What Would You Do?
Who is +1-ing my things?! It's a mystery.
In other news, it was practically spring earlier this week. Now, it's snowing. If global warming is as severe as some report, bring it on. I kinda like catastrophic solutions. If the sun burns us all, well there ya go. But, if Waterworld becomes a thing, I may still get a chance to be a proper pirate. I've only been on the ocean a few times—and I never had any real boat responsibilities—but I love the water, the waves, the salt, the air, the freedom. I don't know where I belong. Sometimes, I belong in latin dancing. Sometimes, I belong on the ocean. Sometimes, I belong in the future as a cyborg. I think that's why I'm writing Michael: he belongs everywhere, and, because of that, he belongs nowhere. But he can still travel anywhere; he can still thrive anywhere.
It'll be a few chapters until I post it, but I just pulled him through his fears and into the beginnings of his freedom as the traveler. I'm still not sure how or why he travels, but he does. That's not much of a problem though. The problem is not knowing how he'll behave. Up to this point, he's been stifled at the abbey and spontaneous everywhere else. I think... I think I'll just keep writing him in freedom and let his wild confusion paint a wild picture. I'm not quite sure what it implies, but I've enjoyed the characters that I've set around him. I just wrote about Coniscoe. She's a strange lady. We'll see. We'll see.
Once again, the world is too big, and Jesus should just come back.
Sometimes, I get clogged with other people's voices. Input is great, but, sometimes, other people's fearful voices are the loudest. It makes me think of Finding Dory. The movie isn't a manual for life, but one can learn from most sources. Marlin and Nemo found Dory by asking themselves, "What would Dory do?" (WWDD? It sounds a bit sacrilegious, but bear with me.) They found her and told her that they used that question to follow her steps. Later in the movie, she gets lost again and begins to panic. Then, due to their encouraging words, she starts asking herself, "What would Dory do?"
A happy ending ensues and credits roll.
Here's my point though: Assuming we seek to place our lives in God's hand, we have to recall that we are equipped with specific gifts and sent out to do specific work. So often, voices clamor for your attention because they want your life to look identical, but there is a vast rift between wise advice and fearful projection. Sometimes, we have to set aside the fearful whispers. A tool I've used sometimes has been akin to "What would Nathan do?"
The actual question I ask is more like, "If I were honoring God and behaving healthily, what would I be doing?" Then, by God's grace, I do it. It may feel forced sometimes, but exercising is sometimes forced, forgoing unhealthy foods is sometimes forced, forgiving is sometimes forced, patience is sometimes forced. Good choices are sometimes force of will.
It's gettin' kinda rambly, but the moral of the story is to ask yourself what holy, healthy you would do. Not what would your mom do. Not what would your dad do. Not what would your boss do. Not what your neighbor do. Not what would a movie star do. Not what would your fears do.
What would holy, healthy you do?
In other news, it was practically spring earlier this week. Now, it's snowing. If global warming is as severe as some report, bring it on. I kinda like catastrophic solutions. If the sun burns us all, well there ya go. But, if Waterworld becomes a thing, I may still get a chance to be a proper pirate. I've only been on the ocean a few times—and I never had any real boat responsibilities—but I love the water, the waves, the salt, the air, the freedom. I don't know where I belong. Sometimes, I belong in latin dancing. Sometimes, I belong on the ocean. Sometimes, I belong in the future as a cyborg. I think that's why I'm writing Michael: he belongs everywhere, and, because of that, he belongs nowhere. But he can still travel anywhere; he can still thrive anywhere.
It'll be a few chapters until I post it, but I just pulled him through his fears and into the beginnings of his freedom as the traveler. I'm still not sure how or why he travels, but he does. That's not much of a problem though. The problem is not knowing how he'll behave. Up to this point, he's been stifled at the abbey and spontaneous everywhere else. I think... I think I'll just keep writing him in freedom and let his wild confusion paint a wild picture. I'm not quite sure what it implies, but I've enjoyed the characters that I've set around him. I just wrote about Coniscoe. She's a strange lady. We'll see. We'll see.
Once again, the world is too big, and Jesus should just come back.
Sometimes, I get clogged with other people's voices. Input is great, but, sometimes, other people's fearful voices are the loudest. It makes me think of Finding Dory. The movie isn't a manual for life, but one can learn from most sources. Marlin and Nemo found Dory by asking themselves, "What would Dory do?" (WWDD? It sounds a bit sacrilegious, but bear with me.) They found her and told her that they used that question to follow her steps. Later in the movie, she gets lost again and begins to panic. Then, due to their encouraging words, she starts asking herself, "What would Dory do?"
A happy ending ensues and credits roll.
Here's my point though: Assuming we seek to place our lives in God's hand, we have to recall that we are equipped with specific gifts and sent out to do specific work. So often, voices clamor for your attention because they want your life to look identical, but there is a vast rift between wise advice and fearful projection. Sometimes, we have to set aside the fearful whispers. A tool I've used sometimes has been akin to "What would Nathan do?"
The actual question I ask is more like, "If I were honoring God and behaving healthily, what would I be doing?" Then, by God's grace, I do it. It may feel forced sometimes, but exercising is sometimes forced, forgoing unhealthy foods is sometimes forced, forgiving is sometimes forced, patience is sometimes forced. Good choices are sometimes force of will.
It's gettin' kinda rambly, but the moral of the story is to ask yourself what holy, healthy you would do. Not what would your mom do. Not what would your dad do. Not what would your boss do. Not what your neighbor do. Not what would a movie star do. Not what would your fears do.
What would holy, healthy you do?
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