Boxes

One of the highlights I've planned for my summer this year is a week-long “Rifleman's Boot Camp”, an extended marksmanship clinic offered by the RWVA. It's an extended, in-depth version of the RWVA's Appleseed event, as mentioned before (Appleseed - Sacrifice, Appleseed - Alone, Appleseed - Single Part 1, Appleseed - Single Part 2)

The class is held in a relatively remote location. I'm planning on camping on-site to save travel time, gas costs, and my sanity versus spending hours in the car. Both the camping and the shooting will be for a greater duration than I am used to, so I've been steadily “tooling up” for the event for about the last month. So far, it looks like I'm bringing double the equipment for an event that is six times the duration and 50% farther from home than my previous foray. I'm hoping that there's also several times the learning to be had.

It's amazing how much “stuff” I think I need. There's ammo to buy, camping supplies to gather or purchase, car-packing logistics to figure out, and so much more. I think part of it is my “camping” style. Not being proficient due to lack of practice, my methodology is often “open the trunk and shove in a bunch of stuff, hoping that it all works out.” Because of the (mostly self-imposed) demands of this trip, I'm trying to shove in as much stuff as I can to increase the odds of it “working out”.

As I prepare for my week-long trip, I was at my parents' house digging through stuff I left stashed there. Even though it's been a handful of years, I just somehow never get around to packing up all the things I left behind. I knew I had a couple things which would facilitate my trip, but my boxes had long been shuffled into long-term storage. So there I was, on a hot July afternoon, digging through dusty boxes in a cluttered, unventilated outbuilding, looking for something I vaguely remembered I had. Although failing my primary objectives, I did snag some “secondary objective” stuff that will be nice to have at my own house.

I noticed some interesting facts. Teenage Kenton had some good taste in purchases; some of the stuff I brought back has genuine utility for me to this day. Adult Kenton is at least a little impressed that Teenage Kenton made such good choices. Teenage Kenton also kept a lot of just plain junk. For Adult Kenton to be happy with the quantity of his possessions, Adult Kenton will have to sort through many boxes of stuff good only for recycling.

I remembered as I was digging through boxes that I worked hard and spent hours and hard-earned dollars on some of the items that I now consider worthless. Money is just a tool to get where you want to be; the cost didn't bother me. The amount of time I spent was a different matter. It was slightly disconcerting to remember just how many hours I spent either planning a purchase, improvising something I couldn't afford to purchase, or implementing a recent purchase.

The lesson at hand is one I should apply as I try to fill perceived needs for new “stuff” in my life this summer. Remember at the beginning as I talked about all the things I think I need for my summer to go well? How much of it will make me look back in a couple years and say “why did I buy that? That item is completely valueless to me and I don't know why I thought it was so important at the time.” That's a pretty sobering lesson in and of itself, but then God started poking me and it got worse.

What about my spiritual life? What are the things that I ask God for, then beg God for, then whine at God when I don't get? What are the areas in my life where I look at God and say “Gee, my life would be complete if I only had... or if I only knew...”? If God fulfilled my wants, would I look back in a year or two and go “Wow, that really wasn't necessary in my life”? Are “wants” purely for short-term value before being discarded or packed away in a box?

How would one determine which spiritual “needs” have lasting value and which are just spiritual candy that I'll forget about shortly? The theologically-correct answer is that my desires should be filtered through the personality and word of God. Such an answer is a little unhelpful, though, as my Bible doesn't say “spending time with this or that friend is not the best use of your time” or “pathologically refreshing your Facebook isn't a way to make friends and influence people.”

I think almost everyone knows the feeling of hearing theory that seems sound and correct, but not knowing how to adapt it to everyday life. This is one of those rough places for me – filtering God's person and plan into my everyday life.

Wait, let's keep digging just a little farther down! I've been doing a lot of thinking after the end of my most recent dating relationship. Although I'm thankful that healing after ended relationships has not become a routine part of my life, I still would sometimes rather not figure it out from scratch every time.

