Mmm. John 14:6¹ nurtures my soul. I’m alive again you guys. I’m revitalized, refreshed, reignited, rekindled, revised, and alive. I’m in stride with God. I can feel Christ’s light glowing inside of me like the rocks at the rock show.² I’m on the right wavelength, and I never want to leave unless I can decrease the frequency of the wave.³

The InterVarsity retreat this past weekend was phenomenal. I’ve never been on such an impactful retreat. I came into it very apprehensive; there was so much homework and studying to do back at home. I didn’t want to drop all of that and focus on God for three days. It seemed illogical. That’s one of the most beautiful parts, though. What we see as illogical often isn’t. We’re only seeing maybe 1/5 of the map, whereas God made the map.

I devoted myself to focusing on God for the entire retreat. There would be no oogling over girls, fretting over my studies, or complaining. I devoted myself to getting myself back with God. I’m so glad to say that it happened. Even before I started college, I found myself cutting God out of my daily life. I’d push prayer off for weeks, and I’d go through days without recognizing Him. It was draining, and I knew I had to and how to get out of the rut, but I couldn’t.

This retreat was the rope that I needed thrown down to me. I vividly remember when I knew that everything was back; it was a “click”. The second morning we had our track/specific study meeting, and I was tired. We split off into our quiet time, and I grabbed my backpack and rested my head on it while I was on the ground. I stayed there and stared at the ceiling for at least 10 minutes with the clearest mind I have ever experienced since starting college; it was just me and God, and I didn’t want to be anywhere else.⁴

I’m alive again and I want to stay alive. On the ride back from the retreat, Emil said that we were back in the real world now. How true, and how frightening. I was honestly scared to be back in the real world. It was beautiful being on the mountain top with God, but it was time to get back down into the valley. This retreat was the first time that I was genuinely glad to have gone, frightened to come back, inspired to react, and consumed to dedicate.

Listen to John Foreman sing a part of Relient K’s Death Bed. It’s right at the end, and it is a beautiful translation of John 14:6.

I am the way / follow me and take my hand
and I am the truth / embrace me and you’ll understand
and I am the life / and through me you’ll live again
for I am Love

Mmm. I’m fully alive — like we were all meant to be.

1. Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. [↩]
2. There was a “rock show” with literal rocks at the InterVarsity retreat. They glowed in the presence of UV light, and it made for a nice biblical metaphor. [↩]
3. And this is assuming that a longer wavelength is more desirable. [↩]
4. Comically, I had begun to doze off into a sleep and apparently started to snore. How embarrassing. [↩]

This will be a short one — I think. My sister texted me¹ that my parents decided to put Kay, the oldest dog in our family — maybe some 16 odd human years old — to sleep. She had suffered from a stroke this past morning, and it seems that my parents thought it best to let Kay go.

There’s an uncanny coincidence here. Early in the second semester of my senior year, my dog — my loyal pug, Muffy — fell victim to what we supposed to be a coyote. Furthermore, she was on her back in a Wisconsin winter for an entire night. The afternoon before she died, when I was coming home from school, I remember walking into the patio and watching both Kay and Muffy run over to me like they hadn’t seen anyone all day (and they really hadn’t). I remember looking at Muffy because there was something different in her stare; taking that into consideration, as well as the fact that I hadn’t had quality time with her for the entire week, I flirted with the idea of having her sleep with me for the night.

As the evening dragged on, that idea slipped my mind, and instead of my snoozing on my bed, Muffy rested — literally and eternally — outside. Sometimes I wish I had brought her in, but I think I know that it really doesn’t matter. There’s no sense in toying with what-ifs.

Her death was the first death I had ever experienced on a personal level. I see that as God’s way of easing me into dealing with death. In my pursuit for a career in medicine, I had better learn how to deal with death. Now with the death of two dogs — two dogs who I literally grew up with — I feel like I’m ready to deal with human death. If someone very close to me had died before Muffy and Kay, I think I would have become psychologically insecure.

I said before that there was a coincidence in Muffy’s and Kay’s deaths; before each passed away, I had a small urge to want to be with them. Earlier this week I was thinking about Kay and how blessed I was to have her in my life. I wanted to bring her onto my bed, pet her, and just think. I wanted to do that this weekend.

My sister texted me right before orchestra rehearsal began. When I read the words, my heart sank the slightest measurement. The impact of death bounced, and I’m predicting that it will continue to bounce, right off of me. Generally, I find that a good quality. I don’t mean to say that I have no emotion or sympathy for when someone passes away. I only mean to say that death doesn’t seem to wreck me — not the slightest bit; at least, it doesn’t initially.

Now on a brighter note, I’m aiming my next blog to be one of hope and inspiration. In a nutshell, I’ll be presenting the last project I ever completed in high school. Let me share this verse as it seems to capture the idea of this post, and projects some insight of my next post.

Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us . . . Romans 5:3-5

1. Don’t you find it peculiar that a lot of the up-and-comings communicate through text? It can be so cold in that fashion, but when seen in a different lense it can be so vivacious. [↩]

I brought this up at either lunch or dinner the other day: People don’t realize how special their teeth are.

Think about it. The only demographic that MIGHT be able to be excluded are those with their baby teeth. They still possess the opportunity for another tooth after losing their first baby tooth. Now those with adult teeth — permanent teeth — should pamper their mouths.

Brush twice a day, and, from what I’ve recently learned, 10 minutes after you’ve consumed food.¹ Don’t eat too much candy, even though it is quite delectable. Take care of your teeth.

Isn’t that a really shocking thought? I’m on my last set of teeth — ever! If I lose one to disease or to a basketball from my blind side I will be without an authentic tooth for the rest of my life. I don’t believe in any of that cosmetic stuff either. If I lose a tooth, I’ll make like Michael Strahan.²

On an aside, I’ve started reading, and I’m halfway through after two nights,³ “The Shack”. It’s a theological narrative, and it’s so good. I’ll write about it after I’ve finished reading.

1. Seven out of 10 dentists . . . [↩]
2. Michael Strahan, recently retired defensive end of the New York Giants had a gap between his top two incisors. [↩]
3. On the first night I was 3/4 of the 1/2 way through. [↩]