The Extravagance of Joy.

OK -- it's been too long since I posted a blog, but mainly cuz I have too much to say. That's going to have to wait til I have some time, but just a few words this morning on the Great Hair Experiment.

I'm amazed at the reception. My mom is, naturally, disgusted. In her mind, such nonsense is grossly inappropriate for a 34-year old. She's still willing to be seen with me in public-- barely -- but she has put her foot down. It MUST be blond for my cousin's wedding on May 6. This is fine by me -- I may even be able to make it through the Green Phase by then...

Everyone else, though, has shattered my expectations. Yesterday, at my Christian college that (in general) prefers its waters calm and its ice-cream vanilla, a random student stopped me in the hall and said "You know, every time I see your newest hair color, it makes me happy." It's been remarkable even to move toward those who subconciously move away and engage them genuinely -- you mean guys with blue hair are normal?

My favorite, though it really shouldn't surprise me, was the response at church. I arrived for Spiritual Direction Class last night having almost forgotten about the peacock crest on my head. I saw Gloria first -- Gloria rules. She laughed out loud and cried "I LOVE the blue!!!". Gloria and I are (probably) the youngest people in the room by a decade or so, and she's a blogger too. She'd already commented on the last blog, so I knew she'd seen it. It was the other reactions that moved me.

These are people I respect tremendously. Most of the time, I don't feel I fit in this crew -- they all seem so calm and connected to God and serenely alive in a way I can't quite grasp. I generally feel out of my depth, but God always meets me there, both directly and through His Beloved. I skipped a couple months when I bought the lie that I couldn't afford the time, but no more. I'm not sure how it can be a place of deep rest and profound stretching at the same time, but it is. Anyhow. As I collected my papers and headed for the circle, I met one older woman who gazed with somber mien at my head like an insurance adjuster. As I began to brace myself, she said "What happened to the orange? I really liked it, but now I wonder if this doesn't suit you even better." All around the circle, I was met with laughter and grins of approval. These people were entering into my fun -- my joy. Words are too small to frame my gratitude for these people in particular and my church body as a whole.

We talked about discernment last night, about the reality that discernment is easiest, works best, when it is lived as a lifestyle -- discernment is a function of relationship. We live immersed in God. He is never absent, never silent. All that's missing is our awareness of Him. Now, I am not saying that brightly-colored hair is God's Plan For My Life, but it IS helping me pay attention. Through my weird hair I'm feeling His joy, entering into His celebration, and the surprise is that He seems to be using it to bring others with me! Maybe soon, my mom will even come along.

It is my pronounced tendency to end these posts with worship lyrics. There's a tiny, bespectacled critic that sits at a desk by the bay window of my mind, marking up these pages, scribbling in the margins next to those lyrics things like "cliche'," "trite," "could you be more pontificating?" I want to throttle his dignified neck, but all I can do is open my hands. How can I pay attention to my life and not end up worshipping? I keep trying to convince God that none of this is really necessary -- that I don't deserve all this -- that His goodness is embarrassing.

He keeps saying "Tough. Deal with it."

Your Love is amazing, steady and unchanging, Your Love is a mountain firm beneath my feet.
Your Love is a mystery, how it gently lifts me, when I am surrounded, Your Love carries me.

Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Your Love makes me sing...

Just For The Fun of It...

I recently turned 34. And I'm a college sophomore. I decided (all in fun) that 35 was it. No more ridiculously adolescent behavior. So to take advantage of the year I have left, and as an effort to not only "live in the tensions", but host a party there, I have decided to spend this marvelous spring exploring the range of outrageous colors of hair dye available to modern man.

Note: I really don't want to take myself as seriously as I sometimes do. Now when I look in the mirror, I get a shocking reminder that life is supposed to be fun -- at least some of the time.

Check my progress here: http://homepage.mac.com/jeffmacsimus/PhotoAlbum14.html

Besides. The bird with the brightest plumage attracts the finest mate, right?

Who's Chasing You?

It's happening again. It seems like some of the people I feel closest to -- the people I most want to know and be known by -- are the people that are coming off as most distant and guarded (Notice, dear reader, I said SOME... This is a clear invitation for you to assume I'm not talking about you -- a cue for you to not take this personally, because that's not how it's intended. Roll with me, here...). I find myself surrepititiously checking my zipper, sniffing my armpits, mentally replaying conversations to isolate the exact moment my foot may have entered my mouth all unnoticed. It makes me feel frustrated, cut off at the emotional knees, like I'm hip-wading in the relational equivalent of setting concrete.

I'm reminded of that scene at the end of "My Best Friend's Wedding" where Cameron Diaz catches Julia Roberts kissing Dermot Mulroney and runs off. Dermot chases her and Julia's chasing him and talking to Rupert Everett on her cell phone. Rupert, with that sagelike wisdom and wit so often attributed by Hollywood to the Gay Best Friend, asks Julia "Who's Chasing You?" Ouch. Harsh Reality.

I wonder if I don't make God feel that way sometimes. I'm in hot pursuit of good grades or cool toys or deep, fulfilling relationships, and he's stuck to my heels driving a delivery van in rush-hour traffic. There's a big difference between Julia and God, though. He actually loves me, though He is jealous of all the things I put ahead of Him. He's not ditzy or conniving or manipulative like Julia. He's brutally honest. You don't get much more loving or brutal or honest or real than the cross. And really, why would I need anything more than that?

So I'm sitting here at work, typing on my laptop when I should be asleep. The chase always ends as soon as I realize that I'd rather be the one who gets caught. Odds are good that what I'm sensing from my friends has absolutely nothing to do with me, anyhow. Just Lewis' Law of Undulation sending ripples through the waters of community, waves that will rise again in time.

Meanwhile, there's communion... Soli Deo Gloria...