So i have wanted to start one of those "Ten days" things that everyone (gracie, caroline, and alex) are doing

But every time i get the idea i realize I’m not going to be able to do ten days strait. I was at School, then Tyler’s house, then home, and I’ll be in DC before the next ten days are up. I dont have ten days in a row to do this. Hopefully when i get back from TN in two weeks. REMIND ME!!!

World

Segment I: Veritas
I’ve returned to this world permeated with memories of things that hurt me. There is no safe place for me, not in this world, not in the world I have just come from. School and here are two very different worlds. When I left here four months ago I was running from pain. For a time I found freedom in the world of school. I found some peace, for a time.
But now I’m back here again. Not a person to mince words am I; I hate it. Hate feeling here. Not being here, because I do love my parents. There is no place on earth I really hate being, rather it is the feeling that comes with each place that I love or hate. The feeling of this place, once called home, is now torturous.
Images, memories, faces, voices of people haunt me constantly. I love them. I love her. I don’t know what I did, only that I did something. I want so badly to have her back, to go back to the life I had a year ago with them. I would do anything, explain any wrong, change any action past or future, and undo any habit. I know that, were I given the chance, I could explain whatever it was that turned her heart against me. I know I did wrong, but so have others. I wish I could fix the hurt I cause her. But I will never get that chance.
And, what hideous truth that is for me to admit; in the very feelings I express for those in my past, I know I am hurting those in my present who I do care about. Friends, a new little sister, a new life I’ve found, yet somewhere deep inside me I would long for that all to be washed away so I could go back. How traitorous and disloyal I am.
School has been my escape, but more so it has become a place in which I have forge a new identity. Everything I was has been torn away and I am still searching to toll the holes that remain. The first months I was away gave me solace, a place to find rest from the pain of losing her. But even as the days went by that solace faded, not in the return of the pain of loss, but with the advent of a new kind of pain. It became an indescribable nightmare. Not indescribable in terms of awfulness, it has been no better or worse than any other hard time in my life; merely it was indescribable as it was simply pain for pains sake. No reason behind it, not logic. Just hurt. Hurt that would not stop. Each time a victory was won, the pain would return.
Why so downcast, oh my soul? Hope in God. As much as it was for me to try, all attempts at hope failed. Again, there was no reason. Perhaps the pain of losing Rieola was simply coming back, manifesting itself in new and unforeseen ways. Whatever the reason, my place of solitude was gone.
Now I’m back here, where I started. I’m not the same person, how could I be. From an onlookers perspective I’m better in every visible way. Stronger, smarter, harder in the right places, and softer in others. But it’s only been days since I've returned, and I am already being overwhelmed. Not an hour goes by where I don’t miss her. I hate being here, being reminded of how I failed and hurt others and was hurt by them. This cannot be my home.
The faces in my mind are changing once again. Each time it gets harder and more painful to see them changed. I have an image of my wife, a beautiful woman, who, once again, has no face. A little sister whose name I know but whose face I cannot see anymore. My own face, the image I have of myself, so long defined by my imaginary measures of control, changes without changing at all. Faces of past loves, friends, and enemies, all now jeering at me through broken memories.
Constantly overwhelmed, I continually fall back into the daydreams of my mind, where I am something else, something stronger. TO a world, of my own creation, where all the dangers and harms that would come to others I could bear on myself. Where I could save those I love, and they could see me as in the form I wish I could be. Everything under my control. But this world is fake. Wrong. I go there when I feel empty, lost, alone, and most importantly when this world is out of my control. I must accept that the world I want is not real. The world of reality is not under my control.
This world is not my home.

