A Dedication

The Dance, Dance Revolution (Emotions pt. 2)

That last thought in my last post sort of leads me into emotions in worship (lead-in that I didn't even plan). Last week I had the most amazingly vivid dream. It's only the second time I ever remember having a truly spiritual dream. In the dream I was at a church, a sort of cross between a regular church sanctuary and the downstairs Sunday school rooms at my home church. I don't remember the size of the group, or if we were singing popular worship songs, of if I was actually making up worship songs in my dream -- the main thing was I was worshipping, but I was doing so much more than just singing a song. I was dancing, and dancing hard. But it was still more than dancing -- I had freedom. It was like nothing I've ever experienced in my life. When I woke up, I did everything I could to remember every detail that I could about the dream. I replayed every part I could remember in my mind, which was easier than I expected because it was so incredibly vivid -- a near freak occurrence for me. Usually, if I can even remember dreaming, that's a feat in and of itself, but I was even able to mentally recall details. Upon waking, I realized it was so much more than just a regular dream. It was life-altering. I wanted that freedom, badly. It would eventually spill over...

Thinking about it now, I believe I was truly dancing like David. That has truly been my heart's cry lately, to have that kind of freedom to not care, to dance with all my might in worship of my God. It's easier said than done though in my current position within the body of Christ. I am involved with the Navigators here on campus, and they're great people who are strongly rooted in true discipleship through the Word of God, something I now realize was at least partly missing from my walk in the past. That being said, they aren't Pentecostal/charismatic like I've been used to the past several years of my life, which is of course to be expected for a non-denominational ministry. With people coming from all denominational backgrounds, there is a lack of a certain energy that I am accustomed to. That's not to say they don't still worship in song just as hardcore as I like to, but it seems...stiffer to me. They are less likely to raise their hands, and things like dancing or falling on your knees or face while worshipping are pretty much unheard of. Any speaking in tongues or emphasis on the "gifts of the holy spirit" just isn't there at all, and honestly, I miss that. Some people think that kind of worship is over-the-top emotionalized showmanship, but for me, it's how I want to experience God's presence. Sure, there are times where it's great to "be still and know", but I love God, and dangit if that doesn't make me want to dance and shout. Worship is the one place that I desire the raw passion to balance the nitty-gritty, hard-living, practical and logical day-to-day life of being a Christian. It's the one place where I desire and strive to be completely free to express my emotions. To stand naked before God, in a sense. All this being said, when I'm in the large group meetings with the Navs, I tend to go to the back so as not to distract others and pace, dance, fall on my knees or whatever, but even then, I still don't feel the complete freedom.

Over thanksgiving at my home church, for the first time I could really remember outside of some "special service", I felt something in the atmosphere in the sanctuary...an excitement throughout the congregation. I had heard from several of my friends that the worship time had been so amazing the week before, but I really wasn't sure what to expect. Now I'm not trying to judge the quality of a particular worship service against another based on sound volume or apparent energy of the people, but I can't deny that there was a freedom that wasn't there the last time I was home, or even over the summer. I work in the tech booth at my church, which is usually pretty distracting if I'm trying to sing worship songs as anything more than just lip-service, but even I found myself pulled into it. When the service was over, I found myself actually looking forward to coming back. For once I felt like there was a breakthrough, and I wasn't going to dread attending church while at home again or think it was a chore or habit. Over the past few weeks, I admit to feeling pretty apathetic in my walk with God, but then this is where I realized what part the dream I had played in setting me up for worship in church this past Sunday, and in the long term, for my desires in where I want to go in my worship. The dream became prophetic in a way, maybe even self-fulfilling, but still prophetic. It put a burning in my heart for more. I long to find that elusive freedom, and I feel good knowing I finally have a place waiting for me, where I won't be judged if I dance a tad too much, or sing a little too loud, or lay a bit too low to the ground.

Currently Reading The Things They Carried By Tim O'Brien see related

Bravery (Emotions pt. 1)

*NOTE: post split for length* - see "The Dance, Dance Revolution (Emotions pt. 2)" for the continuation

And again, it's been a while.

There's been a lot of thoughts going through my head of late. College will have a tendency to do that. Any thoughts contained herein will probably be incomplete and sporadic (and most likely lenghty), because I'm just trying to sort them all out. I figure writing might be a good way to actually dig into my mind and "mine" those thoughts, so to speak. As odd as it seems (knowing how much I hate writing) I'm actually kinda in the mood. We'll see where it leads me.

