525,600

Yep, half a million minutes have passed me by since that day. I thought that I'd collect some thoughts for the occasion. This one goes out to a figment of my imagination, a shadow of a memory from a previous life.

Did you hear the one about me giving a s***?
Cause if I ever did I don't remember it.
[...]
You can live just like a star.
I'll take my sanity, you take the blame.
I'm under it, over it all.

I've taken my life and my sanity, “taken my ball and went home” so to speak. You go play in your mess; it's yours to own and cherish now. I am “over it all” and don't give two piles of llama droppings.

Don't wanna be rude but I have to
Nothing's good about the hell you put me through
I just need to look around
See that life that has come unbound
[…]
Got to bring myself back from the dead

---

I want my innocence back
And if you can't give it to me
I will cut you down
And I will run you through
With the dagger you sharpened
On my body and soul
Before you slit me in two
And then devoured me whole

I want my innocence back
I want my innocence back
I want my innocence back

Yes, what happened was wrong. It was not God's best. People meant it for evil, just as the story of Joseph, but God indeed used it for good. I've asked God if I could have learned my lessons any other way, any easier way, but He said it was the only way. Still, some days, I'd rather have my innocence/naivete back rather than the cynicism that's replaced it.

I am free without you
It's times like these that make me see
How free I'm gonna be without you

This is the end of the hypocrisy
Gonna watch it burn

I'm better without you than I ever was with you. I'll be better by myself than I ever could have been with you. In fact, I already am. In all fairness, though, I was better beside you than I was at any previous time.

Occasionally, I wonder how I spent so long “moving on” and spent so much emotion and worry on it. God is so big that he lifted all the darkness off me in a moment, leaving me free to live. (OK, maybe a succession of moments) How did I lose so much time in the wonder of an apparent illusion?

Where is the wonder where's the awe
[…]
I wish to see
The lost in me

I want my tears back
I want my tears back now

I want my time back. I could use it better. I may have spent most of the last half-million minutes stuck in the past, but I plan to spend the next half-million doing interesting things and chasing God, not wondering if you'll get your poop in a group. Not worth wasting my life.

I've got roads to travel and things to do. No more wasted minutes.

(With thanks and apologies to Five Finger Death Punch, Emilie Autumn, Darling Thieves, Korn, and Nightwish)

P.S. Honestly, I feel I've forgiven all the hurt, no matter what it sounds like. God really has worked in my heart to dig out the roots of bitterness that were planted. So why the writing? Because there's nothing wrong with feeling feelings then letting them go. I've learned to let myself feel, analyze whether any action is required, then allow it to dissipate. In this case, it means to remember and feel, write, post then likely come back and delete because the catharsis has run its course.

So please, no emails/comments about what you think I should do or be. You'll be wasting your time.

I Blame Her: Speaking Ill Of The Dead

"There are no secrets at a funeral."

So said the testimony I was listening to as I drove home for Christmas this year. No secrets at a funeral. That's an interesting thought. One of the phrases I've heard occasionally has always been "Don't speak ill of the dead", usually used in the context of "Not to speak ill of the dead, but..."

Last year, I wrote on how my old relationship was dead and how I was finally ready to bury it and move on. When I started this series, I said that I would share "...without rancor and without venom, stories of my life." Now, I don't believe I have to look at my past through nostalgic, rose-colored glasses. To do so would hold me back in the past rather than growing into the future. I also don't believe in dragging myself or other people through the dirt. To err that way would be to sow bitterness into my life. As someone smart once said, "unforgiveness/bitterness is like holding fire and expecting someone else to get burned." Life is too short for that.

I do think there is some value in taking a plain look at facts, though. Step 4 of the 12 steps is to take a searching and fearless moral inventory of your life. It doesn't say "searching...inventory except for skipping the parts you don't like." Working as an engineer, I have to deal with reality. Sometimes at work, engineers and management can get caught up in an illusion based on incomplete information or optimistic thinking. While us "worker bees" can try to work to that illusion for a while, soon the seams start showing, the illusion cracks, and reality once again rears its ugly head. Dealing with reality is much more tenable.

