Pain

Pain changes things. It strips away fluff and pretense. It allows us to show our quality. I have been in pain for nearly two weeks. It ebbs and surges, but does not go away. Nothing I can do works to remove it or even dull it.

Some people become placid in pain. Others stronger. I only crumble. I get short-tempered and angry. I lose control quickly. I fall prey to the demons that lurk in my shadows. I doubt everything. I give up. I want to die. I scare myself.

I don't understand the purpose. I do see how pain can have one, but I don't see any purpose now. I just hurt...physically hurt.

Extrication

I know that I have everything I need. I know this on the level that all my physical needs are met. I know this on the level that I have all the weapons I need to survive. But lately, I haven't felt it.

I've been extremely stressed and angry. My fuse is getting short and tending toward violence. These are not good patterns. Lately, I've even noticed that I'm warm all the time...hot really. My wife even feels cold sometimes when i am uncomfortably warm. I think something is about to happen. I feel it getting close. To throw back to my Twilight metaphor...which as I've said before is a very insightful book series, even if packaged in a tweeny fad fantasy...I feel like Jacob about to become a wolf. I really find that character appealing, even down to the dog aspect...everyone knows I often refer to myself as a sheepdog.

From another perspective, I have too much fire in my belly. I'm not built for a tame life. Something will have to give. I haven't hit my stride yet. I have not made the change. But I have never done well caged. I am no house pet. And what are our homes and jobs and suburban lifestyle but padded cages? We are locked in debt and consumerism and civic duty and propaganda images of the ideal life which keeps us safely oiled parts of the machine of society. This works for some people and I am learning to accept that diversity even though I do not in the least understand it.

I have recently also been searching for my way out. Not a temporary escape, like Japan, though that too was immensely good for me, but a real permanent restructuring around who I am. Who I was made to be. But the old questions still come up. How do my diverse interests and skills tie together? What is that place that I was cut for? I have yet to find it.

But I do feel like I am getting closer to understanding it. I know that it must be a permanent change. I know that it will involve a freedom from the strictures of the "American Dream". I know that it will be free from the strictures of the American church culture. I know that it will not be for profit, and likely not "economically sound". And very lately...today in fact, as I was pleading with God, as I have been for several days now, to give me something, I discovered the core of my existence. I know it because it fits everything I've ever known about myself. It's not even the first time I've had it revealed to me. But this time it is clearer and slightly more defined, like a glimpse through the mist that is slowly blowing by. It's hard to articulate just yet because, like I said, I don't fully know how it will manifest. But I know that I was built to be a voice and protector of the lost of the lost. The marginalized. Those most of us sweep under the rug. The ones who scare the Sunday Christians to death. It's the type of people illustrated in Dominic Balli's video for Warrior and in Mat Kearney's song Down. The most vulnerable and beaten and lost. I want to put my hand between the cutter's blade and arm. Hold the hair of the bulimic. Wherever the deepest hurts are that can't be expressed, that is where I want to be. I want to be the Catcher in the Rye. I want to set up shop at the Gates of Dis. But as you can see, this could manifest in so many ways!

I am becoming prepared for this. I am hardening in body and mind. I am stripping away what is false. I will become what I am made to be and it will be soon. This fire will burst forth like a holy dragon. And this current attack will not stop me. It was a good try, but I know now that I have all the weapons I need and I'm learning how to call them up and wield them.

This has to be because otherwise a long life is pure torture. I can't live in sight of these needs and unable to help. I can't settle back and enjoy the cage. I am John the Baptist, David on the run, Joshua the warrior. Like all the seers before me, i am unable to do anything else. My life is forfeit to God. I will get out. Mark the words.

Similarity and Diversity

I am an ecologist by training. I think in systems and relations, and observe to understand. It's an observational science more than experimental. One thing I know is that the world is wondrously complex. There are innumerable interactions in every place we look. Everything is interrelated in a very real physical sense. We can't even explain or understand the greater portion of them. We don't even know what we don't know, but we are constantly learning how processes we thought we understood are not nearly as simple and are sometimes not even valid systems because of it.

At the same time, there are things that always seem to happen the same way. Patterns that repeat. Order in the chaos. Biological structure is similar on large scales. All vertebrates are built very nearly the same. Our organs function very similarly. Plant structure. Biogeochemical processes. And some things are just plain unified. All life on the planet is built of carbon. The major driving energy source is the sun. No vertebrate has more than 4 limbs. The patterns are even more evident on the microscale.