Speaking of writing to sort out thoughts, I'll start with my english class. For those of you who know me, you know that I hate english (writing) with a passion. You may also know that I really don't like my current professor. She's difficult and demanding, seeming to just pile work on top of work, till you pretty much give up, disheartened. Despite this hatred towards her class, I have to admit that as time goes on, she seems easier to deal with. Maybe I'm just growing a thicker skin. Either way, I'm finding that I'm actually learning and maybe even growing as a person in her class. She has this thing she will occasionally have us do in class where we have a topic that we start with, usually something about a story we've read, and we have to write about it, without stopping, for 10-15 minutes. It's an interesting exercise where we take our initial topic and use phrases like "when I think about [x] I see..." or "...I feel..." or "...I imagine..." to get us moving and to keep us writing. Some interesting things sometimes come up as you move along past the "surface" stuff and into the deeper waters, so to speak. Whether or not the thoughts are my own, or if they are things that have been conditioned in my by society, teachers, parents, the media, or whatever, I take those thoughts, those questions that might arise, and I try to test them against what I know to be truth.

We have been studying the book The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien, a fictional collection of stories about the Vietnam War set up almost as if it were an autobiography of sorts, with an interesting take on morality. In fact, it states several times throughout the book that there really are no true "morals" (in the stories themselves, as well as the characters), especially in war. This is something that I know to be false, there are absolutes in life, but at the same time I find myself fighting off thoughts of moral relativism that my professor subtly (and sometimes not so subtly) tries to push upon us students (hooray for a secular college education, eh?). Studying the book has brought up questions in my own mind of how I deal with emotions, and the war of real life. O'Brien raises questions of courage and bravery, and suggests that they aren't exactly the noble things we paint them to be. He concludes that sometimes things we perceive as bravery are just a fear to act in the way we really want. For example, the character of O'Brien within the story receives a draft notice to fight in Vietnam. Long story short, he ends up in northern Minnesota, on the border of Canada, in a boat, and all he has to do is jump out and swim 20 feet and he's gone. He cannot will himself out of the boat, and instead takes the "coward's way out" and makes the decision to go to war. We would generally see this going to war as a brave and noble act, a patriotic duty, but O'Brien believes that he was acting out of fear, fear of being rejected by his hometown and America in general as being an unpatriotic deserter of duty, nearly traitorous. Later in the story, the men of his company in Vietnam, when he is just four days fresh "in country", attempt some "humor" when they try to get him to shake the hand of a dead Vietnamese man. He refuses and is commended for the courage in his refusal to participate by the devout Baptist Kiowa (moral man), but then O'Brien says something to Kiowa about being too scared as the only reason he didn't participate. Kiowa says, "Same difference."

This got me thinking, what exactly is courage/valor/bravery? How does it manifest itself in my own life? In thinking about this, my mind is brought to thoughts of my battle against leukemia. I really don't like calling it a "battle" though, because it seemed so passive on my part. I wasn't actually doing anything, just enduring. That's sort of why when people called me "brave" throughout my treatment, I felt a bit awkward. I didn't feel brave. I was just surviving. In surviving, I had to shut down my emotions, or they would have easily torn me apart. For the moment, I generally think of bravery not as a lack of fear, but how a person deals with fear. Was I brave because I shut down emotionally to not feel the pain? What exactly is a proper response to fear?

So back to the original question I was pondering, what is bravery? Is it the actions taken? Is it a feeling? Or is it the motivations behind the actions? In my opinion, I think it's the actions as well as the motivations -- making the right choices for the right reasons. I strive to do what is morally right, not necessarily because people will like me better because of it ( or similarly, selfish ambition), or just because it's a good thing to do, but because I am a Christian who believes in moral absolutes set by God. From my point of view, that is the ultimate motivation. But then what about if I were put into a war situation -- would those values I hold actually stick? Would I live up to my own definition of bravery? Would I actually make the right choices for the right reasons, no matter how hard they might be? Would I be reduced to the same relativism that the world tries to push on me? My english professor likes to say, "The truth is a moving target," and in some ways, I wonder whether or not there's some truth to that statement. In my mind, the relativism tries to reconcile itself with the absolutism in me. So far in writing this, I'm finding myself asking more questions that finding answers.

The one thing that I've noticed most through things I've learned in my english class is how my emotions are more apt to come out through writing. Whether or not that's a good thing, I can't say for sure, but it's definitely something I'm not used to. A catharsis, if you will. I think I have a bit of a better understanding why some people like to write now. I'm not really sure how I feel about writing and whether or not I want to or need to face some of my emotions. Plus, I generally hate to write anyways, but sometimes you wouldn't even know it. I guess I'm generally a logically driven person. I don't trust my emotions, because they tend to get me (and the people I see around me) into trouble.

Currently Reading The Things They Carried By Tim O'Brien see related

The Bittersweet Gospel

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Currently Listening Tenacious D see related