Segment II: Antirihen

Wind and waves crashed around him as he stood on a high rock, a solitary tower of stone rising out of the sea. The storm that raged around him pulled at him harshly, but not causing him to sway. He did not even twitch as the rain pelted him at unnatural speeds. Beneath the wings wrapped tightly around his person he could barely feel the elements assaulting him.
Eyes closed, head bowed, his long strands of white and black hair dancing in the wind, and he searched his mind for an answer to a question he couldn’t find words to ask. He had chosen to come here. This place where nature itself seemed in chaos was somehow peaceful. Any sailor would be brought to his knees before the bower of this storm, so unbelievable was its intensity. Perhaps it was indeed not to believed.
Was this storm reality? It was so confusing at times to him. What was real? There seemed to be so many worlds, so many places for him to find himself. So many people who could be real or not real, living or mere constructs of his desperate mind.
He loved someone. But who? Names and faces flashed through his mind. Emiri, Rieola, Raquel, Meaghan, Hanna, and other faces he could not name. Each of the names came with an accompanying story. Some story of pain and loss, many involving death. Sometimes it was she who died, sometimes he.
There was a sister, though she too had many faces. Alyssa was the most common name, though even that varied. She had been younger, older, his twin. In one universe she was adopted, in another related by blood, and in yet another they were related only out of desire to stay close to one another. Was she dead? He couldn’t remember. Some of the time she was.
Even he was different from place to place, from world to world. Here he was simply stronger, harder, and gifted with wings. Other forms he knew had powers, gifts of magic and alchemy. Dark variations existed, with vampiric teeth, horns, and glowing red eyes. In other forms he was an angel, with white wings. Bladed wings, metal wings, and even skeletal wings had he from one from to the next. Which was he really? Perhaps none of them at all.
Yet, as many and different were these worlds that he saw, none was perfect. None were happy. There was always war, whether personal or external. He fought in every form, for there was always an enemy. The darkness was always strong, and regardless of which reality he saw, there was never enough power in him to overcome. He fought on anyways. He accepted the pain.
In one world his power had caused the death of his little sister. Rather than have anyone feel the pain of her loss, he used all of his power to alter that reality, so that only he would have to remember her, and all the sorrow and guilt over her death he alone would bear. How weak. How selfish.
Perhaps that was the point. That explained the current reality, the storm around him. Why he found peace in the chaos around him. As the thought grew, he unfolded his wings and opened his eyes. Conflict and pain were a constant. Struggle was what he wanted, in a roundabout way. He chose the storm because if offered him something to fight against. All of his worlds were drowned in conflict because conflict gave him something to work and fight against. It gave him a purpose, and the strength to aim for that purpose. Where all the forces around him to be reduced to nothing, he would not become unstoppable; he would become pointless.
So as the rain came down, he smiled. He would not overcome. He was not supposed to, he had merely been called to fight. Whatever reality, whatever world would come, he would fight on, because the struggle was a part of who he was, no matter which version of himself he became. No matter which world…
This world is not my home.

So Yeah.... I Just realized.

God is taking me, and my class to Israel in March. Its pretty awesome. Like, the literal definition of the word awesome really applies here.
http://www.verityinstitute.org/israel
yeah...
He is awesome

Sometimes scripture makes so much sense

The first step towards the beauty of a full relationship with Christ is understanding that i need help! I do. Me. No one else, and least that i can speak for. When something bothers me about someone else, its not them who needs who needs help, its me.

I cant save myself; even simple success is a blessing I don’t earn. I’m so broken, and a vase cant fix itself. So, yes, I don’t just have a visual impairment with the log in my eye, I’m blind entirely. I can’t help anyone else see Christ without Christ first un-blinding me.

Love on a Sunday

Love on a Sunday
This week, especially yesterday, has brought some things about my friendship/relationship patterns into a new perspective. This is not in reference to any specific friendship, present or past, but rather about them all. I will mention a few present and past friendships for examples and clarification. This is habit and practice for me, and I could well be wrong in my actions and conclusions. This is merely a statement of explanation for my habits, not an excuse or evasion of any rules or customs of manner. I welcome the thoughts and advice of those, my wiser counterparts.

I have always wanted a little sister. I didn’t always understand this desire, at least not till I was older. I didn’t desire a romantic relationship, just one of care, love, protection, and respect. I guess the reason I wanted a younger sister specifically was for the playfulness and joyful closeness that I felt would come with a younger that would be considered flirting with other girls, and would be awkward to have with guys. But alas, this was never something God saw fit to give. Even without the provision of a biological or legally adopted sister, however, the concept shapes how I approach girls I become close to.

