I don't want to be arrogant. It's stupid. I've done it before. I still do it now. It's a mistake that's hard to see in yourself, but INFINITELY easier to call out in other people.

I bring this up for two reasons: One, because often when I read previous posts, I can't help but think "man, I sound like a self-absorbed idiot." And I don't want to be like that. Blogging has always been a way to put my thoughts into words, and like the majority of humankind, most of my thoughts are about myself.

I don't think it's selfish to think about myself all the time. I'm the only human I've ever been; the only hunger pains I feel are my own; I've grown up looking through my eyes and walking in my own shoes. It's natural for me to think about myself most of the time, it's what I'm used to. I am capable of feeling for other people because I've matured past the age of three and have realized that we are all sinners on an equal plane. But I still think about myself a lot. Right now I'm thinking about how the support on this chair is digging into my back, and how the pressure of my legs pressing down on my feet as I sit cross-legged is significantly greater upon my right foot than on my left. I'm thinking about how hungry I am and how I really, really want a cheeseburger right now. But it's past curfew; I don't think I'm going to get it.

It's not wrong of me to think these things. If I were to stop thinking of myself, I would eventually starve or something. On the other hand, I cannot think of myself alone, nor can I think of myself better than others.

The second reason I bring this up is because I've recently been dealing with arrogance among my friends. In this case, I am not the self-righteous one, and as far as labeling is concerned, that's as far as I can go. You see, there has been a dispute between two of my good friends in which both are convinced that they have been wronged by the other, but they are at the same time aghast that the other would accuse them of anything. Even after as much as I know, I can't say who is right and who is wrong. Fortunately, mine is not the opinion that matters. Regardless, they have resorted to disavowing the friendship, and now they won't speak to each other.

At least, that was the last that I've heard.

Honestly, I feel bad, because I'm convinced that SOMEONE was wronged, and I know that both sides have been hurt VERY deeply. Both sides have accused the other of arrogance, but neither side has admitted to being arrogant. I realize that at least one party has to be wrong; I have a hard time believing that it was only one sided.

The thing about pride is that it is so, so blinding. If in a dispute between me and a friend, I accuse the other man of being proud, I have to realize that he believes that he is right. At the same time, I am convinced that I am right. So if we are both convinced that we are fighting for a noble cause, but are at the same time at odds with one another, what makes me so sure that I am not the one that has made an awful, awful mistake?

Consider this: my bike has been missing for a good month now. I walked out of my dorm one foggy Monday morning, with three minutes to make my ten minutes walk to class. So I went to grab my bike when I found that it was not on the bike rack as I had left it the night before. For the next few days, I was late to class, as my morning schedule was based around me having a bike. That Thursday, after several days of wandering around campus, my Mt. Fury bicycle finally returned to the dorm bike rack.

Relieved to have my bike returned, I pulled out my old bike lock and secured my bike from any further thieving attempts. The next morning, I left my dorm to find my bike not stolen, but secured by an additional bike lock. Frustrated, I left the bike where it was and hurried to class; all during class I kept thinking about my bike. I pretty angry that some jerk put his lock on my bike, but I figured that with enough time I could probably break his combination. So after class I shoveled in a quick lunch and returned to my dorm to find that my bike, lock included, was entirely gone.

I have not been that mad at another human for a long time. I concluded that the guy that took my bike was either a complete jerk and didn't care at all that the bike belonged to me, or was sadly, sadly mistaken and believed that the bike was actually his.

Anyway, I had been checking every bike rack since. I've conditioned myself to the point that I will even check bikes in movies to see if it's mine. They aren't.

Last week, however, I relinquished my search, for I found my bike parked outside the cafeteria. Feeling both elation over the discovery of my bike and fear of another misplacement, I rode the bike straight to my dorm and stored it in my room. No one was gonna steal my bike anymore! I was going to get it registered the next day, and I was gonna buy a fancy new lock for it that no jerk could break.