So these two guiding principles rule our world: There is wondrous diversity and complexity within the self-repeating patterns and unifying factors. The diversity is repeated on all levels, as is the sameness.

I realized recently how this applies to Christianity. Even in the Bible itself, we see great diversity among the writers. Even the writers of the New Testament alone. Each Gospel has it's own flavor, it's own focus. It's more than reinterpretations of the same events to different audiences, though this partly explains it. There are real personal differences in what is important to each author. What stood out to them that Jesus did and said is unique. But they all point to certain things in unison.

The other writers also present varying aspects of the faith. John is all about the divinity and the deeper aspects. Luke describes facts in rigid context and detail. Paul sets out grace and rules for living as Christians. Peter charges hard on foundations of the faith. James focuses on the works of the faith. There is so much diversity in their views that it should be no wonder there is so much diversity of denominations today.

But at the same time, one message is imprinted all the way through. The message of Jesus as savior of humanity. And this salvation by grace through faith. To get the fullest expression of the unified message see the creeds. That is what they were for...to distill the rich fertile wealth of the writings of the faith into a few clear and simple sentences.

But within that framework, there is so much room for diversity, for interpretation, for style. It is like ecology. Both of which bear marks of the common origin of both. No one part contains what the whole is. Yet every part is unique and distinct. Just as God himself is one whole in distinct parts. It's amazing how true this holds. Every avenue I explore yields the same principles.

This is the beauty of God's things. The metaphors don't collapse. The symbolics are repeated in fractal patterns over and over and over as you go up or down or sideways through the system.

How sad that we don't recognize this in our own interactions. You can't improve on it.

You Have All You Need

This has been coming at me from so many angles lately and drumming through my mind. It is true on many levels and I don't even know how to describe it.

I was under a spell...illusioned...taken in by a ploy. The ploy told me that I didn't have all that I need. Not all I needed. It sounded very much like something I would acknowledge and believe, hence the deception. But this often happens that when I am oppressed by something...in this case the awareness of my own finality and vileness...a message is sent to me that will not desist.

I am a new creation. Jesus restored me and has given me life "to the fullest." There is no longer an condemnation for me. While I knew all of this on a different level, now it hits home in a deeper way which many will not understand because they are not inside me.

I was eating a poisoned apple. 99% true with one bit of lie. But any poison makes the apple unfit. And one bad one spoils the bunch, to extend the metaphor. So I was there believing some very true things: I am sinful. I am willfully so. I do not properly regard or react to the grace and gifts given to me. I am naturally depressive. I do have trouble understanding reality. I am angry often. But that's not all I am. This is how I look from the eyes of this world. But the new me, the one that is alive in Jesus' life is whole and perfected and has the entire universe of God's power at my disposal.

Jesus did not come to leave me unprepared. Orphaned again. Left to my own devices. He fixed it. He fixed everything. So I can believe that or I can believe that he did not. That his power is not enough for me.

I needed to hear this from the right places, enough times that it sunk in. I am unstoppable. I have the rest that I seek. I have the joy. It is all right here. There is nothing I lack, nor will there ever be.

I was like the dwarfs at the end of Narnia who refuse to see the provision around them...not for the same reasons as they, but the effect was the same. I could not see nor experience the goodness and the completion because i was too focused on something that is dead and has passed away.

I have all I need.

Punched

I saw the movie Sucker Punch last night. It wasn't great, but it was powerful in its way. Many aspects resonated with me so much so that I'm sitting here late the next night writing about it. If you are the Fan Base, you know that I don't do movie or book reviews. (If you aren't that one person you won't be reading this anyway, so it doesn't matter.) Anyway, by way of setting up my further contemplation, the movie follows a girl who finds herself in circumstances that would unglue the best of us. Then she's placed in an institution that is worse yet. She detaches from reality somewhat and becomes a powerful warrior in her own mind along with a few other inmates. The movie spends most of its time inside this reality as these inmates see it. You only get brief glimpses into how that looked in the "real world" because for them, it was real as they saw it. But the director makes it clear that there is a real world and these fantasy worlds are truly just that. However, even though they are fantasy, the director makes a poignant point about their value.