My old relationship is the same way. I can't dissect it for what I learned if my memory is purposefully flawed or biased. If I don't deal with reality, my lessons and emotional/logical responses will be skewed. And to do so out of some kind of "respect for the dead" would be based on superstitious or avoiding behavior. There are no secrets at a funeral - with my relationship gone, it's time to look on it and speak on it honestly and openly. "As long is it doesn't harm others" also in the spirit of the 12 steps; the relationship may be dead but the people involved are still alive and don't deserve further harm (including me; I don't deserve further harm either.)

This is the spirit I'm writing in - factual but respectful.

"Do what you want to do
Just pretend happy end
Let me know let it show

Ending with letting go
Ending with letting go
Ending with letting go

Let's pretend happy end
Let's pretend happy end
Let's pretend happy end

Let's pretend happy end"
- Garbage, "You Look So Fine"

No, actually, let's not pretend. End with letting go, sure. But let's not pretend. Let's see it as it is, let's call it what it is.

Let's see reality so we can deal with the cards as they've been dealt.

I Blame Her: Dance

(Series Intro)

“The dancing body seems unaware of its surroundings. It seems to be concerned only with itself and one other object-the earth. The earth, the ground, the solid place, the plane on which everyday life plods along, the plane of walking, the prose of human movement.”
- Copeland & Cohen

For the last couple years, my younger sister has invited me to the annual Civil War Ball. It apparently is intended as a “prom” substitute for homeschool kids, which makes it host to all kinds of interesting social phenomena. Being rather well-adjusted for a homeschool kid (being an adult out on my own helps), I tended to ignore the drama and enjoy the dancing. Besides swing, “old-school” dancing is the only style I can understand and/or enjoy.

The first year I went, I had just started dating Mary and hadn't thought to invite her. This led to much consternation from my sister and her friends – I'm pretty sure they thought she was an imaginary character. I atoned for myself the second year, though, offering an invite early to provide plenty of time for her to plan her dress and all that stuff girls are into. I did have somewhat of a situational-awareness advantage, both because I attended the year before and because I was able to attend the precursor introductory dance class. I already had picked out the dances I was interested in (most of them) and the ones I would skip (the hat dance...ugh).

Among the Virginia Reel, the Grand Procession, and all those other dances to which I have forgotten the names, there are a couple waltzes over the course of the night. One follows tradition with the young men asking the young ladies, while the other reverses the trope by being “ladies' choice”. I vaguely remember the first waltz. I think I asked a young lady I had met earlier that day because she was friendly, polite, and a good dancer. I thought I knew how the second would play out, but I only knew part.

As the previous dance ended and the second waltz was announced, I tried to circle unobtrusively around to where Mary could find me, but ended up behind her and out of her vision. As I wondered if she'd actually find me, I was rather gratified to note the enthusiasm she put into locating me. (Hey, I like to be valued too. Don't hate.) Finally she came over and asked if I wanted this dance; an offer to which I quickly acquiesced.

You know that stereotype where couples get lost in each others' eyes? That's one of those things that people make up to over-romanticize their lives, right?

I don't remember much about that dance. Like, only in flashes. I remember the young lady in front of me, the one who said she loved me and whose love I’d done my best to return. I can see her face, her dress, her eyes, but the whole rest of the room? Couldn't tell you a thing about it. I don't remember the music, or even the people around us, except to gently guide the woman who was the light of my life away from hitting anyone.

It was the dance that lasted forever and the dance I wanted to never end.

Although I had (months before) decided in my heart that I would in all likelihood marry this woman, I remember one of the thoughts fleeting through my head being something like “This is the woman I want to marry. Thank you, God, for leading my life to intersect with hers. Following God in keeping this person in my life will be the best decision I ever made.”

