2016 was hard. I started the year disillusioned, heartbroken, mourning. I had a pending draft blogged called “24 Joyous Moments of being 24” – a blog in which I celebrated 2015. But 6 days before the end of 2015, my beloved Turbo was hit by a car right in front of me and passed away. Nothing could cheer me up. I received a promotion at work at the same time, but none of it mattered. If anything, the change only broke my heart more.
I tried to write the blog even after the most horrid of emotions passed, but I couldn’t. Maybe one day I’ll just post it as is, unfinished. Either way, the changes in my life continued me on an emotionally draining path. I moved to a new apartment with a new roommate, which felt like another goodbye to my dog and also had its own set of tensions. I did therapy. I did so much self-discovery that it hurts me now as I write. I wonder about life and secrecy. I got back into politics only to have the hope and goodness sucked out of me at the end of it all. Maybe politics does that, but I wish it wouldn’t.
2014 was Learning. 2015 was Joy (Almost). 2016 was… was what? Is “hard” the only word I have?Read More »
Often when theologians or pastors talk about how people view God and the ways we interact with God, they often focus on the idea that people create gods out of how they see themselves. I’m in the middle of listening to “Pete Rollins on God Part 2” on the The Robcast as I write this.
Yet I find this to be a limited understanding of the way a culture views God. Perhaps I just need more self-reflection, but I do not see God as a better image of myself, and it absolutely isn’t the image I struggle the most with. I often have seen God as a white man in the sky because I was listening to those preaching. So perhaps it is more accurate to say that many who pastor and preach, who teach God, will focus on God as themselves.
So the questions I have for myself are how do I see God? And what influence of that is from what I have been taught? Read More »
That Saturday afternoon at the beach was breezy, but not cold. I didn’t bring a sweater, but I winded up with his. We walked along the pier, looked at dolphins, and I thought “This is it, this is when he’ll ask me.” But he didn’t. So I sent my friends to talk to him. But he kissed me beneath the pier that night, a smug smile as if asking me to be his girlfriend was his own idea, as if I hadn’t just sent several of my friends to tell him to just do it.
It was 2006. October 21, 2006.
Then many years later, I remember standing beneath that same pier while I forced myself to deal with the conflicting feelings. I had so many other memories here, but the ones of him and the day he asked me out often took over. I wrote a poem, a poem to whoever got the chance to be with me one day. Read More »
The last post on this topic wasn’t successful, but I liked doing it for my own records. I took some big turns from the last blog and would stop or start listening to the things I wrote about last month. I’ve had a hard time committing to Magic Lessons, mostly for the length. I decided to jump into a fiction novel and put the audio books on hold.Read More »
How did I wind up so interested in theology? I think the spark may have been lit in high school, as I remember being frustrated the way I’d basically memorize my youth pastor’s sermon points, but couldn’t retain anything in my AP Calculus class.
Then perhaps it was further dived into when the boy I had a crush on when I was 18 and 19 years old would talk to me late into the night about C.S. Lewis books and quotes. By 20, I was reading popular modern Christian authors as I tried to argue against this friend’s Rob Bell-type beliefs during that whole Love Wins / Erasing Hell madness in the Christian community (if you don’t know about that: good.) I’d even work out at the gym listening to David Platt sermons. Then my world started to break, and my beliefs in the world were challenged, and I tried to walk away from all the debates and arguments and appeals to emotion or intellect for awhile. I didn’t want to figure out the divide between the spiritual and the flesh anymore. I was tired. I was sore from watching the hate.Read More »