So, once again, awesome Wesley devotions for Lent. (To check out more, see the Wesley blog: http://uncwesleyfootprints.wordpress.com/
.) But this one kinda grabbed me- I like the way old things are said in new-ish ways. It's a conglomeration of a lot of good phrases. Enjoy!
Romans 5:1-2
Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him, we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.
This passage reminds us of the sheer magnitude of the impact of Christ’s sacrifice on our lives. We remember, as we prepare for the celebration of the Resurrection, the new life we have been given in the Spirit through Jesus. We remember God’s unconditional love, that no matter what we may do, no matter how far we may try to stray from the path that God has set before us, God is with us, always. We remember the example Christ has set before us, when He said, “Yet not my will be done, but Yours,” as we recognize that our justification through faith is not a license to stray but an invitation to stay, a call to relationship with God. Through Christ, we find that we are indeed able to be at peace, and it is a gift freely given, but it is a gift that we must strive to accept each and every moment of our lives. Finding our way in the world, how we relate to the world and how we live our lives while focusing on something beyond ourselves, is a real challenge, and I hope that we can find it in ourselves to live that challenge. It is difficult, it is perhaps the hardest thing we’ll ever have to do, to live counter-culturally in a society that encourages conformation, but the reward is greater than we can imagine...a life of joy and peace in God.
Gracious God, we thank you for the amazing gift you’ve given us, for the fact that, despite the enormity of our debt, you have forgiven us, and you still seek us out even when we run from you. Lord, we pray for the wisdom to seek you with as much fervor as you seek us, and for the strength and patience to return to you even when we stray. Amen
BWAlmostThere!L,
Jake
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
The Little Indian Man
New feeling: legitimate sadness that I can't make it to classes today (ARG MYBACKNEEDSTOGROWUPANDLETMEDOEVERYTHINGIWANTTO). So, since I won't be able to get to my Modern Islamic Civilizations class today, I figured I'd retell a story my professor told on Thursday.
Now, you've got to get the mental picture right- my class meets in the auditorium of the Stone Center, so it's a big lecture class. My professor is a short and slightly rotund Persian man with more hair on his arms than on his head and a self-proclaimed Backstreet Boys complex. He clips on his mike and paces the stage, alternating between vaguely inappropriate humor and profound truths. As much as it has burdened my heart, I love going to this class to learn something new and to listen to Professor Safi lecture. It's good stuff.
So, after we've done a day on Partition in India and Pakistan, the next lecture goes into South Asian culture a little. I'm currently fascinated by Sufi performances like this . Anyway, after listening to some fun music, Professor Safi threw up a picture of the Taj Mahal and proceeded to tell us this story.
When you go to see the Taj, you've got to see it in different lights. You need to see it in the morning, you need to see it in the evening, because depending on the light that's hitting it, the building looks completely different. So me and my friends were traveling around India, back when I had hair, and we were going to go visit the Taj. We get to Agra and have dinner at this restaurant that claims that its founders were the chefs for Shah Jahan. I don't know if that was legit, but the food was. Anyway, we get back to the hotel and we get up at like 3:30, because we're going to go see the Taj at dawn. Imagine this, you've got to visualize it. Say the stage is the Taj. There's this platform at the back of the auditorium and between the Taj and the platform are these cascading fountains, rivers of water. And you stand on the platform and you take a picture and it looks just like this:
Now, any of you who travel know that any time you get to a touristy destination, what do you find? 200 Japanese tourists, who, regardless of the time of day, have been there for an hour before you have with their little fanny packs and cameras. So we get to the Taj, it's what, 4, by now and what do we find but 200 Japanese tourists in color coordinated shirts, waiting in line to get on the platform to take a picture. And they line up, 5 at a time, and they walk up [imagine a rotund Persian man imitating a Japanese tourist bouncing up to take a picture] and click. And then the next five walk up and click. And the next five walk up and click. Click. When you leave the platform, you're led right to a postcard stand that has photos that look oddly like this [gestures to the photo of the Taj Mahal behind him].
