Higher order

I never gave thought to the higher order of things until they came calling.
I was at my neighbor's house. We'd played two games of scrabble (I won) and were into a furious round of Skip-Bo (his wife winning) when there was a shuffling of feet and a knock at the door.

andthenIlostinspiration.

Good awareness. I hate the thought of my doing wrong. Even after the concept has left my mind, I still find myself toeing the line there or suddenly miles on the far side. What trials do we think Jesus' cause is strong enough to overcome? Well, all of them, generally. Why am I exempt?
I tried to shrink back from my contention and hide in thoughts of suicide's 'sweet release' (where success is simply not going through with it), but I couldn't get underground at all. I stared at myself in the mirror bereft. I tried to hate my hair, face, body, form, personality, and hard-heartedness, and couldn't do any of it. All the old justifications were like confetti - stupid, ubiquitous, here and gone.

I need to have a reason for the agitation I feel, but all you've done is justified so I am once more left without any concrete thing. I'm 6 and lost. ashamed of a thing that happened which I can't even remember.

"People should be changed by world wars," I said, "else what are world wars for?"

Look how I'm doing. I'm doing alright. It's actually been really good. I've found people and a life I've longed to create for a long time; and I'm getting a job and finding my feet and it's pretty great. No, yeah, I'm doing great.

I need to carry Grace with me - a vial around my neck full of blood. then I could drink it when I need to remember that Jesus did the bitter thing better than I ever could.

Receive passover and carry it with you.

Last night after Bible Grub with Hightop's Twentysomethings, I went to check on the movies. A kid approached me and introduced himself as Elijah. He had a box of suncatchers and was asking for donations for something/missions/giving. I asked him about his experiences and faith, and found out he was collecting money for a group that was not his own. I was gonna give him the couple bucks in my backpack, but it was gone. So I offered him my clif bar and 5hour energy. He told me I could probably use it more than he could, but he thanked me for my heart. I apologized for not having cash, but 'God Bless'ed him and he returned it. I checked on the movie times and didn't really read the board, kinda twisted about not giving where I 'could have', instead allocating resources to the wind. I walked back toward my car and remembered the atm (not Wells Fargo) where I could get some cash and was suddenly sure that I had to give him twenty bucks. I knew the withdrawal would cost me, but that didn't bother me. I moved the car over near the atm and got twenty out at a $2 charge, and fast-walked over to the theatre where Elijah was no longer present. I walked around, up and down looking into nooks for a kid in a grey coat holding a box. I was borderline despair because it was burning in me that I had to give him the money. I threw out a prayer that he return, and (oddly) didn't doubt that I'd find him. This was neat, the word at work, because at BibleGrub we'd read James1, verse 6 standing out to me: But when you ask him, be sure that you really expect him to answer... tossed by the sea, etc... and I expected him to come through in this. That didn't stop the worried hustle-walk/jog I ran around with, sure of myself he'd left as it was 9pm and cold. I asked the girl at the movie window if she'd seen which way he'd gone, but she wasn't the one who had been there earlier. I didn't know what to do, and still with some quiet sureness I headed toward my car, okay that I'd spent $2 to get out cash I wasn't pressed for. I wandered and had to tie my Converse thinking I could just do it in the car. The sentence 'I have nowhere else to be' ran through my mind so I knelt under a lamppost and tied my shoe. I walked along the edge of a building and passed a couple girls pushing a garbage bin. They weren't really my attention, but I turned and scanned the parking lot again and saw the grey coat run out from the building toward the first row of cars. I shouted his name and took off for him. He stopped and I pulled out the folded twenty from my pocket. He took it and was kinda dumbfounded. 'Thank you,' he said. I said something obligatory and started to jog away. He yelled after me for my name and I gave it him, the second time wondering why I would give my name at all-what credit could I need? Then I ran toward my car and before I got there I was sobbing. A dam inside me broke when I sat in the car. I wailed and was refreshed that I couldn't own anything, because nothing is mine. This money's his and I am but steward over it. I've been a terrible steward, but here, I, son, loved, am sensitive and responded to my father's will. It doesn't matter what it went to or how Elijah was affected (except he got to see a son be conflicted/faithful). This for me. twentytwo dollars of thank you God for doing this mundane and miraculous thing. And I realized I'd had a word for him too, but had been too anxious getting away to deliver the words 'Don't give up'.
There I got to reprise the role of grateful son and remember how much I missed it. There I got to partake in the bounty that I AM GIVEN, a rich man who gives and not a wretch who clutches tightly. But it's at His whim, not my own. By His spirit, not my inclination.