Change

It is inevitable. It can be counted on. It is the only constant in the universe. We cannot escape it. It is change. I loath it, almost universally, but I am beginning to change my tune, if you will. If I learn to accept the inevitability of change, perhaps life will be less scary, less ridden with anxiety. I resist change so adamantly because of the comfort that accompanies the familiar. Everyone loves comfort, sameness, consistency, yet it cannot be had--at least not for long. We live in a universe where things are constantly changing, altering, growing; it is the nature of life. It is then contrary to nature to resist change, to put-at-bay the inevitable of existence. The uncertainness of change should bring excitement and anticipation of something different. The unknown. That is why I fear change. I have no ability to control what I cannot see or do not understand. I can control the known, the familiar. But, ultimately that is a false sense of control, because if the only constant in the universe is change, than I am continually functioning beneath a delusion. The crux of the issue is control. Change is being out of control. But, perhaps that's not so bad after all...

Fact or Fiction?

Society inundates and immerses its members in fiction. We are engulfed in continual non-reality. Media: movies, books, television, magazines, internet--all fantasy. It's not a wonder that the majority of humanity is perpetually discontent. We are somehow always striving towards an ideal, a standard that simply doesn't exist. Yet, we are so deeply entrenched in this non-reality, that we cannot understand why life is not "like in the movies." We want a life that only exists in the pages of our favorite novel, and we are continually disappointed when we discover that our own reality does not fit the ideal of our fictional worlds. Why is my husband not Mr. Darcy? Why don't I have Brad Pitt's body? Even if they are not these inane questions, but instead a deep-settled and unspoken unhappiness with reality, they exemplify the condition of society. I believe this obsession with fiction and disbelief in fact arise from the current culture. We are so surrounded by fiction and fantasy that our own realities seem dull in comparison. So what will we choose? Fact or fiction?

What's your major?

Have you ever noticed in casual conversation that people will often refer to their college major, and do so in the present tense. Like if someone, upon mentioning some obscure philosopher and receiving an odd look, will comment in response, "I'm a philosophy major." And this someone could potentially be a forty-year old woman who owns a coffee shop and is as far removed from higher education as twenty years and an espresso could make her; however, she remains forever a philosophy major. And I find this. Despite my recent graduation, I still find myself being referred to or referring to myself as an "English major." I wonder if it's an identity crisis. I believe so. It seems somehow one of the most singular things that defines a person in their lives. And it cannot be taken a way. Once an English major, always an English major, right? I hope so. Understanding that it doesn't define, but describes a person. Listen closely in your next conversation regarding economics or religion and just see if you don't find perhaps an economics or religion "major" in the bunch. It's interesting to discern what humanity clings to for identity's sake. Just listen.

Crutch or Coping mechanism?

Confined. Restricted. Penned-in. Or am I? I feel constrained by my own constraints. I create them, yet simultaneously resent them. My sister has a particular dislike for personality tests, as well as the importance I place on them. I find it fascinating--the categorization of individual behavior, which ironically aligns perfectly with my personality. In the world of the Myer's Briggs personality types, I am an ESFJ. The portion of my personality which is, I believe, my distinguishing, yet most frustrating factor is the J. It stands for Judging. But, not in the traditional sense of judging--rather it insinuates that a J personality tends to function within the context of expectations or pre-conceived notions about life. As well, a J processes things in a very linear fashion. Unlike my best friend, who is a P (perceiver), I cannot make the distant or random connections in my brain that she can. I see black and white, while she sees grey. I frustrates me often, how I process and engage with the world. And I am not sure if it is because I am a J that I have latched on so heavily to this notion of my personality and am confined by it, or if it is that I am confined by it because I'm a J? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? I'm not sure if we'll ever know. But, it is maddening to watch myself through my own eyes and not really be able to alter my own neuroticism. Am I simply using my personality as a crutch for my bizarre behavior? Or rather, does it simply help me cope with the bizarreness? I'm not sure. I've run out of categories in my mind, I shall resume this ranting later...

Actively waiting...

It seems like a paradox--to actively wait, doesn't it? I thought so, but it's not. There can be active waiting, and I think God is teaching me right now to do just that--wait, actively. I am trying to discern the difference between actively waiting and striving. There's a difference, I think. Because we cannot simple sit idle, expecting life and its opportunities to come to us, but at the same time, there is such futility in continually striving for the mere sake of striving, you know? It's actually exhausting. I am in a waiting period, and it's painful because I cannot see the conclusion of the "waiting," yet I know I meant to wait. However, He desires me to actively pursue Him in the midst of this waiting. I guess I'll just keep asking what's next...

Brevity

Life is short. I am just beginning to realize how short. We are here for a short period to live, breath, love, and then die. I think of the Scriptures that say we are like dust, or like a plant that blooms today and withers tomorrow. Our lives are indeed brief. My sister and I were talking tonight about this tangible reality, as we ourselves are growing older. She commented upon the futility of life. It does seem futile really, when one has no purpose or point. What is the point of life, truly? I believe there is no point without Christ, none. If we are not here to know Him, glorify Him, and become more like Him than this brief passage through what we know as life is meaningless. Mortal, finite life is indeed brief; however, He came to save us from that futility. It was not meant to be this way--brief. I believe it was C.S. Lewis who said that this material world is like a dressing room, simply preparing us for what's to come. I think he was right. Life may be brief, but it is not futile...

Walking...

A friend of mine just gave me an analogy regarding the Christian life that he discovered in a book he's reading. He described how there are moments in life where we soar, others where we run and sometimes when all we can do is walk. I have been soaring and running for quite some time, but I have found that often in those times of soaring and running, I have little need of God. I am sufficient. My situations are sufficient. I am now entering though a time in my life where it is all I can do to simply walk. I am finding it is in these times, however, that I truly have need of God. I will honestly confess that I much prefer to soar, amidst the beautiful places and experiences of life; however, I wonder if we learn more there? Or, if God allows us in His grace to revel in those periods, but then in His love He slows us down, bringing us into places of dependence. I love God when I am soaring, yet I have no real need of Him. I need Him when I walk. I wonder if God causes us to walk, so that in His love He can shape us, chipping away at what was otherwise inaccessible while we we ran or soared above our need for Him? I wonder...