The everything.

My head starts to spin. And I think, "I can't do this. I can't." But then, "You have to, you're already in too deep. Deeper than you've ever been. You quit now, you're going to get hurt." You need to find an answer.

I'm already getting hurt.

It used to be that I could just abandon these questions, and give in to life. I could go on, and pretend that I didn't know that I was making a choice. That in turning from one, I was turning to another. Then again, if on Monday you ask, Wednesday you give up, and Friday you drink, then Sunday you've forgotten.

I was 11 when my Dad gave me his yellowing, and dog-eared copy of Hermann Hesse's "Beneath the Wheel." For those who care to know, the title of this blog comes from some of Hesse's prose. He's brilliant. Anyhow, Beneath the Wheel is about a young man of considerable academic prowess who, by the conventions of his time and place, is forced into serious academic study. To the exclusion of all else. And he can't find himself. He spends his young life in the solitude of thought, without experiencing the vitality of the self. In the end, he drowns himself in the quiet of the wood. Some words from Frost come to me..."The woods are lovely, dark and deep..."

I have found myself. I am looking for God. Then again, as Hesse believes that God is to be found in each of us ("...and there alone is God...") as we seek ourselves, perhaps he would find no difference between these quests. I disagree. I know me. I enjoy me, and my life, and my mind, and my heart. It's Him I seek.

And though I think there are parts of Him to be found in me, I can't seem to fit those pieces into a coherent whole. I continually search my heart, asking...what is it that you believe, today? And when I find something, I wonder if tomorrow it will still hold true. The arguments on each side are too clever, too brilliant.

But I know. And then something steals it. I ask, why must I believe that Christ died and rose again? Why can't I simply believe that Christ came, and showed an uncommon, and extremely powerful love? But before Tim Keene can finish, maybe even start, his answer, I already believe the truth. I already know. Until the next day, and a friend says to me...

I don't know. I don't know what the friend says to me. It makes less sense in the retelling, and it doesn't really matter anyhow, what she says. It does matter that it doesn't matter.

I worry that if I start to believe in the crazy stuff some of these people say, then I will become crazy. And then I won't be fit to live anywhere else. I'm smiling now at how ridiculous that is. If I believe in any of "this stuff," it'll be because it's true, and if it's true, then God's promises are true, and if God's promises are true, then... I can live anywhere I want.

I can hold a room. I'm not bragging, just noticing, and working through it. I was in this faculty forum on white privilege yesterday. And during and after my comments, people came up to me and said things like "You are really so spot on. Dr. So-and-so is lucky to have you," and "Your thoughts are so deep, so so right." I have influence. I have influence with my friends. And with strangers. Because they seem to know that I'm not going to say something that doesn't make sense. What if I stop making sense? What will I be?

I have had hundreds of conversations with people about Jesus. All kinds of people. Drunk people, and sober people. Educated, uneducated, atheists, and agnostics, and Christians, and people who just plain don't care. One of my favorite things to do has been to talk about Jesus. And always, people say that they like this Jesus we're talking about. That He seems kind, and that if He's what's behind this religion that other people talk about, basically, if other Christians were talking about Him like I was, that they'd go to church, they'd become Christians. And I was always at a loss when people would say that, because I didn't know of a church that I could point them to, and I didn't really have a direction to give them. Be like Christ, and don't let the Christians get you down. That would have been my ultimate guidance to them. Though as far as churches go, in May, I did find the greatest one I've ever been in, and it's called The Journey (one church, four locations, St. Louis, MO).

But now, I'm really at a loss. It's not that I said anything about Jesus that the James River folk wouldn't agree with. I just might not have said everything they'd say.

I need to find out if I think that that everything is what ought to be said. My heart is so confused.

But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep.