This Desert Life (or, what is: Not Exactly Ironic, But Enough To Write A Song About)

One morning during my first semester of graduate school I was not happy with my location, placement, or situation. I didn't want to be in Tahlequah, didn't like my job, and I was thinking Abba might have been on the same page. I was in my big closet that morning, irritated and willing. It was one of those, "I'm willing to go wherever you want me. All you have to do is tell me and I will go," type of prayers. A 'Here am I" sort of thing. And I was as genuine and honest as I could have been. I offered myself, that was that.

Maybe an hour later I was opening up my office and preparing for another day of boring work, which I was dreading. Then my phone rang.

I met a HR woman whom was representing a mental health organization in Bartlesville, OK, a few days before. She said she was still thinking about our meeting, has looked over my resume more closely, and was pleased to invite me to an interview for an open position.

A message straight from heaven.

This must have taken place in November. Christmas was more than a month away, but my step-mom couldn't wait. The day before the drive for the interview I had driven to Muskogee. I don't know the first thing about fashion, what looks good together, what matches, what's in style. Nothing. Tish picked some clothes out, and topped it off with the sports coat they were going to give me for Christmas. More than a month early, but this was a special occasion. I wanted to look good for the supernaturally ordained interview. Making a reference to Jake and Elwood, I was on a mission from God, and this called for only the best threads.

That Monday, I put another copy of my resume' on fancy paper, brought along a nice, crisp copy of my transcript (It took every ounce of self-control to not highlight and draw big arrows to the section which proved I graduated Summa Cum Laude when I finished my BA.). I knew I didn't have to go all that way; again, this interview was put together by the hand of YHWH. I didn't need anything but a willing heart, and all else would be taken care of.

To remind you, I was genuine about it all. I truly meant what I said in the closet a few mornings before. "I am willing to do whatever, go wherever, say whatever, act however You want. I'm ready. Send me." The phone call an hour afterwards was too close to be assumed coincidence. Almost too close to be assumed coincidence.

It's early Monday morning and I'm on the road towards Bartlesville. I like music just as much as anyone - maybe more than your average Joe - but I like the sound of a person's voice speaking more than most others. I choose NPR or AM talk radio over rock or blues more often than not. I brought along a sermon of Mark Moore that I had downloaded from his website and burnt to CD. God of the Desert. More than just Moore, others in the past have talked about times of seemingly separating silence, times when God-searchers, although they have tasted and seen that the Lord is good times before, are now coming up dry. Brennan Manning talks in his book, The Signature of Jesus, about how these periods of God's silence, how they don't mean that God has gone away. This time isn't necessarily punishment, but a time of great growth through a pushing on and persevering despite of the dryness. Job says 'Thou He slay me, yet I will hope in Him...' (13:15). During the Desert Time, YHWH shows us where we stand up against the statement, 'Thou He is silent, still I will serve the Lord.' I understand This Desert Life. Maybe more than those bird counters.

I was eager to hear what Mark had to say about it. I was looking for some solace as I was on my way to fulfill my calling (a little exaggerated, I know). I love the human voice, but, when I am driving, I more listen to it subconsciously than attentively. Moore was talking as I was driving, but I was more feeling the vibrations of the speaker next to my leg than I was interpreting the words spoken. For some random reason, however, as I was on a stretch of unexciting highway, my ears so randomly perked up and I payed attention to a sentence.

The first sentence I really heard for miles: "Some of you are coming to God and telling Him, 'I'm ready. Send me wherever you want me to go and I will go there to serve You with everything. I'm ready.' You say these words, and wait..and wait...and wait. I tell you, maybe God is not saying anything because you are exactly where He wants you to be."

I was confused, because I thought the phone call I had received just three days prior was a clear message. But this moment in my car, maybe an hour away from the interview of my life, this now was the message: Wait. (I've heard the Lord say Wait before. It's not as exciting as a "Go to Zimbabwe" type of message, but it's a message. I'm familiar with that word..) I knew I would wait.