Then the music ended, the room faded back into view, and it seemed that life had to somehow fit back into a normal routine. I preferred “lost with 'my' girl in our own world” better... Not having good words in which to fit my feelings, I thanked her for the dance as politeness encouraged, and wandered off into whatever came next in the programme.

Even that night, I knew I should mention to Mary just how highly I valued her. I never did, though – one of the very few regrets of my relationship. To borrow words, “if [I] was looking for [an] opportune moment, that was it.” There were other slightly less opportune moments, but I passed them up too.

Just as I never told her how special that waltz was although I realized it at the time, so in the subsequent months, I've realized that Mary was the cause of other changes in my life. My life has changed in many ways. She's no longer around to get that recognition (and that's OK), but the repercussions still echo through my life.

God, through Flatirons, is finishing the work that my ex-girlfriend started. This is the work of growing me into the man I've been created to be. The work of breaking off all the dirt and scabs that I've accumulated so that I can stretch into all that God has intended for me.

Christmas 2011

“So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun


And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young”
-John Lennon

Well, it is Christmas now, isn't it. This week has been a quiet week, one of relaxing and remembering. Christmas is an interesting time of year. I think partly just because it's a natural signpost; an opportunity to reflect.

Coming to the close of this year, it's not as I imagined it. Not as I envisioned it, or even as I expected it. I'm OK with it, though, mostly. Knowing what I know now, I see this as the best possible outcome to my life so far. I wish the lessons could have been learned quicker or with less mess, but God's ways are His own, and I trust that any other way would not have been as good. For some value of “good”.

Five years ago tomorrow, I was cruising the mall with one of my best friends, marveling at the wonderful young lady I had just started dating. Yes, Christmas Eve Day. Neither my friend or I were known for good advance planning, but it all worked out somehow. I spent all 3 or 4 weeks of school's Christmas break at home that year, marked by hours on the phone with someone I had just started getting to know.

The year after that, I don't remember. I'm guessing because I was still putting my life back together after assigning way too much of my life's value to the above young lady.

Last year, (my sister's continued residence in Jerusalem notwithstanding) my mother thought it might be the last “regular” Christmas we'd have. With only 7 of us at home, Christmas morning was surprisingly calmer. I think my family and I all saw me headed from a serious relationship into a possible marriage in the next year, which would have drastically changed the Larson family's Christmas routine. “Worry” for nothing, as it turns out.

This year's Christmas has strange poignant undertones. The economy's down, and people worry about Christmas gifts. I put off my own shopping this year until the next-to-last moment, partly due to procrastination and partly because it felt like a routine. Of course I'll get in the car, turn up the radio (non-Christmas because the radio usually doesn't agree with my tastes), take a “hit list” and carefully-planned itinerary, and do my shopping the engineer way. I set a rough budget, but does gift magnitude really matter? I try to pick out things that are meaningful and will be enjoyed by their recipients. Although “it's the thought that counts”, it's the resultant shelf space that has to be allocated, arranged, and dusted. (I promise I was looking for an “A” synonym to dusting) How much is gift-giving a byproduct of this culture's materialism, entitlement, and expectations?

I was listening to a recently-divorced church friend talk tonight about how his holiday season will be empty – no kids, no spouse. “Yay, remember Jesus loves you and cares about you!”, right? But is Jesus there when your house will be dark and quiet on Christmas morning? In a way that makes your life complete and fulfilled? Maybe his house will be more like some dark remote Israeli cave many years ago. Maybe someone will wander by, say hey, and wonder what's going on. He'll probably meet smelly shepherds or something.

Another of my friends is grateful for his quiet Christmas, the first in several years without externally-imposed drama. He's also alone, in fact. He's got plans for guitar playing and couch-sitting. I imagine there'll also be Jesus-talking and food-eating too. In a time of “being with family” and “big get-togethers”, is he wrong to enjoy “quiet thinking time”? I don't think so. Whose expectations count? Seems like the days of “over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go” as a privilege are bygone.

