One of those nights, I guess…

I need to go to sleep, but this is one of those nights I’m too frustrated to sleep, and I can’t figure out why.

It’s just one of those nights though.  It’s one of those nights I can’t tell if I’m just tired, bored, bummed out, content, or what.    Watching TV isn’t interesting, reading doesn’t cut it, NCAA 2012 feels kinda boring, and even playing guitar can’t keep me interested.  So, in light of that, I figured I’d try to write a little something.  I haven’t done this in a while, since September 11 actually, which makes it exactly a month.  Didn’t put that together until just now.

Anyway, when I started writing a blog (about nothing in particular) I labeled myself a wayward son, because at that time it definitely fit.  I should’ve graduated from college and moved to Seattle, but due to my own laziness, I didn’t.  I had no idea what was going to happen, what I was going to do, where I was going to end up.

That was 3 years ago.

When I look back, I think about how things haven’t changed at all.  I mean, I still have nights like this, where I don’t know what in the world is wrong with me, and I’m still not sure where my life is going.  But then I realize everything has changed.  My life doesn’t look anything like it did 3 years ago.  I mean, I have a job, I’m in seminary, I have some kind of idea where I’m going with my life, I’m in a church I love dearly (for the first time in my life…that’s an incredible feeling), and I have an amazing group of friends that I legitimately feel like is a community for the first time in a long, long time.  Maybe since 2007.  I don’t like to say things like “I’m happy” or “I’m not happy” because those are so subjective and can change with the drop of a hat, but I definitely can’t complain about much.  I mean, yeah, sometimes things still suck, but such is life.  It’s never perfect.

But I feel like I’ve found my way home.

I spent so long feeling so sure that my goal in life, my purpose, my…whatever…was going to be fulfilled somewhere far, far away from Jackson.  There was a point where the very thought of coming back here long term would have made my skin crawl.  Even when I finally decided to come back, I was pretty sure I was only going to be here for a little while before I moved on to something else.  This time last year, I interviewed for a job in Dallas.  So it’s a little weird for me to come home and think…”man, I hope I get to stick around for a while.”

So…where does the frustration play into all this?  I really have no idea.  I know I have a few tendencies to do stupid things, and one of those tendencies is to completely ignore everything good going on around me and focus on one or two negatives.  Life is moving forward, in very positive directions, but not fast enough in certain areas.  I tend to look at those things and get frustrated with myself that I’m not doing a better job of making those things happen, and I think when I do that I’m totally ignoring what God may be trying to do in those situations.

THEN I thought…maybe God isn’t trying to do anything in those situations.  I mean, of course he’s doing something.  He always is (that’s why I hate it when people say stuff like “MAN I HOPE GOD SHOWS UP AND DOES SOMETHING HERE TONIGHT!” – He’s God.  He’s not lazy and He’s always up to something.  Asking God to “show up and show out” is an insult to Him when He’s not “showing out” by whatever arbitrary “showing out” standards you’ve made up.  God could literally do NOTHING and be worth every ounce of worship we give Him simply because of His greatness).  Maybe He’s just telling me His is a better way.  And you’d think I’d have learned that by now.  I mean, who’s to say that I wouldn’t be a scared southern kid, practically all alone in the Pacific Northwest right now?  I idealize these “missed” opportunities and completely wash over the possible negatives in all of it.

There are several Bible verses that come to mind.  I know the plans, all things work together, etc.  It’s just the fact that I have such a hard time believing them from time to time.  Or, maybe most of the time.

All of this to say…I’m a part of something.  I feel like, for the first time, I want to put roots down somewhere – my own roots, not just those that already existed via family ties and whatnot.  I don’t know if it’s going to work out that way or not, but I hope it does.

And it’s funny how writing always seems to be cathartic.  I’m going to sleep now.

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