So I was listening to my iTunes today and this Gary Allen song came on that I don’t like. It’s come on like 7 times this week, and I keep skipping it, yet iTunes seems to think I need to hear it. Its annoying. And as a result I found myself complaining about my “broken” iTunes.

Something is wrong with my iTunes. It doesn’t work the way it should!

Why does this matter? Because I can’t believe that this is what I whine about. Really? I see starving kids almost every day of the week, but when iTunes doesn’t play the songs I want it to I get upset.

In truth, I’m ashamed. There was a day when that would’ve been the last thing for me to complain about. When I heard myself, I felt slimy. It feels as though its true that I’m a part of the problem. Often, its easy to stay removed from corporate bailouts and foreign wars. But moments like that make me realize that I’m just as much a part of the current mess as anyone else. I’m not above the petty, the materialistic, the selfish.

I hope its a revelation. Not a trend.

Today I was on the roof of our apartment smoking a cigar and I noticed the Sun was hidden behind some clouds. Very clearly still in sight, the Sun’s heat wasn’t quite the powerful force it usually is on our roof. Clothes dry very quickly and my skin burns even quicker.

But while I was looking at the sky, I had this moment where I said to myself, “that’s how God is too.” Sometimes it feels as though He’s gone, or He’s hidden Himself. There are even moments when it would seem that His light is completely gone from the world. But it’s His light, his warmth that makes this life possible. And even when clouds get in the way, He’s never gone. Even when it’s dark, His light reflects from any source He can find.

It’s not a new thought. It’s not really even profound. But there is something incredibly comforting about it. It’s one of those moments that eases a person’s heart, slows one’s breath, causes an individual to long for a moment to last. Those kinds of moments are few. And I cherish them.

It’s strange to me that a single 8th grader can make me hate my day. Who would have thought a 12 year old Dominican girl could get under my skin to the point where I tell her to just leave my class. “Just go. Go.”

Not one of my prouder moments, by any means. But it does make me vitally aware of my patience level. I’m frustrated with myself over the whole thing. I’ve taken cross country road trips with kids way more infuriating than her, but I don’t have anywhere near the patience for the kids here as I did for those youth.

Of course, I don’t think the problem is the kids. I’m the same way with small animals. Patience-less. Its strange too. It bothers me. Worries me about having kids someday.

But surely there’s a root. This must be a symptom of something else. At least, that’s what I think. It’s an irritation, like sand on the skin. It rubs and annoys and makes a person want to scream. Like an oyster. Only this kind of thing doesn’t yield a pearl usually. End results may vary of course, but low patience and high irritability has never really brought anything shiny or lovely into my day to day existence.

That’s not to say that this will all end bad.

But what I wouldn’t give to have more love to give these kids. I feel like I owe them that. Like I’m presenting them with less of a teacher than I know I can be.

I do think it’ll come around. I just hope it comes around before I turn some of them off permanently to anything I might have to say later.

There’s this Good Charlotte song that moves me. Strange? I know. But it does. Every time I hear it, I’m moved almost to tears. It’s really beautiful, despite the lead singers semi-nasal approach to music. It starts out kind of political, but it moves into this gorgeous depiction.

So let it be
There’s a love that could fall down like rain
Let us see
Let forgiveness wash away the pain
What we need
And no one really knows what they are searching for
We believe
This world is crying for so much more

I started listening to it because it reminded me of my brother. But something else kept me listening to it.

We are all on a search, I’ll definitely give them that. But not everyone is confused as to what they’re searching for. Some people are very clear on what they seek. And I’m envious of that. I simply can’t put my finger on how life really works. Ecclesiastes tends to just confuse the situation. Yet I keep reading it. I feel like somewhere in this crazy, depressing book, there’s the answer I’m missing.

I feel like I’ve spent the last 7 or so years of my life trying to make this American notion of Christianity and God fit the life I lead. I make time for God in the morning, or at night. I try to fit quiet time and Bible reading into my routine. I’m more and more convinced that it’s all rubbish though. When does the fruit cart guy here in Santo Domingo get time to spend with God? When does he talk to Jesus or read his Bible? Does he get up at 3 am instead of 4 so that he can pray before he picks fruit to sell on the streets every day? Possibly. But I doubt it.

I feel like there’s this right way to things, and then there’s all the other ways. Is that right? Is that what God wants? A schedule? I struggle to follow a weekly schedule in my Language Arts class. How on earth can I make a lifetime schedule work? Am I just lazy?

