Blown Away by a Wedding

Three weeks ago, I flew to NJ to attend a college friend's wedding, the first in an upcoming season of them. Everything about the wedding was awesome - witnessing the wedding, seeing old friends, and watching Michigan beat Syracuse in the Final Four. But more than anything, I was blown away by the love displayed at the wedding. Here's the journal entry that I wrote on my way back to Fort Wayne. Happy three week anniversary, Ann and Andrew!

"On the plane right now, on the ride back to AA. First time I'm going to be able to think and reflect on the wedding. My overall impression of it is how in the world can two people love each other that much? Their affection for one another was plain and evident, and I couldn't help but be down into the deep emotions of the wedding, tearing up as Ann cried while Andrew prayed over them. How deep a love and friendship that they have! It's a love and a relationship so deep that I'm certain I've never experienced it before, and I even have a hard time imagining feeling that way about someone else. They way Andrew looked at her, spoke to her, and even touched her reflected a love and care clearly deeper than one I have ever felt in my life. I must admit that for moments here and there, I was slightly jealous of Andrew, marrying a beautiful and God-loving girl. But more than anything, if I was jealous, I was jealous of Andrew's character, of seeing the man that he had become. His love and gentleness, dignity and integrity are traits that I only have shadows of. He is a man for me to imitate, though it may be painful for me to admit.

I particularly liked their vows, when they vowed to love each other "second only to their Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." And my oh my. If their love for one another is that deep, I can only imagine their love for Christ! Indeed, the wedding ceremony and reception were gloriously Christ-centered and slyly evangelistic, but I imagine and envy the reflected depth of a personal relationship with their Savior. Interestingly enough, their wedding revived my spirit, my desire to know my Creator, rather than a revival of a desire to know romance again, as one might expect. In fact, the seeming transcendence of their love for one another makes me wonder if I even have the capacity within to love as they do. And for this reason, I fully believe that marriage is truly a miracle, only achieved through the miraculous grace of God.

It certainly is no coincidence that I have been going through Ephesians 5 for my quiet times, as I am extremely encouraged that Christ is the groom of the Church. This imagery hasn't meant much to me in the past, but seeing Andrew has deepened, even if only slightly, my appreciation for this. For if Andrew, a mere human, loves his wife as much as he does, I can only imagine not imagine how much Christ loves the church. If the love shared between two humans can be so deep and profound, how much more does Christ love us! Indeed, the imagery of Christ as the groom and the church as His bride is appropriate and fitting, but I have never understood it much until now!

Going to Ann and Andrew's wedding was such a blessing, revealing a transcendent, amazing love that I have yet to experience pointing to an even greater, amazing, and incomprehensible love that is bestowed without obligation, given without request. And if I am to remain single, my love for my Savior must mimic - no - surpass the love displayed on Saturday afternoon."

Missing Memories

[Sort of a meta-note: Look for me to update here more than I have the last few months, mainly because I need something to occupy the time I used to spend exercising.]

For some reason, yesterday night as I laid in bed before I fell asleep, I was trying to remember what my high school was like. I tried to remember where my homeroom was, where my classes were, and where my lockers were. And for the life of me, I couldn't. I tried to walk my brain through the hallways of the school as I tried to piece together the random memories I still had of MHS, but I was coming up blank.

And just like the crybaby I seem to have become these last few weeks, I got really emotional that I could barely remember the building that I spent 4 years walking through. To be honest, I wasn't really sure why it made me so upset that I couldn't remember anything about my high school, as I barely even reminisce on my  high school experience. Being really tired probably contributed to it, along with the fact that I had just watched Spirited Away again before going to bed. After all, I certainly didn't want to lose the memory of who I was and become a slave to Ubaba forever! I guess the lingering emotions from the movie compounded with late-night irrationality made my incomplete recall feel like I had lost a part of myself that could never recover again. [Actually this fear of the irretrievability of thoughts is the reason I started my blog! Check out my first post ever!]

After I spent a few minutes lamenting my missing memories, I decided to test myself and to see if I could mentally walk through different places, like my house, MCCC, and how to get to ShopRite and Maggie's house from back home. It's actually quite amazing how the brain is able to be it's own little Google Maps, complete with StreetView and everything. And I tried again to do a walkthrough of Manalapan High, but I just couldn't piece together a full picture. I would mentally walk through a hallway, only to reach its end, staring into a black void that my brain's Google Maps refused to load. I tried to recall how I got to key locations of the school such as the auditorium, gym, and cafeteria, but as before, the dots just wouldn't connect.

It's a weird feeling - knowing that you once knew something but no longer know it at all and have no hope of remembering it again (making it significantly different from the "tip of the tongue" experience). And it's kind of scary acknowledging that my memory of things past - of who I was and what I did - will continue to fade as I grow older. It really does feel like you're losing pieces of yourself little by little, and there's really not much you can do to stop those memories from fading. I wonder if after we die, we will have our memories fully restored and will be able to watch our lives back in rewind. I know that we will need to give an accounting for all that we do in our lives, but I can't say for certain if we will carry those memories with us in eternity. And really, I don't even know if would want to.

What do you guys think? Will we have a fully self-enlightened consciousness and recall the things before death or will we be so busy chilling with Jesus that we don't even bother remembering the things of this world?