And my own Christmas? I'll be home for a while. “Other-home”, actually, as my apartment is now in truth my home. I'll bring gifts, open gifts, eat food, and write thank yous. I'll be authentically grateful (because I don't deserve gifts – that's why they're gifts) and enjoy giving to others. However, the excitement of waking up on Sunday will be a little feigned, as might be some other experiences. Not because of the lack of caffeine, although it helps. Not because Jesus and Christmas isn't worth celebrating, because that's not true either. I guess just because as I get older, I get more cynical about the state of the world and how different it is from what it could or should be. December 25th comes after the 24th and before the 26th and is pretty much just another spin of this odd blue marble in the vastness of space.

I'm looking forward to church tomorrow. I'll see my friends (maybe, it's a big church), worship, and hear Jim or Scott bring the Word. There'll be candles and jokes about burning people. There'll be quality worship because our band rocks. Next, I'll go hang out with more of my friends and compatriots as we attempt to impart some God into the lives of kids. Sliders and levels, slides and mouse clicks; these have been my Christmas Eve companions for three of the last four years. It's like a method to make others' Christmas special so they quit trying to make sure mine is. Sound/tech is almost as breathing to me and provides observable results for little effort.

On my way home from church tonight, I found myself taking a detour to see some Christmas lights the neighbor had pointed out. As I drove, I thought “Gee, the longer I drive, the longer it will be until Christmas.” Time dilation actually works the other way if I remember my relativity right, but doing something kept me busy for a bit longer. I don't know why the impetus to “put off” and half-heartedly trying to figure it out.

My Christmas seems to have the same echoes of "alone" and "empty". While my life is different than my friends', I've felt the sentiments I've heard others express. "Alone in a crowd", "not excited for [family]", and so on. Yet I have no special reason for such, just my ordinary life.

And so it is Christmas. Time to set darkness aside for light. At least for a time and to the extent practical.

Being out of words, I once again will borrow from that great prophet of pop culture, John Lennon.

“A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear”

Yeah, let's hope.

Voices

“These are the voices
[…]
We make the choices”
-“Voices”, Michael W. Smith

I had just turned off the highway when the voices started. I had momentarily wondered if this would happen, but hadn't really prepared for it.

It was Sunday and I was on my way to visit a “new” church. A preceding strange day had meant that I attended my own church the night before, and so was left with a free morning. I'd been slightly intrigued by the Foursquare church I'd visited in Indian Hills several months before for a conference and had since meant to visit. With an otherwise-free Sunday, it was time.

Indian Hills...the town where my ex-girlfriend's parents live. I remember many trips up here, both with and without that particular young lady. For the conference, I had carpooled with a friend, but now here I was, driving through the quiet mountain town alone. That is, alone but for the voices in my head. Some were of my ex and her family, piling guilt on me, loading up condemnation in my backpack that wasn't mine to carry. A few were my own, doing some wishing and some shoulding.

Lately, God seems to have been giving the lesson first, then the test immediately after. I'm thankful for this rather than the more usual “test then teach” construction. As I drove, I was also pondering Jim's words from the night before. As I mentioned last time, Jim was preaching from Romans 8. Verses 33-34 say

“Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one.”

Jim highlighted that often the one who condemns us the most, who “won't let us up off the mat”, is ourselves. After a good friend highlighted my habit of negative self-talk several years ago, I've slowly improved my opinion of myself, but that doesn't always do anything about what others have said about me. In this case, the unhealthy people were no longer in my life, but the words were; both theirs and mine.

Halfway up Parmalee Gulch Road, I realized that all that stuff is really water under the bridge. It's the past, and the past is gone. No-one can judge me for the stuff that happened ever so long ago, not even me. Jesus even paid for that. For me.

From there, my day lightened. I got to church early and without "winter driving excitement" spent time with God and “just happened” to be invited to the church lunch afterwards. Encouragement, free food, and time with God – a pretty good Sunday, all in all.

Oddly, the sermon at the church I visited was about “blessing” and “cursing” and how our words and thoughts can have supernatural effects. Almost as if God had planned that. Weird how that works...

