A Special Blessing at Starbucks

I've got ideas bouncing around in my mind but I'll try and keep them rather linear and only a couple to a post.

Tonight I went to a Starbucks. I bought a...vanilla something machiato (or toxin-laced sugar-flavored caffeine, as I think of it. Note that this didn't stop me from buying one). I was dissapointed to see that the comfy chair near the bay window was taken, and as I had no interest in impeding on the space of the guy sitting at the window (he'd also taken over the lamp table beside the other chair and the table in front of him, obviously stating with his books that he had a wide bubble right now) I moved to the comfy red chair near the back. Sadly, it was near the bathroom and the escape door. I felt a little like I'd been put in a corner but I wasn't going to sit on one of those hard chairs, if I wanted a hard chair I would have gone to Heine Bros, and it didn't smell.

So, I sit there thinking that I could have my quiet time, but deciding against that because I didn't want to think too hard and quiet times are hard thinking things. You never crack open the Bible for a foray into mindlessness. So, I'm sitting there sucking down my drink, grateful that I can't taste the coffee, wondering if there actually *is* any coffee in this, or just sugar, munching on a cupcake that's not nearly as tasty as it looked, contemplating the sensation of unshaven legs and I overhear a conversation.

Now, all this time I'm trying to get my mind on Dresden Files. Yes, I bought pulp fiction on super sale at Borders. But, despite the entertainment of a magician driving a vw bug I couldn't help but listen. Now, I'd seen this couple as I walked by to my little corner near the bathrooms. They looked like they were studying but I didn't catch the books. I wondered if they were studying the Bible. In this town, if you see someone at a coffee shop studying there's a decent chance they're studying the Bible, but I blew it off because it wasn't a coffee shop near any significant Bible school, Seminary, or church. I was wrong.

So, I'm sitting there and the caffiene hits me and I can feel the blood rushing through my veins. I figure the two are a couple, or studying for school. My skin feels like it's shifting wrong over my soul. This isn't a particularly foreign feeling to me. It's like wearing a jacket that's too tight, or jeans that you've worn every day for a week and are staring to feel a bit grungy. It's that feeling of trying to flex your legs in a cramped space and only being able to shift around a bit. It's the feeling of being in a room filled with bodies and smells and you just wish you could step out into the cold night air and take a deep deep breath. It's all those feelings but it's deep deep down inside, beyond my heart, but in every corner of my mind, deep in my gut but not touching a single organ. There but not, beyond, encompassing. It occurs to me that this is an odd place to feel this way. I thank God that I will die some day and I listen to this conversation that those two are having.

After a short time it becomes apparent that the gentleman (not even my age, probably) is sharing the gospel with the woman. They're studying the Bible. She's asking distracting questions like "so, are you a Baptist?" and "Do you think drinking is a sin then?" and he's rebuffing it all gently and turning it back to Scripture. My heart (wait, when did I switch to present tense?) sores.
I wasn't thinking about anything else anymore, I was eavesdropping on this amazing and unexpected conversation. At first I worried that the Gospel wasn't being being presented properly, or not at all, but those fears were quickly disproven (<-hey, is that a word?) and I felt this deep joy welling up in me. I prayed that she would hear the Word beyond her obvious interest in the gentleman. I prayed that he would speak true, and I listened with a happy heart to the Truth.

I also drew them. I think the girl noticed. It was all I could do to hold back. I wanted to hug the guy for blessing my evening so. I wanted to interrupt to tell him he was brave and gallant and wonderful and I knew that doing that would botch the whole thing and seem a bit odd especially since he was obviously doing fine on his own. So, instead I listened in and rejoiced that the Word was being shared and then I left.

I wonder, that stirring inside me, would I have ever listened into that conversation if it hadn't distracted me from my book? Would I have ever been blessed if something hadn't turned my thoughts Heavenward first? And why that coffee shop? Why that hour? I think God brought me there to pray for those two while the Gospel was being shared, and to bless me with hearing the Joyous News. How serendipitous, how ironic, how wondrous. Where two or more, it says. How interesting then that two were brought together in one Spirit, though we didn't even know each other.

A tattoo for the Adventurer

So, I've finally decided to get a tattoo. When I secure my next job. I'm sure many people would be up in arms about it if they knew it, but it's been a long time in coming. My little sister even has a tattoo already, my father has...several, my brother has three (two? four?). My mother has a strong aversion to pain and it somewhat fragile beside that so she'd never get her ears pierced, let along get a tattoo. Anyway, that leaves me, the oldest sibling, still sans tattoo.

I think tattoos are a good and literal way to remind yourself of something and tell the world about it. I want my first tattoo to be rather small, on the back of my right shoulder, maybe two or three inches long. I want it to be a rather delicate Christian fish made out of a simple Celtic knot. Because, there are two things that I am before I am anything else. I am a Christian, and I am Irish (ok, not Irish per say, I'm my surname, but I'm not going to put that on here).

Then, if that goes well I'd like Isaiah 6:5-8 (And I said: "Woe is me! For I am lost; for I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips; for my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!" Then one of the seraphim flew to me, having in his hand a burning coal that he had taken with tongs from the altar. And he touched my mouth and said: "Behold, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away, and your sin atoned for." And I heard the voice of hte Lord saying, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then I said, "here am I! Send me.") written in Hebrew (ה וָאֹמַר אוֹי-לִי כִי-נִדְמֵיתִי, כִּי אִישׁ טְמֵא-שְׂפָתַיִם אָנֹכִי, וּבְתוֹךְ) on the back of the other shoulder.

I want that verse because I think it's such a beautiful picture of what salvation and repentance and being a Christian looks like. We're these unexpected, imperfect people, and something has happened. Something great and overwhelming and we're overwhelmed by the reality of our own inadequacy. Then, before any change has been made, before we've fixed ourselves up, before we're good to go, God in all his Grace and Glory takes the fire from a sacrifice we didn't offer and cleanses us. Our best and our worst is made pure by Him and for Him. And then he offers a call, and because of what's been done we cry, in all our imperfection made pure, Here am I! Send me. Such is the life of a Christian. At least, that's how I perceive it to be. And here is the mystery, we strive for perfection but just as our good deeds don't save us, they don't perfect us either. The Christian life is a dichotomy choice and predestination hold hands in us, freedom and slavery, too. How then, being a slave to Christ, but freed from death, do you live in freedom?

