I should go to bed but...

I was writing a rough journal and a thought that started forming earlier this evening started forming a bit more and I figured as I was writing it down why not articulate and share. Being in suburban London right now I feel a little cut off from the rest of the world so this way I can pretend I am still in touch.

Can't be arsed to review Christmas just yet. It was good, busy, a big haze of thinking and storing up and pondering but then I suppose that is what the end of the year is for. Mary had the right idea.

What was it from today?

Firstly a circumstance that arose out of a little thing (which had been discussed at lunch in the context of mathematically modelling God's plan - not easy!). Namely a pizza that a friend and I shared and both felt at the end, with our doggie bags, that it was not worth buying such a large one as, since we were back home, dinner was provided. Stupid money that cost (for a student you understand). Ah well, we'll learn. Then on the way home, as I debated munching it anyway before dinner as something to do on the train (instead I got so into this book that I missed my stop and nearly missed it again coming back!), I was convicted to give it to a homeless lady I saw. Thus dealing with several issues at once, not least self-control. But probably most, the importance of acting on what I believe. Not a huge amount, I still can't handle that I fear, but to say that I need to practise what I preach and get down to a little bit of sharing the love and appreciating people, all people, is quite an understatement.

We had a wicked time, I always do with those that aren't bound up in this crappy society; I wonder there is any point coming back to it sometimes. I am already comfortable and indulgent and compromising my actions but a few hours on. One thing that she said, that I had read in the aforementioned book but hadn't expected to see it so clearly and so soon after, was that all the c*nts that were rude, tried to pimp her/buy her, ignore and degraded her... all these people just went to show that the ones that didn't were that much more special. She said that she saw the 1% that was good and that she didn't think many people in London even saw that. Talk about an attitude of gratitude. And such a testimony to how I see evil - the way it is there to contrast against God that we may understand how bloody fantastic He is and choose to love Him. You can't comprehend light until you see the contrast with darkness.

Not the point of this post. The point was this:
She commented on my boots and said that she like them. That she spent a lot of time at street level and so had become quite aware of such things. Then she said that she had spotted me walking past before, 'cause I had quite a distinctive outft on (I was wearing a mixture of furry snow boots, bright red and leopard print I confess) and asked me why I had come back (I did the Levite before I did the Good Samaritan). I didn't tell her it was 'cause I didn't want to get fat munching on the train but it did make me think later... She saw me, standing out in the crowd, I was not just another pair of shoes. I see a lady on the street and I think she is obvious because she is outcast and different but I (despite my outfit choices - these thing are only relevant to the analogy not the message) will merge into the crowd and pass by unnoticed. Eh-eh (imagine gameshow blunder sound). There is no excuse, there is no reason, there is no opting out of that scenario. We cannot blend into the background and pretend that we are not part of that scene, that hustle and bustle; we have been spotted and are implicated whether we like it or not.

I'm going to quote Shane now, quoting yet someone else again, 'cause he is my (and everyone else's at the moment!) new "hero". It won't be as eloquent I warn you now:
Guy says to another guy "I want to ask God why he lets so much poverty and suffering happen in the world but I'm afraid He will ask me the same question back."
We are God's hand and feet on earth now that Jesus isn't here, the body of Christ as it were, so if we see things that need doing, duh, aren't we the instruments to get it done? That last bit was very much in the words of K.B. but the principles run deeper even that S.C. nay twas J.C. Himself.

Blimey. This is some serious shit. We're talkin' 'bout a revolution, sounds, like a whisper.

The Analogy That Keeps on Giving

I am waiting for growth. Enjoying it short while it lasts. Surely I can let the metaphor go for a while.

But no! What's happened now? I hear you ask. Is the style growing out, maybe I got a trim or a perm (wow that would not work at all)? I actually think that the shape is doing OK. I may or may not tidy it up when I get back to London but it seems to have lasted alright.

I have simply made an insightful observation based upon pre-existing features.

Before I got the chop and went for the "cut the crap and start again approach" to my hair. I was trying to bring it back to ginge (which, in case you didn't know due to repeated brainwashing of jealous people, is a wonderful colour akin to gold and totally cool) the artificial and "fast-tracked" way. That is through dye. The latest time I tried this, when my roots were already at least an inch long, they used an "organic permanent mix" instead of the usual semi as it would be better for the condition. Organic you say? Bring it on I say. BUT, you know what this means? The bit of root I had that ended up being the bulk of the short drastic 'starting again' haircut was actually dyed.

Which meant that I turned out to be more ginger than I actually am naturally.

Only fractionally, maybe a shade more orange, but it does notice in the right light (now my true true roots are coming through) and the overall effect is subtly but significantly brighter.

