Blogging is an interesting pursuit.  I've noticed some
people use it as a way to communicate about their ministry.  Others write
interesting insights they observe about life.

Whenever I am lost in thought trying to figure out my life,
I think, “That would make a good blog.”
 Then I remind myself that my life may not be
everyone’s business.
But then I figure
everyone is trying to figure out the same stuff.
 

I ask myself a lot of questions.
 Or rather, I ask God a lot of questions.
 It often seems like I am asking myself
questions, since a lot of the time God doesn’t say anything back.
 So there I am, talking to myself.
  Oh, I know He is listening, and my faith
allows me to believe He cares.
 But let’s
face it – there is a lot of dead air on His end of the line sometimes.
 Or maybe that’s just me and I shouldn’t be
writing this in a blog because you will know I don’t hear as much from God as I
want – or maybe you don’t either so it’s OK to be honest.

I ask questions like, “How am I supposed to do life here in
Georgia when my mom is dying of cancer in

Iowa?”
 “What will I be when I grow up?”
 “Where do I fit?”
  “Why do I see a life so full of good things
as often a boring waste of time?”

The other day I got this image in my head, which is unusual,
because I think in terms of numbers and facts much more than pictures.
  I was thinking about how I feel like I am struggling
to breathe in my life – struggling to find oxygen.
 And I thought of that scene in Matrix where
Neo comes out of that vat of nasty green slime and the tubes that were feeding
him and helping him breathe under water are popping off him.
 He’s standing there all slimy and bald and
nasty.
  He is grasping the understanding
that there is another reality he is experiencing that he’s never known – but he
is confused since he can’t figure it out and he’s struggling to take his first
breath of oxygen.
  He’s gagging on the
slime he inhales as he fights to get real air.

Now you expect that from a newborn baby fresh from the womb.

 It’s a new reality for him, but when he
fills his lunges with that first breath, all the systems kick into gear and he
breathes the rest of his life until at the end of his time he draws his last.
 

But you don’t expect that from a middle aged guy.
  You’d think he’d have more things figured out
by now.
  Like how to live in light of the
realities and relationships that make up his life.

You’d think he’d figured out how to breathe.