Also Levi and Valerie,
Further dedication to my many friends who have actively shared Christ,
There's a friend of mind in the Air Force. She's a cool person, and I respect her. Personally, I have an interest in potentially joining the Air Force someday, but I'm holding back on that decision for now. At the moment, it doesn't seem right to jump into something like that. It takes a giant leap of faith, and at one time it was tempting to say that this would have been my way of putting that faith completely in God, but right not it feels like it would be more of an investment in human planning.
So I'm not in the Air Force. Although I love Air Force members. I treat them as people truly worth associating with, truly worth being proud in. They're the type of people I like to keep in my extended group of peers.
That's where something tricky comes up. Sometimes they say things about non-airmen that are sort of disrespectful. Not all civilians in general, but people who say that they admire the Air Force, and I don't know if I'm included in that sentiment or not. It's sound like, "How lame of you to say that you admire the Air Force and don't actually have the actions to back it up!" Or, "You talk the talk without walking the walk. You secretly just hate the Air Force but give it lip service in order to make you feel better."
Or maybe she might just take objection to being considered a peer. I don't know, Adriana, you tell me.
I'm proud of the Air Force. I like to associate myself with the Air Force and show my support, even if I'm not in it myself. And some would consider that pretty wimpy.
I dunno. I'm still considering joining before age becomes an issue.
Even so, if I never do, I feel I will be somewhat judged forevermore by Air Force members when I say "That's so cool! I really wanted to join it, too, but it wasn't the right thing for me..."
Which, let's admit it, isn't the best wording. A better way of saying that would be "I felt God calling me somewhere else." Nonetheless, I'm trying to convey that I feel a common bond, a shared spirit. It hurts when people say subtle things that put down others who aren't fully baptized in the name of the President, and the Flag, and the Living Constitution. I'm trying to live out a life as God has it planned for me, even if its direction doesn't immediately appear as obvious as someone with a name for their mission.
There are certain other people who say things like "Once you join the Marines, you can't hang out with normal people again. There's just no way." It's as if people who aren't at the top of their game are somehow less of people as those who are. Unless I'm Batman, I'm simply not as real to them. Maybe even a hippie.
Ironically, these military men and women hang out quite a bit with normal people. And say it to our faces. And at the same time, they're not insulting us. Chris Avery said something to that extent to Eston, Mark, the other Chris, and me, back when we were in college together. We just nodded our heads in agreement. "Yes," we agreed. We completely agreed. "Those civilians aren't as commendable as Marines."
Somehow, we also said this without condemning ourselves.
We believe in Semper fi. And of course, I suppose that many of us who aren't in the military really respect that creed while at the same time not including ourselves a part of that faithful brotherhood. We're just glad that our military men support us, and from that we have a bond. We aren't united as Marines or Air Force members, but on a broader level, we're all Americans filled with the Living Constitution in our hearts.
It still feels hard, though. If I never join, if I never take advantage of my youth and put it wholeheartedly into service in the Service, there's a good chance I will regret it. Think of all the ways in which it could inspire me as a writer!
But then, I'll have experiences that will make me into who I am, and I will be quite happy for them. I won't imagine things turning out any other way than the way they did. Because that's reality. That will be me, and it's a paradox of self-hatred to hate myself. I'll see where it all led, and on some level understand what God in His omniscience sees in me.
When I thought about this military service the other day, my thoughts flowed to a bigger question, something even more on my mind on account of the then upcoming Elevate Conference.
A lot of my friends have gone on mission trips. Monica McConnell, Justin Gloudemans, Eston Adamson, and Paige Rensink, Bridget Rowe — all of you and much more. If we haven't had the time for those, I know many of us have time to be spiritual leaders, to actively reach out and make a difference in the Christian community. We start Bible study groups. We lead in praise times. We get involved in youth ministry. We create Christian art.
I write blogs entries to a small audience of four close friends.
Now, there's no shame in that, but I feel grounded. My life is busy right now. Before, I had ambitions of creating impressive artwork. There were ideas in my mind that I really wanted to turn into a reality, ways of understanding my faith that I couldn't express with words, but I could surely put into images that would make lasting impressions.