And this is where it gets clever see. I have been thinking about how maybe I have been being a bit "too" Christian of late. Like, it started out funny and it still is a lot of the time but I don't want to become someone that is all about generic identity and forgetting the fearfully and wonderfully made part.

Looking for your new identity in Christ can be hard, particularly when there are things in your old identity that are tied in with negative conotations. The temptation is to say these things I knew about me are wrong and I need to "find myself" again but you know what, Jesus has already found me. I once was lost but he left those 99 sheep to look for me and is now rejoicing over me with singing. Along with all the angels. I just need to take out the bits of debris that I picked up in the wilderness.

For example: I talk a lot. I mean a lot. There are good things in this. Some of my friends have really encouraged me with statements such as "I like it 'cause it means I don't have to" and it sure comes in handy with some people some of the time and certain types of in-your-face evangelism. But this verbosity has been a bit of point of tension for me, particularly recently since, delightful character trait though it is, it becomes hard to pretend that being "too much" is always other people's problem. I mean, you seldom hear people say that Russell Brand just isn't understood properly and should be put in charge of more things, do you?! Unless you hear it from me that is... "They just can't handle me" was not something that Paul said about mixing with both the Jews and Gentiles etc. So from this came the temptation to believe, based upon the times that I miss the mark, that I am actually just totally wrong in myself. I sure didn't want to live in denial of things I need to change.

The idea of refinement vs rejection of these qualities got a bit muddled up till I wasn't really sure where the old me and the new me changed over. I know I do get it wrong and have a tendency to sometimes speak compulsively and without due care and attention but I didn't want to throw the baby out with the bathwater and assassinating my whole unique character seemed a bit drastic. Confusing.

But the hair thing helps a lot.

As I see it, I am a hell of a lot closer to natural than platinum blonde was. In all the process of trying to force myself into God's identity for me I just got a bit carried away and over did it. But it is relatively small, it will not last forever and it isn't a bad bad match. In time the ends will become a smaller ratio of dyed to real and then, little by little, get trimmed away. (Mum, could you book me that appointment actually please!)

People that know me of late think I'm a bit off the wall; people that knew me before Switzerland think I have calmed down a lot; people that watched it happen... I don't really know what they think...! But somewhere in the middle of all this is a happy balance and I just need to peace out and let God make it happen. In time. As I wait patiently and don't try and force it 'cause actually that don't work. I am alright. I am not perfect. I am in the best possible hands.

When was in GVA and we did the gig (a prime time for God showing me insecurities I forgot I had) we dressed up in *quite* silly outfits. Both my other band members (which is why I am putting their pic up too! Share the responsibility...) wanted orange hair and I am game for most things. So we did this:

Which now screams to me to be the perfect symbol of what I am not supposed to do. Put on make up and fake it to make the issues go away. I ain't conforming for anyone, it isn't about being as orange as I can (fun though it sometimes is!) but about being as orange as I am supposed to be. The blonde in strawberry blonde is there for a reason.

Best of both. Like hovis only not bread.

Slow Motion

I am incredibly tired. Like, sitting down in the hall and lying still doing nothing for two hours once I've finished breakfast tired. I hate it. I have SO MUCH to do today: am in the middle of packing as I leave my parents house and head towards Bristol and the new home and life waiting for me there. I can only take what will fit into my Nissan Micra - the clue is in the name (MS I'll put up pics when I can be arsed) - and there is lots left behind that needs to be in some kind of semblance of order. All this and I just want to sit around. Even blogging is an effort.

It worries me. I don't like it one bit and am convinced I am ill. My mother on the other hand seems to think that it is perfectly normal that after a summer jam packed with activity, a final week of mayhem, moving countries, sorting out and moving house here, plus all the emotional jack that goes with it all, may take its toll. Well, I don't know. Maybe she's right. How pants is that, I really need to be able to go go go.

Or not. So apparently it is time to stop and rest and move at half speed for a while. I am just going to have to listen to my body and not have unreasonable expectations of myself. That is, after all, one of the grace killers and if I want to be in line with God's plans perhaps I will have to be content to not do very much.

September, it seems, is going to be a slow month but I suppose that fits in with where I am at right now. I took everything I possibly could from my time in Geneva, would have done more if I had the time. Now I just need to absorb it all and recoup. My body, it seems, is not taking anymore abuse! Plus I am starting 'school' in a month and would quite like to be on top form for that. Haven't done so well in the past and I must take the time to be the best prepared I can, that this time I really do it properly.

On top of this my mind too is half asleep so who knows what will happen to BGB? I won't have the internet where I am going, though apparently the whole harbourside in Bristol is now wireless (some change is good change - the indisputable example!), but the future is unclear... Maybe once the fog clears I'll let you know what the outcome of it all is.

See you around, though I will be slow and boring for a while so perhaps not!