So we wait for all 200 Japanese tourists to walk up on the platform, and we're looking at our watches and it's almost time for dawn. We finally get to get up on the platform and we're getting ready to click, when this little Indian man comes up to us- swear to God- and says, "You will come with me." [Imagine a rotund Persian man -with a Persian accent- imitating an Indian accent] And we're like, what is this little Indian man talking about? We just waited, did you see the 200 Japanese tourists? We've been waiting and this is our only chance to see the Taj and the Little Indian Man says, "You will come with me now." And I don't know what it was, but we were like "We will come with you now." [in a hypnotized voice] And -swear to God- we hopped down off the platform and started to follow the Little Indian Man.
And he takes off, so we're following this Little Indian Man and we're talking to ourselves like what are we doing, this is our only time to see the Taj, this is ridiculous, and we're running to keep up with him because the Little Indian Man is walking fast and looking at his watch and saying, "You will hurry now" and we're like "We will hurry now." Now, he's going diagonally away from the platform, away from the Taj, towards this old broken-down retaining wall and we're still talking to ourselves. And now we're at this wall and the Little Indian Man turns to me and says, "You will climb the wall now." And I'm like, no, Little Indian Man, we just left the platform and followed you around, but it's getting to be dawn and we really want to get back to the platform before the next group of Japanese tourists come through, and he says, "You will climb the wall now," and I say, "I will climb the wall now." And so I do, I climb up this broken part of the retaining wall at the behest of this Little Indian Man and turn and look at the Taj.
Turns out that this broken part of the retaining wall is where the first sunbeams of the dawn come up and hit the Taj and it is from this location that you can see semi-precious stones start to sparkle. The whole building starts to sparkle and it doesn't look anything like this [points to the picture of the Taj Mahal behind him]. And so we climb up and see this wonder and talk to each other about this amazing sight. And the Little Indian Man says, "You will get down from the wall now." And we're like, But this is gorgeous, it's the Taj, and the lights, and it sparkles and [gestures at the Taj Mahal in his mind in front of him]... and the Little Indian Man says, "You will get down from the wall now." And we say, "We will get down from the wall now."
The Little Indian Man leads us across the way to a tree that's hanging off a ledge and he says, "You will climb the tree." And we're like, No way, that's hanging off a cliff, could you imagine what would happen if we fell? I'm not climbing that tree. And the Little Indian Man says, "You will climb the tree now." And -swear to God- I said, "I will climb the tree now," and climbed this tree. And here was a completely different angle, with a different light, and it was just as beautiful as from before. I turn to tell my friends and the Little Indian Man says, "You will get out of the tree now." And I do. For the next hour, we follow the Little Indian Man around to different places, climbing up on walls, hanging off ledges, climbing trees. He had this place mapped out, knew the best places to see the light as it reached the Taj and knew exactly when to be there. He had this itinerary of beauty saved away in his little Indian brain and he was showing it all to us. When we were done, we walked back to the platform and we see another group of tourists up on the platform, click, and walk away happy with their postcard picture.
And this was around the point in my life when I realized that if you are only looking for the the postcard picture, that's all you're ever going to see. When you want to learn, really learn about somebody or something, especially someone's religion, you have to be willing to go to some unexpected places, hang off some cliffs, climb some trees. And it really helps to have someone who knows the place along to guide you around. And that might be the single most important thing you learn this semester.
Thanks, Professor.
Now, you've got to get the mental picture right- my class meets in the auditorium of the Stone Center, so it's a big lecture class. My professor is a short and slightly rotund Persian man with more hair on his arms than on his head and a self-proclaimed Backstreet Boys complex. He clips on his mike and paces the stage, alternating between vaguely inappropriate humor and profound truths. As much as it has burdened my heart, I love going to this class to learn something new and to listen to Professor Safi lecture. It's good stuff.
So, after we've done a day on Partition in India and Pakistan, the next lecture goes into South Asian culture a little. I'm currently fascinated by Sufi performances like this . Anyway, after listening to some fun music, Professor Safi threw up a picture of the Taj Mahal and proceeded to tell us this story.
