conflict

The Seed of Discontent
I find myself in a state of unrest almost as often I find myself seeking rescue-which is often. I have often thought about what has been the root cause for this discontent; however, I have never really come to a conclusive answer. I must admit that my anxiety has found itself an outlet in times of stress and disorder- which is normal. And growing up in North America where being normal is the ambition of the lazy, it is both unsettling and frustrating to find myself normal. Perhaps that is the root of my unrest. ( I doubt it but if it is, isn’t that just normal as well?) For as long as I remember, I have had conversations in my head. Now please understand, I don’t mean conversations that might require medicine or residence in a cushioned room, but I have had conversations nonetheless. In college, I learned this is called diatribe. Diatribe is essentially an interior dialogue in the mind of an individual, whereby you are attempting to resolve conflict without actually having to interact with someone. You basically go over the argument in your head until, you have a resolution. Now I realize that by definition, I am talking to myself; however, I don’t often feel like I am talking to to myself, as much as I feel like I am talking out a conflict. Here is the problem: no conflict actually exists. I literally create a conflict in my mind: whether I think it is a potential conflict or a conflict that currently exists; and then I attempt to resolve the conflict. Now before you make the call to the local psych ward, allow me to ask you a question. How often do you argue with someone in your head? How often do you come up with a “response” to someone after you have ended the conversation? When was the last time you spent time mulling over the possible comebacks for someone who is always getting on your nerves or who makes an attempt to one-up you at every turn? I think most of us entertain diatribe on a amazingly regular basis. The difference between you and me may be that I cannot seem to resolve any conflicts. As a result, I constantly go back into the dialogue only to find myself more frustrated than before! The fact is that as I entertain the discussion I am not just discussing it inside my head, I am sabotaging a relationship I have with other people. This is because my diatribe typically includes a discussion with someone I know. (Not literally so put down the phone!) In the midst of conversation-with myself- I create conflict with someone with whom I may not actually have conflict. And whether I realize it or not, the next time I see that person- I have a conflict that they know nothing about. I believe that we do this quite often. I believe that whether we see it or not, we will often strain our relationships with people as a result of conflicts that may not really exist. We live in a culture where we are encouraged to disregard the opinions of others as insignificant and at the same time we are encouraged to buy something because everyone else has it. We are called to be focused on our own needs and wants and then ridiculed because we are oblivious to abject poverty of the world around us. Constantly we are reprimanded for a lack of compassion and then branded as a foolish for wanting to help those in need. This would all be understandable if we took a stand and attempted to be different from others expectations; however, we often just fall in line and then visit the same confusion on the next person who crosses our path. Conflict is healthy when a resolution is found; however, conflict that is not resolved, conflict that is never completely dealt with, conflict that exists just because, creates a field of barren soil that houses only seeds of discontent. So if you’ll excuse me I need to go and talk to the guy who sold me a worthless plot of ground.

My Escape

As a young kid, I used to hide in my room for hours. Reading, listening to music, playing with my wrestling action figures.(not to be confused with “dolls”) It would be fair to assume that countless hours were spent attempting to create my own stable world in the one place that promised an opportunity to be exactly who I wanted. A world that was free from regret, free from doubt, free from the loss of time, free from a life less lived, because as it were in the midst of that space none of those fears existed. As a I got older, I found less opportunity to steal away to those moments. Excavating treasure Island was replaced with algebra and conjugating sentences. Pretending I was in concert on my 5th encore was replaced with angst and frustration as puberty robbed me of the great wonder of acceptance. I boxed up the action figures (not dolls) and put away my childhood in hopes of finding greater purpose in the world of adolescence. As time passed, so did the ambition of wonder. Much in the same way that those childhood moments of seemed to be released into the sky like a helium filled balloon, I watched the mystery pass away. Occasionally, I would steal away on a walk with my headphones and only the greatest of music selections for an hour or two. I found that I longed for the security of earlier days. Those moments when the expectations were not so overwhelming and the greatest conflict was determining which world title belt Sting would get. As I passed from the teenage years to adulthood, I got further and further away from the hope of yesterday. And yet as those times had passed, I began to look more earnestly at what yesterday had left me. While I did enjoy the moments of departure from reality, reality was to be far more important that those moments. With adulthood, I have found some new and wonderful escapes. The smile of my son and the celebration of all that is musical from my daughters. The wonder of marriage and what happens when people “become one”. The challenges sometimes prove to be more rewarding than the rewards- although the rewards cannot be fully expressed in words. I am finding that my life is rich. Even in moments when I pursue clarity, I know that I am not alone in my pursuit. My wife is the essence of patience when it comes to me. However, she is also the epitome of a helpmeet. I have found that she is available always-as long as she is not playing sudoku or spider solitaire. She is my escape. She is my rescue. Also, wrestling with her is a lot more fun!

The Death of Life

What do I really believe about the death of Jesus? Not the actual historical, elementary presentation of His death, but necessarily the death of Jesus. Do I believe that it has implications for my life? My death? Your life? Your death? I am not positive what I really believe about the death of Jesus. It would be assumed that an acceptance of His death would suggest a change of perspective. A change of direction at least. However, what I find exists more often is a disregard of life. A disregard of human experience. A disregard of the emotional unrest that exists in the lives of many people. The death of Jesus was intended for more than just eternal salvation. More than just a momentary relief from the chaos that is often self-inflicted in the first place. The death of Jesus was meant to empower me to move forward through my seemingly congested moments between the cradle and the grave. It was intended to awaken my love for the mysterious, for the undetermined, for the often forgotten pursuit of life’s one singular promise- no promises! I find that I often celebrate the mediocre. I often join in the choir of songs for the undernourished, unmotivated, unadulterated life of blasé. However, it is the death that continues to bring me to the edge time and time again. It is the Spirit of life conquered death that ushers me into the realm of the unsettled. Where less days are wrought with the fear of normalcy than the days ruined by mystery. Because of the death of Jesus I am reminded that life has purpose, even if it seems the opposite most of the time. I do not long to live recklessly or without regard for others. I do not desire to live on the edge of my seat or by the seat of my pants. I do not desire the anxiety of the unknown, nor do I seek to be enamored by great signs and wonders. However, I do desire to live. To breathe in deeply the smell of good coffee. To know the fury of Oklahoma’s wind, only to know the foundation of her earth. I do long to get caught in the crescendo of the gathering storm, reminding me that I am but a minor player in this grand drama we call life. I long to see my wife caught in the wonder of her beauty; my daughters in the confidence of their kindness, and my son wrapped up in his smile. I long to revel in the wit of my sisters, the silence of my step father, and the undying love of my mother. I long to know the faithfulness of my wife’s mother and love her daughters have for her. I long to live. To rest in the mystery of the unknown. To trust that life will continue from day to day-with or without me. I pray that I am found worthy of a life lived in that moment. I pray that I begin to understand the death of Jesus.