V – a good hand tipped too soon-possible spoilers

So, I just watched the first episode of V, courtesy of Hulu. It was definitely exciting, I'll give it that. And, the cast seems solid. What bothers me is that the first episode has…everything. Absolutely everything. What other shows take seasons (or at least a season) this show has revealed on its first episode. The show itself is reminiscent of Earth Final Conflict, Star Trek, Battlestar Galactica, and any number of other hidden agenda conspiracy movies. The first episode plants the show firmly in conservative territory. The badguys give universal health care and have a single world government, and they're very pretty. They also seem to have a touch of that capitalistic drive in them. So, it's big brother meets big corporation meets socialism. Scary. Then our good guys are a woman who searches for terrorists (fbi?), a priest, a conspiracy guy, and a not-so-bad alien. See, conservative. Did I mention that the not-so-bad alien thinks that family is very important? This show doesn't lack violence either, and the adults are portrayed as the intelligent ones.

Being a conservative myself, I'd be all for this if I didn't think that the story is planning to do a big ol' switch on us. To reveal this much this early in the story either nothing is as it seems or this show isn't going to last very long. The Creative Writing major in me doesn't trust this story. I feel like a poker player who just got a look at the other guy's cards. Why not wait to reveal the good aliens? Why show us in the first episode that the human form the aliens don isn't their natural one? Why basically prove their out for blood in the first episode? Why introduce the love interest for the boy in the first episode? All these things could have easily waited until later episodes without detracting much from the action. Even something as simple as not having the actual aliens break in on the secret meeting, but only their technology, would leave room for question (and curiosity that would bring the viewers back next week).

So, I'm going to predict what's going to happen, and we can see how right I am. Well, the son of the cop/FBI agent/devorce is going to continue to support the Vs, despite evidence that tells him to stay away. He's going to create a bond with the alien girl and either be her dupe or try to save her when he realizes her people are evil SOBs. The Priest is going to find out that some of his superiors are aliens and he'll question his faith. If he doesn't leave his faith, there's a good chance he'll leave the cloth. If nothing, he'll become a really bad priest because he's poised for romantic tension with the FBI lady. Said lady is going to be torn between the loyalty her son has for the aliens, a desire to save him, a desire to destroy the aliens, and a desire for the priest. The alien who is not a bad guy will help people get inside information. He will be the one who reveals some information about the aliens, though considering what they've already shown us of the mother ship I don't see his necessity as a disseminator of info. He'll try to leave his fiancé and she will either a. follow him b. follow him and die c. be heart-broken. The alien leader dude is either and the leader lady (Anna) are like Da'an and Zo'or in Earth Final Conflict. They're both bad guys, though one may be less evil than the other. Chunky friend of the boy will be used to get him to do stupid things, and may eventually rat him out, or die. Alien girl is either as evil as her leader or as heart-led as her human boyfriend. She can go either way, though I suspect she may be used as proof that even evil aliens can turn good with the right motivation. Conspiracy guy will also be a disseminator of information, as well as a device to bring the characters together. He will probably die eventually since we don't really know anything about him at all except that he sucks at being secret. Hmmm, themes? Terrorism (obviously), religion, genetic manipulation, control, the nature of evil…and possibly slavery. I'd bet money that the fixes they do at their health centers are more than just fixes.

That being said, I'll watch the previews and read the reviews for the next couple of weeks, and if it turns out that the writers have a better imagination than me than I'll go back to watching.

Thoughts on Heaven and Hell

Heaven. Hell. How many people actually believe they exist? Even of those who say they do I’m finding there are many who really don’t. Or rather, they don’t think on it at all. Their visions of heaven and hell have been as much shaped by multi-media as anyone else’s.

Then, of course, there are the reformer’s ideas. Heaven becomes this boring celestial city where we sit around singing out-of-tune hymns and hell is all fire and brimstone.

I read both Mere Christianity and The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis and his ideas on heaven and hell spurred me to realize what my ideas where. Then, a few months later, I went through this panic about whether or not I really was saved. If you check further back in the blog you can read all the wonderings and fearmongerings I was doing then. And, it’s good to work out your faith from time to time. But *why* was I so upset? *Why* is being a Christian so necessary? I came to one conclusion and that conclusion has changed the way I see the world. It’s so important because I am desperate to get to Heaven, and desperate to avoid Hell.

Well, what is Heaven, what is Hell, that they should matter? I could give you a bunch of verses that may or may not make sense, refer you to articles I’ve read, and I may do that, but I’d rather just tell you about what I believe.

You may have heard the old song “when I get to heaven, gonna talk with Jesus, when I get to heaven, gonna see his face…” And we dismiss the words.

Imagine this: you die. You die and the world goes dark around you and you blink and there you are, standing before the throne of God. Light brighter than the sun on the hottest day, brighter than the sun without ozone, brighter than any star, blasts you, staggers you back, but you don’t die. You’re already dead, remember. As you squint through the light you see a man before you. He is both so big that his throne cannot contain him and just the right size to meet with you. What shines from his face is Glory, Power, Love, Justice, Mercy, and Wrath. Again you’re staggered, and this time you drop to a knee as you realize who you’re before. And, as soon as that realization hits you memory does as well. You’re no God, you’ve failed, you don’t deserve to be here. Mourning and panic and fear and awe sieze you. You drop to your face in the heavenly dirt, tears stream from your eyes. “My God, forgive me,” you beg, even as you acknowledge that you don’t deserve it.

Then a hand is on your shoulder, and you choke on even more tears, because of the warmth and generous love that spreads through you, the forgiveness. “Arise my beloved,” says a voice that is both quite and permeating in a way that no bullet could be, “you have served me well.” You look up and the One on the throne, though He is still somehow upon it, is also before you, helping you your feet, brushing off the dirt. And there is such compassion, such pride, such love in his eyes that again you are overwhelmed. At once you are entirely known and every ache and every hole in who are is healed and sealed up. The joy and intimacy you sought through sex is fulfilled, the confidence you sought through jobs is granted, the humility you sought through service is attained. You stand there, struck dumb for ages by the amazing thing that has been done for you. You who knows you don’t deserve it. You’re more real and more whole than you ever were when alive. It feels like you just woke up from a lingering dream. God himself is pleased by you and wraps you in a welcoming hug. You’re shocked that God would touch you, because all your life, though you prayed and sang and read and did your very best to believe without proof and serve without return, God was still something you didn’t quite comprehend. But now you see Him clearly, see yourself clearly. You are loved, you will never be turned away, you are known, and in that you are made the best possible you. You’re forgiven, you’re fixed. Nothing could surpass what you’re experiencing. Each new moment in the presence of your God reveals new insights. For the first time in your life you’re free, content, happy, fully informed of the state of yourself.

