It was dark and cold that night, too, as I sat on the grounds of my college patiently awaiting my mother. My heart was heavy and broken as I shivered in silence. But I wasn’t sad; on the contrary, I was on the brink of rediscovering the majestic glory and grace of God.

See, that same year began with a fervent hatred of God. I had spent some time considering His existence and had decided it must not be true. Rather foolishly, I had let the radical minority speak for the majority and I let their hatred fill my heart. My atheism was never simply a lack of faith; it was very similar to the way C. S. Lewis describes his frame of mind during his time as an atheist–

“I was at that time living like many atheists; in a whirl of contradictions. I maintained that God did not exist. I was also very angry with God for not existing. I was equally angry with him for creating a world. Why should creatures have the burden of existence forced on them without their consent?” (source)

I decided that since I didn’t believe, no one else should, either. I joined an online community of believers with the intent of mocking them and destroying their faith. I considered myself to be superior to them because I had figured out the truth.

Eventually, I finally gathered enough courage to announce my disbelief on my blog to be read by my oldest and dearest friends. To my great surprise, they regarded me with a generous dignity and kindness. From that day to the end of my atheist year (and beyond) I carried on a lengthy and at times rather ugly discussion with Lindsey on the topic of morality and God.

Meanwhile, within that community I had joined, I engaged my brothers and sisters in even uglier debates. There were many among them who stepped forward with kind intentions and kinder patience. They made their cases and moved on yet still I remained unpersuaded.

In my discussion with Lindsey, I had gone from being a moral relativist to hedonist to finally discovering Soren Kierkegaard and his subjective truth. In Soren, I found a sort of solvent for my disbelief. His writing was striking, fascinating, and made sense to me.

Somewhere in the midst of all this, I began reading Madeleine L’Engle’s Time Quintet. It happened one day while I was still stuck deep in my hatred that I was standing on the sidewalk outside my work reading one of her books. Suddenly and inexplicably, I was hit with this overwhelming desire to get on my knees and praise God. To bow before His perfection and goodness.

But no. I was an atheist. I shook it off and tried to forget it ever happened. The fact that I’m still telling the story nearly five years later proves I wasn’t able. It was a powerful and inspiring event. Still, I managed to ignore it for several months.

In my discussion with the community, I had found myself particularly curious about one argument. If God knows everything, then conceivably, He had created me knowing He would send me to hell later. If God knows everything, He knew I would reject Him. But I was struck when one of the members, Yves, commented, saying, “Maybe He didn’t create you to reject Him; maybe He created you to repent.”

Maybe He created me to repent.

I don’t know if you know or not, but Kierkegaard was the man behind the expression ‘leap of faith’. He said, basically, that no objective proof of God will ever bring someone to faith. That doubt was essential to faith. That in order to believe, a change must occur on the inside, not the outside.

I had learned that I could just as soon prove God’s existence as I could disprove it. I had come to that point of which Kierkegaard spoke. I stood at the edge of a canyon. On one side was me and my stubborn disbelief. On the other was God and faith and love. I knew that on one side of the canyon, you cannot know God or have certainty; you must first trust in Him and then you are given unwavering faith. Like Abraham, we are to wander up the mountain with our sacrifice in tow. We are not given the certainty that the angel of the Lord will intervene. We just walk up there and cling tight to our trust in Him. God doesn’t prove Himself to us until after we have proven ourselves to Him. I had a choice to make.

For a long time, I said, “Are you insane? I’ll fall in!” I thought about it constantly. I told myself I just wasn’t ready. I whined about how it wasn’t fair that I should have to trust blindly.

But then there I was one night, sitting in the darkened cold, on the edge of a deeper reality. I got up and went into the computer lab and asked my online community for prayers as I prepared to make that most desperate of leaps. Later, as I prayed for God’s guidance at home, I was taken back to a time long ago when I had made that first real choice to follow the Light, reminded of the contrite plea I had made at twelve years old, and of the joyful, broken newness I was given. I knew this night would be no different. Since then, God has led me into deeper and deeper union with Him, lending me new and greater wisdom with each passing year.