Five years ago this week, I was reading cue cards to a pretty girl over plates of good Mexican food. This year, I'm setting down all the stuff that I carry from that time of my life. There's been junk renting space in my head, but that's over. All y'all gotta get out now, your time is past and your lease is up. Out!

Thus God continues to be good to me in ways that I can't imagine and can barely explain.

Empty Dance Floor

The band is tuning up as the occasional discordant note and gentle cymbal crash wander through the air. The lights are down, but the floor is still empty. The polished, level wood waits expectantly for the shuffling, stepping feet. Around the perimeter, there is contented murmuring and milling as the attendees cluster together, disperse, and reform. It's as if the empty space is offering an invitation, but nobody is listening. It's almost time for the dance to start...

As usual, I'm looking for a “follow”. The initial resistance is the greatest, right? There's nothing to asking but to ask, yet I drag my feet.

My usual downfall was obtaining a follow. Occasionally I'd take the easy way out by bringing my own, but usually I'd have to find the nerve to ask a young lady to dance with me. Meeting everyone helped me ask a friend rather than a stranger, but asking the first time was still hard. Once I was on the floor once, I would be good for the rest of the night. I'd never lack a partner for every dance I didn't sit out. Getting started remained the hurdle to clear.

Anticipation kills, yet is exciting in its own way.

We were all talking about swing, right? Man, I miss swing. I think it's been over a year since I've been dancing.

I guess I do need to go again. I might have to set aside some Friday or Sunday night, demarcating it as “going out”. We'll see...

"I'm learning to walk again/I believe I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?
I'm learning to talk again/Can't you see I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?"
-Foo Fighters, “Walk” (though our worship team's cover was better)

(I'm pretty sure I was talking about swing...)

Taking Stock

“We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves”
-Step 4, Celebrate Recovery (and similar)

In the aftermath of my ended relationship earlier this year, I decided to attend Shift, Flatirons' version of Celebrate Recovery. I wanted a method to deal with the brokenness thereby introduced, and it's grown into digging all kinds of stuff up. Tonight, I realized that I've been at Shift for almost 6 months.

For the past 6 weeks, I've been in a study that deals in depth with each of the 12 steps used by AA, CODA, CR and many other programs. (Hence the occasional blog post spun off one Step or another) It's been an eye-opening experience. The depths of my life that I've been led to bring to light have been incredibly daunting, yet having it broken down into small pieces and conquering each piece beside other men has made it seem much more doable.

We've spent the last two or three weeks assembling our “moral inventories” - lists starting with people we've hurt, people who've hurt us, and sometimes “I hurt myself” moments, then continuing into what hurt happened, why it happened, and what part of it I own. Sometimes I own all of it, sometimes none of it. The exercise is cathartic and depressing all at the same time. Seeing the words on paper (or on the computer screen in my case) seems to take away the power that the hurt has held over me. Itemizing and analyzing the “bad spots” in my life takes some time and poring back through the cowpies isn't on my all-time fun list. Side note: apparently my spell check doesn't approve of “cowpies”. Cowpie isn't OK either. Apparently it's a city slicker spell check. But I digress.

"Searching and fearless" - now there's some intense words. I wasn't sure I wanted to examine my life with such intensity, but a half-hearted effort would not yield any useful results. Intense it is, I guess.

As I wrote, there started to be a couple underlying themes. One of these was how, in every case, I was thankful that a situation didn't degrade further or how God saved me from a bad situation. The theme was continued in a conversation before Step Study last week with an acquaintance from a previous church. She asked how I had been, and I tried to summarize the changes in my life over the last year and a half or so. At an overall survey level, my life is far different now than a year ago. I:

• broke up with Mary
• faced a lot of ugliness because of that
• found a ministry to fix my stuff
• found a ministry in which to serve
• integrated myself into a (Vineyard) small group until it ended
• considered starting my own small group
• found a (Flatirons) small group I felt accepted in
• met a bunch of interesting people through small groups, Shift, and children's ministry
• began a step study to dig out more of my crud
• found the Appleseed program
• made Appleseed a noticeable part of my life (at least one weekend/month now)
• recovered from my breakup and got back on my emotional/relational feet
  

and the list just goes on and on.

