i've figured out...

 No matter what, I'm going to make mistakes and make messes of things.
 No matter what, things work out for the glory of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.
So I can probably chill out and give up this crippling worry about if either of those will happen, because I'm pretty much guaranteed they both will.

say no more, use your eyes

Some days I just feel more aware.
It's like all of the sudden I remember that I have all of these senses and start to use them intentionally rather than passively.
It's the difference between merely hearing a symphony orchestra and listening to it. It's the difference between merely drinking a cup of coffee and tasting it.
It's an active engagement with my information processing. I pick up on so much more. I make more connections. I feel so much more alive.
I experience.

some things

1. My hair resembles a chocobo.

same thing.

2. Many of my favorite bands that I pride myself in listening to for their originality have albums or songs having to do with the word "ghost". What's up with that?
[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-qr2FuePDc, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGfyU4Qx5vc, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cks_FeJxfQg, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i380DwcJxxM, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MUA9hoDa40, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVvYaK-B0MQ, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvbv8rSOiGc, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dlxZVp0aLW0,]

                                                                

Warm Bodies Review

A good friend took me to see Warm Bodies tonight for my birthday. I had been wanting to see it since I saw the preview, but had trouble finding anyone who shared my intrigue enough to spend 8 bucks to watch something that sounded like it could potentially be more like the kind of movie you wait until it can be streamed on Netflix to watch. The basic plot is loosely based on Romeo and Juliet, only with a zombie Romeo. After killing Julie's boyfriend, proceeding to rescue and fall in love with her (followed eventually by her falling for him), they take on the masses with love breaching the live/undead gap.

 Despite how stupid the premise sounds, this movie was actually (as I hoped) Awesome. Yes, that's an Awesome with a capital A. And here's why:
1. It demonstrated correct principles of how social in-grouping out-grouping behavior works. At the end R makes a comment about killing all the "bonies" (supra-zombies) at the end being a bonding experience between the living and the infected "corpses". According to current social psychological research, a superordinate goal is one of the few things that can bring competing groups together because it creates functional interdependence. These goals introduced to the environment can't be achieved by one group alone, but if collectively are needed bring them together. Another example is how at the beginning when R knows that he doesn't want to be how he is ponders "Am I the only one?". The moment when he finds he is not alone, that others would like to find a way back to their old self too, it establishes credibility, and they use each-other to prevent themselves for settling for less. It starts a movement when others are with him. Even though they were zombies, this is very real-life.
2. I'm no film major or movie-making geek, but I can tell the difference when a movie is well-done and when one is poorly made. I thought the angles were artistic and provided refreshing perspective changes throughout the movie. The use of particular color and lighting was fitting. The acting was believable. I found myself experiencing the suspension of disbelief (where I forget I'm watching) more often than not. AND the soundtrack was amazing.
3. I loved the symbolic connection that spoke of love bringing the dead to life. Even though the film was physiologically inconsistent/confusing (how could they get heartbeats if everything but their brain had been eaten? and other such quesions), it was philosophically beautiful. It wasn't the point of the movie to explain how the apocalypical zombie virus started or even the exact function that their brains underwent to spark the cure. So if you're hung up on that, get over it. What was important to this story was connection. And connection, we find, is what give us life, what makes us alive. It was when the corpses interacted with the humans, were taught by them, touched by them, LOVED by them, it was this connection that proved to be a cure that spread like good infection and exhumed the world.
The film ends with R and Julie watching as the wall the humans built to keep the corpses out is blown to bits.

Love crumbles walls, yo!

Part III

[it casts out fear]

Sometimes loving people means embracing conflict rather than running from it. As Donald Miller likes to say, “Every good story has conflict.”

Gary A. Haugen uses an illustration that I’d like to share here in his book Good News about Injustice:

“Courage is an odd gift because it’s one we rarely think we’ll want or need. It’s like trying to get my preschoolers to put on their coats when there is no hint of winter’s bitter cold inside our toasty home. Squirming and objecting, the doubt that it’s as cold as all that outside, and more to the point they’re not sure they even want to be going out.

