Ventage Suade Confession

What happened to me? Why do I feel so worthless and unused? Why do I feel like I an just waiting in vane for the next. . . something to happen?

I realized something this evening. I was a sweet eugenes and I noticed that I was not willing or exited to meet anyone. In fact I was appreciating and seeking being alone in the crowd. I did not search for new contacts to know and entertain like I normally would have. What happened? I got fired from Sweet Eugene’s and asked to leave young life. Every reason I had to let people know me was gone. That was it. I didn’t want to get to know people for my sake, but for theirs. I was a person that would be a blessing in their life. It was my responsibility, being so holy, to let people know me and see the things I do. Accept now I have nothing to show people, nothing to advertise of myself. I do nothing great that most people can’t do better. I no longer have the collegiate Christian dream job and I am no longer in charge of a college led youth oriented ministry. Seemingly, all I have left is work and school. Most people anywhere are better at school than I am, and apparently most people are better at working than I am as well. Probably the two most “unchristian” things to happen are to get asked to leave a ministry and get fired from your job. I just need to get someone pregnant now and build up an insurmountable gambling debt. Right now I scream unreliable, what else could it be? Why would the Lord ever have people get fired and kicked out of a ministry?

Now when I see people I don’t know, mainly beautiful women, the first thought that goes through my head is what’s the point? Sure they may be happy to meet me, but once they find out that I failed at ministry and failed at work their view of me goes down. Then we may talk about why I failed at ministry. So far, most people have not received very well at all what I have experienced with the Holy Spirit. I don’t think I would feel so down about it except that it seems like the Holy Spirit has stopped doing what He was doing. I have no more exiting stories to vindicate myself. I feel like the walls and roof caved in because of the floor and then the floor fell out from underneath me. So what’s the point of meeting anyone? They have so much to lose by knowing me and I can’t seem to stop losing.

At the same time I know that this is the Lord. He killed my reputation. He locked me in a room of mirrors so I could see myself. Not only did he lock me in this room, but he stripped me naked of all the pretty clothing I had collected over the years to gaze upon when I did look in the mirror. Now it’s just me and there is no outer layer to distract me. No beautiful shirt or pants to cover what I really look like. Everyone else is on the outside looking in too. They don’t see that I’m in a room of mirrors with no door and can’t look out. They don’t see that I was put there by the Lord. They have a hard time seeing that it is not a punishment, so do I. All they see is my nakedness, and I’m ashamed. I am ashamed of my nakedness and trying so hard not to be ashamed of why I’m naked or who put me there and won’t let me leave. I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Why would I want people to see me now?

I know I need to just stay and stand and wait for the Lord, but I want nothing more than to be clothed and to move out of in front of the mirrors. Then I also realize that this is what I asked for. I asked that He would take away what was not His. I have such a hard time thinking that the Lord orchestrated my firing. Maybe He didn’t. Either way I’m ashamed. Maybe I should have specified that I wanted to keep all the things that I liked. I thought he’d take away all my money, or maybe some friends would turn on me. But I’ve never really struggled with that. I had my livelihood and my ministerial network as my closest friends. They would nurse my wounds and bring me new friends. I’ve been poor before, and besides being poor was holy, but not unemployed.

I’m afraid to meet people because I have nothing to show them to validate any worth in knowing me. Besides once they know me they won’t want to anymore, just like I’ve seen some people do recently.

I knew these people because we all lived in this great city that was built on the things we did and the acceptance we achieved. Now I feel like I live outside the city wall and the only interaction I get with those who once loved my company is as they occasionally look over the walls. The first thing crossing their minds is pity and embarrassment knowing that I got asked to leave the city and can not return. If anyone wants to talk to me they have to leave the city and risk being mistaken for someone like me.

Through all of this I feel so small in my shame, ashamed of my shame. I should feel joyful, because this is the Lord, though I think not many would believe me. The people who used to look up to me now pity me and worry about me because my life “fell apart” for the world to see. One of my former ministerial partners asked me “so what do you do with yourself, everything that was you is gone now”. That was very hard to hear. Everything I was to her was Young Life and Sweet Eugene’s. Was I really nothing more to so many people?