When you go to see the Taj, you've got to see it in different lights. You need to see it in the morning, you need to see it in the evening, because depending on the light that's hitting it, the building looks completely different. So me and my friends were traveling around India, back when I had hair, and we were going to go visit the Taj. We get to Agra and have dinner at this restaurant that claims that its founders were the chefs for Shah Jahan. I don't know if that was legit, but the food was. Anyway, we get back to the hotel and we get up at like 3:30, because we're going to go see the Taj at dawn. Imagine this, you've got to visualize it. Say the stage is the Taj. There's this platform at the back of the auditorium and between the Taj and the platform are these cascading fountains, rivers of water. And you stand on the platform and you take a picture and it looks just like this:
Now, any of you who travel know that any time you get to a touristy destination, what do you find? 200 Japanese tourists, who, regardless of the time of day, have been there for an hour before you have with their little fanny packs and cameras. So we get to the Taj, it's what, 4, by now and what do we find but 200 Japanese tourists in color coordinated shirts, waiting in line to get on the platform to take a picture. And they line up, 5 at a time, and they walk up [imagine a rotund Persian man imitating a Japanese tourist bouncing up to take a picture] and click. And then the next five walk up and click. And the next five walk up and click. Click. When you leave the platform, you're led right to a postcard stand that has photos that look oddly like this [gestures to the photo of the Taj Mahal behind him].
So we wait for all 200 Japanese tourists to walk up on the platform, and we're looking at our watches and it's almost time for dawn. We finally get to get up on the platform and we're getting ready to click, when this little Indian man comes up to us- swear to God- and says, "You will come with me." [Imagine a rotund Persian man -with a Persian accent- imitating an Indian accent] And we're like, what is this little Indian man talking about? We just waited, did you see the 200 Japanese tourists? We've been waiting and this is our only chance to see the Taj and the Little Indian Man says, "You will come with me now." And I don't know what it was, but we were like "We will come with you now." [in a hypnotized voice] And -swear to God- we hopped down off the platform and started to follow the Little Indian Man.
And he takes off, so we're following this Little Indian Man and we're talking to ourselves like what are we doing, this is our only time to see the Taj, this is ridiculous, and we're running to keep up with him because the Little Indian Man is walking fast and looking at his watch and saying, "You will hurry now" and we're like "We will hurry now." Now, he's going diagonally away from the platform, away from the Taj, towards this old broken-down retaining wall and we're still talking to ourselves. And now we're at this wall and the Little Indian Man turns to me and says, "You will climb the wall now." And I'm like, no, Little Indian Man, we just left the platform and followed you around, but it's getting to be dawn and we really want to get back to the platform before the next group of Japanese tourists come through, and he says, "You will climb the wall now," and I say, "I will climb the wall now." And so I do, I climb up this broken part of the retaining wall at the behest of this Little Indian Man and turn and look at the Taj.
Turns out that this broken part of the retaining wall is where the first sunbeams of the dawn come up and hit the Taj and it is from this location that you can see semi-precious stones start to sparkle. The whole building starts to sparkle and it doesn't look anything like this [points to the picture of the Taj Mahal behind him]. And so we climb up and see this wonder and talk to each other about this amazing sight. And the Little Indian Man says, "You will get down from the wall now." And we're like, But this is gorgeous, it's the Taj, and the lights, and it sparkles and [gestures at the Taj Mahal in his mind in front of him]... and the Little Indian Man says, "You will get down from the wall now." And we say, "We will get down from the wall now."
The Little Indian Man leads us across the way to a tree that's hanging off a ledge and he says, "You will climb the tree." And we're like, No way, that's hanging off a cliff, could you imagine what would happen if we fell? I'm not climbing that tree. And the Little Indian Man says, "You will climb the tree now." And -swear to God- I said, "I will climb the tree now," and climbed this tree. And here was a completely different angle, with a different light, and it was just as beautiful as from before. I turn to tell my friends and the Little Indian Man says, "You will get out of the tree now." And I do. For the next hour, we follow the Little Indian Man around to different places, climbing up on walls, hanging off ledges, climbing trees. He had this place mapped out, knew the best places to see the light as it reached the Taj and knew exactly when to be there. He had this itinerary of beauty saved away in his little Indian brain and he was showing it all to us. When we were done, we walked back to the platform and we see another group of tourists up on the platform, click, and walk away happy with their postcard picture.
