.: the weight of a loss :.

Never have I lost a friend so close to my heart as the day that I lost my friend, Jason Kessler. A year has now passed and not a week has gone by where I have not been haunted by either fragments of our past or the bitter recollection of his present absence. I must confess that the first time that I met him, he carried himself like a rebel. Funny enough, he never quite escaped that mental image in my mind, much to his own intentionality. He had a way about him that seemed to never allow himself to fade into the background. If there was a cause that he saw as worthy, he was the first to lead the charge. He was addicted to chivalry in a way that was contagious. He made me want to discover what it meant to truly live, to be a man above all other men, and to love boldly. We would spend hours together trying to find deeper ways of breaking through the facade of growing older. He made me want to stop pretending, if in any way I was doing so. He taught me what it meant to defend the weak in any and every way. I would be lying if I didn't admit that I used to get so frustrated with him for constantly pushing me to be someone better than I already was. But as the years have past, I have begun to understand why he urged such feelings in me. He never seemed to be the sort of man that was satisfied with who he was, never fully satisfied with what he had already done. There was always something better to invest in, and someone within to discover amidst the day-to-day living. Even when he felt like he had nothing more to give, he refused to let up on himself. He knew what it required to be someone great, and he refused to waste his life on anything less than that. What I once saw as criticism, I now see as his wanting me to live out the full potential of who I am. He was a man that was determined to discover genuine love, genuine relationships, and a genuine life. His was a life in progress. No question was ever off the table with a guy like him, in terms of seeking to wrestle with the fullness of what it meant in either its accuracy or deception. He was authentic through and through, which so many found tremendously threatening, and others tremendously liberating. And this is the soul that we lost when we lost Jason.

So often we talked about the end, but never did I truly believe that I would experience a life further than his own. He had a way of allowing me to escape from the weight of life so that I could then continue on in the fight before me. The times in which we shared life together will forever serve as the photographs within my heart that have played since the day he was stolen from us. He was both a model and a flawed creature. I loved him as a brother, and yet so often wrestled with what made him seem so exceptional. He was the first to admit an error and the last to bear his weaknesses. Nevertheless I cannot help but feel that too much time was spent on deep discussions concerning the very things that have all changed by now. But who knew it would all turn out like this? I know we so often confess to the assuming belief that we will have someone in our life forever. But never once did I think that to ever be untrue of Jason. I grieve how the most recent years brought fewer connections with my friend, but how could I have ever guessed that they would come to an unexpected close. We had possibly thought that there were more chapters to write together, but the book has now been deemed to remain incomplete. No human relationship is without mistakes and sinful assumptions, but ours was one that held some kind of common ground beyond our different directions. We were both souls caught up in the quest of learning how to live alive. He was the type to follow up a wrestling match with a sincere hug. In many ways, he was a man's man, all the while searching for ways to break such a stereotype, or better yet, to help refashion it into the noble calling that it once held. Never have such words fallen short when I admit that I am going to miss him now that he is gone. Even with this past year serving me a variety of chances to continue on in a life absent of his words and compassion, only now am I coming to the reality that the grave was never a reality that we ever grow used to. Never once did I ever face even the slightest suggestion that I would live so few years before suffering such a loss. Jason was a man who taught me how to give more than I take, to lay my life down for the beauty of another. Deep was his mercy for those that knew of no compassion. Wide was his understanding of the weightier beliefs that have stood the test of time. And rich was his laugh, an event that I know now I took for granted for far too long. He taught me how to honor a soul above my own, and in that one act, he showed me the liberation of being set free from what has cost so many so much.

I miss you, Jason! Nothing has allowed me to ever forget all that we discovered along the way together (not that I have wanted to). Those simple pieces of life make up the very memories that only now stir such grief and sadness within me. Thank you for the gift that was continually given me by you through every blessed encounter, every late night conversation, and every shared connection!

.: throwing in the towel :.

