Starbucks People and the fear of shiny shoes.

I know I really should be studying for my exam right now, but something about sitting here in starbucks is strangely beckoning me to write. I just find it interesting to sit here and people watch. There are students, faithfully working on papers and projects, and businessmen casually joking in their white shirts and shiny black shoes. There’s a mid-forties couple on an awkward introductory date, and a homeless man in front of me on a laptop with headphones on top of his greasy toboggan. It’s all just curious to me – to see people from every walk of life, and notice the way they seem to interact with one another in the melting pot of starbucks. The slightly overweight businessman, living in the ghost of his fraternity days, gives an obvious second glance toward the woman in the high heels and the blue, button-up blouse. I suppose he’s looking for something that his wedding ring forbids. Then of course there’s the skater, artistic type that shyly moseys in with tattered shoes and a zip-up hoodie. Oh wait, that’s Jay Hendricks. Hah!

I see all these people and I wonder if they’re happy with what they’re doing. I mean, I’m sure their lives are enjoyable enough, but when it all boils down, I wonder if they’re not simply biding their time until the next excuse for an escape. What a horrible way to live. I see people all around me falling into this funnel, watching their lives slip away in this vortex of social acceptance. They run around doing everything that you’re “supposed” to do as an adult, and never take the time to ask what it is that their hearts truly long for. I think that starbucks would look quite differently if more people were brave enough to follow the longings that God has put in their heart. I understand both ends of the spectrum, but it doesn’t really make sense at a deeper level. I realize that it’s important to make money and provide for a family, but where’s the lasting benefit to having some extra cash? Having a nicer house with plush leather furniture? Enjoying the newest roadster as you commute to and from a career that’s siphoning your soul? Is it really worth giving so much for all these things that have absolutely no consequence?

I went to see Donald Miller speak last night. It was rather endearing, and he was just as I expected him to be. Although, I must say, he was a bit older than I had realized. He wasn’t pushy with any of his thoughts, and didn’t attempt to win the crowd over with electricity and energy. He simply was himself, and that’s what I appreciated most. After briefly engaging the crowd, he talked about how making a movie about his life has brought him a new perspective on the business of living life. That the elements of a good life are quite similar to those of a good story, while a boring story makes for a boring life. He shared some personal experiences through which he had learned the anatomy of a good story, concluding that a good story involves, “a character who wants something and overcomes conflict to get it.” Movies in which the main character seems selfish and/or doesn’t have a clear idea of what he wants are the movies that end up completely sucking. “If you watched a movie about a guy who wanted a Volvo and worked for years to get it,” he said, “you wouldn’t cry at the end when he drove off the lot, testing the windshield wipers. You wouldn’t tell your friends you saw a beautiful movie or go home and put a record on to think about the story you’d seen. …Nobody cries at the end of a movie about a guy who wants a Volvo.”

So what about your life? What story are you telling? (by the way, stories only unfold when actions are taken…not through positive attitudes toward the matter, or wishful thinking.)

At this point in my life I see myself on the verge of a crossroads. One direction has a neat, well-kept sign that says “American Dream: Comfort, Safety and Reasonable Enjoyment.” Right beside it, however, is a piece of plywood nailed to a wooden post with a small cross spray-painted on it, and the words, “Attention, strenuous hike, proceed with caution.” As much as I feel everything pushing me towards the first trail, toward the suits, sports cars and shiny shoes, I hope to heaven that I’m brave enough, and man enough, to take the strenuous hike. In my heart I want nothing more than the opportunity to do big things, to touch people’s lives and to show people Jesus. I don’t want to waste my life worried about my well-being, or stressing over my retirement fund. I want to do something with my life that’s actually worth something.  I want to be able, at the end of my life, to measure my wealth in the number of lives Jesus has touched through me, and not by some fleeting number in a bank account. I’m pretty sure God’s already promised that He’d take care of me…I suppose all I have left to do is see where He wants to take me.

The Language of God (so glad it’s not french.)