And then it gets better, because your eyes turn to take in this realer than real heavenly place and you see a country all around you. A city without walls. Pastures and woods stretch into the distance. Trees in fruit and trees in bloom. Soft grass and inviting riverbanks. Glorious roads leading into a distance. People, old friends who you’d mourned, enemies and now you’re excited to see them free as well, and a goodness in them you could never recognize in your Earthly life. There are people there who you never knew, and some you recognize though you’ve never met. All complex and complete. Angels and men walking and talking together. More company than you’ll ever need but how wondrous to share such a thing with them. Not only are there plants and people, but animals too, and water, and food. Such food as you’ve never had. Food untainted by toxins, or death. Sweet and rich. Food that fills you. And you find that you’re not hungry nor thirsty nor tired. Every pang of sadness is healed, every remorse set aside for the joy of where you are and in whose light you stand. This is a place that has a place for you. You belong here. You were made for here. This is where the forgiven stand. This is the home of the renewed, and it is forever.

Now, in contrast, imagine Hell.

You die, you feel your soul slip from this world like a hand passing through the surface of water. For a moment nothing and then you are aware. Of nothing. At first all you feel is pain, pain that cannot be stopped our placed, it bounces from limb to limb like a child playing hopscotch. Your skin feels like it’s burning, your bones like their breaking. You try to scream, but no noise comes. Try to thrash but feel no movement. You hear nothing. Finally you open your eyes and you see nothing. It takes a while, because you’re in denial, you think you’ll wake up, you think the real world will come back to you, before you realize where you are. You didn’t really believe in this place. It’s so hard to conceptualize. You’re in Hell. Your limbs ache like one giant amputee. You feel them while they seem to no exist. You feel like a vapor. That sense of incompletness, of being not quite whole, that lingered in life, is now consuming, maddening. You never even got a chance to see what you’re missing, but somehow you know, because now that you’re in so much agony you can easily imagine what the opposite it.

But this place has no escape hatch. It is nowhere and it goes on without end. You don’t know if anyone else is here. For all you know you’re the only one. You hope you aren’t, but you can’t be sure. No senses to tell you otherwise, not even the smell of your own burning flesh to assure you this is real, and you can’t kick the feeling that you are less real than you were before, less valid by exponents. You can’t kick at all. And you can’t take comfort from knowing your enemies are here too. You agonize over the possibility that the people you hated most aren’t here. You wish for a fair fight, try to scream that God should come down here and face you, but you know you had your chance. Now, suddenly, and with sudden clarity, you can see all the times you had chances and turned them away, all the possibilities that would have lead to a different end but you ignored. You see with stunning clarity just how unworthy you were of the good things you received, and how much you took for granted. You see with true clarity the reality of the universe, and how small you are, how messed up, how dirty, how alone. This is your fault. You’re guilty here. The weight of your pride and degradation are yours to bear. Here it is both a sensory deprivation tank and a torture chamber. None mocks you but your own failings. None but your own heart accuses you. The world has lifted away and you have fallen into the void. And with a growing sense of horror and mourning, so overwhelming in its intensity you’d cry if you could, you understand. This is Hell, and it’s forever.

When I think of Heaven and Hell these are the concepts that trail through my mind. No clouds in heaven, no boring hymns (though I’m sure there will be singing. I imagine it’ll be a bit like Sojourn, a good mix of everything), no babies with wings and harps. Neither do I think it’ll be a throng of enraptured looking people standing around a giant impersonal throne whispering words like “God” and “Savior” and “Master” (though I imagine that there will be a good bit of that as well). I think there will be singing, and eating, swimming, laughing, eye rolling, joking, painting, stone working, writing, relaxing, running and jumping, talking, hugging, reminiscing, thinking, quiet being, and shouting. I think there will be learning, and some forgetting, I think there will be making, and building, and planning, and doing. Heaven will not be static. Nor will it be impure. There won’t be sex (sex, like sleeping, are not bad at all, but will be fulfilled in different ways once we reach that Heavenly realm), or sleeping. There won’t be resentment or fights or pride or “issues” or ego or disappointment or rage. There won’t be malicious talk or depression. There won’t be failure or lying, or injury. There won’t be broken trust or broken hearts.

Hell, on the other hand, won’t be a big party with all your biggest partier friends. It won’t be the place where all the rebels go to have a good time without anyone telling them what to do. It won’t be a gathering of all the strong ones while the weak ones go to a nice quite white place. It won’t be sexy (I imagine more it’ll be castrating and filled with a sense of incontinence). It won’t be comfy. You see, all pleasure comes from God, and Hell is supposed to be, at its most basic, the absence of God. So, you couldn’t even have your favorite sins if God wasn’t in the world making pleasantness possible. Since God makes things, and holds all things together I think it’s reasonable to assume that Hell will be without true place or true form. That means there won’t even be devils or demons wandering around to yell at you and poke you with nasty pitch forks. Hell is going to be one nasty place. A to fear and a place to avoid at all costs. And, please understand me that when I say this I mean only truth and no malice: lots of very good people are going to find themselves in Hell. Being good won’t save you. And not believing in it won’t stop you from going.

Why wouldn’t you want to think on this? Why wouldn’t you want to hope for the one and dread the other? Our faith is not just for this life. Jesus didn’t die just to offer us a new way to live for the short time we walk this globe. To live is Christ, yes, but we forget the other part; to die is gain. As Christians shouldn’t we anxiously look forward to the day when we depart from our mortal bodies? Shouldn’t we be excited about what awaits us? I know, you can’t prove Heaven and our modern minds make poor doubting Thomas look very trusting. We don’t want to believe in something in which we don’t have proof. I would suggest that if Heaven seems distasteful to you, or Hell too harsh than perhaps you should reexamine how you think of God.

