Theology, food, and knots.

I am in the process of doing research for a theology paper that's due shortly. I haven't decided exactly on the thesis (hopefully that will flow naturally from my research), but I'm working toward formulating what I believe to be true about the nature of sin, the purpose of redemption, and the possibilities (or impossibilities) within sanctification. The broadness of these three ideas combined is somewhat overwhelming to me, but I'm finding it difficult to separate them. So, for now, it is what it is.

Ah, how I wish I could detach myself from this; that I could have chosen the topic of "infant baptism" and simply regurgitated some micro-wave easy, pre-formulated view that I purchased at Wal-Mart for $.89.

Directions :
1. Babies should be baptized.
2. This is why.
3. Add nip/tuck sources.

Let cool and serve.

But no. Instead, I thought it would be a good idea to pile up 6 large plates at the All-You-Can-Eat Theology Buffet so that I could get my money's worth, regardless of the consequences which, by the way, happen to involve me hugging a toilet at 2AM due to overeating and food poisoning...

...metaphorically speaking, of course.
(I'm not crazy, I've just been contemplating the meaning of life for 4 hours.)

Still, I prefer it this way. It's just that time constraints are... well... constraining. And for whatever reason, I've become so emotionally enthralled with my research topic that my spirit has reasoned and impassioned my stomach into a thousand tiny gut-wrenching knots; forcing me to quit for the evening.

I'm trying hard to stay open-minded and sensitive. I have become progressively aware that truth is not determined by what I feel about it (though the soul's responses can certainly be indicators in sniffing it out). If something is, in fact, truth, I must follow it, regardless of how nicely it sits with me. But because that is the case, I am determined to be all too particular concerning what I choose to believe, if I am to be devoted to it.

I digress. Good night, dear bloggers (whoever you are).
I leave you with a few fine knots to untangle yourselves :

"And by this we know that we have come to know Him, if we keep His commandments."
1 John 2:3

"For if the inheritance is based on the law, it is no longer based on a promise."
Galatians 3:19

All's well that ends well.

I'll start this conversation off in a fashion that I'm sure You've heard a billion times before from so many others: I know we haven't really spoken much lately, but...

And then I'll tell You how I've been feeling, as if You didn't know: I can't seem to shake this emotional chaos, this down trodden, disappointing, heartbreaking emptiness.

I'll touch on my confusion: I'm never sure how to talk with You. But, honestly I suppose I wouldn't really wouldn't want to converse with anyone else. Not tonight anyway. But then again, maybe I'm just talking to myself. I mean, even if You are there, which I believe You are, I could still just be verbalizing my thoughts as a sort of unintentional therapy, not really consider You much at all. Just talking to release, not caring who it's toward.

I'll tell You things You've already known: I can't collect myself, my life. I had it all running smoothly, positively, gracefully, never once claiming it was on my own strength, but it was running smoothly, just the same. And at some point, I don't know when, it all starts tumbling down, down, down, down; emotionally, mentally. Whatever. And I'm on hard, cold concrete, under a pile of... stuff (though I'll really be thinking "shit"), wondering where You are, where my poise and motivation have gone, knowing how simple it is to just get up off my butt (but I'll really be thinking "ass") and seize the moment, but still feeling so held down by something only as difficult as I allow it to be; myself.

Then I'll connect with You through my dreams: You know that dream I always have? The one where I'm trying to move or speak or act, but I'm frozen and can do nothing? Completely frozen, like there's a force in every direction around me, pressing itself upon every physical fiber of my being. My thoughts are moving, moving, moving, but I'm stuck. Still. Immobile. I can do nothing. Nothing. 

As I'm speaking, my thoughts will loosen up and I'll then come to a conclusion about the situation: I need to get up, don't I? I need to start moving forward. Life has been nothing but good to me... YOU have been good to me. Why would I ever act as though I'm trapped? This cluttered mess I see before me, I can clean it. Broken promises, I can still fulfill them. Friendships I've neglected, I can mend them. Phone calls I've avoided, I can make them. Projects that need to be started, continued, finished, I can get up off my lazy ass (this time I'll really say it, because I'm feeling comfortable) and do them.

I'll draw a conclusion about You: You've made my hands and feet; my mouth, and eyes, and spirit. You've created me to keep walking, breathing, moving, working.

I'll draw a conclusion about myself: And I'm the only one stopping myself from moving.

I'll become thankful: You've made me to move, move, move if I want to. 

And I'll fall asleep etching the thought in my mind: I want to feel free. So I'm going to move.

And I'll wake up tomorrow, feeling...

Goodnight.