Then I remember the friends that stick around, the people who love me. I have a family who, though they may think I’m crazy and pitiful, love me. I am healthy and smart. I have potential. I have the Lord. I have the Lord. What else do I need? Why can’t these things bring me joy? Since I have been left with myself old temptations have come creeping back in on me. I have no other reason to be pure except to please the Lord. I have no policy to abide by, no constituents to be a holy example for, no respectful audience to impress with my garments of praise. I seem to keep constant company with lust, laziness, wounded pride, aimless bitterness, and most of all guilt. I can’t help but think that I did something to deserve this. That this is merely my sins catching up to me, just like I always knew they would. That seems to be the consensus from quite a few people as well. These things would only happen to a heretic, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a stubborn man with a screwed up theology.

I’ve never had to try so hard to be thankful.

Now I feel ridiculous, embarrassed, and foolish for even thinking any of this. Then again I also feel relieved, a little thinner in front of my mirrors. Why not, I just unloaded stuff that must have been on my chest, I certainly don’t have any faded jean pockets to keep it in, no vintage puma jacket it to hide it under, just my naked little self standing here for all the world to see and probably misunderstand. Could this be confession? Whatever it is I’ll be thankful for it. Sorry if you read this hoping for some point or conclusion, cause there aint none.

If anyone who reads this has anything other than something nice to say keep it to yourself, cause I don’t care.

Word

Parking Nazis and Technical Superiority

I had a pretty incredible night spanning the wee hours between Wednesday and Thursday. I am in two classes currently that assigned two major papers due on the same day. Breaking my usual custom I started a couple days early. Usually I wait till the last minute. I used to despise myself for laziness, but in observation of myself I’ve noticed a great excitement that comes over me when the ten o’clock hour strikes the night before. I really think I have an infatuation with useless challenges. For instance, I usually find willful, mean, sassy, high strung women most attractive, that never works out in my favor. I like to wait till the last minute to write papers, I really like it. This was different though. I had two papers due the same day, so I did start early.

One paper was a formal report, the other a “What Would You Do” style paper concerning a mock town’s youth problems. The formal report was on Ecotourism and was seventy five percent done when I arrived at Evan’s Library to finish it and start the other one. Moreover, I arrived at the library at 6:30 pm which is far sooner than I usually start. I was feeling pretty confident that I was going to be in bed by two AM at the latest.

I parked off campus and walked to the library. It was a great night, I enjoyed the walk. I arrived at the library and got to work. Now, just to be honest, there was and Astros’ game afoot so I was keeping a close eye on the game via live-cast, for the most part though I was pretty focused. I finished the writing portion of the formal report an hour. I must break from the story here and mention that within this formal report I do believe I wrote the finest sentence that I have ever written thus far. Moving on though, I took a small break and quickly began formatting the report so Copy Corner could quickly and painlessly sculpt my report into a beautifully bound and formatted Formal Report, table of contents and everything.

I spent the next four hours formatting that report. I did the margins, spacing, fonts, pictures, live-cast Astros, punctuation, and a great many long, deep, frustrated breaths. I stopped at around midnight to go home and get some coffee. I realized I might be staying up later than originally scheduled, and to toast to sweet victory, the Astros won. I headed back to campus around midnight thirty.

This time I was going to the Student Computer Center (SCC). It was after midnight so I snagged the closest reserved spot I could get. By my calculations I was going to be gone by five AM, which is long before the Texas A&M parking Nazis fire up their scooters. I stealthily snuck my coffee onto the second floor on the SCC and parked it right next to the most populated table of beautiful young maidens I could scope out. I got back to work right about twelve forty-five.

I formatted for another forty five minutes, breaking only for manly sips of coffee and quality eye contact with beautiful women. Before one forty-five I was done. BOO YAH formal report!

I didn’t even stop for a pat on the back, I dove right in on the problems facing the youth of Teensville. In three and a half hours I had saved Teensville’s youth and established eight phenom youth programs that would quickly be converting Teensville’s at risk youth into our future leaders. All I had to do now was print my papers and head over to the great folks at Copy Corner.

