I enjoy reading stories about rites of passage. There’s something fulfilling about a person leaving behind the safety they’ve known, facing a challenging personal quest and triumphantly returning as a respected member of society. They have faced danger, survived the experience, been changed by it and as a result have crossed over the threshold into adulthood. Why are these stories so cathartic? Perhaps because our society doesn’t have any definite rites of passage. Learning to drive, getting a job, buying a house, getting married, and raising children can all be important steps in our lives, but do this things transform us into men or women? True, getting lost in the woods, searching for an animal companion, leaping face first from a tower, or hanging from hooks embedded in the skin all seem like pretty strange ways to prove someone has reached that certain level of maturity. Still, there was at least a clear way to do so. Such methods don’t make sense to us anymore, but I wonder if we really are missing out on something those practices were meant to accomplish.

In the end, I think a lot of us simply prefer stagnation. We don’t want to leave the comforts of childhood to face real danger on our own. We don’t want to prove ourselves because it’s too much effort. We don’t want to be tested in case we discover that we’re failures, even though by not trying we’ve automatically become so. I find myself tempted to fall into the Peter Pan syndrome, not wanting to grow up, face difficulties, make sacrifices, and accept responsibility. I’m not saying we shouldn’t find joy in the little things of life. I truly admire those who find satisfaction in simplicity and I hope to follow their patterns. We should be thankful in all circumstances. But I must be on guard not to find contentment in the mundane. Have I resolved to build sandcastles on the shores of experience when an entire ocean awaits for me to explore? Am I so afraid of leaving behind what is comfortable that I’ve chosen a life of spiritual paralysis? These are things I must ask myself.

Thankfully, God tests us, whether we like it or not. I often remind myself that everything is a test. In a rather extreme example, God had Abraham prove his faithfulness by offering the one thing he cared about most, his only son. And not just any only son, but the one God had promised Abraham even though he and his wife we far beyond child-bearing years. Sure, God already knew the outcome beforehand, but I wonder what effect the experience had on Abraham and his son Isaac (who, I believe, was a young man at that point). And what an encouragement that story is to us now. Unlike many tribal rites of passage, God’s method is not a one-shot deal where failure is irreversible. Instead, we are constantly being tested. Testing is a purification process, comparable to the way gold or silver are refined through fire. Remarkably, God can work even through our failures. So I hope that I will face the next challenge willingly, seeing it as an opportunity for growth, knowing that, while it may seem terrifying, the outcome far outweighs the deceptive comforts of just giving up.

I’ve heard a few people tell me, “If I weren’t a Christian, I’d be a _____.” They fill in the blank with such things as naturalist, atheist, humanist, etc. Let’s get this straight, I’m not writing this to condemn anyone. What right do I have to do so? None. And for those who are not Christians, I don’t expect them to understand or agree with me. However, I’ve often found that such statements are made with an ever so slight sense of longing. Though I’m sure they’d deny it and it’s likely they are being honest, it seems as if they are really saying, “Sometimes I wish I weren’t a Christian so I could be a _____.” But when I’m in my right mind thinking about it, my own response is (or ought to be), “If I weren’t a Christian, I’d be dead.”

For me, there is no life outside of Christ. Without Christ, I’d quite possibly be physically deceased and would undoubtedly be spiritually and morally lifeless. And I don’t mean lifeless as in what happens after something has lived for a time, but as in having never once lived, a complete absence of even the faintest trace of life. Non-life.

Am I a better person for thinking this? Of course not. I am just as quick to give in to worldly thought and worldly living as the average Christ-follower, indeed, even more so. I’m outrageously susceptible to sin and am constantly underestimating its terrible power and influence in my own life. Nevertheless, when it comes to finding real appeal from adopting other worldviews, I simply cannot. I see no hope outside of Christ. I agree with Peter in John 6:68 when he replies to Jesus, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” There is nowhere else to turn, nothing else that makes sense to me, no one else who offers an honest, practical, powerful, and reasonable solution to the problems of the human condition. I find no joy, no comfort, no meaning save that which comes from the death and resurrection of Christ. Without it I am forever lost; a creature most pitiable, doomed to roam in futility until its day of ultimate nonexistence. But in Christ I have life; eternal, glorious, victorious, abundant life! May it ever be so.

