Is God Listening?

That's the question, isn't it folks? It's the one that gets asked all the time along with "Why does God let bad things happen?" and "Is God there?".

Is God Listening?

That's a question I've thought about a few times in my life but perhaps this is the one time where the question has some serious personal implications.

In the past, when this question came up, there was a moment of hesitation before the word "Yes" came out of my mouth. Of course God is listening... he answers prayer requests every day. He works in the lives of billions on a daily basis sometimes in ways that are hidden, other times in ways that are very blatant.

But I find myself over the last few weeks pondering this question again and instead of the word "Yes" coming from my mouth the words "He is listening... sort of" have replaced "Yes".

This isn't the say I've lost my faith or anything like that-that's not happening. I'm merely questioning the manner in which the Lord listens because it seems to me he's practicing a bit of selective hearing on his part. As the God of all creation, he's entitled to do this (and pretty much anything else) but it does aggravate me.

Over the past few weeks, I've been in prayer on a regular nightly basis over a number of things. My prayers have been about important manners with a friend of mine and the health/well being of all my family (church, immediate, and adopted). I've been in prayer about our country... and you know, at the tail end of all that, I include myself and my many matters of (perceived) need.

Enter the last three days, and watch in awe as the first three matters I pray about are answered. The situation with my friend worked out very well... she got everything she needed to happen and looks to continue to have things work out in her favor (Lord willing). The health of the various types of family is good (and hopefully getting better if things happen as I think they will) and hey, our country might be really screwed up but with a new vice presidential candidate on the scene, maybe the Republicans have a shot at this (maybe?).

So, yes, God does listen.

Except... wait, what about my stuff? Hello?

"I'm sorry, God's not available right now... please leave a message after the beep."

That's what I feel like and, yes, it's quite selfish of me to feel that way. Look, it's not about me in the grand (or small, or tiny, or nonexistent) scheme of things. I get that it's just... well, I don't have the Lord's patience. I'm human, it's a major failing, and I'm a bit aggravated.

Don't get me wrong, I'm way, way pleased that the other prayer requests have been answered (and in a good way!) but why is it that mine seem to go unanswered?

Again, this could just be a matter of God working in the background, doing some hidden stuff I'm not aware of (this is likely). But an active, blatant, thing is what I would like to see. You know, some fireworks? Some explosions? An 80s action movie show of force?

Okay, admittedly, it's a lot to ask and probably isn't going to happen. How about a neon light? How about a blinking billboard?

"God will be with you as soon as possible. Thank you for calling, please hold."

... sure, I can wait. I mean, really... what else have I got to do (nothing)?

So, in conclusion, the Lord does listen, and he does listen to me... it just seems that he's not doing anything as far as my personal prayer requests (you know, the ones strictly about me). It seems that way... I know it's not, but it seems that way.

And I'm aggravated by it.

Which I guess proves that there's still a lot of work on myself.

15 Seconds

You ever have a string of days where you're progressively seeing yourself do dumb things, yet can't seem to stop them? The last three days have been like that for me. I've been battling sleep deprivation and it's not the kind where I'm like "Oh, I'm not going to bed early enough" but rather the kind where I'm like "Why am I tired after NINE HOURS OF SLEEP?!"

I've averaged nine hours of supposed sleep the last three nights and have little to show for it-except a dumber, more irritable, and generally dickish me.

The ultimate indictment of this, the true and powerful litmus test of how loserific I've been lately, came yesterday where, in a fit of irritability at myself (on number of levels) I decided to take it out on someone who was innocent. They were innocent and I stuck my nose in a situation that I had nothing to do with to enforce my will and take out some frustration.

15 seconds later, guilt set in and I looked at myself and said, "Way to be a dick."

15 seconds: seems like a small sample of life, doesn't it? Really it's not. In 15 seconds one can go from happy to sad, angry to remorseful, prideful to guilty. In 15 seconds I could do a number of horrible and amazing things. 15 seconds is a lifetime for some things and yet we treat it with very little respect.

It's 15 seconds... most of us will live at least 15 years, if not longer than that. 15 seconds is chump change, right?

In the grande scheme of things, for most, yes. For me... generally 15 seconds is enough for me to evaluate my immediate feelings on something I've done recently. It's a quick gut check: no time for excuses, no time for reasons, no time to let anything crop up to prevent you from an honest to god self evaluation.

And yesterday, I came to the conclusion I was guilty of being a dick.

That's fine, in of itself, but I did nothing to remedy the situation. Pride set in almost immediately afterward and I began to formulate a defense for my actions. A defense that I had to use tonight at dinner and I did use it... I choose to use it. I shouldn't have, I should have merely accepted it, but I used it.

I did stop using it, despite my pride saying otherwise and I survived relatively unscathed... but it doesn't change the fact that I messed it up and, rather than face the music, I tried to make it sound like I was right.

