Emotion Then... And Now.

Not quite three years ago, I was quite a different person. I was quite the detached soul. But something happened then... I wrote a post on Xanga covering my thoughts. More thoughts; not so much feelings. Didn't really engage what few feelings I had back then. But it was the start of a journey; and so you can know where I'm coming from, here's the post.

Monday, April 11, 2005

Church today was really good. James Bryan Smith, a friend of PJ's, came and spoke to us about heaven. It was a very uplifting message. It also got me thinking about death, and the passing on of loved ones. Which made me start thinking about love. Which made me start thinking about emotions in general, which is what I'm going to ramble at you about starting... now. Let's go. Depending on how well you know me (some better than others, obviously) many of you realize that I'm not a hugely emotional guy. I don't get too attached to things or even people sometimes. I cry very rarely. Many people have called me easygoing or laid back. Very rarely do I get upset. And even more rarely do I get to a point where my world is seriously rocked. And because of this, I guess I'm a pretty stable person. Some girls I've talked with over the years envy this.... They also envy the impact (or lack thereof) I make when I step on the bathroom scale, but that's neither here nor there. Let's stay on topic. It's a well-known fact that guys generally live their lives in one of two moods: "ok" or "mad." I tend to stay in the "ok" world. But when I look around me, I become convinced there's more to life than just being "ok." There's happiness and satisfaction when someone gets a good grade on a paper or test. There is refreshment and gratitude for a good night's rest. There is both pain and love when a little girls falls and scrapes her knee and her mother comes running to cheer her up and tend to her wound. At funerals people weep openly for someone they love, grieving that they are gone but rejoicing that they are in a better place. A boy and a girl walk down the sidewalk holding hands, goofy smiles plastered on their faces. They're living in the acceptance, joy, and love that they bring to the other. So we live in a world that is awash with brilliant hues of emotion. I've seen even the simplest things evoke an emotional response from other people. I have these things too, but they don't make me feel any particular emotion; they just make me feel "funny." I always feel "funny" when I see a folded paper boat b/c that was a running gag between me and my freshman-year-of-high-school sweetheart. Silver Dollar City makes me feel "funny" b/c of Arnie and Sheree (my youth pastors) and all the old friends I remember when we'd take those trips. And there are more examples. I can't identify the particular emotion that goes along with these things; they just make me feel "funny." Or "weird," if you will. I say "funny" and "weird" b/c I don't experience these feelings on a regular basis. Here's another example: we've all seen those little red "I Am Loved" pins. Well, I know that I am loved. People tell me that every day. They tell me through words, actions, etc. Even if these people don't go to extreme lengths to demonstrate this, I know that I'd be missed if I gave up the ghost tomorrow. So I know that I'm loved. However... I don't feel it. And there's a difference. Is the only thing that differentiates an acquaintance from a friend the amount of time you've known each other? Doubt it. There's a connection that grows over time, and that's what makes the difference. But I can't put my finger on it. I'm missing the intangible. The thing that makes you thrilled to see certain people, the thing that makes you grieve when they pass on. What is it? I've come to this conclusion. In our world of emotions that are as varied as the colors of the rainbow, I live in a different world. The world of "ok." The color here is a drab, dull gray. It's boring. I don't like it. I think I'll leave. I've got a life to live, and it's too short to be seen in shades of gray. Can anyone understand what I'm saying? Father, please help me to feel...

So whispered my soul almost three years ago. Since then, I have tried to become more self-aware; to take time to feel, to live in how I am, and not stifle the cries of my heart that I cannot understand. I used to see myself as Data or Spock from Star Trek; void of emotion, or at the least, capable of shutting down my feelings in an instant. Such is the life of a guy. When my grandfather passed away, I was the only one not crying at the viewing. My phone rang; a colleague was calling. And while my family shed tears and mourned the death of a patriarch of the family, I cooly stepped outside to discuss "business." I regret that day.

I regret many days.

Things have slowly changed since then; I've been through challenging situations and unique relationships, and now a different Seth sits here typing these words than the one who pleadingly pecked those keys many moons ago.

I can feel, at least to some degree... I become happy over little things. I have great hope for the future. I feel joy, uncertainty, confidence, and fear where I am right now. I have more questions than answers. My relationship with Christ has become less definable and more magical. I have dreams. I have fears. I live in a world that feels glowing with feeling and colors of the rainbow.