John 2/3

So, I left of at John 3:8

Nic says, and I'm assuming he's speaking without guile or cynicism considering how Jesus responds, "how can these things be?"

Jesus is like "you're a smart guy, a religious professor, but you still don't get it? This is reality, We talk about what we know and what we've seen, but you don't think it's true" Is Jesus speaking in the royal we here? It seems so, because this is a sort of (gentle?) accusation against the religious teachers of the day. He says that he told Nic about earthly things and he wasn't getting it, how would he understand heavenly things. So, salvation is an earthly occurrence, as real and natural to God as birth is to us.

He says that no one has gone up into Heaven except the guy who came down from heaven, himself, the Son of Man. I'm not entirely sure about this part, except that I know that all of John is Jesus as God, and surely it is a heavenly trait to be able to dwell in and leave heaven at will. Then, on the tails of claiming to be God he refers to Moses and gives prophesy of his crucifixion.

Maybe, he says that he knows that Nic won't get it, but then it's like, "don't you get it, I'm God, I know about Heaven because I've been there, and like was prophesied, I'm going to die. (and then we go into those oh-so-famous verses) "because God so loved the world." This is directly connected to statements about Jesus imminent death, and to heavenly things that Nic won't understand. God gave his only Son. CS Lewis talks about it like Jesus steaming forth from the father, always a product of him always will be, a constant state of coming forth while being bound with. So he was the first born of all creation by his essence of coming forth from the father, but there was never a time when he was disconnected nor a time when he did not come forth from the father, so he is first Born and also God, From the father and equal with the father. It's whoever believes in the Son will not perish but have everlasting life. One thing you see throughout the Bible is that when people realized that Jesus really was who he said he was, they were usually on bended knee before him. Like that scene in the last episode with the 9^th doctor on Doctor Who, where Rose comes out of the TARDIS carrying the entirety of the time vortex inside herself and she says that she sees all that has been and all that will be and that she creates things and ends things and alters time and the Doctor, seeing her and knowing what she is, drops to his knees before her. There's a lot of "you really are the Son of God." And then people follow him. So, then, believing isn't simply acknowledgement, believing is "getting it," is realizing that this is a big deal, this is something to dedicate your life to. It's also not about just believing in 'God' but in Christ. The Jews believe in God, but they don't know Christ.

Then he says that God didn't send him here to condemn the world, but to save it, through him. This was the manner of the salvation God was offering to everyone. He then says that whoever believes is not condemned, but whoever doesn't is already condemned. So, there's the duality of believing is a changing of mind, saves you, but you're also damned beforehand when you don't believe. You were already condemned, but you can be un-condemned through belief in Jesus Christ. Then he says "and this is the judgment." Maybe "and this is the truth that is declared after all the argument are set forth," "the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their deeds were evil." He already knew that most people would reject him, because they preferred their dark hidey holes, where things weren't exposed, because next he says "for everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come into the light, lest his deeds should be exposed." I know that when I read this I think 'oh, but people do evil in the light all the time now.' And they didn't before? They sacrificed their children to idols, they reveled, they fed people to lions, they soothsaid. All in the light of day, all government sanctioned. But this is what they do, they defend it, they get defensive about it, they don't want it examined or looked at. I think that is a kind of hiding in itself. I think this hiding becomes particularly clear when the gospel is brought into account. Then people want to leave, or they become almost violent in their defense. See, the world is dark, so they do their deeds in darkness, but the gospel exposes them and they don't like that. They prefer to do their deeds in darkness at light of day, rather than be exposed. "but whoever does what is true comes into the light, so that it may be clearly seen that his deeds have been carried out in God." Those who serve are not shy about the light. They want others to know, not of his or her own deeds but of God who made them happen. How significant that we want to hide our own evil in darkness but we wish for light on deeds that are not ours alone when we do what is true.

Also, I assume someone else was there since it got written about. Either that or Nic converted and later told an apostle. Though, I assume that the timing of Nic's visit would probably put Jesus with his apostles.

A disection of John 3 as much as I am able

My father says that Jeremiah is the most difficult book for him, or that's what he said last night, because it's a real book, he said, and the prayers were real. It's about God smiting people, and suffering and fear. Apparently Jeremiah got sawn in half or something.
So far...I don't know what book is the most difficult. Maybe Song of Solomon, because it goes so counter to what I know of love, and existence, and makes me to hope for things. Sometimes it feels like being hopeless is better. But it's not, is it?
John starts with Nic, who has apparently heard that Jesus is doing a lot. I'm guessing he was speaking for God more and doing more miracles than the average messiah claimer. Nic was a leader, and probably known for his learnedness and piety, not some peabody assistant, and Jesus not only caught his attention but impressed him enough that he believed that it was, in fact, God who sent him.
So, then the teacher calls Jesus, who's had no seminary training, teacher and says that God has to be working through him. Then Jesus says to him he needs to be born again to see God's kingdom. This also implies that Nic, though seeking, wasn't born again. I also want to point out here that once Jesus started his ministry he was proactive, and even as far back as the wedding his mother knew what he was capable of. He trashed the temple, he did all these miracles, and then he told Nic what he needed to do before he even asked.
Nic, who no doubt had seen Jesus do, or heard of him doing, some pretty wild things, was probably envisioning this guy pushing him back into the womb. He also wants to be born again. He understood that that was something good, something he wants. He asks "how's that going to work, since I'm old?"
So, Jesus tells him that baptism with water and the Spirit will be what sends him to heaven. So, does that mean that you have to be physically baptized to be saved? I'm sure the Church of Christ would say that, but there are plenty of other verses that don't include baptism in requirements for salvation. Could the kingdom of God mean something other than Heaven and citizenship in God's family? Like, could Nic only need to evolve his faith that next step? To accept that the savior had come rather than reject his claims? If he was predestined did God know that he would hear and accept? Did he even accept? Because it never says that later.
He says that Nic shouldn't be surprised about the born again thing because the wind blows where it will. Basically, "why are you trying to figure out how this works, somethings just happen that way and that's the way it's willed and you don't get it but that's the way it is. So, being spiritually born is....lost my train of thought....something that you can't get. You feel it's effect but beyond that you can't really get it.
Thus ends verse 8.