Similarly, as a North American Christian I am not all that eager to accept the gift of courage that my God extends to me. I’m not sure I want to go to the places where I’ll need it—to the places where virtues become risky. Sometimes staying indoors feels risky enough.

But then Jesus gently lets me know that I’m not living with a domesticated God. His prodding sounds much like the appeal my wife and I give to our own children to get them out the door: ‘Mom and Dad are going outside. We’ll help you with your coats if you want to come with us.’ Likewise, I hear Jesus calling, ‘I’m going outside to a world that needs me. I’ll help you with the courage you’ll need if you want to be with me.’”

I am not courageous. I am the type who would rather avoid the need to develop courage by simply avoiding situations that would call for it. I don’t think God is going to allow me to stay indoors. I don’t think I want to, not if He isn’t there.

Some fears I face (and I imagine other people do to) of loving other people:

(a) I’m afraid of what they think of me (see part I).

(b) I’m afraid of our differences. It’s hard investing in some one knowing inevitably that you will misunderstand and be misunderstood. Loving people who are different than you (and everyone is, at least a little) means inevitable screw-ups and inevitable work to fix the screw ups.

(c) Getting too attached and getting hurt.

But C.S. Lewis makes a lovely quote for point C.

“There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one,     not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket — safe, dark, motionless, airless — it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.”

And now we have to ask ourselves the question, are we going to have safe, passive love for the people around us? Or are we willing to take risks?

Part II

[it has no expectations]

Do the unexpected by not expecting anything “But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked.”

I work at a restaurant and today I found myself counting my dollars between tables, trying to get out as soon as possible while getting a good profit out of people. Most days are like this.

Some days though, I decide to forget about how much I make and instead try to serve the people who come in because they matter. Instead of trying to get away with doing as little side-work as possible, I see what help my co-workers need and do my best to meet their needs. Instead of complaining when people do a less than adequate job (and in a restaurant you are forced to depend on each-other), I look for opportunities to speak words of encouragement to the people around me. I’ll let you guess which days I feel better at the end of.

What is  getting money from work, what is getting “credit” and even knowledge from school, what is riding the bus, what is eating dinner, what is any of that good for in the end? What does it all add up to? What is life without love?

“The only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love.” Gal. 5:6

And what we are trying to do is make our lives and ourselves matter without love. Maybe we have a love of pleasure and a love of comfort, but no love of God and no love of people. So the things we do, even if we think are for love, are often really because we expect something in return.

            And the unfortunate thing about people is that they rarely meet our expectations. And when our expectations are not met, we are disappointed. And when we are filled up with disappointment it empties us of gratitude and invites in bitterness. It’s probably better to let go of the entitlement we feel to get something back from loving people. If we cease to (even internally) demand returns from other people, then the action loving  in itself becomes the reward and the appreciation and joy we feel toward other people when they give love to us increases tenfold.

Part I

Part I

[it is not self-seeking]

Let’s take a look at my inability to be real with other people. I play social games. Every interaction is like a ploy to get people to notice me, remember me, be impressed by me. Does this make me a fake?

How are we not be imposters? We are constantly deluding ourselves—deceiving and being deceived—building jungle gyms of justifications, only talking to people we know will affirm us...
But if we ask the important "why?" question, we might find the desire to be affirmed is there for a reason. But can we ever feel affirmed enough from people? Even if we do, does it mean anything? Somehow to me, the affirmation I seek from people does not hold much weight when I receive it. It blows away; it is not stable--not like real glory or fulfillment.

Last year when my friend Joshua Sutton left us, he passed on this quote of his read at his funeral:

“It is really easy to wish that you were somebody else…

…even if they are wishing the same thing about you.”

It’s a funny thing about people. Most of the time we are scared to expose ourselves around others, afraid of what they think of us. What I often fail to realize is that most people aren’t thinking of me the majority of the time because they, like me, are too busy thinking of themselves and what I am thinking of them. There are very few people who actually are thinking about you while you are talking to them.