Still did the interview. And still made the same trip two days later, because, even though I told them a polite no, they were persistent and I was a polite pushover. A total of 4 hours of interviewing is a lot less stressful when you know that you are not going to accept an offer, no matter what they offer, how much they offer, or whatever else they offer. (Even offered to take me out to lunch, show me around the town, find an apartment, and what have you. Isn't it ironic? At least as much as a traffic jam when you're already late.). Those were the two best interviews I have ever been a part of.

Oh well.

The Will to Crawl

I read what an old philosopher wrote about Sisyphus. Sisyphus was the one who was condemned by the gods to roll a stone to the top of a mountain, only to have the rock fall back down the warn path when it was within but inches of the peak. Down it goes. And so back up he goes to meet the inches-away point again...before the sound of rumbling of the tumbling boulder drowns out the defeated and repeated sigh as Sisyphus treads back down his beaten path to shoulder up the rock again. This philosopher explained the reasons he thought Sisyphus wasn't as bad off as people generally assume, how there actually must have been some pleasure in his work. I could not stop disagreeing with this man. The thought of Sisyphus's curse is one I cannot dream of enduring. Futile labor, energy spent for nothing, seems to me one of the worst curses.

I had coffee with a friend the other afternoon. Besides the occasional glance over my shoulder and out the window to confirm the thought that the patrol officer's round hadn't yet brought him to my car, this was a time of focus. We were exchanging concerns and confessing temporary feelings of futility and pain. An analogy came forth.
Imagine a man walking up a steep hill with the hot desert sun beating down on his back and a bulky sack loaded full of heavy, jagged rocks slung over his shoulder. No matter the distance that has been climbed thus far, the summit is still but a theory - unseen. All this man can do is hope that the apex is just beyond this next ridge; sometimes the bravest thing is hope.
For a section of time my fellow traveler and I focused our conversation on this mountain, on these rocks, and on the emptiness beyond sadness futility brings.

It was not the top of the mountain, but a point was reached. Sisyphus is different than us. There is an end to our climbing. Though it feels as if we have been in this place for ages, and that this place has gotten the better of us, we will not be forever in this place. This is sometimes the only reason we keep going, if but for the simple fact that there is a summit, and once this summit is reached, we can rest. Though the last thing we want to do is move one more seemingly futile foot up this mountainside, we know this movement brings us closer for things longed for.

So up we go. The climb continues.

A Tribute to the Greatest Song in the World

I don't care about The Beatles. I probably couldn't place five songs to their name. I am just not interested.
But what is more interesting than this is that one of their songs, however, has a solid spot in my list of top five favorite songs ever played. Therefore, the list should be made known.
These are my top five favorite songs ever played:

Eleanor Rigby -- The Beatles
Giants -- Five Iron Frenzy
Faithful to Me -- Jennifer Knapp
Talk Show Host -- Radiohead
Worlds Apart -- Jars of Clay
[And The Piano Man by Billy Joel deserves an Honorable Mention. How did I forget that one?]

This is all good Exit Music (For a Film)
You have a list for me?

Cars

It's easier to steer a moving car. So I move.

