A Romantic Notion Perhaps

"What does it mean to be human? What does it mean to be human?
I cannot help but suspect that at one time in the history of thinking
that people believed that it meant that we were spiritual and that we
could make choices and were capable of aspiring to higher ideals...
like maybe loyalty or maybe faith... or maybe even love.
But now we are told by people who think they know, that we vary from
amoeba only in the complexity of our makeup and not in what we
essentially are. They would have us think as Dysart said that we are
forever bound up in certain genetic reigns - that we are merely products
of the way things are and not free - not free to be the people who make
them that way. They would have us see ourselves as products so that
we could believe that we were something to be made - something to
be used and then something to be disposed of. Used in their wars -
used for their gains and then set aside when we get in their way.
Well, who are they? They are the few who sit at the top of the heap -
dung heap though it is - and who say it is better to reign in Hell than
to serve in Heaven. Well, I do not know that we can have a Heaven
here on earth, but I am sure we need not have a Hell either.
What does it mean to be human? I cannot help but believe that it means
we are spiritual - that we are responsible and that we are free - that
we are responsible to be free." -Rich MullinsI go through phases where I really adore Rich Mullins, but each time, I have deeper and deeper respect for the man. And I want to believe what he believed in.

And the more I study the Bible, the more I become convinced that Jesus wasn't calling us to live an American dream with a Christian spin on it. The more I become convinced that he wasn't being metaphorical when he told the rich ruler to sell everything, and that when we lay hands on the sick, they really will be healed. Jesus said a lot of stuff that most people never mention now-a-days
That the Holy Spirit isn't just a good feeling, but has the power to move a mountain.
That our love for the Lord should make our love for even our families look like hate by comparison.

I decided not to abandon everything I knew, but to challenge it. To read, as if I had just begun my existence and had no preconcieved notions, the Bible and take it as my Absolute Truth - an idea that the spectacled free-thinkers would gnash their teeth at.

I don't have a house to sell and give to the poor.
But my heart, soul, mind, and strength are consecrated to the Lord. And whatever God hands me, I'll let rest in my palms, fingers open.

The dream is to start a branch of the Simple Way in Japan. To grow fruits and vegetables in a Prayer Garden.

I once envisioned myself as a well-to-do advertiser living in a cute-button house in America, maybe children.
But even that doesn't seem like much to trade in for the dream of spreading hope and joy in Japan. But it's my (dream) house to sell.
I don't even mind not going to Japan, y'know? Wherever I live, I'm going to practice New Monasticism.

And even though I know absolutely no one will take me seriously, because I'm young and idealistic and eighteen and I don't know better, about what happens when you grow older and try to hack through all the bills, tape, doubt, and what cynics call "real life".... I still believe with all my heart that it can be done. And I'll give my life for it.

The apostles, the saints of old, the saints of today, and the brothers and sisters living in Denton all believed it could be done. They believed in more than cheap Christian culture.. that there was a hope worth giving up everything for.

If this were some romantic idea born entirely out of the flame of youth, you'd be entitled to put a hand on my shoulder and gently tell me so.
But just because everyone expects me to burn out and get a normal life doesn't mean I will. I think.... despite everything... I'm finally at the age where I can decide my future. That even though my life hasn't been much of my choices up to now (more of my background really) that it has reached the point where I can choose, and I choose Christ.

Marshall showed me this poem, it's his favorite, and I think he's right to think it beautiful:
"The Mad Farmer Liberation Front" by Wendell Berry
http://www.context.org/ICLIB/IC30/Berry.htm