This is a song we haven't played in a long time. So we'll see how it goes.

Here it is. Here I am.

As you know, I have been struggling with my faith because, in the words of Sam Beam, it's "strong as hell but not Hickory Rooted." After seeking and seeking and seeking, I was up late last night on AIM when a familiar name came on that I hadn't seen in awhile because she's been Israel and I've been here and the sun sets according to the axis of God's Son. We exchanged nominal nixceties for a few minutes unitl I jumped into all the troubles I've recounted on here. And, with all the people not three hundred thousand million miles and minutes away, I wasn't able to divine what I divined with her words and suggestions. She's a Woman of God. She's what I hope to me, except a Man (yes...of course....). Jess, you are amazing and I am glad that I met you three years ago at Wildwood.

I realized that I mustn't passively read the bible, just sitting there, taking in the words, allowing them to penetrate my soul. I must takehold of them, aggressively reading them, and marking my findings and meditating on them, seeking God's meaning and God's subtext. I must no longer read my bible without my Pen. So I read John 21, where Jesus commissions Peter three times to feed his lambs, and thne his sheep. I found that this is another commission, a deviation from the evangelism of Matthew 28. This one is more for the disciples helping disciples than for the disciples helping the wayward countrymen in exile. So I wrote it down. Amazing.

I must cast off my cynicism and find hope. Imustn't be skeptical of God's word but trusting (though trust is something I find hard to give out--it's not something I give to trick-or-treaters).

And I must be like the father of the demonic boy in Mark 9: I must ask Jesus for his help with my unbelief. This was the biggest thing, because I realized that I've been trotting out to the mound every day without a Catcher. I need God's help so I can see Him because He's the only one who knows how to reveal himself to me. And, to be honest, this always felt silly. Asking a deity that I was unsure about to help me find him. But then I realized this is something we do with other people, too. We say, "Show me that I can trust you again." Oh God, my God, help me with my unbelief. I must cry out to You in every way. I am nothing without you guidance.

I also wanted to rescind my previous accusations about a cyclical life and how all matter is reborn: there's beauty in the fact that our souls aren't made of matter, in that they will no longer exist. Souls can disappear while matter cannot. And all of God's love is Hickory Rooted in our souls that go up at the end of our lives to meet with him.

And when I am forced out into the lonely cold because of my newfound cigarette addiction, when I am alone with the world and the light at the end of the stick, I realized that those moments are my daily Bethel, where I meet God, because I am away from all distractions, and cannot go inside because I have fire that emits smoke that seeps into everything. I am able to, for fifteen minutes or so a night, enjoy God's company, enjoy God's creation, revel in it all. I cannot be distracted because all things distracting are inside the house where I cannot take my cigarette. Weird how it all works out.