And these are the people we don’t need to be afraid of, because chances are, if they are unselfish enough to find out who you are, they are unselfish enough to care.

I find myself in a weird anomaly of pride and insecurity. It’s my selfishness that keeps me stuck on only thinking of myself when I’m talking to other people; it’s my insecurity that feels the need to. Pride and insecurity are manifest in the examples of social upward and downward comparison. It seems as if we are perpetually either upward comparing (measuring ourselves up to other people and finding ourselves wanting) or downward comparing (picking out what is wrong with other people so we can feel like we are better than they are).

What would it take to cut all that out and be bold in our love with people? Can we find our security of who we are from something more stable than other people so that we disregard ourselves when we are talking to (and about) them? Can we stop trying to impress them and look to be impressed by them instead?

When I cease my search for someone to say there is no one like you I can instead look for how this is true of my neighbor, and ways to let them know.

love without borders

I am limited. I recognize it more every day. I think it helps to explore the actualization of this because then I can live more fully within my limits. And when possible, I can work on pushing them down. One level at a time.

And I what I want most limitlessly is to love. That sounds kind of corny to me for some reason—perhaps because the culture I live in has trivialized the word and made it mean a lot of different things. What I seek to address is the kind of love that is more than a feeling (though feelings are certainly involved);  “a love fiercer than the love between friends, more gentle than a mother’s when a baby’s at her side; a loyalty that’s deeper than mere sentiment and a music higher than the songs that I can sing” (Rich Mullins). A love that treasures people, knowing they are genuinely important. A love that isn’t afraid to know someone.

I think it starts with understanding that I am limitlessly loved, and from within that reality I can dissolve the walls that stop me from loving proactively rather than passively.

Who is my Neighbor?

It was probably one of the strangest mornings of my life. It definitely competes with that time our neighbors (out for their ridiculously early five-in-the-morning walk,) found a deranged old woman with all her bedding—feet bleeding from walking several bocks—just sleeping at the end of our driveway. The police had come that morning too and made for a lot of excitement, but it was different because my parents were taking care of the situation and I was only watching with my sister from our bedroom window. But now I’m a grown up (I guess) and can’t be as passive in emergencies.

I live in a house with three other girls in a downtown location. I woke up at around 6:00 a.m. (even though my alarm was not scheduled to go off until 8:00). When I came to, I heard screaming. It was a lot of screaming—repeated noises like somebody was in an awful amount of pain. I opened our window just to be sure, and there was certainly no denying that somebody was in trouble. My roommate stirred and I asked, “Nadine? Do you hear that?” She mumbled something incomprehensible. I continued to listen. “She’s throwing up now,” I said when the sounds of retching came up through our window. I shut the thing and went downstairs. Going back to sleep was out of the question. Being the good social psychology student I am, I refused to be a victim of the bystander effect. (The Bystander Effect: when nobody does anything to respond to an emergency because everyone assumes someone else will, or thinks of excuses to make themselves believe nothing bad is really happening.)

As I walked down the stairs, images flooded my head of someone being raped, stabbed, beat-up, mugged, and shot. I was afraid, but I think my fear of neglecting to save somebody when I could out-weighed my fears of anything that could happen to me. Having to live with knowing I didn’t try is a nightmare of what-ifs. When I opened our front door, I noticed that the screaming had stopped. I turned on our porch lights and I was out on the front lawn yelling, “Is somebody out there? Are you okay? Do you need help?” And Nadine came outside behind me. I found out later she was planning on staying in bed until she realized I was actually going outside. Then she came out after me with her pepper-spray. Good, smart Nadine.

            It was about then when I saw her—a young woman lying sprawled out in jeans and a red hoodie on our front lawn. She was still. Dead still.

I immediately started crying. I pointed, unable to go closer, “Oh God, Nadine, someone is there. Do you see her? Oh my God. Is she dead? Oh God. Are you okay?” I called out. The woman didn’t respond. Nadine ushered me back to the porch and suggested calling the police. I already had my phone out and I was dialing 9-1-1.