I finally put out my resume

Yeah, and it only took me five months to do it. Geez, I feel like a shmuck. I just needed the proper motivation, and the confidence to put myself back out there, and that wasn't going to happen until it happened. Well, now it's happened and I'm having to fight not to freak out. Like, really freak out. I've gotten my fist handful of job offers. Right now they're not looking too hot. One was for 2.2-2.3 million won a month. That's better than my last job. My lowest possible pay would be 2.2 million won a month. I worked for 2.1 last year. I'm more experience and more educated this year. I'd prefer 2.4 though. I mean, I'm really going to do it. No lying around in my parents' house forever. I'm getting another job and I'm getting a life again. And, since there seems to be about as much possibility of finding a husband here as there is abroad (next to none, thank you), I might as well go abroad, where at least I have a life, and a purpose, and something to distract me from that yawning whole where I'm-a-wife should be.
So far only Korea has offered a job. I am considering shoving aside my work loyalty and finding a job, and then finding a better job. Though if I did find a better job I'm sure I'd be sufficiently guilty about it that it would hardly feel like a better job for months. Different people pay their penance in different currencies. Mine is quite obviously the currency of guilt. I think it's absolutely possible that, were I to hate a man and wish him dead, and then he died and I was accused of his death that I would plead guilty of the murder even if it wasn't my own hand which had done it. Or, I'd be sorely tempted to, except that then a true murderer would go free and that would be on my conscience too. It's difficult to say what I would do...
The advantage to such a thing is that it makes me a very loyal employee, and relatively easy to manipulate if you know how I feel. This is why I try not to say that I feel guilty about things, people like to use that kind of stuff against you. I've also found that they get upset when they try to use it and fail. I do have points I will not bend on, no matter that I feel so guilty that I can imagine Hell licking at my heels. People don't usually get that either.
All of this is brought about by my reminiscing about my last job. I certainly hope the new one is less stressful. I hope I am better able to cope with the stress. Something besides migraines would be nice. Indigestion, for example.
Well, I think that's all for now. I have to go figure out how to look brilliant in print.

One Book Review a comment and three Partials

So, I finished Hunting Ground by Patricia Briggs. I give it a "Hey, that was a pretty good book!"

I particularly like...the characters. Really, I think her characters are more likable, believable, and forgivable than many other characters. I like that Mercy isn't an all tough as nails bady bad ass girl. I like that she can be feminine sometimes. Quite frankly I don't think most women are half as bad ass as characters like, say, Anita Blake, and while it's fun to pretend that you could be like her because then you'd be in control and you'd be safe in a world that routinely victimizes our sex, there's also a disconnection, because most of us really aren't like that. Some of us not even a little. So, I like Mercy. I like that she has a job. So often characters don't have jobs and I, due to a recent theory, think it kind of subtly influences the idea that if you're special and have an interesting life than you shouldn't have a job. It may also be a writing cop out. I will make the exception in this book, with Anne, who is a massively real character and who I adore. Sometimes being a home maker or a husband-helper isn't a bad thing. That can be career enough in itself.

I particularly like the Charles. I like all of Mrs. Briggs main male characters. They are flawed but one thing they're not is entirely selfish. I found myself reading the book and wishing I could meet the real life version of this man, or of Bran, or Angus. I never felt such a sentiment while reading any of Laurel. K. Hamilton's books. Ok, maybe I wanted to meet her Nathanial, but that was just because the poor guy needed a hug or something. Nor was I particularly interested in meeting Christine Feehan's characters. I mean, realy, who wants to meet an overly possessive, super powerful, domineering, stalker. Soul mate or no, I'll pass on that.

I am impressed with Charles' patience in the book, and his intense desire to protect the woman he loves, to do what is best for her. I am equally impressed by Briggs presentation of his failure. There's a sort of give-and-take between the characters that I don't normally see in books, and I found myself thinking 'this, this is a relationship'.

I think my favorite parts of the book were:
"He let her play as she would for a while before catching her hands.
"Hey, lady wolf," he said breathlessly, " we need to wake up your other half before we take this any farther.""
and
"So you can tell me exactly what an Omega is - something that my lads haven't quite managed to explain satisfactorily yet. I would like something more than 'you make us happy,' which is the best they have managed so far. My lovers tell me that, and that is good, no? My wolf pack - who are mostly men, and I do not swing that way - tel me such things, and it doesn't sound too good to me. 'you bring us joy' is even worse, so I stopped asking. I need to know more, yes?"
His pained look was so exaggerated she couldn't hep laughing."

In the mean time I have also finished rereading Blood Bound. Maybe some time this weekend I'll pull out Moon Called and replace it with the others I've finished. Blood Bound is a good book but since I know what happens in the next, and have an idea of what happens in the book it felt a bit like a prelude. So, due to my bias I won't comment other than to say Mercy is one freaking lucky coyote.





So far I am about 50 pages into The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson.

It feels like one of those things I had to read in my modern lit class. Well written and well researched, but that's where my compliments end. The story itself is not necessarily interesting, and the character has yet to make himself appealing or redeemable. It reminds me of that short story I read that themed: don't try to save anyone because you'll just make it all worse. I understand that my response could be in part to my world view, but really, he watches a man fight to get his life back after horrible burns and stay positive and he's offended and sarcastic and bitter. All I could think was ass hole. Really, an ex-porn star turned porn producer. A drug addict from a messed up child hood. A man who had no redeeming value whatsoever, and not because of his messed up childhood, simply because. Right no he has no empathy, no higher feelings than selfishness and self-pity, no self control, no interest. Something's got to happen or I won't be reading past page 100.
The real advantage to the book is that it's written in flawless 1st person so reading a few pages gets me in the mind set of first person before I start working on my own stuff.

In light of the disappointing nature of the previous book I've also started Reserved for the Cat by Mercedes Lackey. Apparently it's the fourth (fifth?) in a series, but at this point seems to easily stand alone. I'm on page 16. A cat and a brownie have been introduced and our main character just got fired from the ballet. So far it is neither good nor bad, nor interesting, nor boring. I picked up the book because Jody Lee did the cover art. I suppose this is the result.






I'm also about half way through Mastering your Metabolism by Julian Michaels. Apparently I have failed to master because I've gained nearly 16 pounds since I first started reading the book. Of course, it would help if I actually followed it's advice. :-p The book itself is good, thorough, informative, and not difficult to follow. My weight gain is due to moving to the US from Asia and then Europe, moving back in with my parents, and showing a lack of self-control and self-discipline. Though, since following the book's suggestion to go with Organic dairy and meat my cycles have decreased in intensity and I have less leg hair. Interesting.