Today, so far, has been a relatively good day.  Classes were easy, and now I’m sitting in the Mac Lab at Thomas Cooper with some extra time on my hands.  I’ve been studying french for the past 30 minutes or so, and hated every minute of it.  French sucks, quite frankly.  It seems impossible to remember the right things to say at the right time, and I always get verb tenses and conjugations mixed up.  Even when I actually sit down with the the book and give it the old college try, I always end up losing interest and wondering if french fries and french toast taste better in France.  Sitting here though, after finishing today’s homework, I feel like I’ve got a little more insight into the situation.  French, for me, is so dang frustrating because I don’t understand the language.  Anything I know in French is simply a block of text that I’ve committed to memory.  Whenever situation:A arises, I give response:B…  If somebody rewords the cue, I get all bent out of shape, because they asked the dang question wrong.  I haven’t yet caught on to all the different words, yet, and what they mean individually.  I don’t quite feel comfortable piecing together different beginnings of sentences with other random verbs and nouns.  So, in the end, I just end up frustrated and bored and hating french’s guts.  It’s not until you truly get a grasp on the language and what’s going on with the different verb tenses, that everything starts to not suck.  Once you begin to understand the guidelines for verb conjugation, and the reasons why you have to say things a certain way, everything else seems to come into focus.

I think that’s actually rather insightful to how we experience God, and the “language of God,” if you will.  I think a lot of people get super irritated with following Jesus because they haven’t quite grasped the way He works. There’s so much frustration from continuous failures at “being a good Christian” that people end up losing interest and wandering off into other things. They put too much emphasis and effort into determining the exact point at which a certain action becomes “sin” and fail to realize the purpose of the “rule.” 

See, Jesus operates within a whole separate framework than we do, and just like French, his framework has certain key elements that are critical to understanding everything else.  Just like there aren’t really any happy feelings toward a foreign language without a general comprehension, there are seldom happy feelings toward Jesus without understanding the nature of his heart.  The key isn’t to frustrate yourself with the rules and guidelines, but rather see them and embrace them as helpful.  People get so worked up biblical restrictions on drinking or sex or whatever, and don’t realize Jesus’ heart behind all of it.  

“No, I created these things, I know how they’re supposed to work.  Doing things that way is only going to lead you to more hurt and frustration.  I love you. I don’t want that for you.  Trust me!”

Once you’re able to move past the ”dude, this sucks” mentality and begin to understand the reasoning and relational dynamic behind the nature of Jesus, then everything starts to make sense.  You start to see that Jesus is amazing, beyond anything you could’ve ever imagined.  And most of all, that he’s so unbelievably worth it.

Textbook Truth.

So I’m sitting here in the middle of studying for my Psychology Exam tomorrow, and Jesus hit me with some truth, so I figured I’d pass it along.  The test covers a bunch of material, but the current chapter I’m working on is one called “The Path to Commitment: Attraction, Dating and Partnering.”  It’s basically about how people interact with one another socially, and the psychology of the whole mess we like to call dating.  There are tons of models that I’ve been going over, but the “Surra & Hughes Theory” stole my attention more than the rest.  It states basically that,

“Relationships are either: 1.) Relationally driven – partners grow in their commitment as they sort out their mutual preferences, values, goals and roles. Or 2.) Event driven – partners swing back and forth between commitment and ambivalence, often quite dramatically”

This, for me, is so very insightful into relationshp with Jesus.  Yes, the book is talking about human relationship with each other, but I think people just as much transpose this model onto God.  Think about it.  There’s definitely a difference between people who claim Christ that are relationally-driven versus people who are event-driven.  Those whose relationships are relationally-driven don’t get worried about things that go wrong and off days, because at the end of the day, there isn’t any change in the amount of love and commitment from God.  On the other hand, however, people whose relationships are event-based have a much harder time with things.  These people often tend to be the ones stuck in religion, trying to make sure everything is right all the time.  If they don’t consitently feel a “spiritual high,” then they feel like the relationship is about to tank.  (which is a ridiculous notion when regarding Jesus, but that’s another subject for another time.)  The thing is, I see this so often in myself.  I struggle so bad with allowing my relationship with Jesus to be dictated by events and feelings.  If good events and good feelings happen, then I feel that God’s got my back and I can take on the world, but at the same time if bad feelings and bad days happen, I end up feeling like the relationship’s faceplanted.  After spending this morning studying psychological models, though, I think I’m gaining reassurance in the fact that God’s very relational, and definitely not event-driven.  I mean, “duh,” but it’s certainly one thing to know something cognitively, and an entirely separate thing for your heart to accept it.  It’s good to be reminded and challenged on a soul-level that the whole point of everything is a relationally-driven encounter with God in which we “grow in commitment as they sort out their mutual preferences, values, goals and roles.”  That no matter what happens, nothing’s going to change, and that the relationship is just as strong, and just as meaningful as it was yesterday. Think about it like the country song “I Thought I Loved You Then” by Brad Paisley.  I think the heart behind that song is a rough portrayal of how relationship with Jesus looks. 

