titles or TESTIMONIES!

      I'm not a big fan of the big guy. The big guy being the the almighty one, the all powerful, the creator of heaven and earth, our glorious God. Nor do I praise organized religion, at least not the kind that I've been subject to for the past 18 years of my life. And to be completely honest my mind usually drifts off at around "thy kingdom come" of the Lord's Prayer. It's not that I disbelieve in God either; I'm open to interpretation and respect different views; it's just that I'm not sure what I believe. I blame my acute indifference to religion on the mundane worship of my church. Each Sunday, like clockwork, the associate pastor walks slowly towards the stand at the front of the room. He raises his hands, opens his mouths, and lets fall out the most monotone, uninspiring voice I've ever heard. Seriously. If you're trying to make me believe in the Holy Spirit you're going to have to try a little harder. This is the moment when I'm thinking, "how many people are honestly here to listen to this and not simply hoping that sitting in the same chair every week is fulfilling their duty as a Christian. I look around and observe the compliant faces that cloud my vision, bowing their heads for prayer. Have I mentioned that my church is primarily white and has no trace of excitement beneath its unvaried fingertips. Not that the color of your skin has an effect on your belief in God but black churches seem to know how to do it better, you know it's true. 

    In this Sunday's service it was senior recognition day. All the seniors lined up in front of the congregation and were wrapped in blankets and were sent off to do good in this world... 

So anyway, after 10 minutes of relentless blabber the one saving grace of our church, no pun intended, takes his seat at the piano. By this time, everyone is back in their seats and waiting expectantly for the next overused psalm. But instead, the congregation is greeted by a young black man that in my opinion has a soul bigger than any of the people sitting around me. He lays his fingers on the keys, speaks the verse one time in his deep, velvet voice in time with his jazzy undertow, and then sings each note so smoothly with the same passion that makes you fall in love. With each passing note, a smile spreads across each of the faces. We're all feeling the same thing in the same moment and the congregation claps in a steady rhythm thinking "finally!".

This is God. 

It reminded me of this American pastor and public speaker, Tony Campolo, who encourages more progressive thought in the Christian community. My mom has a tape from him that we always used to listen to because he has so much spunk... exceptionally moving from what I'm used to. 

"In my church back home - it's a black church - we have a student recognition day once a year, and all the kids come in who are going to the universities. They're black, and they're bright, and they're beautiful. And the old folks in my church love to hear them as they say, 'I'm studying literature at Yale.' 'I'm studying music at Juilliard.' 'I'm studying science at Harvard' And they love to here these kids, and they just... at my church they're very responsive. They go, "Mama, thank you Jesus. Mmmm-mmmm. Beautiful, thank you Lord." It's a really nice feeling.

And when they were all finished and sitting down, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, my pastor got up and he said, 'CHILDREN!'. He talks like that. 'CHILDREN!', he said, 'YOU'RE GONNA DIE! YOU'RE GONNA DIE!' It's a good thing to tell kids. He said, 'you don't think you're gonna die but you're going to die. They're going to drop you in a hole. They're gonna throw dirt in your face and they're going to go back to the church and eat potato salad!!' Ain't it the truth? He said, 'When you were born,  you were the only one that was crying - everybody else was HAPPY! More important is this! When you die, will YOU be the only one that's happy...and everybody else will cry.' 'It depends,' he said, 'it depends on what you live for. Do you live for titles or TESTIMONIES.' Oh that's good. That preaches. Doesn't that preach? Titles or testimonies. Then he did what only my pastor can do, he swept through the entire New Testament in just five minutes. Now they can't do that when they come out of these Bible colleges over here. 'Today we're going exegete the third verse of the second chapter..' Yerrrr!

This guy starting in Genesis, swept through Revelation in five minutes. He said, 'There was 

Mo-o-ses and there was Pharoah. Pharoah had the title. Ruler of Egypt. That's a good title. Good title - Ruler of Egypt. Moses, on the other hand, was the low life who had no power, but when it was over Pharoah may have had the title, he had the title, but Mo-o-ses had - TESTIMONIES!!' He said, 'There was Daniel and there was Nebuchadnezzar. Nebuchadnezzar was King of Babylon. Good title - King. King Nebuchadnezzar. But when it was over, that's all he had. He had the title, he had the title, but Daniel had the...TESTIMONIES." He said, 'There was Jezebel, the queen. Good title - Queen. Every woman would love to be Queen Jezebel. And there was Elisha. Elisha was the prophet of God. She was going to kill him, but when it was over, that's all Jezebel had, was a title. SHE HAD THE TITLE BUT ELISHA HAD THE...[audience chimes in]...TESTIMONIES!'