A Quote for when the Heart Grows Faint

" What are you to yourself? worthless? vile? empty?

What is Jesus to you? precious? lovely? all your salvation? all your desire?

What is sin to you? the most hateful thing in the world?

What is holiness to you? most lovely? most longed for?

What is the throne of grace to you? the most attractive spot?

What is the cross to you? the sweetest resting place in the universe?

What is God to you? your God? your Father? the spring of all your joys? the fountainhead of all your bliss? the center where your affections meet?

Is it so? Then you are a child of God!

Those low views of yourself ... that brokenness, that inward mourning, that secret confession, that longing for ... more spirituality, more grace, more devotedness, more love, does but prove the existence, reality, and growth of God's work within you.

Cheer up, precious soul!

That soul never perished, that felt itself to be vile, and Jesus to be precious!"
(Octavius Winslow, "Evening Thoughts")
(Found it on Boundless.org)

Sometimes it amazes me how smart people were hundreds of years ago. All we usually hear are the bad things, or, conversely, the idea of "the good old days," but it wasn't like that. There were good things and bad things, stupid people and brilliant people, greedy people and amazingly gracious and humble people.

I am particularly grateful for this wise person, who lived so long ago, because this quote has settled much of the turmoil that totally dominated my heart in the last couple of months.

Haunted

"Cause I'm so easily satisfied
By the call of lovers so less wild"
-Wedding Dress, Derek Webb

Ok, maybe those aren't the exact lyrics, but that's what I hear when I listen to the song, and those are the words that keep haunting me. "easily satisfied...lovers so less wild."

I don't want to be easily satisfied. I don't want less wild lovers. I want the one who's so grand he frightens me. But I'm so easily satisfied. How disappointing. Is He disappointed in me, too?

It reminds me of this chapter in John Eldridge's book The Sacred Romance. I think the chapter is actually called Less Wild Lovers. I'm not sure I even read it. I think I was afraid of what I'd find. I'm still afraid, but not so afraid that I want to stop. I want to run. I want to run until I'm home. I want to run until I'm in my Father's arms. How do I run? How do I please the one who became incarnate for me, who loves me, who died for me, who knows me? Be a good girl? But I'm not a good girl. Be perfect? I would love to be, but I believe it's beyond my capability in this life.

Do you know Rebecca St. James' song Lion? That's what I want. The rush of knowing the power before me, the terror of it, and the confidence that what's before me is Good.

What are these whispers in my head? What will they turn me into, and am I ready?

"Because money cannot buy
A husband's jealous eye..."

Cuz love is different than you think

I've been finding myself lately ruminating over the same thought. Over and over and over and over. But, ironically, I find it hard to put it into words. Or maybe...I can.

I want nothing but God.
I want that desperately. I want it more and more each day. It permiates my thoughts dozens of times an hour. It stirs every atom in my body. I want to know Him and be known.

It's a living ache inside of me. A desperate striving. Just to know and be known by the Living God.

Nothing else matters, whispers a voice in my heart. I would do anything, I would give up anything, the world is a vapor compared to this. Nothing else matters.

And, interestingly, those thoughts motivate me to live. Sort of; this world is a vapor, breathe it in. But it's so confusing, because right now I'm a vapor, too. I feel like a ghost who wants to feel the Sun on my face.

And, I'm afraid. Afraid to be that committed, to be in one hundred percent, to hold nothing back. I'm not even sure what that looks like, that I've ever seen it, but it's like a tug of war inside of me. I feel like I should give it all away, and yet I have no physical proof for such an action. I feel like I should live but I don't know what direction I need to go. Like there's so much to be done, but I'm done with it all.

And, I just want Him. I just want His presence. I want to kneel before His throne and never leave. I want to breathe. I feel like I'm in a body that doesn't fit.

Also, I want to be worthy of His presence, but I don't think I can be. That, of course, brings up an entirely other internal debate.

Am I the only one who thinks like this?

My biggest fear about my Faith

Do you ever worry that it's not...real? Worse than that, that it is real and the answer's right there and you can't quite grasp it?

So often in my life I've felt like that scene in Dante's Infirno, where you're constantly chasing flags while fleeing a swarm of bees, knowing both that you'll never catch the flags and if you stop you'll be overtaken.

My greatest terror is not that I'll end up alone, or even that I'll end up with someone "bad," but that on the day that I am judged, as I wait in longing, it will turn out that longing for God was not enough. That believing with what little faith I have was not enough. That it will turn out that I simply didn't get it, or, for you Calvinists, that It simply didn't get me. And that God will turn to me and not know me and not love me and I'll be cast from the presence of the one thing I truly ache for. Perhaps because I didn't ache for it enough while not in His presence.

Which brings me to wonder about a works based salvation and if, in fact, that's really what I've turned this into. Even if the work is "getting it." I have a difficult time believing that believing and confessing is all we do, or that we only have to do it once. And, even if it's true, how do we know personally that we're among the elect?

There's a song by Sojourn that goes -
Mistaken souls that dream of heaven and make their empty boast
of inward joy and sins forgiven while slaves to greed and lust

I am terrified of being that person, the mistaken soul. It's a desperate consuming terror. Forget Hell. This isn't even a discussion of the punishment as much as the deprivation of the presence of God. How could you even notice suffering if you'd just seen Him only to be deprived of Him? Your own internal suffering would overwhelm everything else. The dispair would be never ending. And that's what I'm afraid of.

I'm not fool enough to claim inward joy. I'm not sure I've ever had sustainable joy or peace. I long for it, but I've not got it. Instead, I have longing. Consuming longing for something I can neither see nor sense nor touch. I've never felt much different any of the hundred times I said the sinner's prayer as a child, nor when I said my own as an adolescent, nor when I was baptized. I thought there was supposed to be something, like, like love at first sight. You just *know*. But all I know is that the older I get the more I realize that I don't *know* much.

Being a Christian is supposed to change us. How much and how fast? How much and how fast is personal proof? Or, is personal improvement not proof of anything more than a strong will? What if you didn't want to improve? Situational conditioning? Softening with age? If "belief" is all that's require than those who prayed a prayer and went on to live their lives as normal, are they going to be in heaven? Will God know their names? Will he know mine, even if I had sins I never overcame?