In my heart, there's a pile of boxes labeled “memories of Mary.” Since our relationship lasted for more than a short time, it's more like a pile than it is like one box. Most of the time, I think everything in every one of those boxes is important. I put time and emotional energy into each and every moment. After the breakup, all the memories got packed up and shoved into a corner because I needed them out of my way and off my floor, so to speak.

I wonder how those boxes will age. Will the memories become fonder as they age, like wine, meat, or cheese? Or, like the leftovers that get forgotten in my fridge, will they just get fuzzy, turn colors, and smell bad? Which are the memories worth keeping, and which are hanging around waiting to be dismissed? I'd like the room back that they are taking up. I guess just like teenage Kenton's boxes of electronics, time will give perspective and I have to rent floor space for a while longer.

Stories

“Tell me the story of Jesus,
Write on my heart every word;
Tell me the story most precious,
Sweetest that ever was heard.”
-Fanny Crosby

“Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.”
-1 Peter 3:15 (NIV)

"Fairy tales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten."
- G.K. Chesterton

A few years ago, I started attending Flatirons through a former roommate. He was friendly and extroverted, which helped balance out my introspective personality. Time after time, I'd hear stories of people he'd met or watch him meet people and ask, “So what's your story?” I learned that “What's your story?” is a much more open-ended question than “Where are you from?” or “What do you do?” and gets far better answers. As I frequented Flatirons, it seemed like “What's your story” was almost up there with “come and see”, “me too” and “love God and love people”. This says something about the social mentality of the church. My Jesus is like that, too. He wants to hear my stories, even though I've told them before and will tell them again when I forget. Jesus even taught in stories. Stories must be important.

Stories. Sometimes our culture is addicted to the stories of others as portrayed by television or movies. I've watched a lot of movies lately. I've not kept count but I think I've watched almost four dozen movies in the last four months. Honestly, it started as a way to temporarily check out of my life that ached in favor of a different life either worse or better (depending on whether I was in a horror mood or not). It was a quick easy way to numb my hurt, spending quality time with others, and expend little to no effort. Gradually, God and I worked the ache out of my life, but the established habit of movies stayed.

A few weeks ago, I was pondering a page from my long-offline website where I described some of my favorite movies and what put them towards the top of my list. One common thread was that all of them had a compelling story that had some aspect I felt would apply to my life. Stories, stories. Where would our lives be without stories?

Earlier this year, my small group was discussing reasons why we write. A “personality test” I took at work highlighted a unique combination in my life that made perfect sense after some consideration. I'm driven by learning new things, and yet often share facts or morals in the framework of a story. If you haven't noticed, I tell stories on my blog and sometime they even have morals. So why do I write? Allow me to highlight one reason by an illustrating the effect from an opposite perspective. In a story, of course.

When my life fell apart earlier this year, one of the people I looked to for counsel was my friend Marie. Why? Because I knew Marie's story. I knew that she'd walked through nasty ugly stuff like I was digging through and would understand what I was trying to say. I've also seen God take broken things in the lives of those around her and redeem them for good. As I unloaded my story to Marie, I came to terms with my life in my own head. Also, as I was hoping, she was able to offer Godly counsel from an outside perspective. Yes, I'm alluding to a story I'm not telling here. Why am I not sharing that? Firstly, it was about seven thousand words when I finished. Secondly, it was deeply personal at the time and I'm not putting that much of my life out here publicly. Lastly, I wrote it several months ago, and God has brought me to a place that is almost night-and-day different so it would have to be rewritten anyway.

I hope that someone can read through my random stories, somehow see God and think “hey, maybe my life can be redeemed like his stuff.” Who says Chesterton’s dragons have to be real flesh and blood? They can be ideological dragons. I hope that somehow some can see how I slew my dragons and be encouraged.

My stories often don't seem relevant to anyone besides me, but that other Flatirons theology of “me too” is far more true than I usually take time to remember. It just means that everyone's life is messed up, so the best thing to do is come alongside each other rather than throwing rocks at other people.

Some of my friends, after reading my rough draft, pushed me hard - “Dude, there's a story inside that's trying to get out. Just let it out.” It would have been helpful if they would have helped clarify what in the world they were talking about, but life is nothing without a bit of mystery, I guess.