I just think it’s funny, sometimes, how much God is in everything.  That I could learn about his incomprable love though the pages of a college textbook.  That He could teach me about life, and father me through the most unexpected sources.  He’s pretty amazing.  If you don’t know him, you should give him a try.

Interstate Dating.

Lately I’ve been thinking a bit about dating and relationships.  I’m not exactly sure what started it all, honestly.  It’s probably a combination of the college fall retreat last weekend (which discussed extensively what it looks like to have relationships that are healthy and God-honoring) or the fact that like eight people I know got engaged within the past month or so.  In any sense, I’ve been thinking about it.

It’s been killing me, honestly, because I’ve been trying to figure out what practically it would look like to pursue a girl meaningfully, and still not waiver in pursuit of Jesus.  Maybe that’s an easy question, but it’s something I’ve been thinking a lot about.  I guess it’s tricky for me to grasp because I’ve seldom seen it done the right way.  Everything I’ve learned about girls and how to date has come more or less from high school, the internet and chick-flicks.  From what I could gather, romantic interaction with girls was supposed to be a give and take of coyness and sarcasm that always left the other person feeling a little offended but secretly wanting to makeout in the pouring rain.  You never stated your true intentions in the encounter, partially because most times there really wasn’t one, but more importantly because it was a cop-out, admitting defeat.  If, in all of this, you managed to find a girl that you enjoyed being around, you would cling to her like the squirrel on ice age clings to his acorn.  A huge portion of your idenity came from this person, and you tended to hope that they would always be there for you, no matter what.  So naturally, you were devastated at the end of the relationship because you had put all your eggs in that basket.  After two months of unshakable love, it was over.

Of course, getting older hasn’t made it much better.  There’s still that inclination toward giddy, puppy love, and wanting to just have that feeling of identity and security that comes with being in a relationship.  I’ve found out the hard way, that that’s a horrible reason to be in a relationship.  Because when the focus is mainly on this other person, it’s extremely hard to be captivated by Jesus.  He almost always ends up getting pushed off to the side.  So, the dilemma I’ve been struggling with, is how to pursue a girl and be in a relationship without sacrificing my intimacy with Jesus.  I was talking to my mom about it last night because one, she’s married, and two, because she’s has a way of being very wise and very practical at the same time.

“I guess I just feel like these two relationships are mutually exclusive…that you can’t have two intimate, deep relationships at a time” I told her.  “Just the same as you can’t drive two cars at the same time.  I mean, you certainly can have two different cars, but there’s always the one that you count on more than the other.”

“Well, I see what you’re saying,” she said, “but I think it’s more like a highway.  I think the key isn’t to be able to balance between the two, but rather, to find a girl that is headed your same direction, and merge onto the highway alongside her.  In the end you guys are both driving toward the same place, but in the meantime you get to hang out together and build a companionship.”

For whatever reason, that just made a whole lot of sense.  I mean, I’ve heard that I was supposed to date and marry a christian girl since I knew what dating was, but I guess I never really thought about the logistics of it.  I dunno, maybe my brain is just weird, and maybe I just think too hard about things that don’t require that much thought, but either way I think I have a grasp on it now.  Drive toward Jesus, enjoy the trip.  If you happen to meet someone whose personality clicks with yours, and they’re headed the same direction, then enjoy the trip together.  Keep each other company, and focused on driving.

Spiritual Warfare.

So I’m not sure if this will look like a normal blog post, but I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately and I’ve got to just talk it out.  For the past few weeks I’ve just felt in some sort of slump.  I’m not really sure how to explain it.  I guess it feels somewhat like something’s been hovering around me, sucking out my ambition and optimism.  It sounds a little overdramatic, maybe, but it’s just been wearing me down.  I feel like I can’t be myself.  Every time I want to take initiative on something, I’m bombared with mental accusations of how much I’m going to fail, or some other balogna about how I’m completely incapable of accomplishing whatever it is I’m aiming to accomplish.  Cognitively, I know that they’re all lies, but I have this tendency to feed off of emotions.  I feel very much like David in Psalm 86.  Here he is, pouring out his heart to God with blistering honesty. 