On my way home from the church, I continued the path we had started down in small group. The last question of the moral inventory is “Do I see God working in the events of my life?” Even through the “ugly”, my answer has to be unquestionably “Yes!” In the bad parts, in the good parts, it's all been God.

As just one example, my post-breakup recovery cycle shortened dramatically this time. Last time, I was in a depression for almost a year. This time, less weeks than fingers on one hand. Last time, it took me almost two years to re-understand myself and my emotional boundaries. This time, it was closer to 3 months. Herein lies a milestone of personal growth.

Lately, work has been hard. Really hard. We're under schedule, budget, and technical pressure. I'm finding that some people don't handle pressure well and their unredeemed side is showing. Every day seems to be a new fight, putting out new “fires”, and trying to do the best by those for whom I'm responsible. Every day is a battle, and I usually get home completely worn out. I guess that's what they pay me for, though, and there is a scheduled date where the workload is supposed to rapidly abate. Supposedly we only have 5-6 weeks left of this very special situation, but I doubt the veracity of that statement.

You know, even with all that going on, I'm really OK with where I'm at. Not merely glumly accepting, but joyful. I realize that God is working in me every day, just a little bit at a time, and that's OK.

I'm not with Mary any more, even though we both thought we'd spend the rest of our lives together, but I'm happy about that – it's worked out better for the change. That'd be an easy statement if I could follow it with “and besides, I met someone who has made everything right in my life.” It would also be a falsehood, as I'm single. Said fantasy person hasn't showed up and I'm still plugging away in my own life with my own two feet, one at a time. But you know what? I'm OK with that too. Life with only me and God has turned out better than I figured it would be. I know, I don't have much faith sometimes. Jesus loves me anyway, so get over it.

The turbulence of the last several months has subsided into a quiet yet deep trust that God will take care of me. Difficult work, unsure times in our culture/world, no time to consider where ministry will take me at church; all doesn't matter because my life is definitely acceptable, I have no complaints, and God's got my back.

I'm even thinking of changing my FB picture. I've owned the diffraction pattern since junior year, with only short breaks. It was something I had done with my own two hands, my own creation if you will. Instead, I'm looking to change to one showing something like a dicot, showing new growth. (Go Google it) That roughly describes how I feel – new leaves are showing in my life, but I still feel a little fragile.




“My dead heart now is beating
My deepest stains now clean
Your breath fills up my lungs
Now I'm free, now I'm free

Sin has lost it's power
Death has lost it's sting
From the grave You've risen
Victoriously

Into marvelous light I'm running
Out of darkness, out of shame
By the cross You are the truth
You are the life, You are the way”

- “Marvelous Light”, Charlie Hall

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.

Appleseed – Single Part 2

(Go read Part 1 - I'll wait here for you)

“During the whole affair, the rebels attacked us in a very scattered, irregular manner, but with perseverance and resolution, nor did they ever dare to form into a regular body. Indeed they knew too well what was proper, to do so. Whoever looks upon them as an irregular mob, will find himself very much mistaken. They have men amongst them who know very well what they are about, having been employed as rangers against the Indians and Canadians, and this country being very much covered with wood, and hilly, is very advantageous for their method of fighting.”
- Lord Hugh Percy

Once to every man and nation, comes the moment to decide,
In the strife of truth with falsehood, for the good or evil side;
Some great cause, some great decision, offering each the bloom or blight,
And the choice goes by forever, ’twixt that darkness and that light.

Then to side with truth is noble, when we share her wretched crust,
Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and ’tis prosperous to be just;
Then it is the brave man chooses while the coward stands aside,
Till the multitude make virtue of the faith they had denied.
-”Once to Every Man and Nation”, James Lowell

[I went to an “Appleseed Shoot” a couple weekends ago (4/16-4/17). Without great detail, it was a 2-day event covering rifle marksmanship fundamentals, Revolutionary War history, and admonition to be a positive force in your community. You can find more info at www.appleseedinfo.org.]