Don’t get my wrong, I have an older sister, and love her and have been close to her most of my life, but she has never been really mine to take care of, as she, the older, sees me as the twerp kid. This relationship has been very influential in forming who I am. But I have an older sister. The role is filled. I have no need of another, because Abby fit that space in my heart perfectly

I have never had a hard time making friends. At the same time I have never been able to force myself to get to know someone. Every real friendship I have had has not been the result of any desire or intent or even any real effort on my part. They form, as God forms them, blessings to me that I neither deserve nor cultivate, nor really appreciate to the extent I should. Put simply, my good friendships have always been the ones I never sought after.

My personality, however, combined with my inner desire for a sister, has had affects on my friendships. When I get close to a girl, in my mind and heart, I often begin to view her as that sister. Not at all a bad place for a girl in my heart. With some variance, I treat her as I feel I would like to treat a biological sister, though perhaps with less familiarity. The variance occurs based on personality; some girls show, by action and suggestion, that they prefer to be treated differently, and so in order to respect how they were made, I (usually subconsciously) choose to treat them differently, though still as a sister.
This establishment of “sister” status has seen both unintentional and acknowledged applications. With my old friend Rosie, we became close, in spite of her actively disliking the idea of being considered a sister by name. Laura and Anna, on the other hand, broached the idea of connecting as surrogate siblings before I did. Both were strong friendships, though one was classified as “best friends”, and the other as “siblings”. The result, after the variance for the different personalities, was three close friendships, each with a different connection, but all defined by the situation.

Forthwith are the problems of this sort of system. First, the proximity of the friendship is close, but limited by the desire to refrain from romantic connection or pairing off. That being said, each friendship is of equal status. Should God ever direct a deeper relationship, leading to marriage, then a change of status is required for the remaining friendships. Also, this could cause potential problems with jealousy, mixed signals, and mixed messages. This is a situation I experienced firsthand over the summer.
Second, though the establishment of young women as “sisters” prevents attachments that are more than friendship, it does not do so with immaculate consistency. Crushes still can form before the connection as siblings has taken root. And even if it has been established as a brother-sister relationship, it does not preclude the possibility of either party wanting it to become something more, and thus changing the status quo.

Every good friendship I’ve been given, as I said before, has been not of my own work, nor have I ever been able to make a good friendship out of effort. They just happen. Thinking back to a crush, there was a girl I wanted to get to know, but was unable to due to her personality and the circumstances surrounding our friendship. It was a bridge I could not get over. The friendship failed because I tired to make it more than it would have been naturally.

But that itself is the key. Every bad or wrong relationship I have had has been one in which I tired to make the friendship into something I wanted, or tired to manipulate it to get something I wanted. On the other hand, the best friendships I have had were free of my involvement. They weren’t formed by any feelings or desires of my own making.

Both in friendship, but more so in the relationship that will lead to marriage, the same principle will apply. Not something I push for or work for based on any desire, attraction, or emotion, but instead something that develops free of my intervention. So often people form relationships because they like each other. Their desire for the relationship or for each other mutates the natural course that the friendship was meant to take. God is the real author of marriage-love, and only he can stir it up properly. We humans need not intervene.

Of course, for me the one exception that makes this rule a problem is Laura. I never tired to make us anything. To my knowledge and understanding, it just happened, not based on intent or desire almost until the end. Not quite sure how that factors in… Shall I end this blog off with a question?

Am I Understood?

Sometimes it's embarrassing to talk to you
To hold a conversation with the only one who sees right through
This version of myself
I try to hide behind
I'll bury my face because my disgrace will leave me terrified

And sometimes I'm so thankful for your loyalty
Your love regardless of
The mistakes I make will spoil me
My confidence is, in a sense, a gift you've given me
And I'm satisfied to realize you're all I'll ever need

You looked into my life and never stopped
And you're thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple, but so beautiful
And you recite my words right back to me
Before I even speak
You let me know, I am understood

And sometimes I spend my time
Just trying to escape
I work so hard so desperately, in an attempt to create space
Cause I want distance from the utmost important thing I know
I see your love, then turn my back and beg for you to go


You're the only one who understands completely
You're the only one knows me yet still loves completely

And sometimes the place I'm at is at a loss for words
If I think of something worthy I know that its already yours
And through the times I've faded and you've outlined me again
You've just patiently waited, to bring me back and then

You looked into my life and never stopped
And you're thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple, but so beautiful

I Praise God For...