That sucks, just so you know. I thought I had that under control... I thought I could control my outbursts of frustration and instead I messed up, tried to justify it, and ended up feeling worse. I guess it's like they say, one needs to confess the sin immediately after committing it... if you let it sit and stew you end up trying to make yourself sound right.

Which I wasn't, to be clear. I was a dick-there's never any reason to be that.

That said, I can blame my irritability and frustration on my lack of sleep, but that's not entirely the truth. My irritability and frustration is just as much about my dissatisfaction with myself as it was about lack of sleep. Let me lay it out for you, day by day, how this went down.

Sunday: Church... on crap sleep, but church. All weekend I had eaten pretty poorly and I expected to feel like crap Sunday morning, and I did. But despite that I was very much looking forward to church... it's exciting to go to a new church with new people, starting off with a clean slate so to speak. No one knows me at this new church, no one knows the years of stupid things I've done, the horrible shape I was in last summer (and most of the last decade)... they all just assume I'm the same guy I've always been.

Eventually, it'll come out that I'm not, but the relative unknowness is nice. The lack of history, in particular, allows me to start fresh in meeting people. I took advantage of this this past Sunday, sticking myself out there to get to know some people... it's funny how things work out because a lot of the people I meet have the same names as people I know back at my home church.

Anyway, service went well, Sunday School went well, and on my way out I was involved in an extensive conversation with a cute girl and I wasn't making a fool of myself (I don't think so), but my mind was half distracted with things I needed to pick up at the store... so I wasn't all there.

So when she asked, "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

I responded, "Shopping after this." It was true, those were my plans...

It wasn't until we parted ways and I got into my car, she into hers, that I realized what a golden opportunity I had just missed. She had asked what my plans were... if I had even an inkling of thought, I would have mentioned lunch and asked her for the pleasure of her company.

Instead, I said grocery shopping. After she left the parking lot I slammed my head into the steering wheel a few times and resigned myself to the fact that I suck-really, really suck-at even the most basic social things.

The grocery shopping went little better as I forgot to pick up two things, and then went and ate leftovers that I probably should have thrown out, felt ill, and missed Chinese buffet for dinner.

Well, I went to bed in a fairly miserable mood. Pissed at missing my golden opportunity, miserable at what I ate for the weekend (and lunch that day), and lacking in sleep.

Monday:  It would be little better Monday. I woke up, again feeling tired and more irritable, and knew that I didn't deserve any sort of food, so I decided to fast at least until dinner. I was on the path to Crankyville and despite having a relatively easy day, by the time late afternoon struck, I was in a foul mood.

So foul that someone who doesn't take notice of my mood actually commented on it and how it seemed off. That should have been a warning sign that I was about to do something dumb and I did just that. I went, became a dick for a minute, and 15 seconds later felt horrible for it.

Despite this I enjoyed dinner and did my best to be nice to my innocent victim the rest of the day. Still, I felt bad once again and in order to get sleep, I took a pill.

Tuesday: That pill did nothing for me. I woke up again feeling tired, irritable, and all around unhappy. I was not in a good mood and I again tried to be nice to my innocent victim-which I succeeded in today, but it doesn't make it any better. The day was spent in brain dead mode, my klutzness turned to full.

I then got called out at dinner for being a dick, essentially, and I tried to defend it about halfway through before realizing that the defense of my actions was merely a confirmation of my dickness. I dropped the defense, accepted the consequences, and apologized to an indirect victim.

I'll be apologizing to the innocent victim tomorrow morning.

Bottom line: 15 seconds can put the actions of two days into focus.

It was a pretty sharp focus. Got cut from some of the edges and generally I feel... smaller. Less. Such actions are not worthy of someone my age... they're worthy of someone who's 15, not someone who looks 15 such as myself (still pissed at that).

Ultimately, it shows that human growth can just as easily be overestimated as it is underestimated. We think less of people because people, as the phrase goes, are idiots. We think highly of ourselves because we know ourselves.

We don't know ourselves. We think we do, we hope we do, but we don't. We can revert back to worse versions of ourselves faster than we can try and grow a new version... unfortunately, it's easier for us to rollback to previous behaviors than it is to instill new ones in us.

This fact I am learning first hand this week. Such dickish, irritable, behavior is teenage junk that I should have nothing to do with. I'm pissed at myself but more that, I'm disappointed in myself.

It doesn't mean I quit... it just means I have to commit myself to being better and following through. It's all about personal motivation, as someone and I were discussing today. I used that personal motivation before to lose 126 pounds... I need to use that personal motivation now to shape the internal me rather than the external one.

It sounds hard and it is.

But maybe it's not all bad news... after all, it only took 15 seconds to bring everything into focus.

Well, two days and 15 seconds really. Maybe not the best news but certainly not the worst. I've been known to last longer than that on a bad course of action.

At least it's progress. Right?

... right. 

Yikes... What a Mess!