And this was around the point in my life when I realized that if you are only looking for the the postcard picture, that's all you're ever going to see. When you want to learn, really learn about somebody or something, especially someone's religion, you have to be willing to go to some unexpected places, hang off some cliffs, climb some trees. And it really helps to have someone who knows the place along to guide you around. And that might be the single most important thing you learn this semester.
Thanks, Professor.
Monday, March 29, 2010
I Read This Email...
And my first reaction was to scream. Especially the phrase "it should make sense." (PS- if you're in my quantum class, please don't judge me- I'm drowning slowly and promise to do more work so I stop asking such stupid questions.) Since I'm assuming most of you have no clue about an introductory Quantum Physics class and haven't studied Classical Mechanics, I'm really just reposting this email from my professor to help you understand the panic that this class is inducing in me.
Dear Class,
Could you do 4.23 for Wednesday?
I'm sorry that the discussion of the angular-momentum operators in position space wasn't clearer. But it should make sense that the spherical harmonics are eigenfunctions of L2 and L_z. The exp(i m phi) factor automatically makes them eigenfunctions of L_z,. I hope the argument about writing the Hamiltoian in terms of a radial part and L2/2mr2 makes it clear why R(r)Y_l^m(\theta,\phi) is an eigenfunction of L2. If not, let me know.
Signed,
Your Prof
Dear Class,
Could you do 4.23 for Wednesday?
I'm sorry that the discussion of the angular-momentum operators in position space wasn't clearer. But it should make sense that the spherical harmonics are eigenfunctions of L2 and L_z. The exp(i m phi) factor automatically makes them eigenfunctions of L_z,. I hope the argument about writing the Hamiltoian in terms of a radial part and L2/2mr2 makes it clear why R(r)Y_l^m(\theta,\phi) is an eigenfunction of L2. If not, let me know.
Signed,
Your Prof
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Rock
Happy almost Easter.
Sorry about the lack of enthusiasm there. In addition to trying to remove the exclamation point from my life (because I am developing a sincere dislike for people, especially former speakers, who use exclamation points in a book) I'm just not excited. You see, for me, Easter last year was a big deal. Big. Huge. It was the end of a terrible season in my life. I want to say that Easter Sunday that Sunday was an epic experience, where light flooded back into my life and all the past wrongs that had ever happened were set right. That'd be a lie, so I'll try to avoid it.
But the point was that I could talk to God again. I could pray, and not in the angry, despairing, fearful, useless words that had defined my life before. I always get a little creeped out by mystics- I'm not really sure what to do with people who love God that much and in that way- but the easiest analogy is like getting back together with someone after you've had a fight. You know, you can talk again and each person forgives and forgets enough to function together. You put away the things that you argued about in the first place and focus on the reasons why you like being around the person. It's not a lie, per se, you're just willing to love the other person while they work on fixing the things that made you angry.
Well, God's not going to change, so guess who needs to fix themselves in this argument?
The really frustrating thing is that a year later, I'm still the same. Well, I'm a little different. The outside pain that I wouldn't let myself feel is creeping in. And I can't sit down in front of God and say that I've failed to hear the cry of the needy, because I have. I think I've been under the impression that hearing is enough. Goodness knows it's not. Imagine if God had only heard the cry of the Israelites in Egypt.
But doing is difficult. It's this rock in between me and God right now, because I'm not willing to do. But what do you do about the things that stab your heart? How do I do anything to help the more than 4. million. Palestinian refugees? Crying over their stories is not enough, but inviting them to live in my dorm room that has seceded from the residence hall isn't particularly reasonable. What do you do about abusive parents? Abusive boyfriends? You can't catch them all. How do you get a world that can feed every one of its citizens to wake up and realize that global hunger needs to be something in our shameful past? My heart breaks over the big things, the things that I have minimal control over. What are you going to do? You gonna beat up everybody?
But there must be something I can do, something beyond the small things I do.
And I'm really afraid there is.
You see, I don't want to go to the cross. I don't want to follow Christ to the cross on Friday, because I know that I've got my own cross that I have to pick up, my own mission for the redemption of humanity that no one else is going to do. And I don't know what it is yet, but the potential scale of it scares me to death. I can see the cross. And I don't want it.
