Of Girls and Dancing

Tonight was the night. June Ball. The biggest event of the year. Parents, girlfriends, high school buddies. Every body shows up to celebrate with the graduating class. It's a black tie affair. For those of us in the military, we wear the choker whites; every one else wears tuxedo's and gowns. Not a finer, sharper uniform exists. All white with gold buttons, perfectly pressed and tailored. WOW! I wanted to have a good time, some of my best friends would be going out to sea and I wouldn't be seeing them until senior year. We were going to make the most of it. It wasn't as great as I would have liked (I'll blame that on the lack of a date) but it was fun none the less. I decided early on that I wouldn't leave until I danced with a girl. I know, I know, it sounds like we're in high school again but oh well. I guess people expect that when you're "older" you no longer dread asking a girl to dance. Who ever came up with that one? So, I asked a girl to dance. It was great. Innocent and fun. I knew her from school. As soon as we finished our dance I left. Mission accomplished. I was thinking about our dance on the way back from the ball: Man, dancing with a girl is a magical thing. It does something to a guy. Makes you feel braver, stronger. You're that much closer to being that knight in shining armor. Something about having her in your arms. God knew what He was doing.
And so my thoughts rambled along. It's so true though. That dread and fear of asking her for a dance makes the dance so much sweeter. It's worth every bit of sweat and nausea that comes with finally getting up enough courage (adrenaline helps too) to walk up and ask her (after rehearsing what and how would you say it a million times). I know that somewhere in here there is a perfect example of how this correlates to our relationship with Christ but right now it escapes me. The best I can do is to throw it out there and let people chew on it for a bit.
good night.

Thank you God

My Mom, responded to my latest blog about the fly. She told me a story of her own. A real one. It's the type that you think about and dwell on long after it is healthy. The type that gives you nightmares with all of the what-ifs. I am always humbled when I hear this sort of thing, espescially when it is so close to home. It affected my family, not someone in
who-knows-where. I thank God that, in His never ending mercy and grace and compassion, He would care for my family. For my Mom, my borthers, my sister. Every time, I ask myself why?
"Here's one for you....today we went to the "Y" with Andrew, little guys and Chris.We're playing in the water, and one of the employees comes running out of the building telling everyone to get out of the water - NOW. There were a few dark clouds, so I assumed they had seen some major lightening that the guards had missed. The kiddos were spread all over the pool - some over by the guard's stand, others in the shallow end, Andrew and Chris by the diving boards.
It was chaotic. While this is happening, in the parking lot I see a police car and several officers yelling at this man. They're yelling at him to get on the ground, and he's not cooperating. There are probably four officers trying to get him on the ground.
Turns out he had wandered into the "Y," I guess asking for something - water, food, money - who knows? When they didn't respond the way he wanted, he started getting belligerent. A few of the Y members tried to gently escort him outside and calm him down - meanwhile they called 911. When the police arrived, he attacked an officer. It was pretty scary; he wouldn't be subdued.
The employee at the Y had made us all move into the cover of the building. She was afraid there might be shooting - they didn't know if he was armed, or if he tried to bolt, if the police would fire on him. Imagine him jumping the fence and getting into the pool area with all the kids. She told me he seemed to be wacked out on drugs, and that he was a Marine. My heart just broke for this young man. Who knows what nightmares live in his head, what makes him think he needs drugs to cope, what he was really wanting at the Y when he came in - help, maybe.
I'm so thankful that we didn't happen to be walking in or out when he was there. At the same time, I feel this profound grief that this young man's life is such a mess. I've been praying for him. I wonder if he has any family to care for him. - Mom"

The Fly

On occasion I'll share a story. Maybe, to lighten the mood. Maybe, to make a point. Maybe, "just because". This one is "Just because." Sometimes they're real, as is this one, other times they're imaginative.
A notebook flew into a window. (quite a beginning huh?) Missed. It was still alive. Wide-eyed and tense, he pointed to where it landed. Slowly, another notebook was raised and launched. This fly had sealed his fate. No one escapes death twice and lives to tell of it. Over the period of an hour, several more notebooks took flight, but all came crashing down leaving the insect to live another day. Or so it thought. A time passed, and then there was a commotion behind me. One brave young man came into direct combat with the winged creature, notebooks flying and crashing about. The fly was the victor yet again. Suddenly, a furious clap. I turned to see the once victorious creature down for the count. Caught between the hands of another brave combatant in this fierce war.
Yes, this story is true. In fact it was a God send. It occurred about half way through a Physics II lecture on a hot June day in the middle of the week. Anything to break up the monotony.

The Reason

So many times I've wanted to write about my life here at the Academy. But, words can not do this place justice, and that's not why I began this blog anyways. The reason is in the quote, "The tragedy of life is what dies inside a man while he lives." It was written by Albert Schweitzer. While I won't write on the daily happenings here at school, much of what I've learned from my time here, I will draw from.
It is sickening, saddening, and terrifying when I look around to see what has become of my fellow man. Our society, has desensitized that which we shouldn't and overly sensitized (if that's a word) that which we shouldn't. Consider Terri Schiavo, we, as a nation, watched her starve to death. The "experts," and her husband, declared that she would rather die than live. Our supreme court did nothing. Nothing. Ever heard of personhood theory? The idea that a human is no longer a human when he is no longer self-aware. Human non-persons. That's what they're called, "human non-persons." It's nothing new of course. Infanticide. Abortion. Now this. It should be no surprise. I have to admit, Satan knows what he is doing. He is far from some stupid red-man with horns and a pointy tail. He knows that the best way to destroy life is to do so slowly. If we are constantly put before something repulsive we eventually become calloused to it. Numb. Then something more repulsive is put before us. We become numb to that. In no time at all, we are walking zombies. That's not the worst of it. When that "zombie" is a non-believer, then it would be expected that he be like that. But what about Christians? How many Christians run through each day oblivious to what is actually happening? Jesus Christ died for us. He sent the Holy Spirit to dwell within us, to show us things that we could not have seen before we were saved. Why then do we not see? Why are we still blind? Is it by choice that we do not see?
Here at school, I am among some of the most calloused young men, and women, on a daily basis. They live out and speak what this culture has fed them since infanthood. Some have an inkling that something is not right, others seem entirely oblivious. Blind. So many call themselves Christians, and so many Christians embrace them as brothers and sisters, rather than confront them with their ongoing sin.
It has happened to me too. I've grown up in a strong Christian household. I came here after spending the first 19 years of my life at home, and I was home schooled. I was constantly surrounded by great men. Real men, the greatest of them was my own dad. Upon coming here I suffered a bit of shell shock. The crassness. The selfishness. Every word was foul. There was sneer beneath every smile. We haven't even gone to sea yet and already they have fulfilled that sailor stereotype. But at the same time there was something else. Something else beneath all of the fluff. From the smallest nerd to the biggest football player. All of them had a fear in their eyes, an uncertainty. I saw it then, on the day we first reported here, in July, of last year. I still see it today, nearly a year later. As Christians, Christ opens our eyes. We see the world differently. But we are just as susceptible to becoming numb.