“A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic – on the level with a man who says he is a poached egg – or he would be the devil of hell. You must take your choice. Either this was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us.”

- C. S. Lewis, from Mere Christianity

I found myself thinking about this quote last night. Actually, I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Jesus really didn’t give us the opportunity to shrug him off. When you hear his story, you’re automatically presented with these three options.

But I want to pick at it a little. Because… as wonderful a thought as it is, it can be taken even further. One could object to the statement and say that perhaps the apostles invented this idea that Jesus was the Son of God. Maybe they made it up. But if you really think about it, that doesn’t make any sense at all, does it?

At the time the gospels were written, the Jews were under the authority of the Roman Empire. At the time, Caesar was the ‘Son of God’. Caesar was the ‘Savior of the World’. People were expected to bow down and worship him. To refuse to do this, and what’s more, to point to some other person and say they are the Son of God, wasn’t just an unpopular thing to do in their day. It was a crime. People were crucified for saying the things the apostles were saying. So in what universe does it make sense that they would make it up?

If we continue in this train of thought, though, we find all these other Christians as well, who were being converted on a daily basis. For every one Rome stamped out, another five would pop up. As the old quote says, ‘the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church’ (Tertullian). But why would so many people find themselves willing to believe and avow something that would end up getting them killed? I find it unlikely that so many people were just crazy or stupid or liars.

And then along comes Paul on his road to Damascus. He’s travelling along to go arrest and persecute Christians in the city when he’s approached by a vision of Jesus that leaves him blind for three days. I find myself wondering what it must have been like to be Paul at that exact moment. To be so suddenly and magnificently caught in your sin. And yet to also accept Christ and be so freely forgiven. I suppose we all experience these feelings, but… wow.

Anyway, the  point is, something happened to Paul on his way to Damascus that changed his life forever. And it wasn’t because he was trying to deceive anyone and it wasn’t because he was simple-minded. I mean, this is Saint Paul we’re talking about. The author of the Pauline Epistles, some of the most thoroughly examined and relied-upon texts in the scriptures. Possibly–probably– the greatest theologian of all time. And, like the others, he didn’t choose his path because it was easy or popular or anything of the like. He constantly found himself in prison and ended up being beheaded.

So what was going on with all these people? Why were so many willing to sacrifice their lives and even the lives of their families? And what about Jesus? What are the possible explanations for his radical claims? What exactly went on in the first century?

It seems the most logical answer that Jesus was precisely who he claimed to be. And it seems most logical that the disciples were telling everyone precisely what they themselves had witnessed. And it seems most logical that the people at that time were confronted with the Truth. And these people were completely and totally transformed by the grace of God through Jesus of Nazareth.

- Amanda

Yes, this past month, I spent writing every single day. Writing and writing and writing…. It got so bad I couldn’t sleep last night because I was having writing withdrawals.

So, over the course of the next few months, I’ll be editing and finishing my novel, polishing it off until I’m satisfied with it. This, of course, is a lot easier with readers to be my exterior editors. Already, a fellow wrimo has responded to my request for readers and I sent a copy off yesterday. But for everyone else, the first six chapters are up on FictionPress and Deviantart, or if you’d rather read the word document itself, leave a way for me to contact you and I’ll send a copy your way. The only thing about that is, there are still some chunks missing that I skipped over during writing. *dodges pots and pans* Sorry, sorry. I’ll get to them, I promise. I just need some time. I skipped over them for a reason: I didn’t know what to say.

But soon enough it’ll be filled in, finished, edited, finished again, and absolutely lovely! Also, I may update my quotes page later and I’ll definitely update my writing page to include Conquest. Until then!

- Amanda

So, I have spent an absolutely massive amount of time doing prep-work for my NaNo project coming up this November. I mean, I’ve developed eighteen different countries, discovered some of their history, built up family trees to help keep up with how some of these people are related, created over thirty characters and have probably at least eleven more to go before I’m done. I’ve invented religions, drawn up flags, and taken down notes on events that happened within the last century of their world. Yeah. I’ve been busy.

