I am a tree cricket.

"Chase after truth like all hell and you'll free yourself,

even though you never touch its coat-tails."

I was raised in a Christian home. Though 'Christian' ideals and theologies have not been my cup of tea lately, I do have to say, I'm very blessed to have had parents who instructed me, yet never force fed me. If only by example, I have always been taught to think for myself and to come to conclusions based on conviction rather than the convenience of cookie-cutter beliefs.

As a result, my spiritual journey has been somewhat of a rollercoaster, as I'm sure isn't an uncommon story for most. In junior high, I wasn't super enthusiastic about God or religion. In high school, I might have been a little too enthusiastic, pushing my beliefs on others without consideration for the individual. Now, in my college years... well, it's hard to discern what my faith looks like now. The best description I have might consists of the words 'distracted,' 'unsatisfied,' 'confused,' 'lethargic,' and 'constricting.'

When I was about 5 years old, I used to collect cicada sheddings. Gross, I know, but for some reason I was fascinated by these transparent, empty, bug-shaped cases. I remember having my sisters hoist me up into that big maple tree in our back yard, toy treasure chest in hand, so I could gather what was left of my noisey little summer friends.

I like to think I've got something in common with the cicada. Forming into something a bit too big for my skin, my body is stretching and twisting into something new. Something similar, but new. I believe that growing up in a Christian-based atmosphere (church every Sunday, Christian high school, Christian college, etc.) has somewhat desensitized me to the concept of depth. (I'm sure this can happen in any religion). My entire life I've heard 'saved by grace,' or 'born again,' 'faith,' 'Messiah,' 'heaven,' 'hell,' 'redemption,' 'Jesus.' Honestly speaking, most of these things have begun to loose all meaning to me. Like repeating the same word over and over again until all you have is a mumbled mesh of nonsense syllables. And these concepts have become so flawed and tight and twisted in my mind, so unlike what they once were, that I've found the most natural (yet difficult) approach is to slowly shed each dead cell and start fresh. Like the cicada.

I am a fool if I believe that I will ever hear or hold an unbiased interpretation of the Truth on this side of life. But I am content simply to seek It. And regardless of my distaste for all this 'evangelical' bullshit, I cannot help but be compelled by this Man named Jesus. I cannot help but be drawn to Him. Even if I never understand quite so much as the scholar claims to understand, it is enough for me, for now, to question, to observe, to seek Truth, in whatever form it presents Itself.

Where else can I go?