Charity: Water

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Like Glass

Clay is easier than glass. I'm clay. You only see what I want you to see, and I can display myself anyway I desire. I take care of myself. No one gets in to screw around. None of my sewage spills out. Glass is too weak. I can't fog it enough; you see right through. See the smears and smudges on this man, the inconsistencies and imperfections. The flaws in this plan I'm trying so hard to live into. Glass can break and crumple and it's too trusting in its exposure.

But glass is the only way we can change this jacked-up world. Glass is the way of Christ, the way of descension. It's a denial to self-protection and an acceptance of something greater than me. It's time to be more exposed, more transparent about our hurts, our failures, our shame, our brokenness.

I would blog more, but I need to get off my bum and share my story.

Peace.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

about the search (rambling)

I think it's safe to say that everything we do in life is about the search. We all have those days where we feel like there's more, like we're destined for more, like we're only seeing such a small, insignificant part of the whole. It's an aching we have for something more, something beyond just ourselves. I've been trying to assuage the burning with ministry. It's painfully clear that the passion God's given me is to love and mentor youth. I can honestly say that in the past year and a half, the only relationships I've actively and consistently invested in are those: relationships with youth. Ministry revives me, ignites me. Loving on youth hurts a lot of the time, but it's the only thing worth it. It's what gives my life purpose, my toils meaning. But it's so damn lonely.

I realized the problem with only living for ministry, with my only investments being in youth, is that it's often a one-way street. Yes, nothing pours into me like when one of my students offers a simple "thanks" or a youth tells me "I'm praying for you," but it's still one-sided because they can never pour back into me to the extent that I need it. A sage pointed out this phenomenon to me, and in retrospect it seems so obvious. I have such a fire to let youth know they belong to someone, to something, that they're loved and valued, but there's no one doing that for me.

This is quickly turning into a self-pity post, so I'll shift the perspective slightly. Freshman and Sophomore year of college, I had a small group--a group of about 8ish guys that became family to me. We were a brotherhood, and for the first time, I lived within the context of a community of accountability and love and support. When that group disbanded, to bandage my hurt, I quit investing in college friendships, and instead I invested in youth, striving to be the mentor I've always longed for and felt I needed. And now, so often, I find myself feeling lonely.

It's not always. It's usually just when I sit down. Most of the day, I'm running from one thing to another, working on one thing so I can move on to the next. It's when I sit, when the busyness stops, that I realize how alone I am, how alone I've made myself. Yes. I'm being dramatic. But seriously, you have met me, right? The point is, I feel like I don't have anyone or any group to belong to, not like I used to have, and that's tough. Some days I feel like I'm trying to clean another's wounds, all the while I can't stop bleeding. I'm meant to be communal, to need other people, and it's time I stop keeping people out. I try to always parage around and carry a spirit of joy, but that's such a surface-level Keith. I know if I'm going to make it, then I have to start letting more people in.