I plugged in to one of the SCC’s computers to print my reports off. Eager to impress the late night printing crew with my formatting prowess I quickly opened my formal report. Bewilderment, shock, anger, profanity. The progression was instantaneous. My heart rate would have quickened if not for vast amounts of caffeine facing through my body. Apparently the version of Word_TM that the SCC supports is not as new as the one on my incredible lap top. All my glorious formatting was now displayed misconstrued and perverted for all the SCC to see. At this point in my life I’m growing accustomed to dealing with always being ahead of the curve. My state of the art version of word was apparently only available to myself and the military. So trying not to pout brood over the SCC’s lack of software tact, I feverishly set to work correcting the formatting achievements which Texas A&M’s lack of technical proficiency had so utterly thwarted.

Well, while I was working away the parking Nazis were cracking down the pagan parking thieves of our holy university. At the time I wasn’t aware that I had so foolishly transgressed upon those sacred grounds.

My mother was the frantic messenger of obvious foopaw. The parking Nazis were closing in on my car. Her frantic nature did not inspire me to immediate action, it merely brought to my attention how tired I was becoming and how close that ten thirty-five turn in time for my formal report was becoming. Being told that my car was already towed I told her I would take the bus to where they were towing my car and deal with it when I was done with my report. She was not satisfied though with my thought and insisted I walk to where she would be waiting to pick me up. So, I walk close a mile across campus to slowly climb into my mother’s silver VW Bug, where I was greeted with, “OK, let’s go see if they have towed your car yet”.

If I had been up for less than thirty-two hours I might have been frustrated or even angry. The SCC was only about two one hundred and fifty yards from my sinful parking spot. It would have taken me all of a moment to jog over to the RESERVED LOT and see if my car was there. Instead I walked all the way across campus to get in my mother’s car so she could drive me back to where I had come from. We pull in to the holy lot and see the back end of my car viciously jacked up unto the back of an A1 towing truck with a parking Nazi joyfully observing. I walk up the parking Nazi and say, “Hey that’s mine, I like it back.” So they start releasing my car. The parking Nazi takes one of the two tickets off my windshield. I instantly felt bad for all the things I had said about them in the past. I started to thing, “maybe they are human”. Then she handed a freshly printed ticket for “releasing” my own car back to me. Eighty-five dollars to give me back my car. EIGHTY-FIVE DOLLARS!!!!

So I climb in my car and head over to Copy Corner. The formatting had mostly been corrected so I thought it would take maybe twenty minutes to touch it up and print it off. I’d be done around eight-thirty, and have time to take a shower and eat.

I arrive at Copy Corner and like always they are happy to see me. Copy Corner employees, I think, are the happiest people in the world, especially in the morning, one of the great true mysteries left in our world. I give them the jump drive with my formal report on it and they bring it up on their computer. Then, once again, the tides of misfortune came rolling back to shore. The version of word that Copy Corner uses is yet another version of the cursed program that is once again incompatible with the formatting I have completed. I spend another two and a half hour formatting my formal report. The Copy Corner folks were true champions of their trade though and did a great job. By the time I got to Blinn College campus to turn in my formal report the class was almost over. So I crashed in the hallway in front of my Tech Writing Prof’s door. He seemed to be pretty good natured about the whole thing and slightly entertained by the short rendition of my adventure; then again I was pretty loopy. Anyway the moral of this story is: Parking Nazis are not really people but mean robots built out of computer parts that failed inspection. Finally, I must never start on a paper prior to the night before it is due, it just doesn’t work for me.

Stormy Seas

“Friggin write something new already!” AAAAAlllllrrrrriiiiiggggghhhhht! Fine!

Let me set the stage first. . .

Not too long ago I was asked to step down from a ministry that I had been involved in for almost eight years. I was served a beautiful ultimatum at a cozy Whataburger at ten thirty in the PM.

1. You (me) will have to abide by our alcohol tobacco policy. (I had no problem with abiding by the policy I just didn’t like the policy, and thought it should be done away with)
2. You will have to join and attend a local church and encourage your ministerial constituents to join you. (I haven’t gone to Sunday morning service in a little over seven months)
3. You can not talk about what you think you have seen the Holy Spirit do or what you think about the Holy Spirit to your fellow ministers or your ministerial constituents. (I believe in, have seen, and experienced the baptism of the Holy Spirit)
4. You can not talk about the bible study you attend with your fellow ministers or your ministerial constituents. (It’s just a bible study)

I respectfully said that I could not do that, so now I am no longer in that ministry. I was really upset, and would have been really mad if the Lord had not specifically told me (in a dream amongst other ways) that He was doing all of this. So my ministry team is now one member short but there are ten ministers left on the team, some of whom are seasoned vets. So I wasn’t real worried about them. Oh but then-THEN teams were picked and the name calling began. . .