(Disclaimer: Politics and firearm ownership are often highly-charged subjects. Over the course of our discussion, I will present my life the way it is with regard to these two subjects. You don't have to agree with the way my life is, but that's not what I want to write about.)

“The light of the body is the eye: if therefore thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light. But if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness. If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!”
- Matthew 6:22-23, KJV

God brought this verse to me the other day when I was considering the idea of “single”. I quote here the King James since other translations choose different words. The NIV chooses “healthy” for “single” and “unhealthy” for “evil”, for example. What does it mean to be “single”? My concordance defines the Greek word haplous as “from a (as a particle of union) and the base of pleko (to twist or braid) – folded together, i.e. single (figuratively clear)”.

I want my life to be single like a crystal – all one piece, all together. I want my life to have integrity – to be all the same, no matter which angle you look at me from. Only Jesus can wash away the impurity in my life and leave me “clear”.

Single can also be used in “single-minded”, a phrases that is commonly familiar. To be single-minded is to be focused on one purpose, even to the exclusion of all others. Since I am relationally-single and cannot be single-minded about a “lady in my life”, I find myself attempting to re-focus onto a single purpose. Save your discussion about focusing one's life on a significant other; I know the inherent pitfalls but edited out caveats for brevity and clarity.

As I mentioned before, shooting is often a solitary sport. I often enjoy the solitude enforced by the hearing protection. When I used to shoot competitively, our coach taught us that over 90% of a perfect shot is mental. Believing you can do it, focusing intently, and refusing to overthink your shot all increase your proficiency.

Intense mental focus has become a way of life when I shoot. When I pick up a gun, all that matters is me, my firearm, and my target. The world fades away, surrounding gunfire quiets, and I find my center, my “zone”. Shooting provides instant feedback to the idea of “as you believe, so you are” - if you believe you are no good, you won't try and your groups will be huge. If you have strong confidence (and basic skills), your shots will show it.

I showed up to the Appleseed to learn, not knowing how I might compare to other shooters or if the teaching would be relevant. I knew I should have prepared more than I did (which was none), and wondered if my lack of experience with my rifle or lack of theoretical practice/study would handicap me. As the first day progressed, though, I found my groove and the rifle skills that I had neglected for so long, and I started to find my confidence again. By the end of the day, I knew that I had an opportunity to excel if I could maintain my level of performance and implement everything I was taught. By Sunday morning, when we were to be tested on the “Quick'N'Dirty Army Qualification Test”, I felt pretty comfortable with all I had to do. The co-worker who invited me to the shoot stopped by my firing point just before we were to commence so he could make encouraging comments , which didn't add any pressure at all. (insert rolling eyes here) String of fire after string of fire were called, and I strove to shoot well as well as try to find the bullet holes on my target. Twenty-five yards was far enough that the under-quarter-inch holes were all but invisible.

All that to say that for the weekend, especially the period of the QDAQT, all that was in my mind was shooting. I was completely "single" (using our definition above) in that moment and crystal clear.

You know, I wonder about Samuel and Lydia. I imagine that as a betrothed couple, they were dedicated to each other. They were “together”, yet I imagine “single” in the sense of dedicated to each other. Definitely they were both “single” in the sense of focused on what was best for their community. It seems that the first (single-minded dedication to each other) might well be a pipe dream in today's day and age, held only by the delusional. The second, though, might be achievable in my life. I might be able to succeed at pursuing a purpose, an ideal.

To go back to Lord Percy's quote at the beginning, what am I “all about”? Appleseed encouraged me to put time and energy into my community, but what is worth getting involved? What will be the great cause of my life? Obviously Jesus and following Him has to be the foundation of my life, but what will be the rest of the house? Wilberforce had his fight against slavery, Mueller had his orphans, but what about Larson? What will become my life's work?

