The odds are 20 to 1, but my bet is on the long shot

Recently, I've been wondering if I'm the man for the job. I believe in the cause, and I agree with the philosophy, and I share in the ethos, but... I feel like a fish out of water so very often.

How to handle an existential crisis? Lists.

Why I Don't Fit

1. I don't automatically side with the evangelicals Christians.
2. I'm not a republican.
3. I'm not a Calvinist.
4. I believe in evolution.
5. I agree with the core tenants of post-modernism.
6. I don't think Moses wrote the Pentateuch.
7. I tell stories filled with magic and spirits.
8. I believe in the power of social constructions.
9. I believe in a social gospel.
10. Liberation Theology makes me happy.
11. I curse.
12. I smoke.
13. I drink.
14. I read comic books (many of which include cursing, smoking, and drinking).
15. I'm a pacifist.
16. I read Marx.
17. I liked Marx.
18. I haven't listened to a worship CD in over 5 years.
19. My favorite movie is rated R.
20. I like my study Bible because it favors history and academia over theology and tradition.

Why I Belong

1. It is well with my soul.

Conclusion

Mysticism always wins out. I guess I'll stick around.

Please In which I try to explain myself

I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you're going through, but I'm here for you. Words are pretty useless right now, but I will cry with you. I will smoke with you in the rain. I will hug you when you need it, chances are I need it too. I will join the support net that is even now gathering around you to let you know that you are not alone.

I want you to know that there is hope, and reason for hope. I want you to be free from the incredible despair that seems to be waiting to swallow your universe whole.

Is freedom really found in a self-defined inkwell?

We aren't all individual specks of consciousness, floating unconnected in a world of physical sensation. Something happens in the space between people. There is more to this world than chemical reactions. The proof is in the pain.

I'm on the other side of the globe, but I find myself in the same shadow as you do.

I want, with every fiber of my being that is able to want, to rush to your side and hold you so tight. I want to lift your face up to the sky and say, "See, it isn't all as dark as it seems! Some things are true, and one of them is hope!" But I can't do that. I can't touch you, much less hold, much less lift.

Most of all, I want you to know that I love you. I have not forgotten you. I pray for you (even if you'd rather I didn't).

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Please, don't give up. And, search for the light, even if it means leaving your pride behind.

Distant Memories

A lot of what's gone onto this blog has been about my older brother. I even wrote a poem about it not that long ago (Sidenote: I never sit down with the intention of writing a poem. I start writing something and paragraph breaks happen).

Today, I was sitting with one of the people I'll be living with for my new job. The subject of my family came up and she asked me about my older brother. "What's he doing?"

I paused for a moment. I hadn't thought about my older brother with any real intensity for about a month, and suddenly I was in the position of trying to explain him to this woman who'd spent the last 12 years serving missions kids in Thailand.

"Nothing good."

My response was meant to be mildly humorous, but the effect seemed to be one of mild shock. "So, is he not walking with the Lord then?"

Fortunately, we were interrupted before I was forced to respond. If we hadn't been, I don't know what I would have said.

I can talk with these missionaries about how I'm still in the process of quitting smoking. I can talk about my alcoholic friends. I can even talk with pride about my atheist-stoner friends. But, I was unable to find the words to communicate the existence of my older brother. I was a little ashamed, but mostly I was confused. What is he?

Tonight, I talked with my mom over Skype and she told me a story. My older brother recently had two cell phones disappear within the course of a few weeks. One day, my dad got a phone call from a guy who had found one of these phones. My dad arranged for the guy to meet up with my older brother and return the phone. After my older brother had met this guy and gotten his phone back, the guy walked him back to his car. The guy asked him, "Who is Jesus Christ to you?"

"A distant memory."