What will it take for us to realize that every passing second is of importance, that every breath is a gift? Why am I so quick to lose sight of the magnitude of living, of just being here? So rarely do those gleaming moments of reverent understanding cross my mind, the ones that bring everything else into focused clarity beneath their glow. How seldom do we really appreciate the human experience, how little we truly value life, the one thing we possess.

Is it wrong to sometimes want so badly for things to be very different? So many of us, myself included, live better than any king ever did, with luxuries surpassing even the grandest imagination of those wealthy rulers from ages past. And yet we are so secluded, so feeble, so vain, so wasteful, so careless, so heartless, and so alone. I heard recently that worship is the only real solution to loneliness. I believe it.

These are dark times and I can see them getting darker. But alas, it is night, and it is always difficult to see anything clearly in the dark. Life becomes complicated and convoluted. The doubts start to overwhelm that inner joy. Still, the day is coming. As the sun faithfully rises once more, its beams streaming across my face, awaking me from slumber, I also rise, allowing air to again fill my lungs, knowing that I’ve been given yet another chance. And as I gaze out upon the world before me, I think, “you haven’t lost me yet.”

Christmas is always an interesting interruption in the usual way things go throughout the rest of the year. Still, I think it is a good change (for most people) and even a needed one. I always find myself in odd seasonally inspired moods, sometimes very pensive and then suddenly remarkably blissful with Christmas cheer. Plus there’s just a lot going on with me right now; what with figuring how to balance between multiple families, homes, and friend groups. It tends to cause conflicts, mostly internal ones, but not always. With all that, I’m very thankful to be able to spend time with my many family members and friends, feeling grateful to even have family and friends, knowing there are some people who have neither. I know that I am loved by them, and it is a nourishing thing to know.

Christmas often brings with it memories of the past, experiences I’d long forgot about and even some I hadn’t remembered at all (either because I was too young or I just have a poor memory). Whilst recollecting on days of yore and viewing old family videos, I was struck by this thought my sister recently shared with me, “it’s all like looking back on a dream of a different life that someone else lived.” A lot of times it feels that way. Was that really me? Did all that really happen? Living, it’s such a strange thing. I’m still getting used to it for the most part.

It’s odd that during this Christmas I’ve probably learned more about my family in just a few days than I have at any given period of time. There’s a lot of sadness in my family history. But when I look at how things are today, there is hope. Sometimes I still wish things had been different, but I’m at a place of acceptance, knowing the past cannot be changed. It is obvious to me that God is still invading our lives and working in remarkable ways, just as He did long ago when He came down to Earth as a human baby. For all these things, I rejoice.

If, while cooking, you follow directions in the completely wrong order, there’s a good chance you’ll end up with a disaster that no one wants to eat. Life’s kinda like that. When we see someone whose life is a mess, we’ll often say they have the wrong priorities. They are placing too much significance on the incorrect thing and it throws everything else out of order. For a Christian, it’s necessary to approach faith with order and purpose, doing the most needful things first. I came up with a list outlining what I see as the proper steps towards Godly obedience. The items on this list are in order of importance, where each step follows another in a natural progression:

-Personal time with God in prayer and worship

-The Study of God’s word in order to better understand Him, ourselves, and the world around us

-Placing oneself under solid Biblical teaching and the instruction of a spiritual mentor

-Fellowship with other believers, unity of the body in praise and worship

-Doing the acts/work of God (reaching the lost, aiding the needy, ministering to fellow saints, serving one’s family, being a faithful worker for Christ, etc.)

Every part is important, but I believe there is a necessary order of operations to be followed. Let me know what you think, whether I’m missing or need to change something and why.

