Deep Blue Sea, Humble Me.
Baptism at 23.
I’ve been a Christian, an atheist, an agnostic, an agnostic theist, and rootless consciousness, and probably more nuanced secular terms. I'm thankful to say that I'm living by my name once again. Jesus doesn't let go that easily.
I grew up in conversation with God. Life was good, I was convicted by Lordship. The path was clear. My heart was cradled. I met all of the troubles of my young life with courage and conversation with God.
When I was 14 years old I attended a family Thanksgiving where I was requested to pray before dinner. I had always took pride in giving the blessing, as my father had. This November, something was different. My prayer started with something like “Dear all-knowing thing above,” and probably ended in a “thanks…” I didn’t believe in the tradition. I had wandered astray from the Shepard and demanded empirical evidence for everything that I believed. Epistemology was my hot-new-thing. I had drawn a line between the meanings of “believe,” “think,” and “know.” I basically thought whatever I wanted to. I didn’t know anything that wasn’t measured or experienced first-hand.
In that same year, I came to my family in mid-December with tears in my eyes. “I have to tell you something. I’m agnostic.” I explained to them what meant by this and they met me with stifled tears and “We’ll pray for you.” This upset me and I only felt more misunderstood. I'm thankful for their prayers.
For years, I’ve been dancing with the idea of baptism. It began as I was dancing with my faith. Before I had given my life back to Christ, I would have moments where I wanted to call my friends of faith and have them dunk me in the spirit of God.
I sometimes wanted a baptism during spiritual hardships. There was a tug-o-war between the my mind and my connection to God. My ontology was on shaky grounds. Earthquakes would come and I could never seem to redress my den properly. No matter how straight I would rehang frames on my wall, they would always become crooked again. The furniture never seemed to sit even. My walking was prone to falls. This analogy I have written is only a small portion of what my faith means to me. The frames, furniture, and walk of my den were only the small things. The foundation of my den… the ontological grounds on which I built my understanding of reality were categorized by the post-post modern. I believed that my agnosticism was the biggest display of humility that I could offer in my conscious recognition of my existence. I was arrogant enough to think that I could go about the meanderings of meaning and action without ground beneath my feet.
The aforementioned earthquakes would come and I would become paralyzed in my position. I’d imagine a hole opening up in the wall to nothingness. The nothingness was a rabbit hole that would suck my attention and lead my into an existential crisis. It looked something like this. But alas, these fits of existential marvel had no end in site. There are things that can be thought about that need no longer be thought about. While on Earth, we have a responsibility to be good and love one-another. Thoughts beyond this commandment I demand will not hold the honor of my attention.
Isaiah 55:8-9
8. For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
9. For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts [higher] than your thoughts.
Several years ago I found myself at the ocean, I’d go there often, alone and late at night. Restless and a little empty, I’d look out at the water. I’d climb up on the lifeguard tower and overlook the ocean that sloshed beneath the stars.
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Welcome into a part of my mind that doesn't speak often enough.
We all feel like there's a gap somewhere in our lives; there's a place where our self-obsessed hobbies lack connection to our larger sand-sucking commitments. Somewhere along the synaptic highways our of bodies, a neuron misfires and we're left feeling just short of completion.
I close my eyes and I'm standing on the beach. The waves march into the shore and loyally crash onto the evolving ground under which my feet stay planted. I can never stand here for long until I grow restless. I either need to be walking North, South, or East...East is my most quiet option. When I walk east, the waves crash around my legs, until they take grip around my shoulders. When walking east, the sloshing of sea foam is replaced by the eternal noise of my body bobbing up and down with the swells that are traveling west. When I can no longer stand on the seabed is when I'm most relaxed and the world is at it's quietest.
Everything between myself and the horizon line has my full unwavering attention. Just over three-hundred million cubic kilometers of water waltzes in front of me...the cusp of the dance to my six. I remain fixated on the expansiveness of such a thing. I want to get lost out there. I want that deep blue sea to humble me. Rubber to damp tramp and I set sail for that esoteric inspiration that only the great universe can feed us.
Until I choose to introvert, this blog will be a catalog of the journey that blends right into the next journey. There's no title page in life, no preface, no clean chapters, and no true afterward.
As the late Alan Watts would ask, "Remember what it was like before you were born?"...and we can't. Our perception of this life is rather gray. We don't remember the moment we became conscious beings. We don't know the moment we'll stop. I'm willing myself to balance todays as if there is and isn't tomorrows.
I will attempt to define the human spirit, the soul if you wish...as of now, it is our precious attention. Where I choose to look, what I choose to listen to, the things I spend time thinking on...they have my soul in the immediate. May Darwinian subjects sign deals with my soul.I challenge myself to live a life of adventure.
From here on out, I will love and be scared of the future I enter.
“I want that deep blue sea to humble me” I wrote. This was nearly a suicidal thought. It was preemptive of future meditations on the possibility of nothingness, but nevertheless, this was a recipe for seeking a restful mind beyond the role of cultivating good fruit (see *John 15:1-11.) I was seeking bliss in numbness. I didn’t want to think about the cruelty of the world because I didn’t believe there was hope for it. With the teachings of Jesus, I believe we can always cultivate good fruit.
There’s good news. And it’s spreading. Some of it is misguided, some of it is taught through the lens cruelty and flesh, but some of it it still good when it touches the ear, and it’s spreading.
I recently came across some notes in journals where I plead for God’s attention during my time away from this good life. I wanted my faith back. I wrote once, “the choice to believe only by empiricism may well have been the biggest mistake I ever made! God, I miss you so desperately! I want to be your child once again!” Little did I know that time was coming.
Earlier this year I decided to surrender my life to Jesus, as the living word of God, He who brings heaven to Earth. In learning of the significance of baptism, I thought that the same beach and ocean I went to in desperation for answers, I would return to for this sacred event. I was looking for God out there in that water and last Sunday, on October 11, 2021, I acknowledged that in my baptism by water.
For about a year now, I’ve found great peace in surrender. The more I surrender my life to the vine of the Lord through Jesus Christ, the sweeter the fruit my branches bear. There’s something about that fella… there’s something about his way. There’s something that happens when I continue to pray. There’s something that makes this life seem a lot more like a dutiful play.
Proverbs 3:5-6
5. Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
6. in all your ways submit to him,
and He will make your paths straight.
There’s something that heals anxiety and ensures I will not be the one to spread it any further. When I’m lock step with the spirit of God, I have the opportunity to be the last defense for evils that knock on my door. This is some of what Jesus was talking about when he talked about building a kingdom on Earth. It only takes a little yeast to rise a loaf of bread and I’d rather help bake the bread of life.
I look forward to all that is to come on this journey and I’m forever grateful to say that I have found refuge in the name of Jesus Christ. For all that He has given to me, the least I can do is dedicate my life in return.
Extra-Biblical gems from the last year:
Wild at Heart, by John Eldredge
Killing Lions, by John and Sam Eldredge
Love Does, by Bob Goff
Everybody Always, by Bob Goff
Words are Treasures, by Brooke Rick
Tim Mackie: