“There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.”  - C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Wow. Well said, Mr. Lewis. That was one of the most convicting things I’ve ever read (outside of the Bible, at least). This makes me really want to read the rest of that book.

I think I’ve had my heart in a casket of my selfishness for over two years now, and only recently have I cracked the lid to give it some air. It’s amazing the lengths we go to in order to avoid feeling pain…or to just avoid feeling vulnerable. Never in my life have I had such a hard time opening up to people. I’m glad that God makes it possible for us to change though, even if change comes slowly!

SPOILER ALERT. You have been warned!

First, this review really sums up how I feel about the finale much more elegantly than I ever could. 

However, I’d still like to share a few thoughts after the cut.

Read More

Tonight’s episode of House definitely set my emotions into high gear. It reminds me of that scene from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where that guy gets his heart ripped out while he’s still alive…

Anyway, I found an old online journal of mine…like, really old. Older than the oldest one I’ve quoted in the past. Reading through the entries I’ve been struck by several things. First, I seriously doubt that I was a Christian in those years. The profession of faith I made in middle school apparently didn’t stick, because even in my junior year of high school I still didn’t “get it.” I was foolish, selfish, and looking for happiness in all the wrong places (though I’m still apt to do that sometimes). However, there are still some things I’d like to mention here.

First, on September 10, 2003, I wrote about how we had to put my dog Gizmo to sleep. Gizmo was a huge part of my childhood and his death, in many ways, marked the end of that childhood. On October 9, 2003, I ended a post with “school is my life and I see myself being a teacher someday.” In hindsight, school wasn’t my life because of anything inherent to teaching or learning. School was my life because of the people there. I loved them, and I didn’t know how to deal with the prospect of going our separate ways.

On June 4, 2003, I wrote “i want to go to maine. i want to lay out on the dock at night and listen to the waves and watch for shooting stars.” Then I wrote this gem on August 8, 2003. It’s still true today.

there seems to be only one thing in my life that remains truly constant and unchanging, no matter how many times i’ve moved, no matter how many new friends i’ve made and old friends i’ve forgotten — damariscotta lake and the little town of jefferson, maine, has never changed.

Just thinking about how true that is makes me feel a little weepy. So I’ll move on. Another fun tidbit: June 14, 2003, was the first and only time I’ve ever been stung by a bee/wasp (pretty sure it was a wasp). And earlier that month I flew alone for the first time (to visit Dad in Virginia). 

But onto what really stood out to me. Two things:

1. My “ups” and “downs” were enough to make anyone sea sick. If I was a psychologist, I’d probably diagnose my younger self as bipolar, or maybe just clinically depressed. I had also forgotten what an insomniac I was. I regularly stayed up until 4 or 5am searching for something to ease my depression (usually late night chats with friends). I was an absolute mess.

2. I blamed myself for nearly breaking up my family. I’m surprised by this now, because I always think it’s so silly when kids blame themselves for their parents’ problems. Thankfully, God had other plans for my family, and for me.

And then there’s this, from December 3, 2003:

lately i have felt so weary of life. it seems as if winter depression has decided to come early this year, and as i speak is setting down its suitcase full of hopelessness and dreary memories, ready for an extended visit. for the past few days i have woken up to a cold dark house and walked to school under a cold dark sky. i can’t sleep anymore, it seems. i go to bed at midnight and somehow manage to get about four hours of sleep between that and six thirty. i don’t feel like eating either, even though sometimes i get so hungry i shake. i know that i have a zillion reasons to be happy but the wintertime just overpowers all of it. all i can think is…after this christmas, i will only have one christmas left, here amongst the people i love.

It’s difficult for me to read that, because even 9 years later the winter still gets to me. To set this in context, at this point Mom & I were planning to join Dad in Virginia after I graduated. I was devastated. After all of that I said “sometimes…i almost convince myself that i will be able to stay here for the rest of my life”. Incredibly, 9 years later, it looks like I’m on track to do just that (of course, things could still change).

Whenever I have to recount my Christian testimony, I always stutter a bit. I’m not sure exactly when I was changed. I always thought that I really hadn’t changed much…after all, I was a pretty well-behaved kid, wasn’t I? Reading these old journal entries has really highlighted the night-and-day difference that took place. Yes, I still struggle with selfishness and I still have to resist the urge to feed my inner depression monster, but WOW what a difference. It’s a new heart. That’s the only way I can explain it.

And with that, my own gratefulness has rendered me dumbstruck. 

First, a quick update: in the past week, I’ve broken my toe (left pinky toe, had a run-in with a door), watched exorbitant amounts of House MD, and watched my second presidential inauguration at Doane College. I also won a guitar (Epiphone Nighthawk Custom Reissue) and got As in both of my grad classes. Things are getting crazy around here. I’m thankful to God for all of it.

Next, I want to talk about cliffhangers, because it’s that time of year when primetime TV shows are wrapping up their seasons (or the entire series, in the case of House) and leaving us wondering what’s next. I’ve been thinking about cliffhangers and mysteries a lot lately. They’re one of the most effective writing strategies employed by…well, just about everybody. Sometimes they’re resolved in the next book, episode or movie (remember those agonizing waits between Harry Potter books?) Sometimes, we’re left hanging forever, supposedly so we can draw our own conclusions (I know it’s considered “high art” to do that, but I can’t STAND it).

To me, fanfiction is one of the most interesting genres of writing. Some of it is fluffy and comedic, but most of it is born out of our intense human desire to control things…which is born out of our intense human fear of the unknown. We don’t know what will happen to us in our lives. Most significantly, we don’t know how we will die. We have only the foolish illusion of control, and that’s terrifying to most people. Death is terrifying to most people. Cliffhangers stimulate that angst and fear and excitement. They make us feel unsettled and even angry sometimes. Fanfiction is therapeutic in that it helps relieve some of that uncomfortable pressure by allowing us to rewrite the story so that the tension we feel is finally resolved (usually to our liking). 

There is no such therapy for real life…no way to relieve that fear of death and of things beyond our control…except through the peace that can only be found in Jesus Christ. Read again: only be found in Jesus Christ. The great writers of books, movies and television shows like to manipulate our emotions through cliffhangers and unsolved mysteries, but God doesn’t trifle with us that way. He has graciously given us the end to the story, the last chapter in the series of human history. And it doesn’t end with a cliffhanger. And it can’t be rewritten. And if you don’t know how it ends, you should definitely read it.

So, while I feel angsty and upset that my favorite character on House is dying, and I don’t want to imagine House being left sad and alone for the rest of his fictional life…I know I’ll get over it. Maybe I’ll even rewrite the ending if I don’t like it, just because I can. (something tells me I’ll love it, though) The most important thing is, I don’t have to feel that way about my own life. As Stuart Townend and Keith Getty so brilliantly penned: “No guilt in life, no fear in death: this is the power of Christ in me.” Amen and amen.