Let me tell you a story. . .

For weeks after this happened I had to tell a great number of people the same story over and over again. I was alright with that, people wanted to know what happened. Through all of the story telling I wasn’t hostile at all towards the organization. However in telling the story I often had to expound upon what I believe about the Holy Spirit. One of the other ministers asked me why I wasn’t around anymore, so I told her. She wanted scripture concerning what I had talked about, so I sent it to her. She then asked her team leader, who is our area intern, what he thought about it, he then called me…pissed. He said, “Out of respect for me can you please stay away from my ministry team and anyone who goes to the high school we do ministry at? I don’t want you to tear our team apart like you did yours. Thanks.” He woke me up with this so at first I just said yeah sure and went back to sleep. But upon further consideration I thought “I’m not gonna do that. That’s just silly.” So I invited him to lunch to talk about it. We ate at one of the local Christian delis, McAlister’s. I thought certainly at such a Christian venue we could work things out. By the end of the lunch he had laid his foundation.

1. My theology was completely off and I needed to get it straight, but not to worry, he had plenty of books for me to read.
2. Certain books are not to be taken as foundational for how we live our lives. Acts for example is merely a historical book. Many OT books were put in this category.
3. I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he as a shepherd was merely protecting his flock. But not being too stringent he said he didn’t care who I talked to outside of his particular flock, or if I talked with the ministry team he currently runs after he left.
4. He still loves me
5. If I didn’t get my theology right soon I would live a life of fallacy
6. It is foolish to base your faith on experience

I think he was going for tough love?

Also living in Fort College Station Christian Strong Hold is a certain Baptist preacher who preached against our bible study. He said that it was a secret bible study that taught a false gospel, one that needed two baptisms. Well I found out and decided to talk to him about it. I had two goals:

1. I was going to invite him and explain that it is not a secret bible study.
2. To explain that we do not believe the baptism of the spirit has anything to do with salvation

So, my friend and I went to his office, and I stated my two points. He then reprimanded us for not being involved in the local body (a Sunday morning church), told us we had been led astray, that we believed a false gospel, and that as far as what we believed about the Holy Spirit it is heretical and “that (we) were dancing with demons”. That’s a big accusation coming from a Baptist preacher, not only are we holding regular company with demons but dancing with them as well. Good thing he didn’t know I like to have a beer now and again. That would have been the Baptist Triple Sin Trifecta, I would have been condemned to hell right there in his office. Whew, (wipe sweat from brow) that was close.

In light of these events let me paint of picture. . .

- The sea was reeling. Deceptively large waves were shouting their objections as far as the eye could see. Lying on shore was a battered naked man recently thrown forth from a mind bending turmoil that had so long tossed him about. As he came to, he crawled to a welcoming campfire and for what was almost a first, rested. Looking around taking in his surroundings he spotted the author of his rescue. He was master of the shore and now his companion. They both smiled, one with appreciation the other with welcome.

Breakfast was soon being prepared. A great, kosher, breakfast feast: fish, eggs, and OJ. Meanwhile the sea raged on, the thunderclouds low over the water. The two companions sat at the edge of the stormy sea braced against its pull. The shallows looked calm and inviting, yet underneath lay a convincing under tow always headed out to sea. Taking joy in each others presence they ate, and were satisfied.

A voice, struggling through the den of the waves, reached the rescued man, “You fool, what where you thinking! Can you not see that you have been led astray? When I saw you first you were well placed and moving up in rank according to the sea, your head above water and your station secure. I looked to you as an example of how to live on the waves and steer a vessel. Now you have gone astray and been cast into the sea. I no longer see you clearly or consistently. I hear your voice but you are no longer visible through the swells of the sea.”