However, I have not been able to prolong that habit. Life got in the way. So I write blog entries.
For everything that I did build, for every flower I did add to the Garden, I'm happy. Really, that art, every time I look at it, speaks of an infinity. Even so, it's witin my very nature to continue. Art is my love.
Writing is, too. So I'm still living the Christian life.
But what happens when life becomes so pressing that I don't have much time to be Christian for anyone but myself?
Many of us probably couldn't afford to go on a mission trip. We probably all had busy lives that ruled them out as impractical additions to our schedule and budget. Yet, somehow, many of you persevered and made that leap anyway, in spite of everything holding you back. You went. You also wondered how this would be financially possible, and the God who created the universe provided you your daily bread. They went out there and they made that difference.
At least, so we romanticize that notion.
Paige Rensink wonders what I have sometimes wondered. We go, stick around for a few weeks, a full summer if we're feeling generous, but when that time is up, we go rushing back to our homes in order to continue our educations. We rarely put lives on hold, but instead use our vacations as an excuse to go our and do something exciting. We make a difference, but we don't have any intention of staying. There are people who need us, but we make ourselves feel better by saying that maybe just building a schoolhouse for them is enough.
Maybe our mission trips are nothing more than spiritual tourism.
So that puts people like me, who contributes his two pennies by writing a blog, in a better light, right? I'm not capable of giving much, but I'm writing for the sake of Christ! And the artist, who offers little tangible for this world, opens the granary doors of spiritual nourishment. For all who stop, look, and listen, we are there.
Well, I came into another problem. When I say that I'm grounded, I really, really am grounded. These blog entries are a sacrifice. They take up my time, time that could be used to study and complete my homework. Time that I could spend reading and learning more for the sake of others.
Maybe this entry is a waste of my time.
You see, I'm falling behind on school because of my attempts to express my faith every day. That's a sacrifice, but is it altogether a noble one?
I write this in a culture of Christian evangelism, where in spite of what we hear about the world today, there are still many Christians who every day show that they have faith. They strengthen the body as a whole. They do good things in the eyes of the Lord. They look back at their last few months and can definitely see how they have managed to live for Christ.
Then there are people who are busy. I don't feel particularly ashamed of my inability to go on a mission trip. I am very, very happy for those who have — even those who think that maybe they only accomplished spiritual tourism, because you never know how God plans to use that. I'm not jealous. I love writing and love art and I know that God uses this in remarkable ways.
The questions I have, though, is whether or not people would see me as a peer. Or a hypocrite.
When I say, "I want to join the Air Force!" and yet don't join, it looks bad. If you disagree, imagine if I said that to a woman in the Air Force and then later asked her out on a date, intending — as proper Christian men do — to marry her. The chemistry simply doesn't match up. I want to be something. She already is that something. And if I never actually joined the Air Force while still holding the attitude that I would if I had the time, she would probably leave me because she didn't see me as someone who could spiritually lead her.
Imagine that same situation, except with a woman who had been on a mission trip or two. I say "I hope to go over to Asia, which may or may not work out in the next few years." But I write a blog! I create art!
In the end, I suppose it comes down to how gracious she is. Maybe she would consider me a peer, even if there was no guarantee that I would indeed to go India or China or Turkey. Maybe she would see me as someone strong in Christ, living a life along a distinct vector line drawn by Him, and even consider me to spiritually lead her. So rarely, though, that's what I feel.
When I ran into someone, and old acquaintance whom I undoubtedly considered the most beautiful woman on the planet, I felt a little off. She was a leader in her small groups. She went to Christian leadership conferences. When I last saw her, she mentioned how she and her friends had shared the wonderful experience of going to another continent in order to share the Gospel of Christ.
Oh, and she respected me as a cool guy.
Being the human I am, full of that inexplicable stuff of thought, my mind raced around to create all sorts of interpretations of that situation. I wondered what her family would think if I asked her out and she took me home. Would her father or mother or siblings think that she could do better? Would it really be possible for someone who never had time to join a nearby Bible study or commune every day with a Christian brotherhood to spiritually lead her? Is she simply more advanced than me?