This self-imagery enables the girls to do in the real world what they could not do on their own. Even though they perceive it in fantastic images and experiences, the outcome is the same in both worlds.

There is also a character which the movie identifies as an angel, which guides and directs them, but does not fight their battles for them. This too is a powerful statement. Especially if, like me, you totter on the edge of sanity.

Perhaps that's why I am so touched and repulsed by the movie all at once. First of all, when I say the edge of sanity, I have to be clear that this is not a hip euphemism. I'm not making a metaphor. I mean it. Having difficulty with reality does not mean we all drool and stare out windows. Most people with "mental difficulties" are very functional and in fact undiagnosed because of it. Who knows, maybe we just experience more of reality than others and that makes it hard to "stay inside the lines" of normalcy...which would turn out to actually be less real in this scenario, but I'm losing my point.

The director says that he loves to make movies that disturb people while entertaining them and that he likes his morals to be blatant. Both of these goals are achieved in this movie. He speaks to people with real mental difficulties by portraying a hero who has real mental difficulties, but who uses them to her advantage. A hero faces exaggerated circumstances and has exaggerated abilities so that we who hear (or watch) the story can envision that for ourselves and echo it in our more mundane circumstances.

So what does he say to us in the movie? First, you have all the weapons you need. This hits me so hard, coming out of a valley in my ongoing struggle with this thing that plagues me. Second, an angel says this. So a messenger from God tells me that I have all the weapons I need. Wow, is all I can say. Have you ever read Ephesians 6 and 2 Timothy 3:16-17? But the angel can't fight for them. They have to fight for themselves. His role is to take them along the path, but they must walk it. Just as God is always with me, but I must still live through the entire day and all it throws at me.

Third he says, "Fight!" Read Jeremiah 46:3. We must not give up. There is too much talk of this among those who don't understand. We don't need to be encouraged to be mush, to be passive, peaceful, drugged up zombies. We need to take life fiercely by the horns and slay these dragons before us, no matter what our dragons may be. This may seem like a platitude to most people. A nice sentiment. But when you live with mental anguish, depression, psychosomatia, inability to keep perspective on reality, the pressure to roll over and die is immense. Self-preservation is gone and despair sucks at your heels to swallow you if you hesitate for a second. In this kind of existence a voice from outside tells us to stand up, take the weapons we didn't even know we had, and use them. That the weapons are there for us. It isn't a self-help metaphor. It requires a fantastic belief to be able to function. We aren't broken in need of fixing. We were made this way, made for another world. This comes with it's detriments, but also for every detriment is a power to balance it, and even conquer the detriments, as was the case with Baby Doll in the movie.

I know how much "winding up" it takes to do normal tasks. But I can believe I'm a powerful warrior facing down demons. Chances are, I actually am...Even if I am psychotic, in my perception, the fantasy and reality merge to the point that it is effectively the same thing.

Here is a movie for people like me, to people like me. It clearly calls out to me to stand and fight and encourages me to believe what is unbelievable. Even if the way I see it isn't "reality" it will have the same effect. It is an affirmation of my world and my existence. It can be turned to good and used in power.

I don't know if Zack Snyder knows someone that inspired the movie or if his genius produced a movie that superbly speaks to something he personally knows nothing about and may not have even intended to address. But either way, I am thankful for it.

Kogeteiru

This word means burnt. I recently watched a very cute series of 4 minute animated shorts (typical Japanese PSA style) called Kogepan, or Scorched Bread. It's about a jam-filled bun that was left in the oven too long. The series describes his life and outlook. He's sour and hard. Unsatisfied with himself. Unable to be sold, which is the dream of every bread. His crusty exterior belies a soft heart though. Kogepan makes friends with others who share his fate and even meets others who are worse off, yet more enlightened (Charcoalpan). He even learns that the pretty buns also have problems.

This is a beautiful example of the Japanese heart. The very fact that they would produce a series of PSAs designed to help others understand those who "easily give up and sleep when they're angry", those who are different and unable to be like the normal buns, indicates the inclusive nature of what it is to be Japanese. Not only does this series help others understand the "kogepan" among us, but it gives a glimmer of hope to the kogepan so they will not feel so alone and can find a reason to live.

I understand this well because I am a Kogepan, though gifted with the ability to communicate it where many cannot. This isn't unique by the way, many famous artists, writers, and actors are kogepan too. We can't change how we were made. We were exposed to a bit too much of the heat of life and that is not our fault. We would often prefer to be otherwise and try to scrape off the crusty parts, hide them under frosting, and we would prevent others from being burnt, even when it's romanticized into something attractive.

