foreshadows

I'm going to be traveling thousands and thousands of miles through North America's highest mountains in the winter and I can't get five miles off campus before encountering car accidents.

First, our own. Morgan and I were on our way (and left campus early at that) to another house show, this one in Frederick, Maryland. If you know anything about Pennsylvania, you know that our tax dollars don't go toward road maintenance. Also, New Jersey is the only state where the primary transfer of AIDS is by needle. Irrelevant.

Anyways, even in four-wheel drive going at the same 30 mph rate as traffic, Morgan's jeep swerved all over the road and we smacked the barrier right outside Wolf's Diner. We pulled into the parking lot, just as another guy pulled in who flew off the road because he also lost control of the wheel and went over a curb. We turned to our right to see another car facing sideways in the middle of the street. Morgan did everything she could, and we were both fine. I checked her car (pretending to know something about vehicles like a real man) and I had her drive around the parking lot to see if everything felt good with the jeep (again, pretending to be a man). We went back on our way, no real harm done.

No real harm done.
18 accidents, other than our own. That's what we counted.
Cars with front ends smacked inward like accordions, trucks laying upside-down in the middle of 15 S, flashing lights everywhere. I'm thankful for life.

One can't help but imagine the realms of heaven and hell when considering possible deaths he has just witnessed. "If only he had lived another day, he could've found Christ."

What is worse than our neglect to reach the unsaved is our pursuit of individualism. Morgan kept wondering if all the people in each accident were ok. She was concerned. Not about accidents holding up traffic making us late for the show, but about the lives of people she didn't know. I want to be more like Morgan sometimes.

And then there is the "Red Lion" coach bus that flies by the right lane traffic at 70 miles per hour. A bus filled with strangers, the driver more concerned about reaching the destination in time to make an extra buck off of doing an extra route that night. Who cares about the lives of our customers when we have their money (Blood Diamond, anyone)?

Individualism. It's the simple things too. You know, I complain about paying too much taxes and I also complain about the quality of road maintenance. Basically, I want to give you less money to do a better job at maintaining my roads. Someone else needs to work more efficiently for less compensation so I can individually benefit.

We're caught up in an idea of progress. I never think to live in the present and let life happen. I look at the clock on my cell phone for no reason.

Moses did a lot of crazy things to free his people. We all know the story (or at least have seen "Prince of Egypt," no matter how accurate or inaccurate). Maybe I'm messing up the plot real bad, but when the Israelites finally get to a point in their Exodus where they find a feeling of freedom from the Egyptian rule, they discover that Pharoah's army is chasing after them to kill them. Some guys ask if Moses did all that work to free them so that they could just die out in the desert by the sword. Some guys ask to be sent back to die in slavery. One guy complains about there only being a Burger King and no McDonald's at the next exit. But Moses shuts them all up. What he says is profound, denying the idea that you have to have control, that you can do something on your own to "make progress," that to fix something is a matter in your own hands. He says, "Be still, for the Lord will fight for you."

There once was a man who inherited a lot of money from a dead uncle. He bought an island and a Ferrari. It was a private island and sometimes he would pay hot chicks to ride in his sweet car, but he never remembered their names. They were hot though. Then he would drop them off, like a nice guy, go home, and play the latest video games on a big screen TV or chill at his private pool. He bought out some businesses and had them named after him. He was publicly known across the country for babes, luxury, money, and image. Then he died.

Ever notice the guilt of gaining something for yourself, especially something material or unessential to your existence? Ever notice the genuine pleasure of giving something you love to someone else who needs or appreciates it more?

Ever recklessly give a part of yourself to somebody at the risk of losing it or having that person destroy it? God is stupid, because he created me, and I'm a risk he shouldn't have taken if he's concerned with His emotional well-being and not having his heart played with. I'm blatently cared about at His expense. I'm an idiot and forget about Him but then later He's all like, "Now you know how to love. That it sucks but it's so worth it." I go about not loving and feeling guilty. Then I'm told to stop feeling guilty and just be authentic. I'm told to stop trying to impress God and just get on with who I am (because apparently for some reason, despite sinful nature, there's deep down a little morsal of beauty in me - even when I have all the trees but want the interesting apple).

Christ said a cool thing, that He came to serve, not to be served.

I want to receive. That is not selfish. Christ wants to serve me. Guilt (and the desire to reciprocate) can no longer be my motivation to serve other human beings.

Now I just really want to. How can I be at your service? And how can I do it without wanting a badge for being an awesome Christian? Please, take away this scoreboard of my God points and all that. Don't worry about offending me.

2:03 AM - Morgan's brother's futon. Time for sleep.
Long days are allowed to be good.



EDIT: When I woke up at Morgan's in the morning, there was a Subaru commercial on television saying that they would donate $250 to the charity of my choice if I bought a Subaru. Why? they asked, "because giving feels good." They actually said that. Apparently giving is supposed to make you feel good about yourself.