See, I'm one of those people who said a long time ago that I'd follow You, Lord, wherever you lead. And I'm one of those people that says now, not there. I'll follow you anywhere but there. And there. OK, and maybe there too. Oh, and there's definitely out. Here, I've got this sharpie, how about I just mark off sections of the world that we won't go to, people we won't talk to, things we won't do, because I don't want to go there, no matter who's leading me there. And I know that I'm doing this. And I don't want to fix it.
Give me a church. Stick me in tower for another three years of education. Keep me in middle class America. Surely there's enough of a field there for me. And there is, I don't mean to knock anyone's calling, but there's also many other places that I am unwilling to go. I can't resolve this with God. One of us has to change. I'm pretty sure I know which one of us it'll be too. So I'm waiting on something to break, because I know it's coming. I'm sure it'll come at probably the most inopportune moment, but how do I fix this? How do you break your own arm? Because that's what bending on this is like for me. It's a beat down of a vital part of my pride, my fear and my humanity.
It's hard to see how far you've grown when you've shrunk.
Sorry about the lack of enthusiasm there. In addition to trying to remove the exclamation point from my life (because I am developing a sincere dislike for people, especially former speakers, who use exclamation points in a book) I'm just not excited. You see, for me, Easter last year was a big deal. Big. Huge. It was the end of a terrible season in my life. I want to say that Easter Sunday that Sunday was an epic experience, where light flooded back into my life and all the past wrongs that had ever happened were set right. That'd be a lie, so I'll try to avoid it.
But the point was that I could talk to God again. I could pray, and not in the angry, despairing, fearful, useless words that had defined my life before. I always get a little creeped out by mystics- I'm not really sure what to do with people who love God that much and in that way- but the easiest analogy is like getting back together with someone after you've had a fight. You know, you can talk again and each person forgives and forgets enough to function together. You put away the things that you argued about in the first place and focus on the reasons why you like being around the person. It's not a lie, per se, you're just willing to love the other person while they work on fixing the things that made you angry.
Well, God's not going to change, so guess who needs to fix themselves in this argument?
The really frustrating thing is that a year later, I'm still the same. Well, I'm a little different. The outside pain that I wouldn't let myself feel is creeping in. And I can't sit down in front of God and say that I've failed to hear the cry of the needy, because I have. I think I've been under the impression that hearing is enough. Goodness knows it's not. Imagine if God had only heard the cry of the Israelites in Egypt.
But doing is difficult. It's this rock in between me and God right now, because I'm not willing to do. But what do you do about the things that stab your heart? How do I do anything to help the more than 4. million. Palestinian refugees? Crying over their stories is not enough, but inviting them to live in my dorm room that has seceded from the residence hall isn't particularly reasonable. What do you do about abusive parents? Abusive boyfriends? You can't catch them all. How do you get a world that can feed every one of its citizens to wake up and realize that global hunger needs to be something in our shameful past? My heart breaks over the big things, the things that I have minimal control over. What are you going to do? You gonna beat up everybody?
But there must be something I can do, something beyond the small things I do.
And I'm really afraid there is.
You see, I don't want to go to the cross. I don't want to follow Christ to the cross on Friday, because I know that I've got my own cross that I have to pick up, my own mission for the redemption of humanity that no one else is going to do. And I don't know what it is yet, but the potential scale of it scares me to death. I can see the cross. And I don't want it.
See, I'm one of those people who said a long time ago that I'd follow You, Lord, wherever you lead. And I'm one of those people that says now, not there. I'll follow you anywhere but there. And there. OK, and maybe there too. Oh, and there's definitely out. Here, I've got this sharpie, how about I just mark off sections of the world that we won't go to, people we won't talk to, things we won't do, because I don't want to go there, no matter who's leading me there. And I know that I'm doing this. And I don't want to fix it.
Give me a church. Stick me in tower for another three years of education. Keep me in middle class America. Surely there's enough of a field there for me. And there is, I don't mean to knock anyone's calling, but there's also many other places that I am unwilling to go. I can't resolve this with God. One of us has to change. I'm pretty sure I know which one of us it'll be too. So I'm waiting on something to break, because I know it's coming. I'm sure it'll come at probably the most inopportune moment, but how do I fix this? How do you break your own arm? Because that's what bending on this is like for me. It's a beat down of a vital part of my pride, my fear and my humanity.