Sadly, I can’t write down a single word of the actual story until NaNo starts. Which has left me with an insatiable hunger for writing. At last, I’ve decided I might as well write *all around* the NaNo story– the past, the future, etc. I mean, after all, I’ve created over thirty characters! I’ve set up notes on the last century of their world! I’ve got a lot of leeway, here. So, I got bored last night and posted a little short story about one of the character’s great-grandfathers. It’s, of course, not a masterpiece or anything. Just a piece I wrote for my own sake and decided to share with all of you. There will probably be more to come. Enjoy!

And I haven’t forgotten about Absolution, my other novel. I had actually started on the next chapter on it, back in…. February? I re-read what I had written and… it’s pretty good, not gonna lie. But there’s an energy with this NaNo thing and it won’t let me stop. So I’m not fighting it.

I’ve also done a little work with some friends of mine on a new Christian website for youth. We thought it would be good to create some place that could help young Christians better understand their faith and so we’re working on defining certain key concepts. I don’t know when that’ll be up and running, but if anyone’s interested in seeing what’s there so far, I’d be happy to share the link.

So that’s that.

– Amanda

– “The Art of War” by Anberlin

So, I was listening to this song on the way home from work tonight and it made me realize how much damage we do to other people when we let that fallen nature of ours take over. We embarrass, we depress, we oppress, we destroy…. The same words one person may take lightly, another may be broken upon.

I realized within every individual rests this reservoir of potential. And when we’re at our best, we can achieve so much. We can write songs or novels or poems or plays. We can create sculptures and paint paintings. We can memorize more digits of pi. We can cross borders and build empires, move and shake our world.

So… what happens when we’re not at our best? These things don’t happen. It’s the pain of stifled laughter, a joy that can never be expressed. It’s a horizon in the distance that we’ll never reach. And it’s all caused by what we do to one another. That girl you kept making fun of back in high school, that lover you loved to reject, that friend who’s hopes you said could never come true.

You have to wonder, if our lives had been even a little bit different, what songs might we have written? What if we hadn’t said that one thing to that one person– how might they have changed the world if we had lifted them up instead of putting them down?

–Amanda

I have sought love, first, because it brings ecstasy – ecstasy so great that I would often have sacrificed all the rest of life for a few hours of this joy. I have sought it, next, because it relieves loneliness–that terrible loneliness in which one shivering consciousness looks over the rim of the world into the cold unfathomable lifeless abyss. I have sought it finally, because in the union of love I have seen, in a mystic miniature, the prefiguring vision of the heaven that saints and poets have imagined. This is what I sought, and though it might seem too good for human life, this is what–at last–I have found.

With equal passion I have sought knowledge. I have wished to understand the hearts of men. I have wished to know why the stars shine. And I have tried to apprehend the Pythagorean power by which number holds sway above the flux. A little of this, but not much, I have achieved.

Love and knowledge, so far as they were possible, led upward toward the heavens. But always pity brought me back to earth. Echoes of cries of pain reverberate in my heart. Children in famine, victims tortured by oppressors, helpless old people a burden to their sons, and the whole world of loneliness, poverty, and pain make a mockery of what human life should be. I long to alleviate this evil, but I cannot, and I too suffer.

This has been my life. I have found it worth living, and would gladly live it again if the chance were offered me.

Source

I didn’t have a good answer then. I don’t think there is a good answer. On the one hand, people die; and on the other hand, people die. It’s a lose-lose situation. My response is that there isn’t a good solution because long ago, we as a human race forsook that Utopian society we might have had. We forsook the love of God for the love of self; forsook the Immaterial for love of material; forsook the plan of grace and love for one of murder and hatred.

There is no good answer because we are fallen as a human race.

But I believe that despite all this, Christ has called Christians to lay down their arms and take up his cross. To be hated by the world. To be shamed. To die. But we are not told this without the wisdom and knowledge that in death is victory. For who can fight terrorism with more terrorism? Who can fight murder with more murder?

Peace on Earth and good will toward men.