My current philosophy has been to pick something important to me and to do whatever is necessary to excel in it. For example, I would like to greatly improve my shooting skill this year. I took time to plan what I wanted to accomplish (attend an Appleseed, compete in an IDPA match, etc.), to lay out steps to accomplish it, then to execute them. I've purchased a few firearms in the last few months and established a model that works very well – decide a role to fill, check my budget to see what I can afford, research possibilities to fill that role, watch my local gun stores for something fitting my needs and budget, then be ready to move quickly when that appears. Of course, all worldly goals do not provide much long-term satisfaction because they are, in some sense, perishable.

Spiritual goals are much harder to fit into this model, but I'm trying. Find the deficiency to fill, decide how I could fill it and what I'm willing to sacrifice, then do it. As such, I'm investigating potential ministries to be involved in at church, attending church as often as possible to provide opportunities to hear God, and taking chances on things that may help me grow my life spiritually.

“Everybody sing like it's the last song you will ever sing
Tell me, tell me, do you feel the pressure now?
Everybody live like it's the last day you will ever see
Tell me, tell me, do you feel the pressure now?

Alright, so you think you're ready?
Okay, then you say this with me, go
We were born for this
We were born for this”
- Paramore, “Born For This”

I remain asking the question expressed in the above – what can I talk about, saying I was “born for this”?


As near as I can figure, my life is to work hard, shoot well, and love deeply. Work is challenging and provides me opportunities to excel, taking care of the first. As to the second, well, maybe this picture will answer that.



As to the third – well, that's for God to decide where I should spend my efforts. Each time I date (and love), I give of myself to watch it ripped away. But God gives (as well as takes away) and God heals and makes broken things beautiful...in His time.

What are you all about? About what can you be single-minded?

Appleseed – Single Part 1

“I am free without you
It's times like these that make me see
How free I'm gonna be without you

This is the end of the hypocrisy
Gonna watch it burn”
- Darling Thieves, “Free Without You”

"Say you want to stay, you want me to
Say you'll never die you'll always haunt me
I want to know I belong to you
Say you'll haunt me"
- Stone Sour, "Say You'll Haunt Me"

(I knew there should be more “single” lyrics, but didn't feel like finding some that weren't vindictive or hurtful. These will have to do.)

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy." - Martin Luther King Jr.

[I went to an “Appleseed Shoot” a couple weekends ago (4/16-4/17). Without great detail, it was a 2-day event covering rifle marksmanship fundamentals, Revolutionary War history, and admonition to be a positive force in your community. You can find more info at www.appleseedinfo.org.]

(Disclaimer: Politics and firearm ownership are often highly-charged subjects. Over the course of our discussion, I will present my life the way it is with regard to these two subjects. You don't have to agree with the way my life is, but that's not what I want to write about.)

In a previous entry, I wrote about how I came to a greater understanding of the sacrifices made for my country and my freedom. I wrote about how I felt that the sacrifices I had made in my dating relationship were all for naught. After further consideration, there were a few other things I wanted to tease out of that snarl of thoughts and emotions.

Many years ago, people had beliefs that they'd fight for and people they valued enough to fight and die for. As I consider my life, I can pick out a few beliefs that I'd fight for. At a previous time, I would easily have said that I'd fight for Mary. Unfortunately, she apparently did not feel the same. I should be thankful that I am not called to fight for either my beliefs or my friends/ “significant other” on a frequent basis, and I am. However, sometimes I find myself wishing for someone for whom I could claim to fight, someone worth the effort.

In the relational sense of the word, I am definitely “single”.

Sometimes I'm pretty dissatisfied with “single” for any number of reasons. In true engineer fashion, though, I've attempted to dissect it for reasons I'm discontent and reasons I should be grateful. It turns out that God has almost deliberately put me in this spot. Without someone else in my life, it's time to move my life fast and far in a direction that pleases God. It's time to reconnect to my spiritual and “emotional” (for lack of a better word) roots, and to root out beliefs that will hamstring me in my future life.

To Be Continued...