It's hard to see how far you've grown when you've shrunk.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
I Am Understood?
Because I'm a sucker for Relient K and because I'm all about some song lyrics posting instead of creativity, here is a song that makes me happy. Enjoy.
"I Am Understood?"
Sometimes it's embarrassing to talk to you
To hold a conversation with the only one who sees right through
This version of myself
I try to hide behind
I'll bury my face because my disgrace will leave me terrified
And sometimes I'm so thankful for your loyalty
Your love regardless of
The mistakes I make will spoil me
My confidence is, in a sense, a gift you've given me
And I'm satisfied to realize you're all I'll ever need
[Chorus]
You looked into my life and never stopped
And you're thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple, but so beautiful
And you recite my words right back to me
Before I even speak
You let me know, I am understood
And sometimes I spend my time
Just trying to escape
I work so hard so desperately, in an attempt to create space
Cause I want distance from the utmost important thing I know
I see your love, then turn my back and beg for you to go
[Chorus]
You're the only one who understands completely
You're the only one knows me yet still loves completely
And sometimes the place I'm at is at a loss for words
If I think of something worthy I know that it's already yours
And through the times I've faded and you've outlined me again
You've just patiently waited, to bring me back and then
[Chorus]
The noise has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation
Your voice has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation
"I Am Understood?"
Sometimes it's embarrassing to talk to you
To hold a conversation with the only one who sees right through
This version of myself
I try to hide behind
I'll bury my face because my disgrace will leave me terrified
And sometimes I'm so thankful for your loyalty
Your love regardless of
The mistakes I make will spoil me
My confidence is, in a sense, a gift you've given me
And I'm satisfied to realize you're all I'll ever need
[Chorus]
You looked into my life and never stopped
And you're thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple, but so beautiful
And you recite my words right back to me
Before I even speak
You let me know, I am understood
And sometimes I spend my time
Just trying to escape
I work so hard so desperately, in an attempt to create space
Cause I want distance from the utmost important thing I know
I see your love, then turn my back and beg for you to go
[Chorus]
You're the only one who understands completely
You're the only one knows me yet still loves completely
And sometimes the place I'm at is at a loss for words
If I think of something worthy I know that it's already yours
And through the times I've faded and you've outlined me again
You've just patiently waited, to bring me back and then
[Chorus]
The noise has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation
Your voice has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Basketball Guilt
Welcome to my morning-after. My throat is still sore and the only words that come out of my mouth come out in a raspy low register. I sit down to listen to the post-game conference and to read Adam Lucas' latest piece of wisdom and I smile and laugh because last night was wonderful. I watched my Heels play in Carmichael. I watched them win in Carmichael. I shouted the words to Victory and I swayed with pretty much complete strangers singing Hark the Sound.
Friends, let's talk about basketball a second. It should make some of you happy, seeing how the mighty have fallen. It might make you angry, knowing that the win last night was something that just happens in Carolina basketball. It's one of those games where the fans are loud, the refs are as terrible as the fans shout that they are, and the team plays until the very last second of the game. We haven't seen anything like that, not for a while. And it's good. It might not be the NCAA, but the National Invitational Tournament is still post-season play for a team that might not have started to play until after their season is over. It's a second chance, a fresh start as Marcus said. Everyone deserves a chance to fly. Again.
But, see, redemption doesn't make the rest of the season go away. They still screwed up against Duke. That stings. They still dropped the Georgia Tech game. Three times. Three times. They still lacked intensity and focus and they still drove me insane. People can still point to this season and the blemish will still be there. Even Roy is disappointed, though I think more in himself than in the team. My mom said that Dean Smith knew how to make a team a team and that just hasn't happened this year. The last thing Roy said at the press conference was something like, "It's my job to get them to play better and I just haven't done a good enough job at that this year." He was talking about the team caring, that when you play Carolina basketball, you have to have a passion for what you're doing. You have to have a passion. You, the player, the one on the court. And Roy is sure it's his fault that his players don't have a passion.