–Amanda

I Heard the Bells On Christmas Day

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Till, ringing singing, on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men!

—–

Amanda: Why don’t I have substance?

Bryce: What’s the meaning of your post? I couldn’t figure any out. You just seemed to be railing against the world.

Amanda: That civilization is flawed and we need to wake people up to do something about it.

Bryce: But you weren’t calling for any sort of ideal or goal. How is it flawed?

Amanda: Everything about it. Education. Economy. Government.

Bryce: NO

Amanda: haha

Bryce: Okay. Let me ask some questions so you can see what I mean.

Amanda: Okay.

Bryce: What causes your problems? And I mean YOUR problems, not things that you ahve to deal with.

Amanda: Damn companies always asking for money. Damn inconsiderate people. And freaking zombification.

Bryce: Be honest

Amanda: I am. As honest as I’ve managed anyway. It’s difficult to explain without studying people for the last few months in the ways I have.

Bryce: So all your problems are caused by other people?

Amanda: No, definitely not. If I were zombified, I wouldn’t have this problem.

Bryce: Manda, do you think you deserve Heaven?

Amanda: No, I don’t deserve it. That’s crazy.

Bryce: Okay, so you mean you’re imperfect?

Amanda: I’m just as arrogant as everyone else. All I’m saying is there’s a way better way to do this. There has to be. Because this isn’t cutting it.

Bryce: Well, what causes your problems? Be honest this time. You say you’re not perfect. What do you mean by that?

Amanda: What do I mean by my not being perfect? I’m an arrogant prick, I’m not as intelligent as I’d like to be, I’m too meek and mild to get anything done. I interrupt other people’s conversations. And push myself on them.

Bryce: So, there’s an inherent imperfection about your relations with other people?

Amanda: There’s an inherent imperfection about society in general. And I’m just one of the members.

Bryce: Okay, so… There are imperfect corporations. Imperfect churches. Imperfect organizations, institutions, governments, countries. What’s common to all them?

Amanda: They have people running them.

Bryce: Yes, and what’s wrong with people?

Amanda: They have a… oh wait, what was your wording? “Inherent imperfection.”

Bryce: Yes. What kind of imperfection is this? It’s not an intellectual failing or defect. It’s not a problem of money. Nor is it a problem of social planning. For example, what’s the greatest cause of starvation in the world right now? It’s not a lack of resources or lack of ingenuity or even a lack of ability to transport.

Amanda: Greed.

Bryce: Exactly! Greed.

Amanda: Uneducation on the subject, too.

Bryce: No, it isn’t so much that. What’s standing in the way of most people receiving the type of education you and I were able to receive? Not a lack of government infrastructure. Not a lack of money.

Amanda: I’ll go with apathy. People don’t care enough.

Bryce: Pretty much. So, greed, sloth… What are these examples of?

Amanda: The seven sins.

Bryce: Yes, and sin is a moral defect, correct?

Amanda: Sure.

Bryce: Okay, how do you solve moral defects? Do you think you can convince someone to be morally upright by bribing them? Or by educating them? I mean, those who run malevolent corporations are also the most educated elites, the most aligned with the government.

Amanda: I think that by showing love to those above and below us we can light a candle in the world.

Bryce: You don’t have to go for cliches, y’know. But yes, that would be correct

Amanda: haha, But that’s what I believe; it’s cheesy, I know. But I believe it.

Bryce: Don’t you see that there’s a separation between what you want accomplished and what can be accomplished by education, charity, government, etc?

Amanda: Well, sure, I already agreed with that.

Bryce: Okay.

Amanda: But this is my crucial point: the system is flawed. And so trying to fix the system with the system is… stupid. Which is essentially what you’ve just said. But most people I don’t think even realize how flawed the system is. That’s why I wrote my message.

Bryce: Well okay, but I think you should make a distinction between wanting to rid of the flaws in the system and the system itself. It would be a really bad thing to get rid of civilization, society, etc. A very bad thing.