Shaking Monsters, Chasing Lions

Sometimes the pursuit is enough.
I can be pretty lazy if the setting is right. Seeing as how the definition of 'lazy' is the unwillingness to work or use energy, one would think that the amount of force and willpower that is called for to overcome this dead-weight monster dormant inside of me would be minimal. I wish this was so. But this is a strong beast who has been known to have its way with my day no matter my plans otherwise stated and mapped out. An example will explain this clash of wills nicely.
Yesterday was a long day and at a quarter past eleven the pancake fairy whispered in my ear and quickly convinced me that pancakes would be a great way to end the day. As I stood to begin my short voyage to the local 24-hour spot to get a short stack - for a cost greater than I realistically have to spend on such a thing at such a time - a hint of reason popped in mind to save the day: I can wait, go to bed early, wake up early and take whatever I'd like from the campus buffet. I pictured stacking my plate with pancakes, hash browns, fruit, and drinking as much of the wonderful white 2% milk as I want without having to pay a single cent. Reason won the first battle! I was in bed with the lights out before ten past midnight with my alarm set for 7:00 even.
I ended up hugging my alarm until 7:20 so I could be in quick reach of the snooze button, but I was up and dressed with teeth brushed and out the door by 7:30. Breakfast was good. No pancakes, but I did have a refreshing walk in the 17 degree air and the milk I dreamed about the night before was like honey on my lips. As I walked back to my apartment at 8:15 this morning I planned what I would be doing for the hours to come, the hours that, except for this morning, are rarely more than mythical things spoken about, hardly experienced. With all this extra time I could watch the Shawshank Redemption and take care of a meeting or two that I have been putting off for over a week now. I reached my office with the morning ahead of me and I was ready for the adventure that was to follow. I sat down on the couch and noticed how remarkably comfortable it was this morning. Don't get me wrong, it's a good couch, but this morning the comfort it brought was beyond what I had ever imagined what a couch's capability could ever be. Right then I heard the Sirens calling from my bedroom; and it was a sweet, sweet song. I figured I would be even more productive if I had a 30 minute nap, waking up full of energy to take on what the hours left in the morning had to bring.
And then I woke up at noon.
Despite my desires and plans, I sometimes find myself choosing the path with least effort, picking comfort over victory. Thank goodness I have come to see the value in delayed gratification verses the diminished sum of pleasure and reward that comes with giving in to actions (aka 'inactivity' a majority of the time) which bring gratification instantly. I know this long winded story is a prime example of a less rewarding act of giving in for the immediate, but I have found myself over the years, and especially over the last year, developing 1) a patience which gives me the strength to wait on the things for which I strive but which have not yet arrived, and 2) the energy and drive to get off my rump and search for/go after the things worth attaining - Mark Batterson calls this 'Chasing the Lion' (an idea he developed from a story recorded in II Samuel 23).
A beautiful day was born when I decided I had waited long enough, that "Today is going to be the day when I finally do what I have been talking about doing for eons." I am not saying it was nearly as intense, but I am going to compare this moment to those familiar moments in movies when all seems lost for the protagonist. The world is against him, it's now or never, the flames are rising and all hope seems lost...[In these moments Reese Roper said Hope is the bravest of things]. I chose to strip away the old habits and kill the sloth of a swine that has been on my back and weighing me down for too long and begin the Pursuit.
This Pursuit of which I speak is a collection of a multitude of pursuits. More of a lifestyle than specific actions. This isn't a pendulum swing from passivity to aggressively hunting my prey, but rather, being assertive and not letting my goals and wishes wander by calmly without my lifting of a finger.
Some of these pursuits have yet to be completed. I still have that out-of-tune and broken-down mandolin sitting against the wall which is gathering more dust than is giving out notes; there is that book which is just a chapter long. There are other particular things which have gone in directions undesired. But sometimes the pursuit is enough. Sometimes it is the pursuit, not the achievement, that means the most, that means anything. Maybe the Pursuit is never completed until all things are completed. Not attaining a goal doesn't mean failure, just change - that is, as long as I do my part and do it earnestly. Sometimes the fervent pursuit shows that the things pursued are worth the energy spent.
Sometimes the pursuit is enough.

It's about time I start a blog.

