Junior Year Reflections (Part 2)

Last semester, I asked God if I should go out with someone. This is the second time I’ve popped such a question on Him, and this time, He was significantly more soft-spoken in His answer, in that instead of an immediate and clear “NO” like he had given me in high school, He didn’t answer, or I couldn’t discern it, or whatever. But my train of thought was, “If He answered me with such a powerful ‘NO’ last time, maybe a lack of answer is a ‘yes’.” Fortunately, the situation worked itself up and before I had mustered the power to do any askings out, there was no need to ask; it was apparent that it was a no-go, in a good way.

That taught me an important lesson: just because there seem to be no red flags doesn’t mean that God is peachy about all of it. In fact, if God isn’t directing every step of the relationship, including getting into the relationship, it isn’t safe. I told my mom this opinion on it yesterday, and she said “Well, I tried that, and was married for 29 years, and now I’m divorced.” However, I didn’t spend the fall of my sophomore year confronting my parents’ divorce and the effects it had on me to be so easily swayed by one whose poor decisions in such areas has her in such a worse place now (still referring to my mom, in case you hadn’t guessed). It’s sad to come home and think to yourself, “man, she needs counseling” and also “remind me not to be a psychiatrist.”

I’m finding more and more that the only reason I haven’t dated is just because I have a lil’ wisdom about it. I know how much bad relationships have messed up my friends, made morals and standards change, and I also know how easily that happens to me without being in a committed relationship. People hurt people easily because people trust people, and, people being people, people aren’t trustworthy. I know I’m not, though I’m finding that now that I’m the best me I’ve yet known, I’m earning more trust than I’m comfortable with.

That brings up something else. I don’t know who I want to be. Sure, I wanna be a doctor, a medical missionary, a singer, a guitar player, a piano player, a videographer/video editor, a dancer, an actor, a model, and a myriad of other things, but there’s something bigger than that that I have no idea about: what kind of Christian do I want to be? What kind of Christian does God want me to be? I know He probably isn’t overjoyed at the super-Christian me since that version was judgmental without realizing it, but the Christian I am now occasionally enjoys slightly-excessive drinking and other worldly things that are just as full of satan, if not more. And I don’t know which version of me would be the best witness, or which one I could actually be long-term. I think it would depend largely on the wifey, what kind of upbringing she has. But then again, does God have an opinion on this? I figure this is kinda His thing. My magnetic personality is there regardless, and I always keep the best rep I can, but I dunno.

Over spring break, The Hunger Games movie came out, and since I respect books so much, I refused to see the movie till I had read the book. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get ahold of those books at the time (filthy peasant children hogged all the ones at the library). Instead, I took up a long-beloved series, The Wheel of Time series, by Robert Jordan (now deceased). I began reading and was reawakened to the wonder I had experienced as a 12-15-year-old. The series wasn’t finished when I had last read them, and the last book is only going to be released in January of next year, to be followed (according to IMDB) by the movie based on the first book. As all other fans of the books, I doubt whether they could do it justice, but I’ll yet
hold onto hope.

Oh, and I read the first of The Hunger Games books, but still haven't seen the movie.

Anyway, I took up these (the Wheel of Time series) books, and read them rather than watch shows while at school, which, as it turns out, makes for a much healthier study break. It also causes induced myopia, but that’s like the best way one can possibly destroy their vision, excluding getting a look at Jesus.