 ”Hear, O Lord, and answer me, for I am poor and needy.  Guard my life, for I am devoted to you.  You are my God; save your servant who trusts in you.  Have mercy on me, O lord, for I call to you all day long.  Bring joy to your servant, for to you, O Lord, I lift up my soul….Teach me your way, O Lord, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name. I will praise you, O Lord my God, with all my heart; I will glorify your name forever. For great is your love toward me; you have delivered me from the depths of the grave.”  (go read the whole thing, though, I just didn’t post the whole chapter for length reasons.)

  In retrospect, it’s very easy to see right through it all, but in the midst of it, it very much feels like reality.  It’s a lot like that disoriented feeling you get when you get woken up out of a deep sleep.  Your senses are flipping out because they don’t know what’s gone wrong, but somewhere deep in the subconscious you know everything’s going to be fine eventually.  It’s kind of like that, only on a soul level.  I suddenly find myself in an odd blend of deja vu and nervous hopelessness.  Not really sure how I got to this place, nor quite sure how to get back.  I feel very much like God’s gone out of town, and that I’ll just have to deal with the neighborhood bully on my own.  I realize that this is entirely not the case, but again, the whole tendency-to-be-swayed-by-my-feelings thing.  It’s not that I relinquish any trust in God, but rather that I feel distant from my Father.  I cherish the times when we are close.  I’ll be walking to class, or hanging out at the river, and He’ll just blow open my mind with some beautiful analogy of Himself.  Those are the times I long for. Yet Satan hates our relationship, and wants nothing more than to drive a wedge between us.  He’ll do everything he can to cut off communication.  It’s imperative that these bouts of sabotage are recognized and squelched before they can cause any chaos.  Otherwise, this junk is going to keep happening and happening.

Mom.

So, there are twenty minutes left of my Mom’s official birthday.  I just wanted to take a few of them and let you know some things about her.  First, and foremost, she’s a very special person.  She definitely loves Jesus, and it’s very obvious by the way she cares for everyone she’s around.  She has taught me to always look on the bright side of things, because very few great things have been accomplished through pessimism.  There have been few times when I’ve ever felt that she was at a complete loss for what to do.  Her example of humility is something that continuously convicts me, and for that I am extremely thankful.  She’s always been very supportive of me in whatever I’ve done.  Whether it be stupid high-school relationship drama, or trying to decide on the right major in college, I can’t ever remember a time that she hasn’t been too busy to listen.  Even if she’s got a million tests to grade, she’s always willing to set everythin aside and work through what’s going on, and quite honestly it’s rather mind boggling. 

Another thing worth noting is that she’s an unbelievable teacher.  It’s very evident that she truly cares about teaching her students to be better scholars, as well as more responsible people.  There aren’t a whole lot of teachers that can do what she does.  She very eloquently intertwines important knowledge with practical application, and never randomly throws out information of no consequence. 

Something else I feel is worth mentioning is that she has just recently beaten breast cancer.  Usually, women who are diagnosed with breast cancer tend to find some sort of identity in being sick.  They’ll buy a thousand pink ribbons and accessories, tell everyone they’ve ever known, and maybe even get a tattoo.  My mom, however, handled it like it was no big deal.  I mean, of course it was a big deal, but she seemed to take it in stride as if she simply expected Jesus to walk her through.  There were never any negative vibes, and complaits were all the more rare.  I’m so dang proud of her and again, convicted by her attitude of humility despite the rough times.

Most importantly, though, she’s a great Mom.  Of course, I am biased, and I realize most everyone thinks they have the best mom, but as far as I’m concerned, she’s the best.  It’s not easy being the only woman in the family, but she’s somehow found a way to tough it out.  She’s also able to balance being a loving mother with being able to let me and my brother go do guy stuff.  To me this is one of the most crucial things a mother can learn.  Overprotective mothers will scar their boys for life.  In any sense, though, I very much think she’s the best part about our family.  That’s my story, and I’m sticking with it.

Finally, I just want to conclude by saying that I’m extremely blessed to have Kim Cox as my mother.  She doesn’t ever get enough credit for everything she does, and in light of her birthday, I figured I’d share a few of my thoughts.  Feel free to comment with thoughts or encouragements of your own.

Pride.

How stealthily you slither your way into my soul…

sneakily snuggling up against my heart.

you wheedle your way into my whims and

surreptitiously destroy my discernment.

I want to hate you, but you seem all too familiar.

your presence is provacative, but it’s tearing me apart.

