Black Coffee and Pain

On most mornings, I like my coffee black. And pain...I like pain. When I drink alcohol, I opt for shots rather than mixed drinks or beer because I'd rather down my poison in one manly gulp than reflect between dainty sips on why masculinity as so often associated with the disgusting and distasteful. I often get mad at men who call fouls when playing a sport, because they seem like weenies to me. If one feels like he got hit too hard on the last play, he'll have the opportunity to dish it out in return sooner or later.

These are not objective observations, hence the first-person narratival format. They do provide a keen insight into my own mind, and perhaps the mind of others as well. I am sick of the mundane; the normal; the mediocre. Yet somehow I am still Reformed. Yes...the same worldview that believes God's primary means of grace to be those "ordinary" elements of the Word and sacraments and somehow attracts an inordinate number of spectacle-clad nerds...that is the worldview of this edgy extremist.

The world often bores me, so I turn it into an adventure. Power and pleasure make for hollow pursuits, and only the understanding of history offered in the Bible is compelling in the least. I must always be the hero in the final throes of life, and my damsel must exhibit distress per the stereotype. "Weird" and "quirky" become my two favorite (though bland) adjectives, as they innately describe those things and people that are set apart in my estimation.

ADD overtakes me at every turn--in the classroom, church, and conversation. Even when the subject matter in these things is compelling, I always simultaneously partake of the experience and scan the horizon for some grand overarching metanarrative that imbues life and individual experiences with greater meaning. My favorite mental term growing up was "suddenly," and I would attach that term to my inner-monologue throughout the day--most days--so as to make that next step more exciting.

And now I have the most wonderful of jobs and the most wonderful of ladies. My job is the ministry of the Word--where I get to speak on God's behalf to His people every Sunday. God divinely opens and closes hearts through my humble messengering, and that thought is invigorating. When a church drop-out dropped-in to my event this past Friday night, I cornered him and told him that I would always be accessible to him, though he was complete stranger. He was at church this morning. I like people who view church as something more than a routine.

My girlfriend--here called "L"--is the most wonderfully-weird person I know. She is additionally wonderful to accept my bizarre adjective with the positive connotations with which it is infused. She is a mystery that the mind cannot fully comprehend--a sillouette in the lighted doorway. She makes conversation an extraordinary experience, for her quirkiness fills out that empty space often residing alongside the normal, dreary activities of life.

The two greatest things I know--the power of God in His Word and the power of love--are such because they fill out the empty space. In each (though the latter is certainly subordinate to the former), words have power and meaning. Abstractions and ideals are personified. Each provides its own backdrop to the primary storyline at the forefront. Both project the human heart beyond the plane of normalcy to that of progressive revelation (to borrow a friend's recent term)--one as a window into the Divine plan and the other as a mirror. They suggest that there is more to life then the bland and boring--and much more than that offered even by black coffee and pain.