The emergency people told me that they would send someone to check on her and an ambulance was also on the way. They also asked me if I would feel comfortable keeping an eye on her to make sure no one else came around and so I could call if she left.

So we waited. We went out on the porch to monitor. It wasn’t long before the woman started convulsing and yelling again.

“PLEASE!” She shouted, “Somebody help me!” I ran out to her (Nadine close behind) and I said,

“What do you need?”

“I’m having a seizure!” She said this between convulsions. Now, even though I have been around for several seizures, I don't claim to know everything about them. I know there are different types, but I’m pretty sure there was more happening than just a seizure. She was seizing, but it was happening for a very long time and in a methodological manor-like substance withdrawal convulsions.

“We have to hold her on her side so she doesn’t throw up in her own mouth and choke on the vomit,” I instructed Nadine. Just as we did so, the retching started again. We held her as she convulsed. Good, sweet, Nadine was rubbing her back. Our neighborhood watch guy from across the street came out to help us. He didn’t really know what to do, told us he has also called the cops, and knelt over the woman with us.

I called my dad. I already knew what to do when someone is having a seizure (there’s not much you can do except wait for it to stop), but I think I just wanted him to be on the phone with me. Very soon after I called, the cops came. It was weird because they were not in a car or anything. It was just two guys just walking from around the corner with their little emergency bag.

“Is it epileptic?” They asked.

“We don’t know. We don’t know her, we just found her here,” I told them.

“Oh,” was all they said, and we all backed up as they got to work. It wasn't long before the ambulance also showed up. Bridget (our other roommate) was at the front door, wanting to know what was happening. Our neighbor went back to his house, and we retreated to the porch, explaining things to Bridget. We assessed the situation, guessing she was probably experiencing effects of a drug overdose or severe substance withdrawal symptoms. After we figured that out, we complained for a bit about being so rudely woken up and how we weren't sure how to clean up the puke from our lawn. I was a little surprised by my own insensitivity. As soon as something becomes someone else’s fault, it's easy to reason ourselves into forgetting about compassion.

The medics put the woman on a stretcher, telling her to stop banging her head lest she wanted an awful headache (indicating that some of this was in her control). I was expecting the cops to come and debrief us, ask us questions or even just say, “Thanks for calling,” or something. But, nope. They just gave us a little salute, and sauntered around the corner back into the dawn.

So the three of us had a small de-brief of our own and then did yoga together.

I began to think about how yes, it was a little scary that this happened to us this morning, but some people deal with this kind of (and much scarier) situations as an every day occurrence.  However shaken up I was by it, it did not feel like as big of a deal compared to those who experience traumatic circumstances on such a regular basis that they get to a point of desensitization. What on earth would it be like to live somewhere where people get shot, get raped, OD, and yell and fight right outside the door every single day?

And I could not help but note my own relief as soon as the ambulance guys came and took her away. What if there were no such people? What if we had to take care of each-other instead of relying on institutional authorities set up for that kind of thing? What if we were forced to bring her into our own home and slowly and painfully walk beside her in her recovery?

But instead they came and removed her. They cleaned up the matter and we did not have to worry about it anymore. Because what does she have to do with us?

the stars

I used to suppose the stars were made for us. Someone put them there for me to enjoy. But one night while staring into the vast glittering abyss, I realized this could not possibly have much to do with me. 
It's no lie that I get pleasure from seeing them. We witness majesty through the stars, and there is a mystery about it that we tap into. 
But they shine for Him- the Divine-The Maker; their Father and mine. When we enjoy the stars, we're merely enjoying what He enjoys.
What is more, we too are created in order to shine for Him. We are given the capability to radiate for others to see and enjoy the Divine. 

Psalm 148:3
"Praise him, sun and moon;
    praise him, all you shining stars."

When we have learned to share in the work of making God known to humanity, our beauty will rival the stars.

 

And we'll be what we were made for.

Peace

Sara Teasdale

Peace flows into me
  As the tide to the pool by the shore;
  It is mine forevermore,
It ebbs not back like the sea.

