This is one of those stupid human thoughts I have when I’m not focusing on what (I believe) “really matters.” I’ll say it and go on a tangent.
Sometimes, I wish that I didn’t reach the points in my life I looked forward to as soon as I did. Basically, I wish certain moments/events/milestones remained a date I only looked forward to. When my focus is off and I look back at certain times, I get sad instead of thankful. And angry at myself for either not living up to the idea in my head or not having the ability to soak it in and make it last longer and stay solely grateful. All that energy into that kind of sadness and anger is wasted away. That’s when I know my heart is not right. As cheesy as it is to say “it all goes back to the heart,” it’s true. At least for me. And if I can testify to that, it’s truthfulness must be somewhat validated?
I feel like I’m wasting my life away, a little extra this summer. And I’m complaining so much. And criticizing myself so much. I feel pathetic, because I sure am acting like it! Although it’s taking me longer than usual, by the power and grace of God I go to bed so full of thanks to God. Recently, I regret more of the things I say and think and do (complaints, whining, pouting, self-pity, laziness). But I guess that’s why a life belonging to Jesus truly is a life of freedom. Knowing that my body and time and life is not mine is so freeing. It seems like an antithesis, but it works in some bizarre way. I am more motivated when I see my life as an offering to God and not something of mine to hold onto. And each day’s mess-ups show me greater depth of His grace and forgiveness and love. I’m reminded more and more that He doesn’t need a dysfunctional person like me. Yet, he still wants me.
I wonder if I appear insane or evil for believing in even just the existence of God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, angels, demons, heaven, and hell. I don’t know how I’m friends with people who are insulted by some of the things I believe in. A lot of the things I believe in.
Part of me wants to read what I wrote and delete most of it, but I also wish to be more transparent. And I don’t know if not going back and deleting what’s already written is an act of that. But even if the desire and action are misaligned, what is there to fear? My failure to correctly live out what’s in my heart?
I wish I were more like Jesus. But at the same time, I don’t want to be hated by the world. But that’s part of the cost. He’s not forcing me to make that sacrifice, but I want to. But I guess it’s only a sacrifice for as long as I treasure man’s judgment and validation. Saying that can come off very…I’m so high and mighty and I don’t need you to correct me or make me better. But I’m genuinely coming from a place of “I’m so messed up inside only God really knows what to judge, hate, and love.”
I have a long way to go. No amount of natural experience, knowledge, and effort can change me. And seeing the little things in me that have changed in the past (for the better) prove that there is a supernatural, loving God. Nothing can make me care and be good and want to love better but God. Every day, I feel this urgency that life on earth is short and that each person can go to one of two places and stay there forever. And I also think about how powerful convictions are and their power to be dangerous. Thoughts that a lot of us share. But why in the world would I want to believe that there is a hell? Why would I want to think about people I love and that God loves going to hell if they reject Jesus? Why would I ever want to believe that if it were false? What good is there is trying to make myself make sense of it and explain it? I wish hell didn’t exist. So why would I believe it’s real if it’s not?
I have dreams in which I lose all my friends for what I believe in. And I think of how different I would be if I didn’t have faith in the things I do, if I didn’t grow up going to church and hearing about a personal God, if I didn’t have supernatural encounters, if I never experienced scissor lock, if I never saw a girl get tortured by a demon and see it leaving by the power of praying in the name of Jesus, if I didn’t physically feel my heart tingling from singing to God and reading His Word. Would I still not smoke? Probably. Would I still be somewhat compassionate towards the homeless? Probably. But the root of everything is completely different. That’s why I worry when my life keeps not looking that different. I panic at the sight of no fruits.
I know it’s not weird to believe in God, a god, a higher power, and intelligent designer, a Creator, etc. It’s not weird to stay undecided after considering the Big Bang Theory through the lens of someone who wouldn’t believe that a watch can be built by chance, specific elements, etc. (let alone be skeptical that wind, water, and erosion can build a brick wall). Not all of these things are my original thoughts. But what really is? What’s the obsession with crediting something to the person it belongs anyway? Sheesh, why are we so possessive and proud and quick to claim? Anyway, it’s still weird to me to know humans think about higher powers, the supernatural, especially the ones who claim to not believe in “something more.” How would their thoughts be able to even wonder about such existence if, to them, thoughts were just neurotransmitters, electrical signals, contained by matter. It doesn’t make sense to my brain to create an idea that refers to a being outside the dimensions I’m in and believe there is only the matter in the dimensions I’m in and nothing more.
I’m tired. God, create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from Your presence. Take not thy Holy Spirit from me. Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation. And renew a right spirit within me.
I just dropped my phone on my face and collarbone. Once, I dropped a camera on my mouth while smiling or laughing and my bracket chipped. At least it wasn’t my tooth?
n. the moment you realize that you’re currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it’s little more than an aftertaste.
“In moments of temptation or indecision - for example, when the man who has resolved not to gamble anymore is confronted with the gaming tables once again - one realises, painfully, that no motive and no past resolution, however strong, determines what one will do next.”—Sartre, 1943