There are dark colors too, and one must accept those; for one cannot take the bright colors and exclude the dark. If one loses sadness, they lose the meaning of joy; and both the bright and the dark must be exchanged for a world of gray. I've lived there. It's not worth living there.

Unfortunately, trading in the gray for the colors also meant trading in my answers for questions. Instead of stability, now I must live with uncertainty and adventure. But now as I look at it...

This is the kind of life I was meant to live; a live forced to rely on faith and trust. A life that can feel. 21-year-old Seth looks forward to this time and thanks God; 24-year-old Seth looks back and thanks God.

For I sit here, with a lump in my throat and tears welling in my eyes for reasons I don't even know. I just know I got my wish.

And I am grateful.

A Couple of Ashy Thoughts...

So today was Ash Wednesday. Over the past couple of years, my interest in the ancient traditions of the church has grown considerably. I was happy last year to participate in a Saturday Night service where the ashes were imposed upon those who were willing; however, I went to a real Ash Wednesday service this year. It even happened on a Wednesday!

Imagine that.

It was neat to experience a service dedicated fully to reflection, repentance, communion, and the imposition of the ashes. While the United Methodists maintained a certain informality of the service, I was impressed by the weight given to the occasion.

We prayed an opening prayer, sang a hymn, and then read Isaiah 53:1-12. (Which is a flippin' amazing passage; the predominant OT passage that speaks of Jesus and his mission in the world. Go read it. It's okay. I'll wait for you.) Then the minister delivered a message which incorporated Matthew 6:19-21; as the ashes remind us that we are but earth, and to earth we must return, so must we be focused on things not of this world and to place our value in those things. Then we did a call-and-response reading of Psalm 51. The minister thanked God for the ashes, a reminder of our fallenness and corruptibility, and then we participated in a piece of liturgy known as The Great Thanksgiving. (Look at the words here.) After that, we approached the rail as we felt led and received communion; there was no rush to pray and move on, we were allowed to linger and pray at the front as much as we pleased. Once finished with communion, one could pause in front of the minister at the end of the rail and receive the imposition of the ashes upon their forehead or their right hand. When all had finished, we received a simple benediction.

A couple of thoughts occurred to me that I'd like to share.

The first was that the ashes were made in the sign of the cross on a person. And everyone's cross looked different; some were well-defined, while others were no more than a smudge. I caught myself wondering what my cross looked like (since I had received it on the forehead, I didn't know). As time passed though, I marveled that even though all of our crosses were different, they were all still crosses; my cross may not look like anyone else's. That's okay; it's my cross, and I am the only one to bear it. God has called us all to different paths in life, and we all will carry our crosses differently from one another; we cannot do otherwise. However, this does not change the fact that we do, and must, carry our cross. As G. K. Chesterton is fond of pointing out, the cross as a shape is a contradiction. It is constantly at odds with itself, a paradox. One may favor the circle for its consistency and its completeness instead of the stark collision of the cross. However, the circle cannot grow beyond itself; the cross stretches beyond all that can grow. The circle can only expand and include; the cross can challenge and penetrate. The circle cannot imprison the cross. The cross is an ever-present reminder of the horizontal relationship that we are to have with others and the vertical relationship that we are to have with God; and Jesus was crucified at its center so that the paradox could become reality. As followers of The Way, let us not forget to be cross-minded; let our lives be stark collisions of Heaven and Earth as we pursue Christ.

The second thing that struck me was that the words that the minister spoke as I received the cross: "Repent, and hear the Gospel." These are not the normal words spoken as one receives the imposition; however, I was not aware of this until later. I was more interested in the order of the words. Don't we hear the Gospel, and then repent? Logically, this seems to be what we must do; however, the words and their order shed a new light on the Christian faith. The Gospel does not end with repentance; indeed, repentance opens the door for one to receive, and continue receiving the Gospel. The Gospel is more than repentance; so much more. There's love, and forgiveness, and challenge, and faith, and trials, and hope, and... And the cross! I get excited just thinking about it. Repentance is but one part of the story that the Gospel weaves into and out of our lives. Let us continue to let the Gospel impact and challenge us in ways that we have not experienced before.

And now, the words that one would normally during the imposition of the ashes. Let us remember them during the next 40 days as we prepare our hearts to celebrate the Resurrection of Christ:

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
Turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ.

Amen.


Recommended Reading for this post: The Ball and the Cross by G. K. Chesterton