And, what is the standard for a godly woman? I hear things like good marriage is a "godly man and a godly woman pursuing and loving one another through godly means." But...what is godly? That goes back to the "how much is enough?" question. And, I don't ask it in a desire to do as little as required, rather more the opposite, but a desire to have some point in which I can quench that nagging voice that tells me that I never do enough I never am enough. I tend to go with "you're godly if you're as perfectly like God as a human can be." Unfortunately I'm pretty sure I'll never reach that standard while alive, and if I've somehow misunderstood the Gospel than not when I'm dead either. So, what happens if I meet a godly guy? Well, if he's interested in me than I can't accept his advances because I am most certainly not godly. Though equally I'd be baffled how he managed godliness. And yet, to live as an unbeliever is unacceptable, right? To bend scripture to make excuses, or to fit it to what you understand of the practical world, or to what you desire or think is best; all of that is unacceptable. So, if you don't do that are you godly? Or, do you have to do that plus be sociable (an extrovert if possible, get brain surgery if neccessary), have an hour long quiet time every day, write devotionals, be a leader (be going into ministry if possible, apparently there's one acceptable reason for debt; seminary) in some ministry in the church, go to church at least twice a week, participate in at least one weekly bible study, street evangelize, go on mission trips for foreign countries, wear cardigans and kackies, pray under your breath all the time, adopt an annoying person, read only Christian books, and have at least one accountability partner (or, if you're a woman, also have a mentor).

Is that what being a good Christian is?
If I somehow manage all that plus a job and personal interests without having an nervous breakdown will I than feel solid in my salvation?
If we can't be saved through good works can we be sanctified through them?
Can you *want* to be saved but not be allowed?
Is desire proof enough? What if desire rarely (or never) becomes action? What then?
How do you define godliness, and why does everyone assume that the definition is universally understood?

And, how do I know that I'm not just chasing after the wind in everything I do. And, if perchance I look inside myself and see that all my motives are tainted, that all actions are selfish at their root, then what? How does someone corrupted in a corrupt world become pure? How can I become anything to anyone? How can I be sure God wants me and has chosen me? How can I work out my salvation with fear and trembling so that the fear and trembling eventually gives way to confidence and...godliness (whatever that looks like)?

They say that migraines cause vivid dreams.

Thank goodness for that! It really makes up for the dizziness and the bummy feelings and the wafting headaches.

I've been having a lot of dreams lately.

I'll start with the most recent one (and this is totally the reason I take naps. I have absolutely awesome dreams when I only sleep for a couple of hours). My mother was driving me and my sister and herself to the Seminary for childcare, but we got there early and there was something odd in the parking lot. It was like a circus, but not quite, more like a few circus rejects and some kids with toys. The point is that she stops the car but decides that it would be problematic to stop now, so before I can get out she begins to drive again. She drives behind the Seminary onto this winding road and I ask her where we're going, we're going to be late for childcare. She says that we're early and we might as well go here for a little bit. We're surrounded by forest. We come out of the forest onto a beach. A beach I'd been to before. I said that we should get out and play around in the water for a bit. My mother wasn't so keen on that idea. That's when I realized I was wearing my long blue silk skirt. I opened the car door but she was driving into the water. Kids were playing. Out between two large and further down rocks we could see another beach, one that spread into the ocean. I think I was about to tell them that that was the rich people's beach. Well, the water was getting somewhat deep and I was worried about the engine flooding so I told my mother to drive to the right to get out of waves. She managed to back the car up into a deeper area before we came out and nearly flooded out the engine. Well, neither of us were in the best mood after that. She drove back to this picnic area because it was almost time for work to start. We hadn't driven that far so it shouldn't have been difficult to get back, but my mother drove around and wasn't able to find her way out. I was frustrated and she was frustrated. We got out of the car and I was about to suggest that we head toward the large painted exit sign and that I drive when a square between two trees went white with static, like a giant tv screen. My heart dropped into my feet. "oh no no no no no" I was thinking, as I began to turn in a circle. Other people were questioning what was going on as various areas between trees went white with static and then righted themselves, and suddenly I could see how the forest was only real a little way in (and I thought 'how could we have missed that all this time?'). I thought of the Trueman Show, and how this was frightening and rather cruel. I told my mother "we have to go, now." but then everything went dark. I woke in a room with a small television mounted to the wall next to the door. A door that wouldn't open. The screen came on and there was an alien. He was very thin and green and white. I thought he looked like Jim Carry. I thought that would explain a lot about Jim Carry. He said something about being stuck here, about choosing what we did, about people in other rooms (and I got the impression that they'd captured many people, and our cats). In the chair there was another screen and there was something on it about picking our pets. I think we were to pick how they were genetically manipulated. There were little screens in clothing drawers filled with my clothes. There were little screens everywhere, in ever drawer and shelf, but I had to look for them, they were hidden, ready to drop down. They wanted to participate or pick everything. Me, I planned to get out of there.

Earlier I had a dream that Dr. Who's ship had been captured by government agents. They were going to open it. Apparently he'd gotten the chameleon arch fixed because it looked like a big glowy dome now, not a police box. So, it's in this giant bunker type government building with giant bay windows looking out from rooms above it. There's general, rather young man, more likely a bureaucrat than an actual military man, who's determined to open it, and the Doctor was there. He wanted his ship back. He began to type into the computer at a blinding speed, and symbols and and equation came up onto the screen, and behind them the swirl of the time vortex. "Ah, yes," said the government man, "the time equation. But men are of such weak wills." Meaning that someone without the will of a titan could not control the time vortex through an equation. Glaring, confident, and defiant all in one sweep the Doctor came up behind the man and, as he looked out at his captive ship, he said lowly; "I'm no weak willed man." And then the time vortex expanded and he was gone and his ship was dissapearing. I stood there, staring out at the vortex and the ship and realized I was Rose. "Yes!" I thought "I'm Rose, he won't leave me behind." But, I wasn't completely confident of that. Then there was a news report about an alien space ship having been parked in a parking lot, and how the government had taken it. There were pictures of the ship and people watching it. Bit conspiracy cover-up thing. Then I was with the taxidermist from Pushing Daisies and we were trying to escape from something and he directed me into this sewer system. But, it went far far below ground and opened into this underground, multi-level, maze with stairs and such. I ended up on a higher level than him and he was trying to find a way for me to get down, and then someone came and stacked these little blocks and showed him how it to do it.

