#001 - Angsty Intros - pt. 1

JUNE 2016

Last year, on a night where I couldn’t sleep, I jumped up from my bed and decided to write the following. That sounded good at the time, but I’m afraid this document in particular has been most difficult for me to write. It is a collection of journal entries separated by bold headings.  I am not a professional writer by any stretch of the imagination so forgive me for the misuse of any commas or inappropriate phrasing. That out of the way... 

About me or on that night.

My name is unimportant, but from this moment on I am telling you the absolute truth.

This is the first time I have attempted to tell my story, and as a friend told me once I have a knack for telling stories.

I was always a little bit different, slightly off some would say. 

In a way this has allowed me to look at things from the outside, because when you’re different you’re pushed to the outside. 

I would love to know what it feels like to be normal, to want and crave the same things that others do, but the feeling never comes. Instead I’m on the outside looking in. Feigning emotion, love even. 

The people I open up to and act myself around are the best friends I have in my life. They understand me even though I don’t. 

I can never fully understand what it is like to be you just as you cannot do the same for me, but it doesn’t make me any less relatable. Just different. There’s lots of people who are different from yourself. 

I grew up in Atlanta, and both my parents were from decent, what I would call “God Fearing”, Christian homes just like most people.  My grandfather was a preacher on my mom’s side, and a church elder on my dad’s. Church attendance was mandatory for my first 18 years of life. Each of my parents instilled in me a discipline that made me hate them when I was growing up. I now cherish whatever time I have left to spend with my parents, and try to gain as much wisdom as I can. All that to say, I’ve experienced God my whole entire life. From the time I could walk, I would walk into churches with my parents, half the time not knowing really why all this was happening. 

It was really the social experience I didn’t get. Everyone there seemed to be congratulating each other on attending. We’ve survived another week in the world! Let us celebrate! So here I was, this towheaded child in a white suit, looking at everyone from the outside, and wondering what made them so happy.

Jesus.

Jesus, became my answer to that question and it was this person I devoted most of my childhood to. I invoked his powers like a superhero, and wondered why Jesus wouldn’t give me what I wanted. My parents had yet to make me understand the difference between a want and need.

Prayers are not always answered in the way we think. God’s faithfulness (to our needs) is evidenced in the Bible, a book with no context for me to understand. 

As a child I was looking at pictures in an illustrated bible, and listening to adults speak on Sundays. Adults who were more like babysitters than actual teachers. Adults who just told you that this was the case, God always answers prayers. Even if it is not immediately obvious. So I was told to believe, but not really knowing why, it was a hollow belief.     

Being different, I wanted to fit in. I would do anything to gain the love of these people, because they seemed to have something I lacked.  The funny thing is that it wasn’t what I lacked at all that made different.

However a hollowness started forming from that point on, a dark void that continued to grow every passing sunday. I had accepted this Jesus. I prayed to God, frequently. I attended church every single week. But still I felt empty. Still I was different. Perhaps I did not want this faith enough. I could blame it on innate stubbornness, my unwillingness to act like the others and just blindly serve God unquestionably. 

Little did I know how God was shaping my life, and changing me little by little much from the inside out. Just a little teaser to brighten things up a bit. I survived a lot of angst and frustration with Christianity. 

I continued until my first breaking point, when I was 16. Then a second at 20. Then a third at 27, which is when I started this writing. Each catastrophe of faith leading me down different tangents. Towards God, away from God. Towards my own personal definition of God, towards my own definition of spirituality.    

With an addictive personality….well that’s another story for another time. 

It’s not too farfetched for me to say I have had suicidal thoughts and deep sinking depression. It is hard for a guy to admit that, for we are supposed to be the brave and stoic ones. It also isn’t stretching the truth to say that I can be emotional at times, another thing that sets me apart from most men. It is my emotional capacity for others that overshadows my better judgement, for I try to be good to others to hide the shadows in my life. To scour away the darkness with light.

I’m a production person. 

It’s what I do for a living, and my passion is lighting. 

To me lights create and change environments so much that very powerful emotions can be experienced when the lighting is just right. My focuses are houses of worship and concert lighting. I especially like lighting for churches, but that should be a bit obvious given my childhood. It should also be noted that light allegories are my favorite.

I started doing lights at 18, and for me it was a way to feel a part of something bigger. I could say that on the outside I was a perfect paragon of Christianity. No one knew what I was really wanting or feeling, so I eventually made it the the outside of the inner circle. Still I wanted to be normal, but unsuccessful. 

Lighting, allowed a place for me to go to watch the services, and feel like I was influencing others from my position on the outside. Even with a childish and hollow faith in what I was supporting, mainly because I was being paid to attend.

To me investing in those around you can influence. And truly knowing a person, and caring about what they are saying- an even greater influence. It has taken me a while to be able to say, that listening and responding thoughtfully is a better way to communicate and be heard. 

But what do you do when few actually want to ask how you are doing? Meaning when you aren’t approached for conversation, what do you do?

In the self-righteous sense, I could get offended when people or persons have nothing to say to me. After all I am a person of value and deserve conversation right?

On the other hand, perhaps it is something about me that makes me off-putting. Something that those who know me best either have come to ignore or are too polite to say. So instead I become a rock and flurl myself into the nearest pond of socializing conversation. Only child syndrome kicks in. I get nervous and awkward. I’m getting off track...

A stone thrown into a pond is not necessarily aware of the ripples it makes, just like a person who influences is unaware of the people of whom they are influencing. A stone or a rock moves with great force, but eventually finds an immovable force, and is found stagnating. Logic says that the stone will slowly become weathered and maybe even, over eons, form a grain of sand.  A smart rock will find another pond once it sees the looming force halting its progress. 

I have to tell you a story about my Grandfather; my family called him “Preach”. Even though I didn’t  truly know him, I know his legacy. I know the stories my grandmother told about him. My mom still has his ancient taped together Bible, the margins of which are filled with endless notations, highlights, and cross references. The most important lessons he taught was signified by his favorite hobby. You see he was a pastor and an avid fisherman. He would pull me aside, take me into the utility closet, and give me fishing lures. Usually with a verse like Matthew 4:19 attached to it.

He was trying to say something very simple. If you follow Jesus, you will be like a lure. Tantalizing to the unchurched, and able to bring people to follow him as well. “Fisher of men”

It’s really when I came to this point, when I can say that instead of bragging about where I’ve been I should instead concentrate on encouraging others to follow my lead.

Some days are better than others.