Amanda: I dunno. I mean, yeah, I don’t want chaos. But at the same time, it seems like the whole thing needs to be uprooted and replaced. Don’t just get rid of the broken parts, buy new ones.

Bryce: Okay that’s separate from getting rid of society. That’s something you cannot be for. It’s commendable that you want society to be better. In fact, its great that you have a good idea of what society should be more like, but you shouldn’t want there to be no society. That’s what I’m making clear

Bryce: But also this: there’s something common to all of society’s problems. What’s common to all problems is man. The problem with the system is not the system so much as man. The theory is fine, but the parts are wrong. However, we can’t change the parts because the parts of society that make all of its triumphs and ills are US, you know? You and I, in our moral virtues and vices.

–Amanda

My critics accuse me of having a rosy view of humanity. But I insist I understand the evil found here in the world. I simply have a rosy view of the gospel.

While I’ve been told that people who ride the bus are drug addicts and criminals, the vilest of the community, I’ve found they are the kindest and most generous of the community. While I’ve been told to rise to the top, receive promotions, make money, I’ve found that people here at the bottom of the employment chain have already achieved success. Humanity has its evils. But they are rarely what we expect they are.

My critics accuse me of being sentimental. To them I say: my Father granted me a heart and it has been both a blessing and a curse. But if it ever stopped beating for others, I would die.

My critics accuse me of idealistic rejection of reality. What is real, anyway? If idealism is a thing of dreamland, may I lay down and die now. If dreaming bigger and better lifestyles is too unrealistic, we are living very miserable lives indeed. But I intend to touch the sky and I refuse to stop.

I’ve been wondering if I’m going crazy. And the answer is yes. Definitely. In the words of Orwell, however, insanity is nothing more or less than a minority of one. But there are others rethinking their lives like I am and that is comforting.

–Amanda

After a while of dealing with these anti-civilization feelings, I realized a way for me to overcome them: I am against so many things, why not try being for something instead?

The problem, though, has been that I don’t know what that something might be. Turns out the answer was with me all along. The something I am for is the Something More. I was thinking about a conversation I had a few nights ago about believing in miracles. What was so brilliant about this discussion was that afterward, I discovered friendships with people of completely different theological positions to mine. As I pondered exactly how that happened, I understood that it was our willingness to open ourselves up to one another.

Now, believing in miracles is great. It’s difficult for me since I’m something of a skeptic when it comes to the paranormal. But if other people are experiencing something miraculous… well, it’s comforting to remember that the universe isn’t limited to my own frightful experiences, to say the very least.

But isn’t this something worth fighting for? Aren’t I for setting people’s souls on fire? I wrote once about this desire:

I want to belong somewhere that’s alive with Christ’s message. Somewhere they dance in the aisles. Where everyone is allowed to speak their minds. Where they sing because they’re happy, not because they have to. I want to feel what community is really like. I want to see God in other people and for other people to see him in me.

But I don’t know how to make that happen. I don’t know where to start. And that urge to be a real light in the world is driving me insane. I want to set spiritual wildfire to the area. I want to get other people together with me and spread God’s love.

Whatever happened to that spiritual arsonist?

Sometimes, I’m not really sure how to begin this dream. When I examine the landscape of humanity, sometimes it seems like a vast expanse of apathetic zombies. Much like the soul-less, tiny-minded ants in the David Wong article referenced in Pt. I. And yet I’m sure there is a way to jolt the undead from their slumbers– it’s just a matter of finding a spark. And so in the end, what it’s all about is reawakening that unnameable Spirit within each of us. And this isn’t merely a theistic solution. But it’s not secular, either. It has both everything and nothing to do with religion. This Spirit is broader than creed, race, gender, nationality, and sexual orientation. It’s deep within humanity itself. And yet also somehow outside of it. It connects us and opens our hearts. It’s everywhere and in-between and you can call it God or Jesus or Dao or Logic or Love. It is the Way. And I want to make people excited about it.

If you are sleeping, wake up. If you feel silenced, speak out. Let’s be human again.

And so I am for dousing souls in gasoline and tossing in a match. May the flames burn brightly.

–Amanda