Whatever the case may be, I do believe. I believe so strongly that a love can indeed fall down like rain, that it hurts my chest sometimes. Every time I don’t give to the beggars on Churchill. Every time I get annoyed with my wife because I’m being selfish. Every time I think of my mom, my siblings. My dad. Sometimes it just feels like there so much darkness inside myself, that no amount of love could ever show itself. But it needs to.

Sometimes too much can be read into things. People often over-interpret. In my opinion, the most over-interpreting happens concerning sexuality. Think Beowulf. While I enjoyed Zemeckis’ version of the classic tale, his version was highly sexualized. Too much so, in fact. He lost quite a bit of the heroism found in the Old English poem due to his view.

This kind of thing happens a lot, and it’s not always bad. Sometimes these sexualized interpretations are interesting. But that doesn’t ever make them accurate or correct.

Take Batman & Robin. Now, Schumacher is by no means the first person to try and force a sexual interpretation on the Dark Knight, but ol’ Joel’s perspective killed a movie franchise. With his nipple-covered costumes and silver groin coverings, Joel Schumacher tried to tell the world that Batman was really about sexual tension, frustration, and fulfillment. Why does Batman use young, good-looking sidekicks? Because he’s a sexually frustrated old man! Duh! Except, this just isn’t true.

I’m not saying there’s no sexual underbelly to Batman. In fact, in both movie and comic incarnations of the Watchful Protector, there is often sex and romance. But that’s because sex and romance are a part of life. They are not, however, the point of life.

Batman is about justice and revenge and redemption. Anyone who says otherwise has either not looked closely at the hero, or they’re forcing a viewpoint of their own.

And that’s why people didn’t like Schumacher’s film. See, had he concentrated on what Batman & Robin should have been about, then all the things that made this movie so terrible would not have been. Very few were going to be fooled by Robin wearing a gilded cup and Batgirl showing her nipples on the outside of her leather. People are only fooled when they want to be. And people want Batman to be about justice, about revenge, and about redemption.

I’ve been thinking about Christians.

I know a guy who God used in amazing ways. But not anymore. He’s just a statistic now; one more person who amounted to nothing. Nothing sounds harsh, but I think it’s true. He told me once,

You cannot repair the irreparable mistakes of today by yielding to God tomorrow.

Profound. True. And sadly, proven by his life. This is what is most tragic though: who remembers and talks about the things God did through him before he showed that he was just like everyone else? I mean, God moved people through his words and showed people His love by this man’s actions. But now it’s all forgotten, or pushed to the back, because he did some selfish things.

It’s like Thomas, from the Gospels. Here is a guy who said he would follow Jesus to death, who told the other disciples “Let us also go, so that we may die with Him.” But that’s not what he is remembered for. No, he’s called doubting Thomas, because he needed to touch Jesus (his friend who he saw crucified) in order to believe he had come back from the dead. That’s something many people today, who did not see Jesus crucified still find difficult to believe. But he’s doubting Thomas.

See, eventually, we all become a statistic. Somehow, we screw up, and everything God ever did through us vanishes. Just like that. Gone.

A friend was showing me this Francis Chan video where this guy talked about how awesome it would be if a church were to just buy a field and meet there and quit wasting money on buildings (which I think is probably the best idea I’ve ever heard), yet all I could think about was, “what happens when he becomes a statistic?” Then we heard a sermon from Craig Groeschel, and the same thought emerged. And the truth is I think anything God has ever done through them would be relegated to pointless blogs and sparse memories from people who used to have hope in the Church.

What’s funny is I used to want to be these guys. I used to want to teach God’s word and show people how awesome I think God is. But the truth is I wouldn’t stand a chance. I’d become a statistic. And I’d hate that more than anything.

Of course, I might be wrong. Maybe I just have a headache. Maybe I’m just grumpy as a result. Maybe tomorrow will look different.

During our latest round of Picture Phone, and game where people take turns interpreting pictures and writing what they believe they illustrate, a rather funny course was taken.

We started with “I don’t want to wait in vain for your love,” and this was the first thing that had to be illustrated (and then that picture was interpreted, and that interpretation was illustrated, and so on). Somewhere along the way, the classic Bob Marley lyrics turned into this:

How was this picture interpreted? “How dare you question my dinosaur ways, little girl?!”

I laughed for like 10 minutes. Sometimes, misunderstandings can be funny.