Thoughts flee like fish. They seem so beautiful when one swims near me, but when I reach in to grab and pull them to the surface, refractions of memory distort my vision and they scatter. It takes a concerted effort, a serious determination on my part to actually write something worth reading.

I’ve been thinking about writing a lot. It’s something I want to do, something I need to do. This might mean that I’ll stop posting here for a while, save the occasional “this is what’s happening in my life” posts. Then again, it could mean I’ll be writing more posts. Hard to tell. I’ve been saying it for a long time, but I really, really need to write. Here’s a few random, scattered thoughts that I’ve brought up before they slipped out of my hands back into the watery depths.

I visited some mud caves in Ocotillo with a few friends on Saturday. They were inspiring (the caves I mean, though the friends weren’t half bad either). I’d really like to do more cave exploring in the future. It’s a lot of fun and I feel that I am at a place where my personal fitness would not be a hindrance to exploring the more frequented caves. Plus, it’s just fun to say that I’m going out spelunking.

I celebrated my sister’s birthday and it was a good reminder of how thankful I am for her, and, as a matter of fact, for all my family.

After purposefully putting it off for a long time, I did a quick read-through of my High School Senior Year Book (not sure if all those capitals were necessary, but best to play it safe). I wouldn’t say it brought back a flood of memories and emotions, but rather that they slowly drifted in one by one, and are still returning. I’m amazed at how insightful some people were with what they had written to me, sometimes people I barely remembered. I was shocked by an encouraging note written by a girl who had committed suicide a couple years later. That event impacted me significantly, and probably always will. I thought if there was any way I could go back and somehow prevent such a tragedy from happening, I would, without a doubt. In another note, someone warned me against letting my talents go to waste. It made me reflect on how little I use my creativity now compared to how often I used it back then. I wondered why that is and how I can change it. Reading through those notes, I felt like I now understood some of those people from my past (and myself) better. I thought of how vain many of us were back then and how vain I continue to be today. And yet, I know I’ve grown a lot. I don’t know if I’m a whole new person but I’m definitely a different person from before.

For my sister’s birthday, I’d bought her a book she really wanted by Donald Miller, one of her favorite authors. In the opening, he writes about memories, how infrequently they are retained and how a friend of his deemed them so important as to write them down so as not to forget. I do think they’re important and there are few things I love more than creating really great memories with people and being able to later reflect fondly upon times gone by. And yet, I don’t believe memories are all we have, despite what some may say. Memories, even those that are lost, still effect us some way, still shape who we are and who we become. I thank God for the way He created our minds to work and I marvel that His grace remains whether we remember or forget. I think there is sometimes a beauty in forgetting. Is He not the One who chooses to remember our sins no more?

So my friend Morgan posted this recently on her blog and I really got a kick out of it. Not only do I find it humorous, but also fairly accurate social commentary. Seriously, we’re so ungrateful and we take so much for granted. We feel as if we are entitled to everything we have. I really need to keep myself in check when it comes to this.

A while back I was talking with a friend about people I’d known who had been making some poor choices in their lives. It amazed me how some people who claimed to be Christians could follow lifestyles there were anything but Christ-like. I told my friend, “I guess they just don’t live what they believe.” But he wisely corrected me, pointing out that they were living what they believed, though not what they claimed to believe. I was struck by that idea: we all live exactly what we believe. When I think about it that way, but with the critical eye fixed on my own darn self, my faith appears to be so minuscule.

If I really lived out the things I claimed to believe to their logical outcome, I have a feeling my life would be drastically different from the one I’m now living. So what can I do? The only thing I know to do: go humbly before God, thanking Him for His grace and pleading for the transformation of this doubting heart. Only He can plant the seeds of hope and cause faith to sprout from the rocky grounds of unbelief. Only He can give me victory over the shortcomings of my sinful flesh so that heart, mind, body, and soul all work in unison toward the completeness that only Christ can offer.