How many times have you said this aloud or to yourself? Plenty? That's about my count to. Often, this phrase is used in conjunction with a mess we perceive with our eyes: like a messy room, car, kitchen, floor, or kids (especially kids). People are, by their nature, messy beings. We make messes and we attempt to clean them up. Sometimes we succeed... sometimes we fail... sometimes we just have no idea where to start.

That last one applies to me. I've made a mess and I don't know where to start. What mess am I talking about? Ah, that mess would be myself.

(I'm going to spill my guts out on the page... you've been warned.)

Look, I'm not going to pretend that my life is in some way special or meaningful... I honestly don't know if it is (I'm leaning towards not). I have no great destiny and I certainly don't think of myself as someone who's meant to do "big things" as the phrase goes. I'm just a guy with a mess to clean up and no idea where to start.

I thought that losing weight, getting a better grasp on my health, and being more vital was a good place to start. So, last July 25th, I made the commitment to go Primal and it was a life altering experience. I have no regrets about that decision and I'm 126 pounds lighter now than I was this time last year. There's me at 266 and me at 140... and I much prefer the me at 140 (as most people do).

Losing the weight was great but it didn't exactly clean up the mess. In fact, it really just showed that the mess was MUCH bigger than I originally imagined. The mess that is me... well, being a 126 pounds less doesn't solve all problems. It solved a few but not all.

I've lost all the weight I want to lose. Standing at 140 is great for me... I'm in size 28 shorts, small t-shirts, and I'm apparently thin (I can't grasp that still). I'm healthier, more active, I get up most days at 6:30AM and I don't have many complaints as far as my body goes. I'm in better shape than most of America's population and the change I've made in my life has brought to me some interesting revelations.

But I'm still a mess. Although I'm a 126 pounds less, losing the weight has removed the layers of fat covering up the entirety of the mess... so the mess is actually bigger than before (it's been the same size all along you know but it just appears bigger to me). I hate to say I came into this thinking "If I get thinner, I can fix me" but I kinda did. I never said it aloud or in any writing but I thought it. It was a stashed away hope, the kind you don't talk about because you don't want to jinx it.

Well... that strategy didn't really work out.

And now I'm left with the question "What next?" I mean, the weight loss thing was the focus, the goal, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and now I feel like a loser for believing it was there in the first place. It was too easy to believe but I believed it... and now with my weight loss over with I find myself knowing LESS than I did this time last year.

Being 126 pounds less has destroyed nearly 13 years worth of data on WHO and WHAT I was... I was the fat guy, my role socially was to be the jolly fat guy-the comic relief. I was the geek who had no shot of getting a girl and no amount of money, fame, or fortune would have ever changed that. I was locked in to that role... I had a lifetime membership to a Twinkies factory for goodness sake.

And now all that has evaporated right before my eyes and I'm left knowing not what to do with myself socially or in life or... anything. I got nothing except the mess I've created. All those assumptions I lived with for years on end I cemented into my mind as fact, never to be changed, and now those facts have crumbled.

Dust to dust, as they say. So what now? What next? I don't know where to start. I have social fears and reservations that are deep seeded... I'm better at cleaning, laundry, and cooking (baking and breakfast primarily) than cutting anything. I can build things but they're not level, not straight, and certainly not appealing to the eye.

My skills do not have much demand. Further, I find myself questioning my existence... what's my point in being here, exactly? I have my suspicions but every time I start to think "Oh, it's this one" the good Lord decides to shut the door and I find myself back in the infinite maze of possibilities.

I've been asked, countless times, what I want to do with my life. I don't know. I know it sounds hard to believe but believe me, if I had an inkling I'd let someone know... but I got nothing. My radar is dead, my sensors have failed, I have no reception, and I'm blinded by the supposed "freedom" I enjoy that others envy.

Don't envy it. It really isn't what it's made out to be.

So, bottom line, I'm a mess. Some days I look at myself in the mirror and I feel like breaking the face in the mirror. Not the healthiest thing I'm sure, but it's the feeling I get. Where do I start cleaning up this mess? At what point do I just shrug my shoulders and walk away?

Questions, I have. Answers, I have none. I'm taking things a day at a time and I'm diving into the best materials I have available to find an answer, one answer, to the many questions I have. I'm reading Plato's Republic (and taking extensive notes) and I'm beginning a bible study (also taking extensive notes). Plato and the Bible seem like good places to start researching my many questions.

But there's no guarantee that I'll find any answers... or even if I do find answers, I doubt I'll like them. I just want them at this point, I could care less if I like them or not.

I've been looking into meditation too... seriously, I have. Maybe some yoga if I can figure out how to pull it off (without pulling something).

I know my flaws: those have been readily apparent for years. I'm stubborn, prideful, and take things to extremes that no one should take them to. Those three things have been responsible for the bulk of my problems and the current mess that is myself. I know that.

I'm not concerned with fixing those things so much as cleaning up the mess they caused.

That mess won't be cleaned up anytime soon I feel. Which means tomorrow the morning will start off the same as every morning. I wake up, I look in the mirror, and I say to myself...

Yikes... What a Mess!