There seems to be no room in my life right now to quit. Everything that I have been working on has been a "working towards". This is all going to mean something greater than just the routine chores before me. My rehearsals and memorizations have been preparing me for the next step. But where is there any sort of place in me to take advantage of any sort of out? How might I go about calling this whole thing off and finding a pause within which I can readjust? The world isn't exactly begging me to take it easy... or is it? Somehow everyone took an extra step while I happened to be glancing away. And now what lies before me feels threatening, and may intend to expose me for what little remains. I guess that it is just the ever-growing weight on my shoulders that seems at times to be too much to bear. If I could only cut away from these little things that are filling up the space of each day, maybe then I could find a way to fix this condition of fear, which is feeding upon my apathy. No thanks to you all, I have been busily working away at trying to make the world a better place, one soul at a time. I do not make that previous jab because I am left alone in this. More so, I feel like I have been far too guilty of taking my cues from a world in love with its strenuous work ethic. All one needs to do is just close their eyes and allow themselves to dwell upon the ways that we have driven ourselves so merciless in the past. A little hard work never killed anyone, or so they have claimed all along. But let me be the first to express that I cannot take one more burden of existence, no matter how crucial you swear it to be. My life has been thrown between scores of souls that have staked their claim upon one way of living and one mode of thinking. And wouldn't you know it, no one seems to agree with each other any more (as if they ever did). I wish that I could say that these past few years have produced in me some kind of intelligence. All they really have done is filled me with more questions, along with the sense that I may not even remember what had been cleared up for me along the way. Am I playing small or possibly shying away from being known? Who is to say? All I know is that when I cross that stage and receive what I have worked long and hard for, there is no reason for me to believe that I am any further along the path towards being able to help others in the same direction. And what is to even be said for those seemingly dead set against the whole thing to begin with? What do I have to offer them, in terms of a well-crafted argument or refined skills of refutation? This whole thing could drive a soul mad; trust me, it is doing that very thing right now! So I guess that I am resolved to be one of the lone voices claiming that we must confess what we know, and be honest with that which we do not. No one soul holds the keys to all the questions, though some may claim to hold more than others (myself included). I certainly know where to look, where to point, and possibly how to pursue it. But my memory only serves me in retaining the basics, with a certain awareness of where we go from there. I have been taught to be unsatisfied with such. But I no longer see how I can hold both of these in comfortable tension, the knowledge of that which I am not more fully aware of, alongside of the deep contentment of knowing who I am and what I have to offer.

.: all i cannot seem to say :.

I want the Spirit to have His way, first in me and then through me. I want to find that this life that I am entering into is actually becoming the reality and less of an ambition. I want the things of this world to pale in comparison to the glorious beauty of God's goodness. I want every day to be lived with the reminder that I am in Christ. I want the words of my mouth to bless those that I once used to use as a punch line. I want a joy that will sustain me through the darkness. I want the pressures of my life to expose me to all the philosophical idols that I live by. I want His name to be the first and last thing on my mind throughout all my conversations. I want to turn to Him before I end up running out of other places to run to. I want to know that He is listening closely to my heart as I pour it out to Him. I want to learn what it means to die daily. I want to be ready to die before that day comes. I want for there to be no words left unsaid when I am gone. I want to see healing in all my fractured relationships. I want to feel the Lord's compassion in the midst of being completely overwhelmed. I want to know right here and now that this will all work out for His good. I want to know why I really thought those things would satisfy me to begin with. I want to feel the full weight of my helpless human state. I want to acknowledge that my God is the same God of Moses, David, Peter, and Paul. I want to know more fully the God that I am dealing and wrestling with. I want to get to the real meaning of the various stories of Scripture. I want to speak as they spoke. I want to see His return in my lifetime. I want to eradicate every motive I have for making God my inferior. I want a fresh sense of the Father's readiness to forgive His loved ones. I want to know that He is indeed not indifferent towards our circumstances. I want to bear the full expectation of a divine response. I want to feel how I want to feel. I want to know what a truly godly life looks like. I want to find myself in that place and remain there. I want His hands to draw together all my divided interests. I want to be sincere and genuine, and not just real. I want the first words of each day to acknowledge what the Father He has already done for me. I want to see that this isolation is just not working for me. I want to learn to give up my comfort for far greater things. I want to share in the sufferings of Christ so that it might change how I see the world. I want my ever-changing situation to no longer dictate my perception of the character of God. I want to be released from the burden of my ever-growing bitterness and resentment. I want to truly believe that God is good in the midst of my frustration and weariness. I want to be comforted by the fact that God cares. I want to sense the Father's presence at the center of my pain. I want to quit hurting those that I love. But over all these things, I want to quit hiding behind the facade of an upright and moral life, and I want to enter more fully into what it means to take up my cross and follow Christ.