I want none of you or your sinister suggestions,

yet I find myself beckoning with open arms.

you twist the truth and mezmerize my motives,

leaving me straining to find true North.

I want to be rid of your destructive demeanor,

yet I can’t shake it, I can’t shake it.

I’m growing weary now, holding onto hope,

grasping around for signs of security.

                               —-

How amazing Your affection as You find my broken heart,

calming my fret with the serenity of your Spirit.

I try and try to cling to Your contentment,

but this fractured flesh has a mind of it’s own.

Fuzzy radio worship.

This morning I woke up earlier than I had planned to.  I would’ve gone back to bed, but I was unbelievably parched, so I decided to wake up and get some water.  I wanted to feel somewhat productive, so rather than zoning out in front of the tv watching SportsCenter, I decided to read the end of To Own a Dragon.  It was extremely good; a very appropriate ending.  He touched on something that has remained in the back of my mind for most of my life, and so I suppose I’m just blogging to try and make sense of all my thoughts. 

“I think the occaisional doubt is that God is more interested in other things, other people, perhaps,” I stated.

       “Is that how you feel about God?”  John asked.

       ” A little.  Sometimes.”

       “…There are times when I don’t see God as much different from my friends’ fathers when I was a kid.  In the end, He has a family of His own to deal with.  He’s like a good mentor, and I see Him at Church.” 

 

It’s this tricky thing to deal with.  Sometimes everything feels great, and as though God’s standing there with His hand on my shoulder, granting me the perception to see things the way He sees them.  To rise above the everyday business and realize the motives behind people’s actions, and the effects of brokenness on the world.  Other times, though, I feel as if I’m in a fog: Like I’m straining to pick up a radio station long after I’ve left the state.  I feel very much like He’s busy doing things with other people, and that I’ll just have to make do until He’s got enough time to come back and fit me in.  The thing is, though, that cognitively I realize that it’s just plain false.  That He’s not going anywhere, and that He loves me very dearly.  But sometimes I just very much doubt it.  I feel like I’m a big inconvenience to God.  That if I could only do things a little better and stop messing up our relationship so much, we would be closer.

“Think about the psalms of David.  David wonders out loud where God is, often accusing Him of abandoning him, and when he meditates and rehearses the truth, he knows in his soul it is the truth, and he returns to faith.  But, you know, Don, if it stays in your head it will never work.  We have to live it out.  And that, in turn, increases our faith.  It’s like any relationship, you have to dive in, you have to let the relationship change you.  We do that by obeying God.  We submit to Him like a kid does with a father.  Scripture says if we love God we will obey God.  Our occaisional failures or our repeated messes don’t negate the truth of that.”

He had a point.  I cracked open my Bible to some random Psalm, to see if David may offer me any further consolation.  I flipped to chapter 36.  Sometimes I just plain love God. 

¹ An oracle is within my heart
       concerning the sinfulness of the wicked: ^[a]
       There is no fear of God
       before his eyes.

 ² For in his own eyes he flatters himself
       too much to detect or hate his sin.

 ³ The words of his mouth are wicked and deceitful;
       he has ceased to be wise and to do good.

 ⁴ Even on his bed he plots evil;
       he commits himself to a sinful course
       and does not reject what is wrong.

 ⁵ Your love, O LORD, reaches to the heavens,
       your faithfulness to the skies.

 ⁶ Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains,
       your justice like the great deep.
       O LORD, you preserve both man and beast.

 ⁷ How priceless is your unfailing love!
       Both high and low among men
       find ^[b] refuge in the shadow of your wings.

 ⁸ They feast on the abundance of your house;
       you give them drink from your river of delights.

 ⁹ For with you is the fountain of life;
       in your light we see light.

¹⁰ Continue your love to those who know you,
       your righteousness to the upright in heart.

This captured my attention just because of the abrupt change in demeanor.  David starts off lamenting over the wickedness he sees in himself, wondering at his wickedness.  Then, as if in mid thought, he breaks open with worship.  He remembers that God doesn’t count our wickedness against us.  That He’s loving and righteous and delightful.  He’s not about punishing us for making a mess of everything, He’s already punished his Son in our place. 

The beginning of this passage was very reflective of my heart these past few days, but I think God has been breaking me of this, and leading me to this rememberance of His character – leading me to worship.

Cheesecake and Hard work.

Earlier I was sitting on a bench in the Horseshoe reading “To Own a Dragon” by Donald Miller.  It’s a really good book, and so far it’s put several things into perspective for me.  I’d strongly suggest it.

The particular thing that hit me today was about work.  Hard work sucks, quite frankly.  Why would God create something for us to do that sucks?  He loves us, right?  Why couldn’t he have just made it so that the tough problems were fixed by eating chocolate turtle cheesecake, or funfetti cupcakes?  That would be the life!  Were that the case, I think my friend A.K. would die of pure happiness.  The thing is, though, he didn’t make things that way.  He made it so we had to deal with adversity, and push ourselves to achieve stuff.  We can’t be lazy bums and expect to feel fulfilled in Christ.  Very rarely will something good and worth-having come from sitting on the couch and watching tv.  Except maybe ordering P90-X from an info-mercial.  The point is, though, that God designed the framework of humanity so that we all need hard work.

As much as I wish there was a cake option, I’m glad God layed things out this way.  Having to work hard and push the limits builds character, and God knows I could always use better character.  I’m not saying all this trying to sound like a parent, or the school principle or something, I’m just saying that it’s important to have things we have to strive for.  God allows us to encounter adversity because he knows it’ll push us closer to him.  He guides us into the deep end of the pool sometimes, just to prove to us that he’s tall enough to touch, and He’s not going to let you go.  I think that’s the sign of a good father.

This semester has been really busy so far.  It hasn’t necessariy been super hard, but just super hectic.  I haven’t had much time to be able to sit and collect my thoughts and my energy, and therefore end up feeling a little worn out.  I’ve done a sub-par job of keeping caught up with everything, and have let certain things slide further than I would have liked.  It all finally caught up with me this week, and I just felt overwhelmed.  I realized that I was feeling awful because I was basing all hope in my ability to set everything right again.  I can’t, though.  There are so many variables to the equation that I can’t possibly control them all.  I felt rather like I was drowning.  Drowning in a combination of late work and self pity.  Thankfully, though, I have a Father who’s tall enough to stand in the deep end.  A loving Father that will keep me afloat and with firm hands, teach me how to swim.

Grown-ups in diapers.

This morning has been good.  The hint of rain in the air was refreshing as I went out on the back porch.  It’s good to have a morning to be able to sleep in and recuperate.  The past week or so I’ve been feeling a bit unfocused.  If I’m honest, it’s probably an odd combination of sleep deprivation and this curly-haired girl that’s moving away.  It’s all somewhat of a moot point now, though. 

On a different note, the past day or so I’ve been dealing with some sort of stomach virus, and while it has been miserable, it has also given me some time to think.  I’ve been sort of frustrated with myself for continuing to struggle with the same things over and over.  I hate this repetetive cycle that seems to own me and Jesus’ relationship.  I’m an idiot and search for identity elsewhere, find out that it’s not any more satisfying than the last time, and then I come back begging for forgiveness.  It’s as though I’m turning God into nice, shiny forgiveness machine.  It makes me sick.  “Here, God, you sit right here on my dresser and when I’m in a bind I’ll come put in my tokens of shame and trade you for feelings of rightness and forgiveness.”  Sigh…  This attitude frustrates the living daylights out of me.  The way I see it, it’s like a college kid still wearing diapers.  I mean, with babies and very small children, it’s expected that they wear diapers.  They don’t know any different; they haven’t matured enough to realize that there’s a thing called a toilet that makes everything a lot easier and less messy for everyone.  As these kids grow up and work their way through potty training, though, they begin to see and understand why the toilet exists – that it’s there for a good reason, and not just to cause them more grief.  A kid in college, however, should surely not still be in diapers.  He would have absolutely no friends, and girls would laugh at him. 

This is the way I feel sometimes.  In front of God, I feel like I’m wearing a diaper.  I know, and He knows that I just did something very childish.  I knew better, and was completely aware of the consequences, yet I did it anyway.  It’s a really awkard position to be in with God.  It’s a good thing that He’s a loving Father, and continues to push me toward his will; away from my infancy and toward maturity.  Like pushing me toward potty training.  It’s a rather humiliating analogy, but quite appropriate when I’m acting so chidishly.  In the end, what I’ve been trying to do is simply trust that He’s right.  When he says things, he says them because he sees the bigger picture – the person he’s making you into – and he loves deeply enough to tell us what’s not a good idea.  Going against that would be like choosing to be a grown-up wearing a diaper.