Maybe it's the dragon-slaying stories that I'm supposed to tell – “check out what I was victorious over!” It'd be more altruistic if I was trying to point out the dragons to others - “here be dragons” in the idiom of maps from bygone days. Maybe that's true too. There's lots of stories I could tell, but would you (rhetorical you) listen?

I have some friends who are telling their stories or working through their stuff; I encourage you to continue. Somewhere in the wings are people like me who are cheering you on as you slay your own dragons. We're watching new growth in your life even though you may not see it. I know this because I’ve seen those people in my life. I know this because I strive to be that person for others. Time will tell how much of “what I strive for” is true and what my story will actually be.

Quiet Thoughts on a Quiet Day

I woke up at 9 AM Friday as my body decided to ignore the alarm's beeping for almost 2 hours. At first, I was disappointed because I was looking forward to an early start on my to-do list. It was as if my body decided to override my mind on the matter of a wakeup time and I didn't really get a choice.

It was a planned day off to spend down my paid vacation and to catch up on some projects around the house. Thursday afternoon, it was looking like I'd have to spend a couple hours at work settling things for the long weekend. I wasn't looking forward to working on my “day off”, but sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to do, right? After the late start, though, I shelved the idea of working. Life is best lived in cycles, not full-speed all the time. Therefore, this weekend is a short “rest” cycle.

My old pastor used to say that people needed margins much more than they realize. You know why people always get sick when they're on vacation? Because their bodies finally relax from the chronic stress and bam! Lessened immune function. This is a phenomenon I'm trying to avoid

Over the last couple years, I've tried to include intentional periods of lessened intensity and time off of work. My employer is great in tunderstanding the work-life balance, but that doesn't keep some of my co-workers from spending 10-hour days at work or working most weekends “because they want to.” I know I would eventually go crazy working like that. Since I enjoy what I do, it's easy to forget to take time off. The past couple weeks have been particularly trying, so when I noticed the opportunity to make it a four-day weekend, I took it.

The gently-enforced downtime has been educational and challenging. My sleep schedule and even my music tastes are taking a laid-back style. At work, I'm definitely a metalhead. Much of my work has been accomplished to the sounds of After Forever, Epica, Nightwish, Evanescence and many others. Heck, even Pantera and Van Halen take turns through my rotation occasionally. This weekend, though, it's been Charlotte Church, Death Cab, and Waterdeep. Even the song stuck in my head the other day was Coldplay, a different spin on the usual.

My to-do list for the weekend included various organization tasks around the house. As I cleaned, I was surprised to find dirty dishes that had been sitting for almost a week and a half. Yuck! The more I puttered around the house, the more I found undone. It's as if my life hasn't been “lived in” much lately and I don't know why. My blog sits relatively neglected (although I have an entry almost finished and another simmering), my Facebook has had relatively little interesting content, and there were more than half-dozen emails in my inbox that should have been dealt with a while ago.

It's like my spiritual life. I get frustrated at God that stuff doesn't move (either the way I want it to, or at all), but then I realize I'm walking around in my spiritual life seeing stuff that has set for weeks. I don't really know what to make of it.

Downtime. As I finish this entry halfway through my weekend, I'm starting to appreciate the time I'm having to myself. When my life gets busy, small things get overlooked. When life is slow, it's a time to take care of small things and enjoy being at peace.

I've been fussing at God a bit lately. Some days, I know the questions I'm asking; other days, we're just out of sorts. I'll fully admit that I've been pushing God on a couple items. I pick dates and give God deadlines. We all know that doesn't work out well. I've been complaining that, although I can see all the steps I've climbed in the last several months, I don't see the next flight of stairs. What am I supposed to aim my life at if I don't know what's next?

That's not the point, though. The point is that God has put some parts of my life on hold purposefully and it's part of His good plan. When I think I need to push it forward, it's in ignorance of God saying, “This is a time to rest, This is enforced downtime so that you're ready for the next push.”

That doesn't always help. I still want to move, I still want to go.