The man who had been brought out of the sea called back to the man at sea. “Please calm yourself and listen. When we were at sea together we often spoke of a rescuer who would not only bring us to shore but into the mountains, and then into the very heavens themselves. We were told of him by our companions at sea, Captains and builders of vessels. Some of whom were the very authors and rulers of the waves. They encouraged us to listen to the rescuers voice, as well as pay attention to the waves so as not be capsized, but the waves are loud and often claim His voice as their own. I heard his voice and followed it despite the waves, and now I am on shore with the very man himself.”

The man at sea skillfully steered his boat among the swells while calling back, “Deceiver! How do you ignore the sea? It gives us our food and keeps our vessel afloat. You encourage us to risk starvation and isolation and to give up what we know best of how to live. You want us to chance the sea for a shore we can not see and of which the waves tell us differently. You abandon ship and your crew and encourage us to do the same? You ignored the swells and tides and their authority to venture where the waves break and crash to carry out their punishment, and you ask us to follow you!? The waves scream testimony against you as well as our captains, yet you say the rescuer instructed you. You lie and speak falsely.”

The man on shore responded, “The waves are not sure or foundational. They often crash into each other. The have capsized vessels, drowned our companions, and fight each other with great opposing words all in the name of the rescuer. Yet, if you listen to the rescuers voice only, he will not let you drown. By his very nature, being the rescuer he will not let you drown! The sea gives us food that it did not make, and brings us places that we never wanted to go. The rescuer though brings us to shore, the only place he ever wanted us to go. We falsely thought that our vessels would bring us to shore and to the mountains, but those vessels were made by the sea for the sea only to be at sea, and have no place on land. Ships have no life on land and must stay at sea. Yes I left my ship because the captain would not have me stay. The rescuer assured me though and had me cast into the sea only to bring me out of it. Yes the waves break and crash, but it’s only because they meet the shore and their depths are made shallow. The sea only meets the shore momentarily and then recedes from it. On shore there is great food, food that has no home in the sea. You can walk endlessly with the rescuer and never run out of solid earth under your feet. The wind that carried His voice to us on the sea is much louder here, and the sea can only be heard as the waves crash and break along the shore line. You see me as tossed about, yet I am standing on solid ground and it is your entire vessel that is being tossed about by the sea and obscuring your view.”

The sailor called back vehemently, “You ask us to give up what is certain and what we’ve always known for something that we can not see. How are we to believe in something that only you and the wind tell us about and what we can not see? You are basing what you say on something you believe to have experienced yet the waves scream testimony against you. We have the words of the rescuer when he came to us in his ship on the sea and the thoughts of all the greatest captains ever written in the bowels of our ships. Our greatest captains reconcile them together and make great truths. Yet you ignore what they say and only take His written word and His voice that comes on the wind. The captains have told us that the vessels and sea are what the rescuer gave us to guide us to him. Though they are not exactly as He left them they are all we have. You ask us to give up what he left us. He promised us the heavens as long as we know him. You also ask us to give up what we know, but this is His promise and we will not give it up.”

The man on shore cried out, “He left us one great vessel on a calm sea that had only one destination which was the shore. We left that vessel though and built our own, and through all the extra vessels we stirred up a great storm that only grows worse with each new ship. Yes we all end up in the heavens, that was his promise for hearing and accepting His voice, but He has promised us the shore and valleys and mountains as well. We were all born of the sea, yet did He not want us born of the wind too? We built ships with no sails to catch the wind and so live victim to the sea. So let us abandon ship and follow the wind despite the biggest waves that may come against us. He also promised to never let us drown, and more than that to shelter and feed us. Did He not warn us against other captains? Those captains are subject to the sea no less than their ships are. Leave them and follow the voice on the wind, it will only lead you to shore!”

The man continued to shout but the ship was no longer in range of his voice-

So forgive me for the really long analogy but I found it more entertaining than me just recounting what happened. I very much believe that the theology I have been continuously encouraged to get straight, and that so many people try to reconcile to the things that happen and the things they don’t understand, are the waves of uncertainty that the Word warns us of. Then again I am a “heretical wolf in sheep’s clothing dancing with demons”. In light of my status you should cross yourself, lay hands on your computer, and pray for my soul. I know the Lord, despite what others may think…feel free to pray for my soul anyway though.