Shattered Pride

Yesterday, I blew out my knee again - even worse than the first time. Because my knee felt pretty strong and I could lightly jog easily, I decided to play some easy, casual ultimate with people. I don't really remember what happened, but one moment I was catching the disc, and the next moment I felt my knee pop multiple times like bubble wrap, and I was on the ground again in excruciating pain. After the initial blinding pain faded, the emotions of what just happened struck me hard, much harder than even when I initially tore my ACL. I wept as I was carried off the field and wept as I sat on the sideline. I wept as I broke the news to my mom, and wept alone in my apartment.

Trying to process everything, I've been puzzled by the uncontrollable emotion springing from within me, especially because I didn't ever feel this way about the ACL tear. In a God-given moment of lucidity, I realized that even more than the grief of a broken knee, I am reeling from a broken pride. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a supreme, and often sinful, sense of self-confidence. A self-confidence that had me believing that I would beat the odds and not require surgery for a full recovery. A self-confidence that gave me the illusion of invincibility. Before yesterday, I truly did not believe that something like this would happen. But it did.

And in an instant, all the remaining pride I had in me was shattered. The pride in my seemingly fast recovery. Pop. Gone. The pride of my admirably high spirits despite my difficult circumstances. Pop. Gone. The pride in my tough-guy attitude and grittiness. Pop. Gone. I was reduced from a smiling, happy, positive man with his held high to a physically and emotionally broken boy, slumped over and crying on the sideline.

And I hate it. I hate being weak. I hate that I cried in front of everyone, and I hate that I killed the mood on the field. I hate that I couldn't do what I thought was the "mature", "Christian" thing to do, and to smile through the disappointment because I trusted God. I hate that I had been self-confident when people asked me how my knee was doing, only to have my ironically optimistic answers thrown back in my face. I hate the conspicuous clanking of my crutches that herald the arrival of a cripple, and I hate having to repeatedly explain my pitiful situation to well-meaning colleagues. Even worse than being weak, I hate being weak in front of other people.

So what do you do when your true, weak self is exposed for what it is? What do you do when everything that goes wrong is your own fault, and you have no one else to blame? What do you do when guilt, shame, and regret unceasingly haunt you? I'm not going to pretend like I know the answers, but I'm glad I know One who does. To God be the glory.

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

My Torn ACL

Playing sports and excelling at them has always been important to me. I actually remember asking my mom as a child if we would be able to play basketball in heaven because in my mind, heaven didn't seem like that great of a place if we didn't get to play sports!

Not being able to play sports was literally my worst nightmare as a kid. I'm not sure if this is common, but when I was younger, I would attempt to think of the worst thing that could possibly happen to me then fantasize about this contrived, horrible hypothetical situation. As a young person, the worst possible thing that could happen to me, or so I thought, would be if I somehow lost my leg (or legs) and would not be able to run, jump, or play soccer and manhunt ever again. Even my childhood crush(es) doting on me and comforting me, along with all the king's horses and all the king's men, would not be able to console and comfort me in these somewhat twisted daydreams. I would imagine an empty life - one where I wouldn't ever be able to play any sports or have any fun, and one where I was useless and worthless as a person. You see, to me, my greatest quality was not my dashing good looks or intellectual supremacy - it was my above-average athleticism and unparalleled foot speed.

So you can imagine the disappointment and anxiety that flooded my mind when I was sitting on the bench after feeling my knee pop and falling down in excruciating pain, watching my team win the overnight ultimate hat tournament in Grand Rapids. I watched my athletic career flash before my eyes, remembering all the "great" things I had achieved athletically and all the even greater goals and plans I would no longer be able to accomplish. At the time, I didn't know how bad the injury was, but I could only imagine the worst - that I had a torn ACL, and unless I was supernatural and had some Purple Jesus inside of me, I would never be the same again.

All in all, I've been in pretty high spirits despite my injury. Halfway through my 6-week physical therapy rehab, my physical recovery has been promising and I'm naively optimistic about my recovery. After some reflection, I don't think that my athletic ability is a real, powerful idol in my life as it obviously was to a younger me. However, the seemingly fine line between grief and idolization still confuses me. Even though athletic ability no longer determines my self-worth, it is still a large part of my identity, especially among the people I've gotten to know in Fort Wayne, who for the first few weeks of pickup called me "Speedy G" because of my Lumberjacks jersey/shirt that I wore the first time I went. At what point does my fear of athletic inability become reflective of misaligned affections? It's hard to say.

I was hit extremely hard emotionally this week by my injury, perhaps the most emotional I got since the doctor broke the bad news of a completely torn ACL to me. On Tuesday, it was 75 and beautiful out, and the smell of the air just reminded me of ultimate. The smell of warm air and the feeling of the slightly damp, warm breeze - I wish I could more fully describe it to you, but it all just reminded me of ultimate. This is the time of the year that I usually get extremely excited to go outside and play, but this year I can't, especially if I get surgery over the summer. I guess I'll just have to find other things to occupy my time and affections for the next couple months.

Sorry if this post is a bit melo-dramatic. I'm actually doing quite well physically and emotionally most of the time. I guess I just wanted a chance to tell the interesting story of how my worst nightmare as a child actually (kind of) came true!