This is an important understanding that is often lacking in America. We can't help it. This isn't a blame shifting or shirking of personal responsibility. Chances are we Kogepan blame ourselves far more than others could know. What we need is acceptance. That's all.

This is why it angers me SO much when people downplay it, or make fun or offer candy platitudes. Mostly they don't even realize that I AM one of the Kogepan. And I know what it's like to barely be holding on, and how much pain and depression those kind of careless sentiments, even if well-meaning, can cause. Did they never think that the Kogepan might just have tried all of that!

For us Kogepan, we must remember that we can not understand the ways of the Baker, nor do anything about it, even if we could. What is, for us, simply is. But we can know this: the things that burned us have made us much closer to the Baker's heart. This is the essence, difference, and glory of Christianity. The weak and messed up are the most dear and most sought after by God.

And in the worst of times (the deep winter), just as the series concluded: in the cold, everyone's breath is white. And this, at least, is a sign that we exist. It's a small thing, but it's something to be happy about.

anxious

I finally finished the bathroom and have taken some time to breathe. What a weight off that was.

But then, today something happened that reminds me that we are never more than one quick turn from ruin. I was eating lunch an chatting with a coworker when I swallowed and the food lodged in my throat. I know the feeling well. A few years ago I ended up in the emergency room because a pill lodged so thoroughly that nothing would remove it. Finally it was surgically removed and my esophagus was dilated. I discovered that I have a stomach condition that burns my esophagus with stomach acid and scars it. Combined with a naturally narrow throat, this creates restrictions where food can easily lodge. I'm supposed to take medicine to stop the acid, but found the medicine and the anxiety associated with having to take medicine all the time were causing more discomfort than the acid problem, so my doctor advised that I stop taking it so frequently...which turned into rarely.

But today in one split moment, I was right back in that distress. I tried to drink, but the water wouldn't pass or move the food, so I ran to the bathroom and began retching and swallowing until it finally dislodged. It's a horrible feeling. I would almost rather block my wind and pass out quickly. So I am reminded now of those days following the surgery where everything I ate was a source of anxiety. Where I felt incomplete, broken. Where my previous delusionment of strength and self-sufficiency was shattered. I feel it must be a bit of what chronically ill people feel.

It even led to a bit of hypochondria where I was so afraid of what other major health issue I might be ignoring that every ailment had me hyper-examining myself and even going to the doctor to ensure I was ok.

But now it's back to the diet to reduce acid, back to the medicine. I'm trying hard to keep peace about it. To "be anxious for nothing..." But it's not easy for me. I am naturally bent that way.

The strange thing is that I am not in the least afraid of dying. In fact it makes many people uncomfortable to hear how much I am truly not afraid of it. For me it would be a blessing, an end to this life of anxiety and depression and fear and evil. I know that I will fall into rest in my Father's arms. I can't wait to step out of this flesh and gaze at the real world. How appropriate then that to break whatever pride or perversion is in me, I am given this cross of decidedly undeadly burden. I must face this anxious fear, this dread of medical pain and systematic torture. I could face a knife or bullet with ease, but to face probing, medical, prodding and pricking is terrifying to me.

This is yet another instance where I must decrease and let Christ increase in me. I am in myself less than a cripple because my cross is internal with little external sign. My struggles have no substance, no matter, therefore they are "insubstantial" and "don't matter". You see how even language degrades me? No one teases a visibly handicapped person, but when it is not visible, all manner of jokes are permissible. To be inwardly stricken is to be flawed by choice to most people. Why can't I just be normal. I hate the word. It has no real meaning. It is truly insubstantial. It is an abstract statistical term.

Therefore I want to wear my invisible crosses outwardly. I am willing to take scorn and disrespect, though it scares me and I crave approval. I know that my identity is not this flesh which tries to dominate in weaker moments. I know that I cannot change what I cannot change. I know that I am too weak even to change much of what I can change. Therefore I plead Christ. I am bound to him because he is the only source of hope I have found to be credible. If it is up to me, then I am already doomed. No "you're ok, I'm ok" claptrap will resolve this. No PMA. No universalism. Call me Christian and let my strength and identity be Christ.