Alright. Here's the deal. I can be writing a paper right now. But why would I do that, you ask? Because I have two due Tuesday. Why would I hustle to get them done with plenty of time to spare, you ask? I don't know either. Right now I'm going to listen to some Crash Test Dummies and Mute Math and ... finally get around to creating a blog!
Why have I not done this sooner? I don't know either. I used to write blogs off and on on another site. I would write pages full of free-flowing thought. One day back in what must have been 2004 I asked a friend why she would never leave a comment on one of my blogs. She would say she didn't read it. Why didn't she read it? "If I wanted to read something like that I might as well read the bible, and you know that's not my idea of fun." I gradually lost interest in blogs.
But right now I have a spark of interest. You curious as to why? Don't ask me why or you'll get the same response. I don't know either. Whoops. That's a freebie.
It may seem like it; it could seem like I blow a lot of hot air. It looks like I do a lot of talking, and it looks like I'm really excited about what I talk about and it may sound like I'm 'really going to do it this time', but I never end up doing whatever it is that excites me so. I've learned a good deal during this semester. A really good deal. The biggie is I've learned that I'm not impulsive. Thank God I'm not impulsive. Thank God that He gave me the maturity to really think through things before I jump. I say this because my decision to not make whatever move I'm itching to make at whatever time is at times the last thing I want. I remember a day back in August of 2004 when the itching first began. I was under a bridge downtown [really it was just outside of town, but then the reference to the RedHotChiliPeppers wouldn't have been as smooth] and I was in some big thought. I was ready to drop out of NSU right then and there and make some calls and begin my move to Joplin, a place I like filled with people I love. But the moment I made the decision, something happened: 'Remember Abraham and Isaac and how he was commanded to give up what he loved. You love your plans too much. Being Lord means I make the calls. Follow. Right now that means stay. Now you see that you are willing to give up whatever it is asked of you. Sometime you will leave. Now you will stay.' Talk about mixed emotions!
Here's another emotional time: The beginning of my senior year at the university I was a whining crab-apple. I hated my job placement, my town placement, and whatever other placement I could complain about. I was brushing my teeth with a frown. Then, again out of the blue, "'Do everything without complaining or arguing'", and "remember Jeremiah, and what ended up coming of situations that I know he hated. He felt abandoned, but he wasn't and great things came from those times. Stay put and ride it out. I am here." More mixed emotions.
I am still so eager to leave. Thank God I did not jump ship on the most recent opportunity. The calls and promptings - not to mention the offers to take me on a tour of the town to pick out an apartment - and everything else the kind potential employers did to ensure my taking the job offer being a good decision didn't help. God said wait. ...I am becoming used to the submissive sigh as a response. Loneliness isn't fun. Thank God it only comes in waves and isn't a constant. [And a funny thing I've learned about loneliness is that it is more than 50% a thing of the mind, influenced either way by personal cognitive processes. Thank God I'm learning I have more control of these emotions.]
And why not? Here's another story: My time spend in Australia and New Zealand in 2004 [Goodness, 2004 seems to be the year of occurrences!] was a time of more mixed feelings; a time of great elation because of the beauty and amazement of the ocean and mountains and Southern sky and animals and culture and things in between, but also a time of great loneliness - I remember feeling so alone amongst our group of 12 and surrounding others. One of the last nights in New Zealand near the date of our departure I hit bottom and found myself able to rest on the Foundation. That is the night I saw that I can be alone if that is where YHWH wants me at the time because El Shaddai is all I need if El Shaddai is all I have. I am able to do anything, go anywhere, be around anyone, whether that means be challenged or comfortable, change nations or stay put, be within reach of people with whom I share deep love or be totally alone or just feeling alone. I can persevere. Thank God I can persevere. It is not one of my natural qualities. (I just hope that doesn't mean this will be my last town to call home...)
But He has come through and shown Himself, showing that my current situation is not one gone to waste. Sometimes I should sit back and allow my jaw to drop when I acknowledge what has come as a result of my act of obedience. For a reason that I cannot understand, He has chosen sinful and selfish me to show people, or remind people, that they are worth loving and are loved, period. Abba knows what is best for me. And even though my two best friends are 200 hundred miles away and 1,000 miles away I still have great people. Thank you for being parts of my life.
It's funny how some of the most apparently bad situations turn out to be situations where God can be best glorified once the veil of selfishness is torn.