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Archive for May, 2012

None of us asked to be born.

No one was floating around in their mom or dad’s reproductive organs just begging to fertilize or be fertilized.

And that’s the horrific part, isn’t it? That we never had a choice in the first place. Rationally, who would ever want to be alive? Now we all have to drag our asses to work or school, get injured, grow old, breathe in the worst the world has to offer, which these days translates into air, plain and simple.

It would’ve been easier to float around in the confines of some bodily cavity. Because let’s face it, death is gruesome no matter which way you twist it — it’s not like the movies where you slip away peacefully, no, but it’s more along the lines of soiling yourself in every way possible as your physical form unleashes its last. That’s not to say that a woman’s egg and a man’s sperm don’t meet horrific ends (and I do welcome you to think about that one), but at least we’d never know.

Everyone loves to stand against the words “Ignorance is bliss” because we live in an information-driven society. Being opposed to ignorance is equivalent to being a champion of freedom. A hero. But everyone’s got something, some bit of reality that’s been removed from them so that they can be just a bit happier. That’s the funny thing; we’ll never know everything. Everyone’s a little ignorant, and some people are very much so. And we’re all more joyful for it.

I think anyone who knew everything would be sad. Very, very sad.

And I think the rest of the world knows it, too. Because no one’s running around asking to know every last thing. Tons of people hop about claiming to know everything, but no one really wants that. It’d be, well, too real. In fact, you might say that the saddest people are the ones who know too much. For whom life is too real.

None of us asked for it to be real.

And that’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it?

Because here we are. This is as real as it gets.

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The choice.

It wasn’t that I’d chose to not follow Jesus anymore. Far from it. If anything, the things that started leading me further and further away from that was the constant disappointed looks as I explained to people my unavailability to go to Catalyst and the increasing disconnect between myself and the community.

I stuck by my choice.

It was something that I believed I had the ability turn back on at any point in time — I could easily change my mind at whatever point I desired and go back to the way things were. Where I thought I was supposed to be. Where people thought I was supposed to be. That thought didn’t last long. Within a month after the choice, I was engrossed in this group of people vastly different from those I’d immersed myself with for a whole year at that point — yet more like myself than any of them.

It wasn’t that I chose “better” friends or friends that were “more like me”. Because that wasn’t the case at the time. At the time, I was at a loss. I thought they were strange and wild, and I’d done my fair share of passing judgment on most of them. So why did I want to stay? The only logical conclusion to reach was that I wanted to do it for me.

It was simultaneously selfish and liberating, choosing. I sometimes look back on January 2010 and think that people were just putting me on a path they thought would be best for me. It was probably unintentional, influenced by the norms of our fellowship. I’ve never been one for norms, anyway.

I did something for me, and I lost so much. But I found more — much more. I found my voice.

I’d do well to never forget that, but I do. I’m often bitter and broken about the things I gave up to be where I am. But I never would’ve found these few things that burn deep and bright in my soul. So much so that I’m sure that He’s there. No matter how many people’s eyes tell me that He isn’t. The audience in the pews is not the only place to find Him.

That’s not to say that I haven’t drifted. But sometimes, when I get lucky, I soar. 

And it all began with a choice. It always does. In perfect sequence and imperfect harmony.

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