That's the future. I still think about those things, and in many ways they don't matter. It's a hypothetical situation (one that nonetheless captures my interest), so my my current life plans don't really take it into account.
But let's take this somewhere else. Levi, you have now on several occasions told me that I am the smartest person you know. Several people in high school told me the same thing, even though I didn't have the best grades in senior year and I never got accepted into the National Honor Society. Rebekah Duikhyzen told me something that still haunts me and frustrates me half a year later: "I think you're one of the most loving people I know and that you rarely ever think of yourself."
People tell me these things, that I'm smart, that I'm loving, and I don't feel it. I'm a miserable student, and my ability to "do the Christian thing" is either severely handicapped, or completely ethereal. It is very difficult to accept that I am who they say that I am.
See, I'm in a prison. I see others who are very free to live for Christ. They are empowered. They take leaps of faith and are rewarded for it. Even if they do financially struggle for it, they know it's the right thing, whereas I may have to discontinue even this blog, and other Christian friends have even agreed with me on that point.
I am very happy for those friends. I'm also sad...not for myself, but for this blog.
Even if I can't continue writing this, if my prison of schooling and work prevent me, maybe I'm freer than I thought. Maybe prison is no prison after all. If the overt act of "doing the Christian thing" is really just a selfish ambition, what then?
The Apostle Paul wrote from prison:
Now I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ.
If to live is Christ, then this purgatory I've put myself in is really a glimpse of Heaven. And I see it, too. The pragmatist. The part of me that, if you put your faith in leaps of faith, you might call "the wisdom of this world."
Last month I grew a Walt Disney mustache. He was a man well-accustomed with sorrow. He had to work from the bottom, deal with people who stole his intellectual property, only to finally gain a foothold and start making progress. This man was a visionary. He was someone who looked at nothing and saw something.
I work as a student with little time for Christian networking. I work at McDonald's, where the work environment prevents me from having conversations about my faith. From a religious perspective, there's nothing Christian about it. From a Christian perspective, there's a peculiar something to it.
This prison that prevents me from being overtly Christian did not come about because I'm without Christ. I put myself through this precisely for Christ. I have a vision. I also understand where this could all go, what I could learn, and what I can make of it all for His sake. It just doesn't show up on the radar of worldly wisdom. My vision, in fact, is not all that different from Walt Disney's, because I see so many possibilities that could really make a big difference someday.
I am very happy for those who have been able to share the work of Christ. I'm with you guys in spirit, and I also really appreciate your support. It amazes me that you have the Grace to say that I'm Christian even when I don't see it in myself, and your support has given me joy at this point in my life. It has especially given me faith in Christ, that He truly can make His presence known even in the lowest of sinners.
So many Christians live their lives feeling as if all they have contributed to the Kingdom of God was "blah." But God says to the student falling behind on grades, "You're smart." And because He says it not as encouragement, but because it becomes a reality when it's in His Word. He also says to the foolish person, "You are wise." He says to the meek, "You are mighty." He says to the unloving person, "You have loved Me."
Our ability to live our the mission on practical terms isn't freedom. Imprisonment from active missions and church fellowship doesn't inhibit freedom. Freedom comes from the Word of God.
Now, the bad news. I will not be able to write in this blog nearly as much as I would like to. It's a wonderful way of expressing my faith, but on most days I will have to live life without living up to religious expectations. It's a sacrifice to write in this blog; it is a sacrifice to give it up. I talked it over with Vaags and she agrees that I need to focus on getting past this current transition point in my life. "Everyone goes through it," she said. Which my mother did, and I know my mother would tell me the same thing. I've been pinned.
I do truly hope to write again soon.
Until then, know that God has a plan and truly works in wonderful, mysterious ways. Always be glad for your brothers and sisters in faith.
Yes, I will continue to rejoice, for I know that through your prayers and the help given by the Spirit of Jesus Christ, what has happened to me will turn out for my deliverance. I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.
Sincerely,
John Hooyer
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