I am the pool of blue
  That worships the vivid sky;
  My hopes were heaven-high,
They are all fulfilled in you.

I am the pool of gold
  When sunset burns and dies—
  You are my deepening skies,
Give me your stars to hold.

the Second on Singleness

What would happen if you took all the time you spent daydreaming about a romantic relationship, all the affection you wish you could poor out there, longing, waiting, desire, and expectation for that and instead directed it toward your relationship with Jesus? Would your life change? These are the questions I have to ask myself. Because if I haven’t tried loving Him with my whole heart, not really, then I have no grounds on which to complain about my relationship with Christ feeling like not enough.

When David says in the Psalms, “For my soul longs, and even faints for you,” have you ever pursued that deep longing for Christ like you have for earthly relationships? Do you give yourself over to Him in all your thoughts and actions as often as you would when you have a crush on someone? Do you take the kind of risks for Him that you would take for somebody that you were in love with? Because if what He says is true, then what He promises us is much greater than earthly romantic relationships. In fact, I really believe those relationships cannot be satisfying apart from knowing that far superior love of Christ.

And let’s be clear here,

God’s not saying, ‘be okay with singleness so you can have a husband or wife.’ God is saying, ‘be okay with singleness so you can be okay with singleness.’ God does not just want to get me through singleness so I can get to the thing that is better in store for me. He is my very best.

And if you are single (or ever have been), have you ever protested in your prayers, “God, I’ve been so good and so faithful! WHY am I not in a relationship?!”

First of all, let’s be real. God doesn’t owe us anything. A real Christian doesn’t obey God to leverage Him. Second of all, when I consider all of the blessings I already have in Christ, to be upset over what I do not have is outright ludicrous. If we are trying to get into a relationship because we think that THAT is what God has to offer us, we are sorely mistaken.

And here’s why: Because Jesus IS the reward.

And here’s another thing that’s good to come to terms with. We are not going to be married in heaven. If that idea makes you upset or uncomfortable, you might want to reconsider your idea of what your relationship with Christ has to offer. In the end, if He is all you have, would He be enough?

And if we take a good look at what the relationship between husband and wife is meant for in the Bible, we find that they are a picture for us to fathom what the relationship with Christ is like with His Church. That’s us—collectively. And when God said, “it is not good for man to be alone” He created not just this one kind of relationship, but every possible type of human relationship. We just have to keep in mind that these loves are not the real thing—these relationships are not the ULTIMATE. I think this is why Paul sticks in these verses smack in the middle of while he is talking about relationships in Corinthians 7:

“But this I say, brethren, the time has been shortened, so that from now on those who have wives should be as though they had none; and those who weep, as though they did not weep; and those who rejoice, as though they did not rejoice; and those who buy, as though they did not possess; and those who use the world, as though they did not make full use of it; for the form of this world is passing away.”

Okay, I’m going to take back what I said about not being married in heaven. Because as the bride of Christ, we will all collectively be married to Him. That sounds weird, and it is, I don’t get it. I’m not even going to pretend that I fully understand that.

But still, even if we can grasp that concept a little, it creates a really uncomfortable tension between the mindset locked on the eternal and thinking about the needs that we have now. But I recently had a friend explain it to me as kind of being in a long-distance relationship. We have letters we can hold on to, a lot of examples we can look to of His love, and a future we can look forward to when we will be with Him forever, but for now it’s really hard and downright painful at times.

And I’m going to close with another quote from C.S. Lewis because I think he wrote out this concept so much more beautifully than I can try to convey it. This is from the book, “The Four Loves,”

“The dream of finding our end, the thing we were made for, in a Heaven of purely human love could not be true unless our whole Faith were wrong. We were made for God. Only by being in some respect like Him, only by being a manifestation of His beauty, loving-kindness, wisdom or goodness, has any earthly Beloved excited our love. It is not that we have loved them too much, but that we did not quite understand what we were loving. It is not that we shall be asked to turn from them, so dearly familiar, to a Stranger. When we see the face of God we shall know that we have always known it. He has been a party to, has made, sustained and moved moment by moment within, all our earthly experiences of love. All that was true love in them was, even on earth, far more His than ours, and ours only because His. In Heaven there will be no anguish and no duty of turning away from our earthly Beloveds. First, because we shall have turned already; from the portraits to the Original, from the rivulets to the Fountain, from the creatures He made lovable to Love Himself. But secondly, because we shall find them all in Him. By loving Him more than them we shall love them more than we now do.

