I'd like to think I have a decent memory. But what is the point? You can't go back really, and God sort of as his own plans that always blow away everything that was. I like how things were. Turn back the clock. But it only goes forwards, into the unknown...
Sometimes, I have this feeling in my chest. I can't describe it well, as you shouldn't ask me to, as guys are bad at talking about their feelings, right? I've always attributed it to being God. On occasion I wonder if maybe there is just something dreadfully wrong in my chest, and this feeling is the only sign of it, and I decided it was God instead of this terrible thing that will kill me. But then I figure, it should hurt if there was something wrong. So I continue to think this feeling is God. I thought at one point it might have been from singing during worship, and it just did something weird to my lungs. Or my left lung. Maybe it's all psychological. Whatever it is, I've been feeling it a lot more recently.
Transparent is something worth being I hear, at least with who I like to be with. I'm bad at it though, like with conversations in general. I don't really give straight answers. This annoys some people. As it should. But they will have to wait until I talk about what I think and feel and believe, here. And then they have to find it.
I went to a retreat. A man said some things. He said we should live in freedom. He said freedom was the ability and power to choose to do what is right. He said miracles will happen when we obey God, and listen to Him, and are willing to work hard with Him. This was intriguing. I'd like to see miracles today. Why? Well, probably the wrong reasons. Which is why they might not happen for a while. After this retreat, I was convinced that Subway was a cage, hindering my freedom. You all know what I think of that place.
I walked and listened and prayed for a while. I decided I should quit and go work with my Dad. My friend suggested this. I asked my Dad and he said sure. The benefits would be outstanding. I would learn how to make houses, how to drive potentially, have better hours maybe, get to know my Dad. Later that night, my parents decided to say I should try somewhere else. That I should talk to this guy who works at the Mary Winspear center. It's a place were they have art shows and gun shows and musicals and plays and host some retreats. It has a tower outside of it that has lights on it that you can see from the top of Horth Hill. The guy who works there works with lights. I said, okay. I was saddened. My Father didn't want me to work with him. I convinced myself that it would still be good.
Subway had taught me to ask what should I be doing. Cause really, I have no clue. I thought maybe that was all it had to teach me. I was ready to move on. The guy would teach me how to work the lights. If I knew how to work these, maybe that would help with the youth group one day. And that guy is supposed to install the sound for the church upstairs so we can move that stuff downstairs. I saw that guy today. I was working. I couldn't really talk, because there was a rush. For a long time. He was with my friend, Kyle. That makes me happy. Kyle was always good with that stuff. Does he need me anymore then? There would be no point in quitting unless I had another job lined up. Otherwise I would go back to doing nothing, and I read in the Bible that idleness is bad. 'If a man doesn't work, he shouldn't eat', or something like that.
While at work, I asked them for a couple days off. And they reworked the schedule to make it work. They have so few people. The owner asked me about five times if I had any friends I could bring in. Now, if I left them after so short a time, I would feel bad. Maybe it isn't so bad.
I went to one of the church's cell groups tonight. It is the church's, so there are older people there. People I don't really relate to. But they try, and that's important. I zone out when they talk. I feel kind of bad. They were talking about money and sacrificial giving though. If I gave all the money I made to the church, I would have sacrificed nothing, because I live at home with my Mommy and my Daddy, and I can ask them to buy me what I want every once in a while. Maria asked me what I thought and I told her this. She said the motive was more important. I'm bad with motives though.
On Monday, Bryden said that he thought he read a verse that said whoever mediated on God's words in the morning and at night would be successful in whatever they do. He thought he read it in Matthew. He thought there was a third time too. So, for a couple days I have read the Bible in the morning, afternoon, and before I go to bed. Meditate and read probably aren't the same thing. But why am I doing this? Because I want to be successful in whatever I do. I'm going through Matthew. I wanna see if I can find it in there. Everything is nothing without love. That is what the motive should be, right? Sometimes, I think I missed that.
At the retreat, I was sort of skeptical in the worship for a while. Mosh pits are at concerts. Why do we have kids amassing in front of the stage and jumping around. They look so silly. And I'll become even more undignified than this... oh dear. I never joined them. But eventually I let them go. To each his own. And I let God have my worship songs. The first day at the retreat, I wondered why we gathered together to worship alone. I'm not singing songs for you; I'm singing them for God. And a little bit because I like my voice.
Sometimes I think I am the opposite of what I am supposed to be. Like, I don't think I'm supposed to work at Subway. I feel somewhat disconnected. I guess most kids out of school might feel like that. But I don't think I've really been in touch with my emotions. Despite this, I'm beginning to believe that they are a central part of who I am. I feel silly saying that. Duuhh, of course they are. I enjoy making people laugh. Laughter is good, in most cases. I believe God can be in laughter. It can be bad too though. I want to bring laughter that has God in it. I think that would be a good thing to do.
Ivo told a story. It was about a guy who had a Ph.D and was working, but his Ph.D didn't help his job really. But everybody loved this guy. He worked hard. He was a pleasure to work with. He challenged the pastorate exam, or something like that, and aced it. They asked what books he used, and who his teacher was. The Bible. Jesus. Bam. They said that this guy is a great example, or ideal. I think that guy is who I want to be. Even before I heard that story.
I'd like to think that I connected with God at that retreat. Either something is wrong in my chest or God is there lots more. Do motives correct themselves? I hope they could. If they just led to God, then everything could change... I guess forward doesn't have to be bad.
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