I kept it in my room over night. The next morning, I rode it to chapel, and as I sat in chapel, my mind worked itself over the details of my bike over and over and over again. It focused on the rusty pipe that suspended the seat from the frame; it focused on the dual speed adjustment that let allowed the rider to go 15 different speeds; it focused on the two rusty screws that held the break handles in place. Then it focused on the "Mt Fury" decal on the back end of the body. It seemed odd that it was back there, because I thought for sure that the decal was on the front of my bike, but the rest of the details matched my bike, and I hadn't found a bike like that before I lost mine. It was only as we stood up for prayer that I came to the disheartening conclusion that the bike I had taken was not my bike.

Glum and sheepish, I returned the bike to the scene of the crime as soon as I could. And as I was walking away, I couldn't help but feel a little guilty, because I became the guy that the week before I had so passionately despised. And it got me thinking: what if I had been wrong all along? What if the bike that returned to Brock that Thursday weeks before wasn't actually my bike, and I was the jerk who put his lock on someone elses bike? I mean, I already have proven that I don't actually know what my bike looks like. So what makes me so sure that I knew what it looked like then?

I'm still looking for it, by the way. So if any of you see a dark green Mt. Fury Roadster as described above and the decal on the front part of the top bar, let me know.

But think about what Christ said when he was speaking to the crowd in Matthew. If you see a speck of wood in your friend's eye, first remove the log from you own so that you might see clearly. Later in the first letter to the Corinthians, Paul urges the young church to stand strong, even against sins they believe that they have overcome, because it is most often when we think we are most right that we are most susceptible to tripping up.

I wish we could all just magically learn humility. That would make so many things easier.

And to be clear, I don't believe that humility is thinking of yourself lower than other people. Humility, in that sense, is not the opposite of pride. I believe that humility is having an accurate grasp on reality. It's understanding your weaknesses, your strengths, and believing that despite your exceeding skill in one area and a companions struggle in another, you are no better than him. We are all made by the same God. We have all been born into the same world. We have all inherited the same sin nature. And we are all subject to the grace of God. It is true that some people have been gifted with a quicker mind, a stronger body, or finer features, but that does not make them better than anyone else. It simply makes them different.

 

But that's simply a side note. My main drive is this: bear each other's burdens. Help each other grow. Don't fight and bicker; God is always in favor of reconciliation. So deal with accusations, and settle your matters quietly. If you're at odds with someone in your life, realize that they are not trying to hurt you; they simply want to defend their own opinions and beliefs. Try to see it from their perspective, and if that doesn't work, realize that while they are fighting for what they believe is right, they might simply be misinformed. Maybe it's not your job to correct them. Maybe it is simply your job to bear the brunt of their mistakes. Who can say? But even if you feel that you've been wronged, turn the other cheek. 1, because that's what God has instructed us to do, and 2, because maybe, just maybe, you're the one who is sadly mistaken.

Graduation has now snuck upon many of us. Just like that. We're now a part of the "real world." Of course, it doesn't feel to be that way, and I'm sure that many of us won't actually believe that we're not going back to DC until we begin school in another city or state with a group of "real worlders" just as out of place as ourselves.

But with the new freedoms-- those to stay up as late as one wants, to sleep in as late as one needs, to eat before or after 12:48, and to blog from the cloudy view of your roof-- dawns the realization that this is it. Destiny is fast approaching, and no longer will one or two electives in a schedule of required courses determine the direction of your education. Now you must sort through the potentials God has given you for what you will do for the rest of your life.

Of course, everyone always tells you "oh, you don't have to decide right now. You still have time to figure out where you're supposed to be," but I'm afraid I can't find the peace in that until I'm on the other side, and I realize they've been right all along.

I know that God has a plan, and I know that sometimes that plan involves a little bit of sidetracking for the sake of preparing us for a direction we had no idea we would be taking. But I'm torn now between resting assured in the idea that my steps are already planned out, and I must simply listen to God's calling, and the desire to write my own story, not bound by plans that anyone but me has created. I feel a little like Neo right now. I just wish I knew which pill was blue and which was red.

