Pages From My Journal

Right now, life is just a bunch of scattered thoughts. If I had lengthy content to go with all of my big ideas, you would have enough blog posts to read for the next six months. But, I don't. Instead my brain jumps from thought to thought without fleshing out an idea completely. Something happens every day that I think I could or should write about, but the thoughts pass with my chaotic life and never manifest as solid content. I don't like that. I want to do life, make mistakes, and learn enough to teach others. God has caused me to realize certain things about him and about life--I can't help but think it's sort of wrong to not let others know about all He's done. I think of Psalm 145:4-7, where it says, "One generation shall commend your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts. On the glorious splendor of your majesty, and on your wondrous works, I will meditate. They shall speak of the night of your awesome deeds, and I...

So, you want to be a writer. Good. There are so many stories in the world and in the minds of many that need to be told. Know that being a writer is like having a superpower. You have the power to build worlds and create characters that live lives that inspire and encourage others. This power can also destroy people too, you know, so use your ability wisely. Because of your power, you'll probably feel a weighty responsibility, a form of guilt to write. After all, they are your stories, and if you don't write them, who will? Know that you can't make everyone happy. Not everyone will love your story as much as you, and some will reject your work, outright, if you desire to seek publication. By aspiring to be a published author, you will have to give others the power to hurt you. Know that to write certain events, you will have to think through what it's like to feel certain emotions . Perhaps, you'll have to remember events that you don't want...

I've sat down to write this post many times. Every day for nearly a week, I've attempted to put into words what it has been like to finish my WIP and adapt to life back home all at the same time. Overall, I've been fairly productive. I knew I had to get my current WIP done before I move to camp to be counselor for the summer. I'd try to get up by nine every day, which turned out to be very difficult. College sucked more life out of me than I had thought. So, anytime my brother needed to be at school early, I volunteered to take him so I had a reason to get out of bed. I learned to create an instrumental playlist on Spotify that could help me get focused quickly on my story when I made time to write. Within two weeks, I'd rewritten and edited the last 34,000 words in my dystopian/utopian mashup novel. In addition to finishing the book, I wrote the synopsis, blurb, pitch, and query letter. I finished reading "Discipling" by Mark Dever and "Go...

I am an anchor. Intentionally built to sink, To ground someone else While they float in the sky. Chained to the clouds, I fight, Against the tides, against The wind. The tugging means That I am alive. The fighting provides Me with breath. What if the chain breaks, I fear. I can't lift myself, I know. Worry is real, But fighting is life. *** My Commentary: I'm not really sure how I thought of this poem. Largely, it's about the hurt that comes when you choose to find your identity in your service to other people. Helping people shouldn't become our obsession, a source of bitterness, our identity. Without the grace of God, that's exactly what service becomes.

Frankly, I don't deserve the awesome experiences I've had over the past school year. I didn't deserve to have such an awesome group of friends and a great relationship with a handful of guys from my brother hall. So many moments made me smile, and I'm overwhelmed by God's grace to give me such an amazing first year. Looking back at pictures, I'm reminded that God blessed with me friendships and experiences when I stopped trying to "make things work." My first semester was really good, but I'll admit to trying to hold too tightly the plans for my own life. Even still, I enjoyed my first semester. But I loved my second semester, and God blessed me abundantly. The second was very different from the first. I didn't stop caring about having cool experiences or having good friends, but I chose to care first about my love for God. It sounds so simple, to fall in love with Jesus before falling in love with being a college student. But, trust ...

I am dead. But please, don't Try to measure, the Life, you think I must Have had.   Because I Was born this way. You see: My lungs don't know what it's like, To inflate with the air of life. My flesh and bones can only create An illusion: me bearing weight. And, my heart--my heart is stone. I cry, I hug, I ache, But know not a sliver of feeling. Jealousy, love, hate. I feel nothing—nothing real. Do you know? What it's like. To own a living life? I've heard there's a way To come alive for the first time, To rip out this rock heart, And replace depravity's hole With something … oh, something, So divinely set apart. All I know: Is that I cannot make my own heart beat. But, I do feel desperation, And I so desperately Want to be alive. *** My Commentary: My fear in writing this poem was that somehow, people would get a zombie feel about it. Our world has a good understanding of what death is. The ...

Her name is Naomi. She was a Journalism student and two years ahead of me. That's all I knew about my roommate, and that was enough.            In the months leading up to the big freshman migration to college, I watched countless girls put endless energy into finding "the perfect roommate." The college even provided a website that would help connect students with each other who might get along and enjoy sharing their college life together. On the freshman Facebook page, all these future students interacted with each other, sharing all the hopes, dreams, and desires they had for their future roommate.            I could never be someone's "perfect roommate" and I could not dare putting that expectation on someone else. I could only imagine the volatility in a relationship that would result if founded on such unattainable plans.          ...