People of God, I tell you the truth, one of these days you are going to die, and they're going to drop you in a hole, and they're going to throw dirt in your face, and they're going to go back to the church and eat potato salad. But the only question is, what do you leave behind? Are you going to have an obituary with a list of titles? Or are there going to be people standing around your grave giving

 testimonies - testimonies - testimonies".

tired of lifting weights

After three months of complete peace, my streak is over. With one fateful phone call my past spills mercilessly into my present. Granted, I've been given many warnings from the trusted best friend..."He's been wanting to call you."..."He said he was gonna call you this weekend."..."You should be expecting a call soon."... and I can't forget his so very slick visits to campus to simply say "hello". In true messy-breakup-ex-girlfriend style I avoided such public encounters until that familiar ring sung throughout the library with my expectancy singing right along beside it...

Coffee happened. Then dinner. In a matter of a week texts were exchanged, music was listened to in his car, bookstores were browsed, comparisons were made, and oh, declarations of love expressed. An "I love you" left his coffee stained lips. Or did I get it right? It was something around the lines of...[exact quote] "I am head over heels in love with you." Yes, I think that was it. Are my ears functioning correctly? We've broken up twice already; was he thinking the third time is the charm? I stared past him to the couple sitting behind us; it was all I could do not to slip a giggle. Did I mention he said I LOVE YOU. 

First of all I'm not one to fall for cliches..."head over heels"? Lets get a little more creative, shall we? We were on and off for a year and quite frankly, I've grown tired. My limits were tested. My trust was shoved aside. My love was taken for granted. In other words... I've learned my lesson.

• His argument: Apparently, deep down inside I have a yearning to get back together but I've built a wall and for some reason I won't let myself try.
  
• My argument: If such a wall exists he built it with all his shit. Besides that... there is no damn wall. I just moved on.

• He says: "I don't know you anymore, you don't know me; we've changed, it will be different. I need you to know that I've changed."
• I say: I suppose leaving my grill on for 5 days and stealing my parents' liquor is a grand improvement. Getting back together would be a colossal leap of faith if I've ever seen one. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, my house will be burnt to the ground.

Despite his assertions of our undeniable connection (which, by the way, I was not aware of) and an evening visit to bring me a flower after my performance in the play, I still view him as the same person. And if he has changed, ironically, I'm thinking I still wouldn't be attracted to him because I was only attracted to the wrong things in the first place.

In one such conversation, when I was outlining the reasons of how I've moved and that I've reached a point where I'm only settling for the best, he proceeded to tell me that my standards are too high and that he's only human; he might not be there 100% of the time but he can try his best. What he fails to notice is that it's not what he's doing or what he could do, but what he did. What I did. And what we are never going to do again.

But in a more positive light I have to take a moment and I admire his persistence. He really is a good person and he has surprised me in his dogged resoluteness. Unfortunately, it's 4 months too late. It's amazing how he can so adamantly believe that we are a perfect fit yet, I feel that we are worlds apart. Not to mention we are at completely different roads in life. I have so many goals and when I asked him to name his top 5 he replied plainly, "in my own time." It's also come to my attention that I'm sounding overly pompous. Let me clarify, I'm not a boy magnet by any means, nor do I claim to be, however, for some reason that I have yet to identify, I have beguiled this young man in every possible way. But I can tell you I fully intend to get some answers in the hopes of using such techniques in the future!

Here's where it gets sticky. When all distracting emotions lay silent, I'm left with such a clear view of what I believe to be right/wrong. Of course, sometimes when I'm "right" I'll be wrong and vice-versa but I've been trying to impart said clarity to willing (and some unwilling) friends. I've recently acquired an uber-feminist outlook on life. However, my sphere of influence only goes so far.  I've learned rants of women empowerment and girl outings don't do much to wipe away tears, assuage the guilt of a lost boyfriend, or prevent a trip to the scale, just in case that milkshake magically added 10 pounds in the past 24 hours.

To feel secure with one's self (mind, body, and soul) obviously takes your own methods of self-preservation intermittent with episodes of grieving. Unfortunately, it's only during these moments that we're struck with how far we've actually fallen.

I tend to sink like most. Slowly dropping beneath the surface, my hair winnowing as my oxygen slowly dwindles. Yet, others plunge. They fall so fast that the rush is too exhilarating to stop and think. What we fail to realize, despite the aching in our ears and what little breath we have left, is that we have to rise to the top every now and then to regain a bit of that clarity that comes to us so easily on land. And then... when do we know when to come up for air? Is it after a few fights? No, I've got plenty of time left. What about when our stomachs ache with hurt? Oh, that's nothing. And when we're so far over our heads that there's no longer a visible glimmer of light on the water's surface and we actually believe that we've almost reached the bottom, what about then? That's what we're after, right, to touch the bottom? To feel the love of struggling through something, fighting, making-up, but in the end, getting there. 

I hope to delay the inevitable as long as possible; the day that I truly believe I've altered fate and he (whoever he may be) has tied weights to my feet, wishing me good luck as I plummet downwards...

... let's hope I have my scuba suit.