Thursday, August 9, 2012

Bela Karolyi Will be My Life Coach

I had one of those months that I'd like to redo, from top to bottom. Best/worst of times. And naturally, through it all, I failed to write a single word in this blog of mine. I'm just that on top of things.

In other news, my roommate and I found ourselves a new apartment last night, which I am exceedingly pumped about. It's fancy, and way cheaper than my current place, and it will hopefully smell a lot less like pot brownies, dead cats, and movie theaters. Here's to hoping.

A bunch of my co-workers are at the Summit at Willow Creek today, listening to Condoleezza Rice tear it up while I sit at my desk and continue to email people W9s and request book permissions from various publishers. At some point soon, I will experience the glee of running to Kinkos. Please stand by. I know you're jealous.

                                                     Sigh.



I've been all angsty and crabby lately. Alright, I'm usually crabby, but it's been worse for the last few weeks, and I'm trying my darndest to work this out in a nonviolent manner. I've decided to take my lady rage out by joining a boxing gym. My biggest fear, of course, is that I will end up looking like Billy Blanks. Half turtle-half man. He could be a Ninja Turtle.

                                                                         Please no.

In other news,  the Olympics have gifted me with two solid weeks of blaming my parents for not forcing me into athletic child slavery. I was a gymnast. I'm horribly bitter. I could have been great.

Bela Karolyi will be retiring from gymnastics coaching soon. I mean, he has to at some point. And when he does, I will be ready to pounce on him and give him a new job: My life coach. How much more would I work out, how much better would I eat, how much harder would I work, how many more people would I remember to call back, if Bela was coaching me through it? I would get an A+ at life every single day.


Gold medal at life, sucker.


I reread Blue Like Jazz two weekends ago. That book is relentless. It forces me to look at my life and wonder, really, how much of my daily life is about the "religious activity" I live in, and how much of it is actually about my personal relationship with Jesus. Shortly after reading it, I had one of those conversations with a friend that left me horribly aware that more often than not, I am that moron Jesus is yelling about in Matthew 6. You know, the people he calls out for practicing their faith in front of others because they just want everyone to see how holy they are?


I live a life of writing and speaking about my faith, because that's my job, and because that's my passion. But this conversation was a reminder that sometimes, those who are the loudest about their faith are the most hurtful, because they come at you with an agenda. I think sometimes we get so caught up with our own words that we forget to listen.

GUILTY.

Jesus was a good listener. And he didn't love people with an agenda--he simply spoke the truth.

 The other thing this guy mentioned that really melted my face off was that maybe a relationship with God should be more personal than anything--maybe it should be between you and God first, always. And while I firmly believe in the importance of community and sharing the Gospel, what he said hit home. I wondered how much time I'd spent posting verses I've half-read, or Christiany-articles I've decided "someone else needs to read." How much of the way I practice my faith in my everyday world is about fixing others, versus actually giving God a chance to do great works in my own heart, and then letting him lead?

What do y'all think?


Anyway. Blablabla. Back to work.


1 comment:

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