See, right now I'm one of those "well, I thought I had a major in mind, but I changed it last week" kinda cases. For years I thought I should go into art and design. Get creative. Try new things. Blow the world away with my folding furniture that looks oh so stunning in the corner of your living room. But the more I thought about it, the less I believed that I could be content-- going to work day after day with no more stimulus than a blank canvas or a blinking computer screen. I'm good at art, but I don't know if I would enjoy being an artist.

But then just the other week-- the last day of Senior Trip, actually-- I came to the conclusion that maybe I didn't have to be an artist. Perhaps there's something else in store for me. Maybe I could make more of an impact somewhere else, as more than a painter, a drawer, a designer. Because really, what has IKEA done for the world?

With more background than I really want to explain, I decided that the prospect of studying children's ministry didn't sound so distasteful. Actually, it kinda clicked when I thought about it. With that, I could work with children, the least predictable and most permanent of media, and perhaps have a chance to design or if I wanted. Children's ministry is always in need of a good VBS set design or goofy emcee.

I dunno. Whenever I talk to people, I always get the "oh, you're going to succeed at whatever you choose to do," which, you know, is encouraging and all, but it doesn't really help me one way or the other. Sometimes I wish God would write it out in the stars. Other times I think he does, we're just not watching...

I've always loved the Zelda series. The games are just obvious enough that you can guess what's going to happen next, but just so difficult that a single puzzle may have you scratching your head for twenty minutes. But regardless of how long it takes, the story is going somewhere, and there is no doubt in anyone's mind that the hero was chosen for just this purpose. I've always wanted to be Link. I've always wanted to live a story like that.

I've always feared a life without purpose. A life where I had nowhere to fit, nowhere to be. Like the grad party I went to today for an old friend who, though we played as children, now attend different schools. Xenia Christian and Dayton Christian to be exact. So I said my hello to the grad and grabbed some food, but quickly realized that I had absolutely no idea where to sit or stand to eat it. I mean, I could always be awkward and stand off by myself, but I instead decided on an even awkwarder tactic and sauntered up to a circle of Xenia Christian students who I knew, but obviously not well enough.

AWK-WARD...

Or like the song Hercules sings in his Disney rendering, a song with which I now appreciate for new reasons.

I will go most anywhere just to feel like I belong...

Not to worry. I'm not as dismayed as perhaps I'm expressing. I just need to find out where to find my way to most anywhere...

So, until the skies are clear and I can check for God's messages, I'm reading, and praying, and thinking, and eating too, because that's always good.

Speaking of, I hear a soda calling my name. So I either need to go see a doctor, or go drink a soda.

So until I'm stressed enough to climb my roof and blog again,
Goodnight, friends.

May God grant you the wisdom to know what path he has planned for you, the strength to take that road, and the peace to know that this course is best.

Maybe it's just the winter weather, but as I wander around my frigid house, I'm reminded of everything I should've done over break, everything I should still do before Monday, and everything I'd rather be doing. In all honesty, there's not a lot I'd rather be doing, because right now everything kinda seems pointless. I check facebook. What's the point? I try and practice tuba. No point. I think about cleaning my room, but that's pointless as well.

I feel like writing, but have nothing to say. Words come to mind, but they're all lifeless. I want to say something profound, but what's the point.

I think I'll be glad when break is over. The goal of a break is to exist, and you can fill that break with whatever you want. Relaxing. Camping. Fishing. Playing. Sleeping. Socializing. But school, though sometimes boring as none other, gives a reason to get up each day. Not a very good reason, sometimes, but for me, it's reason enough to not sleep in.

I think I'm gonna be one of those people addicted to my job. At least, addicted to activity. I don't like boredom. Or breaks. Not long one at least.

See, even my writing is getting worse. I think I'mma go try to tackle that tuba again. Or maybe I'll play it. I dunno.

I missed you Xanga...