I write letters in a notebook every day. I have since the beginning of 2010. These letters were originally addressed to the young woman I believed I was meant to marry, but recently they have changed from letters to my unknown future wife to letters to God.

As in the rest of life, I find it hard sometimes to express my thoughts when I’m praying verbally, and the opportunity to write my daily life out as a prayer has come more naturally to me than I expected. I call them my “daily letters”.

This is an excerpt from those “daily letters” written on August 31, on the bus ride to Journey to the Heart.

_______________________



On the way there we are supposed to think of ten things we are each thankful for. I don’t think this should be too hard for me.



One. I am thankful for forgiveness and healing. Both forgiveness I’ve been given by my parents, and by you, as well as the releasing healing of forgiving others. I know I still struggle with resentment and grudges, but with you I press on, because you have forgiven me.



Two. I am thankful for heritage. This involves many facets. Primarily among them is my family, namely my parents. The family I was created to be a part of is not perfect, far from it, but my parents have been long suffering, taking your path with faith and grace. I am proud of the parents I’ve been given, as well as the family line they pass to me. From physical traits inherited, to personality traits taught, I love who I am in my family.



Three. I am thankful for nationality. Like with my family it is not a choice of mine where and when I was born. I am and American. My love for this aspect of my heritage is tied to my desire to draw close to you. If I desire to see my nation be great, then I must desire to draw closer to you myself. There is no greater service I can do for my country.



Four. I am thankful for destiny. You, father, have a plan or me than is unique. I have been created by you to fulfill your purpose in a way no one else can. This destiny is all encompassing. It involves my past: who I have been, how I have grown to be what I am not, and what things have happened to make me who I am. I did not make myself. It involves my future; what I'll become. I have faith that you will shape me. You are in control



Five. I am thankful for Verity. Part of becoming who I am supposed to be is here. Though I may disagree with the theology of some of the leadership, I know this is where I am meant to be. You are growing me like a vine. This is your vineyard for me.



Six. I am thankful for SSI. The organization, leadership, and teaching I received over those weeks are a large part of who I am and who I have become. Attending that camp, and working for Mr. Muffett and Mr. Visscher shaped my worldview. Though things have changed for them in some of our eyes, the program is blessed of you. May it continue to be a blessing to other young people.



Seven. I am thankful for my wife. Though I don’t know her face yet, I love her as Christ loves the church. I want to lift her up to you always. I am thankful for her grace and love for me. For her heard and mind. I am especially thankful doe her because, more than any other person in my life, she will have shown me greatest forgiveness by accepting me in spite of the many times and ways I have already been unfaithful to her. She is your give to me, and I praise you for the beauty that she is.



Eight. I am thankful for fellowship. The people you have brought into my live and taken away. They have all impacted me, in ways both known and unknown. I am thankful for David Auge, my roommate, who I appreciate and care for. He challenges me and helps me through those challenges. I could not ask for someone better as a roommate. Peter Rupp, Tyler, Josh Austhof, Jordan, Josh Ingersol; Cameron, Alex, Elisa, Kayla, Sarah and Gem. Brent back home who has been stead and faithful, holding me accountable and always being reliable. So many more friends I could name. Bless them all in your care.



Nine. I am thankful for the physical gifts I’ve been given. Nothing I own is from my own hands. From my computer, to my car. My camera, swords, I-Pods, pocket watch, knives, fountain pen, and notebook… the list goes on. These gifts I hold dear; you have blessed them. Many times they should have failed , broken, died, or been lost, yet you sustained them to me. You have been faithful to me thru them beyond what I deserve.



Ten. I am thankful for my life. All these things I have listed are not of my doing. They are memories and blessings. Gifts of favor from you, Almighty father.