Earlier than that I dreamed that the Taylons had gathered all the existing meteor freaks (that's Final Conflict and Smallville) into one room. They were going to make use of them. I was gathered as well, though I wasn't a meteor freak. I was part Taylon, though not much, certainly not half taylon like Liam. People started to go around and share their gifts in an odd rendition of a group ththerapy session. When it came to me I just sort of looked around and went to sit against the wall. A woman came and sat next to me and asked me "hey, aren't you going to talk about your power." I looked at her, incredulous, and said "My power is that I'm sometimes sort of a little bit psychic. Why would I talk about that? I'm a little bit psychic, I have the lamest superpower ever. No thank you, I'm not talking about it." Then she left and there was this guy sitting next to me, and another a few chairs down. He had a long nose and a British face (no chin). I thought he looked like a character. The guy next to me was playing with water, making it run in patterns over a book and his face, defy gravity. I thought it was fascinating and I asked him "can you drown?" I continued to ask whether he could turn into water or if water could hurt him as one would assume that someone who controlled fire couldn't be hurt by fire. As I was talking he choked and died. It turned out he'd choked on an ice cube.

Because I had been talking to him, and obviously imagining his death when he died, the people in the room were no longer comfortable around me. They also discovered somehow that I was at the battle of Canary Warf when all those people died, and I knew that I'd been wondering about an alien invasion then. So, it began to seem that my super power was accidentally causing people's deaths, a thought that was nearly as disconcerting to me as it was to the people in the room with me, who gave me a wide birth. Then my mother showed up and began to wash something in a kitchenet, talking about giving a ride home to a woman I used to work to, and how rude she was, and I confirmed that it was the woman's nature.

A Movie Analysis

I just finished watching "Chocolate," a Tia movie about a girl with autism (does she have autism? I didn't think it was entirely clear in the movie) who is an idiot savant with mad marshal arts skills. Apparently it came out in 2008. Lovely English subtitles. As a child she starts watching the guys doing Tia kickboxing in the courtyard and it just sort of expands from there. It's also about children trying to save a loving parent (in this case her mother) who gave up everything to take care of her unique daughter. There's a bit of a Romeo and Juliet feel to the parents' relationship. That of course ends when the evil crime boss kills the mom.
Frankly I was expecting everyone to die. It seems to be a theme in "feel good" Asian movies. Of course, they also have honor suicide, so I don't know why I'm surprised. Surprisingly, that isn't the case in this movie. Turns out that the little savant got her mad skills (hehe, I love that expression) from her Japanese daddy (her mom was Tia) and he comes to the rescue in the end. Of course, that's how long it takes the mom to ask for help. I couldn't figure out why she didn't just go with him in the beginning, but I guess if she had there wouldn't be a movie would there? Anyway, despite being stabbed and gargling blood at one point the father recovers. I think he should be featured on Heroes, obviously he has Woverine-like healing ablity, plus super agility. Anyway, after chasing down and killing her mother's killer (hey, the dad was recovering, it takes a few minutes to heal from a six inch stab wound), she comes back to the body and is comforted by her father. Her father, who apparently loved both her mother and her takes her to the much more beautiful and comfortable Japan. It ends with them walking along a shore and a short monologue about childhood and love making everything worthwhile.
I think they definately could have done a worse job. I was sad that the cousin didn't go with them though, and I would have liked the mother to be able to say goodbye.
There were minut-e that I know I missed. Things that were supposed to have signifigance but because of the cultural differences I only saw them cinimatically highlighted but have no clue of the supposed signifigance. Like the beads, or why the mother never left, or the problem with her sending a letter, like, once every four years. I couldn't figure out why the mob boss shot himself in the toe at the beginning either. I wasn't quite sure what the father giving his pin to the elders meant (that he was quitting the mob?). Oh, and I don't understand the title. Having been in Korea and knowing that mixed kids are often called 'monkey' I wonder if it's a reference to the girl's mixed parentage. Otherwise to the candies she ate (but considering that it wasn't a particularly coherent theme in the movie I don't know why they'd title because of that). I did get that the mom put herself in front of the father when he was about to be stabbed and that they were always bound by blood. Any other symbolism or pop references were completely lost on me.
Interesting movie though, and I'd definately recomend it. It's action packed and has some funny and touching scenes, and an ending that's not half bad.

32

So, I fixed up my parents' lawn yesterday, front and back. Pruned the trees and hedges, mowed, clipped the stuff that was in too awkward a place to be mowed. And, between where the basketball shorts stopped at my knees and the socks started at my ankles I got roughly 32 bites (I may have missed one or two in counting). Yep, you read that right, 32.
I think you can see about 10 or 12 in the picture, there's a lot more on the back and sides that you can't see (lol, and I almost didn't put this up at all because I'm not a big fan of my legs. How is it that guy's legs look great at any angle but most womens', and certainly mine, almost always look bad from anything but the side?). I have one word; itchy.

But, I'm being a trooper and not scratching.

Now, without futher ado; one of the many reasons I love my town is the beautiful parks















And, I now have undenyable proof that both the cats in my parents' home are odd:
















Otherwise, I have the contents of my tool box to write up and then I'll be totally done with all the inventorying of my stuff. Which is pretty much bizarre. Maybe I'll also write up a list of things that I have but I haven't packed away. I don't know why I'm making the list. It's not like I wouldn't give the stuff away if I needed to, or like I'd be broken up if most of it were burned or stolen. I guess I've always wanted to do it, just to feel adult and to keep record. People and possessions are so strange and I just can help but be struck by how temporary all this is. How temporary we are. Can't you feel time rushing by you like a roaring wind? And we're so *small*. The universe blinks and we're dust. It's a miracle that we matter at all.

People all over the world

I thought I'd put up some pictures of people in the places I've been. It's all different, but at the same time they're all people. Just people. Everywhere. We're from different cultures and different backgrounds and speak different languages but in the end we're all still people. I like that.
The countries are Spain, France, Wales, Korea, Japan, Germany, Ireland, Sweden, Denmark, and Australia.