Breaking Up With the Past

Photo of a woman cryingFor many late adolescents and young adults, I would guess that some of the most hellish and haunting pages you can turn through are those from your school yearbooks. Looking into those thick devils reminds us of everything that was, many things that could or should have been, and begging questions of “what if.”

If you are one of the few who chose not to purchase your school yearbooks, or could not afford them, you are blessed. But buying them sure was the thing to do, wasn’t it? Every year, book buying and signing was a big event.

It was almost like the the torturous culture of high school was saying “here, pay us $75 to carry around your past like a ball-and-chain.” I am glad I had the experience, I guess, but I wish I would have been more wise.

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Blog Update: The Blog Life (Revisited)

Photo of floor tiles colored to look like a decorative map compass*Author’s Note:*  this is admittedly a bit of lazy work today, but I’m posting this to show how far I’ve come and provide some clarity to where I am going. I wrote this tiny piece sometime around 2012 (roughly 4 years before this post). It’s cute that I thought 400 words was an acceptable length for a quality blog post: now I am bobbing around 1000, and even that is a bit on the low side. Read on and see how silly I was – and in four more years I’ll look back at this and see how silly I am. Still… onward!

Direction (Or Lack Thereof)

Before I had direction – that is, before technical school, before meeting the perfect woman, before Christ (all Christians have a BC era), before Dave Ramsey and Dan Miller and Craig Groeschel and Francis Chan and all the other public figures I chose to inspire myself by listening to – I had no idea where I was going.

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So You’re a Preteen Now – Good Luck, Kid

Something that really sucks about growing up (for most of us) is that the second you start having difficulties and dealing with new social pressures happens to be the same second you start feeling extremely uncomfortable opening to up to anyone who would actually be able to help you.

Photo of preteens on ropes courseSorry parents, I’m not necessarily saying you didn’t do a good job or anything like that; it’s just a cruel curse of the world that we really don’t wanna talk to you about what we’re really dealing with because somewhere inside we just don’t want to hear an answer, whatever it may be.

Fact is, this is a part of your life that will define many of your insecurities, anxieties, traumas, and other horrible things you will carry with you for years to come. The redemption is that you will also find some passions, skills, interests, hobbies, and maybe even a couple of friends to take with you as you go.

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Identifying the Beast

I have this problem. It’ s a problem we all have, really. But everyone struggles with it to different extents and with varying alternations.

Hand-drawn picture of a werewolf under a full moonSometimes I feel like an animal. An animal who is bound by instinct and genetics and what have you to perform a certain habitual set of actions. And while on one hand I have the free will to change any of those predefined actions and do as I please, it seems I first must sever a thickly metallic commitment of my nature that is hell-bound to perform those default actions.

I am sorry if I have confused you already. Please understand that I cannot fully grasp this concept myself. I don’t think anyone really can. But I think that at the very least, being aware of the problem is one step toward being able to fight against it. To fight against the beast.

Now I have gone from using the word animal to using the word beast. At first I felt that animal was an appropriate word to use, but it seems too innocent. Visions of woodland creatures frolicking in a meadow might come to mind at the mention of a mild word such as “animal.”

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I’m a Christian: Why Can’t I Just be Happy?

photo of a man alone in a chairJesus was beaten and flogged prior to being tortured to death on a cross while the Father God withdrew Himself from His perfect and sinless Son in what was the only way to save all of humanity (or at least, those who would accept His gift) from eternal suffering.

I’ve accepted this gift and chosen to dedicate my life to spreading and living this gospel not by the best of my ability, but by relying on God’s ability through the skills, gifts, and talents He has imbued in me.

This is all really exciting and everything, but life still seems like it sucks most of the time. I mean, you’d think I’d be really happy and full of zeal. Bouncing off the walls, praising God loudly with my lips and shouts (Psalm 71:8, 100), and just generally being in a pretty good mood about the whole thing.

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I Don’t Care About Jesus

Stereotypical drawing of Jesus

Sure, you might guess by my Facebook posts or maybe even my internet history that I care about Jesus. I bet my friends, family, and my wife would tell you that I care about Jesus, maybe even that I love Him.

The truth is, though, if you really knew my heart and the behavior it drives, you would probably conclude that I really don’t give much weight to Jesus Christ or his teachings.

After all, I am selfish, prideful, hateful, crude, and angry. I think I’m better than other people, I often doubt God and his plan, and as of this writing I haven’t even been to church in two months (probably the worst of all, right?)

So if you are one who becomes a regular reader of this blog, keep in mind those things and remember that much of what I write could very well be flawed.

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