After I spent last night abusing the refs, I turned the abuse around. I gave up yelling at basketball games for Lent. Lenten vow broken. Massively. It's like giving up chocolate and then going and stealing all three of the chocolate Easter bunnies that your parents had bought for your family and eating them in one binge night with a chocolate milk shake to wash it down. Pent up basketball related things just poured out of me for hours last night, often leaking over into my description of the rest of the world. Please, if you have any kind of respect for me and don't want to loose it, stay away from me during a game. I'm a terrible person. And I carried that conception into the rest of my life.
I wonder if you know how much guilt is associated with this season? I broke a vow, that really I made in order to address the beast inside of me but was completely ineffective in that regard. I care. A lot. And I shouldn't. I don't know who this person is that screams at the television and at the court, but I can't just out of hand reject her. She's a part of my season. I just wish that she could apply her adrenalin rush to things that actually help. Not that Carolina basketball doesn't help. I think the world would be a much worse place without Dean Smith. But me yelling at a game doesn't feed anyone, it doesn't encourage anyone, it doesn't free anyone. The only positive consequence is that I get my anger out in one place so I can think about everything else, but even then, there are some things that are worth getting angry about.
I came in hoarse from the game and my roommate asked me if I had been yelling. I said some expletive and then yes. And she joked and said that Jesus died a little just then. And I said that Jesus had been dying since about the 12 minute mark of the second half.
Let's face it. Jesus has been dying my whole life.
I want to make Him live.
Friends, let's talk about basketball a second. It should make some of you happy, seeing how the mighty have fallen. It might make you angry, knowing that the win last night was something that just happens in Carolina basketball. It's one of those games where the fans are loud, the refs are as terrible as the fans shout that they are, and the team plays until the very last second of the game. We haven't seen anything like that, not for a while. And it's good. It might not be the NCAA, but the National Invitational Tournament is still post-season play for a team that might not have started to play until after their season is over. It's a second chance, a fresh start as Marcus said. Everyone deserves a chance to fly. Again.
But, see, redemption doesn't make the rest of the season go away. They still screwed up against Duke. That stings. They still dropped the Georgia Tech game. Three times. Three times. They still lacked intensity and focus and they still drove me insane. People can still point to this season and the blemish will still be there. Even Roy is disappointed, though I think more in himself than in the team. My mom said that Dean Smith knew how to make a team a team and that just hasn't happened this year. The last thing Roy said at the press conference was something like, "It's my job to get them to play better and I just haven't done a good enough job at that this year." He was talking about the team caring, that when you play Carolina basketball, you have to have a passion for what you're doing. You have to have a passion. You, the player, the one on the court. And Roy is sure it's his fault that his players don't have a passion.
After I spent last night abusing the refs, I turned the abuse around. I gave up yelling at basketball games for Lent. Lenten vow broken. Massively. It's like giving up chocolate and then going and stealing all three of the chocolate Easter bunnies that your parents had bought for your family and eating them in one binge night with a chocolate milk shake to wash it down. Pent up basketball related things just poured out of me for hours last night, often leaking over into my description of the rest of the world. Please, if you have any kind of respect for me and don't want to loose it, stay away from me during a game. I'm a terrible person. And I carried that conception into the rest of my life.
I wonder if you know how much guilt is associated with this season? I broke a vow, that really I made in order to address the beast inside of me but was completely ineffective in that regard. I care. A lot. And I shouldn't. I don't know who this person is that screams at the television and at the court, but I can't just out of hand reject her. She's a part of my season. I just wish that she could apply her adrenalin rush to things that actually help. Not that Carolina basketball doesn't help. I think the world would be a much worse place without Dean Smith. But me yelling at a game doesn't feed anyone, it doesn't encourage anyone, it doesn't free anyone. The only positive consequence is that I get my anger out in one place so I can think about everything else, but even then, there are some things that are worth getting angry about.
I came in hoarse from the game and my roommate asked me if I had been yelling. I said some expletive and then yes. And she joked and said that Jesus died a little just then. And I said that Jesus had been dying since about the 12 minute mark of the second half.
Let's face it. Jesus has been dying my whole life.
I want to make Him live.
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