing around the sacred gift that God has given us, which is only to be shared between a man and a woman within the bond of marriage. No big deal, right?

                                                           

John Piper writes, "I will tell you what a tragedy is. I will show you how to waste your life. Consider this story from the February 1998 Reader's Digest: a couple 'took early retirement from their jobs in the Northeast five years ago when he was 59 and she was 51. Now they live in Punta Gorda, Florida, where they cruise on their 30-foot trawler, play softball and collect shells...' Picture them before Christ at the great day of judgement: 'Look, Lord. See my shells.' That is a tragedy."

I'm guilty of this as well. We spend our lives trying to accumulate so much stuff. We eventually might get what we want, place it in the palm of our hand, then slowly wrap our fingers around it. We then won't let go of it. That 'thing' becomes our god. We turn to Christ and say, "Jesus, thank you so much for saving me from eternal damnation and fiery torment. Please come into my life and change me from within. Make me a witness to your glory and honor and praise. Help me to love you and others well, and change every part of meeeeeeeeeeeeexcept THIS, holding up our white-knuckled clenched fist.
Andrew Osenga says in one of his songs, "the richest dead man's still just dead." We can gather up all the stuff we want, and it still all just fades away. Christ's love lasts forever. It never ends. It doesn't fade away, ever. The richest dead man is still just, dead.

                                                           

To conclude, things are not the way they were created to be. The world is broken, and is filled with broken people. There's good news, though: Jesus is making all things new. There will be a day where evil is destroyed, where there will be no more tears. We will be able to come to a place of rest, and of peace, and of joy, with no cost and with no price.

Until then, the secular world and the Christian world will always be at opposite ends of the spectrum. The world is going to hate us as the Body of Christ, and as the Body of Christ, we are going to reject their rejection and love them anyway.

The world is broken, but is being made new....

Sunday, November 1, 2009

an abundance of joy

This is an image of the king that we as the body of Christ serve:
Then I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse! The one sitting on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems, and he has a name written that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and the name by which he is called is The Word of God. And the armies of heaven, arrayed in fine linen, white and pure, were following him on white horses. From his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron. He will tread the winepress of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty. On his robe and on his thigh he has a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords.     - Revelation 19:11-16 (ESV)
This passage helped me to realize and helps me to remember that God is sovereign, and always will be sovereign, over all things. The world can be broken and in complete despair, and God is still sovereign. Sin can destroy as much as it wants, corrupt and pervert anything and everything it can, and God is still sovereign over it; God has defeated sin. He defeated sin through Jesus, his son. He poured out his wrath on Jesus, who stood in our place, so that we may have access to God the Almighty, the King of kings, Lord of lords. He has offered us a path to a place of rest, where we can go freely, without cost, without price; a place where we receive an abundance of joy, an abundance of peace.

Monday, October 26, 2009

kids-sized orange juice

I recently passed a McDonald's (just like everyone else) and got to thinking about how my relationship with that place has changed over the years. More recently it's become something of a disease to not only my body, but my wallet as well. I used to invest, on average, $45/week in gorging myself on those small, conveniently-packaged little death vehicles.
I remember going seven or eight meals in a row with nothing but McDonald's. One time I went two weeks, Monday through Friday, breakfast and lunch - Mickey D's, let alone some dinners, plus the weekends. To this day I'm sure I can still scarf down three double cheeseburgers in under ten minutes. My food life was ruled by a pursuit that kept offering a little more satisfaction, then a little more, then a little more, as if I couldn't get enough.


That's the hate portion of this love/hate endeavor.


I also remember as a boy coming back from a trip to the dunes, or headed out west, or hopping over the state line to go see Adam and them for the weekend. Michelle (Sissy) was still in high school, Mike (Mikey) was at Kekionga, and me, well I was the one in the middle of the back seat sipping on a kid-sized orange juice and eating a hash brown and half an Egg McMuffin. I look back and realize that that part of those experiences was the same thing that another part of me has now come to despise. As we leave the Park Vista and head down the twirling road to the bottom of the hill, we start heading out of Gatlinburg and stop at the Golden Arches for some breakfast. The pines fly by, our ears pop, I yawn 10 minutes later, my ears pop again. I pull out my Talking WhizKid Plus and play some game or another, maybe Tic-Tac-Toe, or word scramble. At some point, I fall asleep leaned up against the window listening to mom's oldies music. At another point I'm tucked in at home next to the Power Rangers night light, slipping into restful oblivion.

Sunday, October 25, 2009

smell of leaves wet

I miss going on family vacations. A place we always used to go was Pokagon State Park near Angola, IN. They have a beach there, and picnic tables, charcoal grills, hiking trails. I remember building sandcastles with my cousin and going swimming in the water. We camped there a lot. We had one of those pop-up trailers. I always hated helping set it up, or maybe it was tearing it down that I didn't like. I got my first 2nd-degree burn at that park. We were roasting marshmallows (actually, I was more or less just toasting mine. I like marshmallows best just plain). Anyway, somehow or another, the roasting fork or whatever they're called hit the inside of my finger, and it hurt. It eventually blistered up, then eventually went away.


My cousin and I would always bring our bikes there. We loved riding around the campground on our tiny Huffys with the training wheels. We eventually graduated to bigger bikes... the ones with that pad wrapped around the top of the frame, and that other one around the top of the handlebars. We wore our helmets. We might've had knee pads and stuff, too. I remember riding around fresh after a rain. The smell of the leaves wet with moisture, the humid but cool air with the slight breeze tagging along, battling to see who could get the longest skid mark on the pavement - you know how it goes: get going really fast, then just slam the pedals backward and, Kssssssshhhhhhhh!!!!! Good times. Those times were so much fun, so carefree. All you had to worry about was being back to the campsite in time for burgers and brats; burgers for us, and brats for the adults (oh, this was before we actually knew what a brat was. As far as we knew, it was some kind of morphed, messed-up hot dog that we wouldn't dare try). Getting yelled at for playing with the fire too much; running from daddy-longlegs; hearing mom's whistle from a half mile away, telling us to come back to camp.

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