But all of that is far away in “the land of the Trinity,” not here in exile, in the weeping valley. Down here it is all loss and renunciation. We are then compelled to try to believe, what we cannot yet feel, that God is our true Beloved.”

the First on Singleness

Forewarning: my experience is not going to be the same as everyone else who is currently or has ever been single. I come from a background where it is almost like you automatically get pitied if you are not in a relationship. I’ll say something honest like “I’ve resigned to the fact that I might just not ever have a boyfriend or ever get married.” And people often come back with, “Oh, you’ll get married. You’re really pretty!”
I still don’t get that. It’s not like I was fishing for compliments; I was just recognizing a very real possibility.
Then sometimes after intentionally declining a suitor, deliberately choosing not to be in a relationship, I can just feel people’s disappointment in me. I tend to respond very defensively. Why is it that people care SO MUCH about that part of my life? It makes me rather caustic towards dating/marriage in general, though I truly am not opposed to the idea (even if the reason why I’m single right now is by my own choice).

So as I struggle through all sorts of dynamics of the life apart from a partner, I’ve found that literature has opinions across the board telling us how to feel and think about singleness. It goes beyond literature. I can hear two opposing views from people I trust—and both seem to make sense. Most of it seems so conjectured—like everyone is just making up these principles based merely on their speculations and there is no set way we can structure our thinking about it to be healthy 100% of the time in 100% of the situations we find ourselves in. Even in the Bible when Paul writes to the Corinthians about singleness he makes it clear that this is his personal opinion.

This is Paul’s concession (not command), his opinion (not the Lord’s). He says, “Now to the unmarried and the widows I say, it is good for them to stay unmarried as I am.” V. 8.

Then he talks about remaining where you are at. “Nevertheless, each one should retain the place in life that the Lord assigned to him and to which God has called him.” V. 17, So I look at that and think how this goes along with the whole concept of knowing your ground or (as Jim Elliot says), “wherever you are, be all there.” If God has me single now, God wants me single now. So I should want me single right now… right?

Paul continues (again, not as a command from God, but as trustworthy advice), “I would like you to be free from concern. An unmarried man is concerned about the Lord’s affairs—how he can please the Lord, but one who is married is concerned about the things of the world, how he may please his wife.” And he says the same thing about married women, that their interests are divided. (V. 32-35)

Then he goes on to talk about if a man is engaged, it’s fine to marry the woman, but the man who doesn’t marry her does even better. And then he says this crazy thing about how if a widow wants to get-remarried, that’s fine, but in his opinion, she’s happier if she stays single.

Now that’s kind of a very brief overlook of the richness of that passage, but we can kind of get this idea that Paul (who was a man who gave everything to pursue Christ) thinks being single is actually preferred over being married.

My first reaction is to be like, “HA! Take that, VALENTINES DAY!”

And it’s true that some days really I get what Paul was saying in how being single gives you greater opportunity to serve God. And some days I rejoice in embracing that freedom I have to not be tied to another person.

But sometimes I don’t feel like that at all. I just feel alone. And I feel deficient. And I feel inadequate.

And very truthfully and honestly, this is a giant struggle. This is my thorn to contend with. As much as I pride myself in my freedom of singleness and no matter how much I know my attitude should be, I still spend an awful amount of time thinking about relationships. What I am finding is that what I TRULY want most is to be satisfied in Jesus alone. I want it to be so that I feel so loved by Him and so well-taken-care-of in Him that to seek out the love of another feels almost like a waste of time because His love is all that matters. I want to know, TRULY KNOW the kind of love that IS all I need. I want being pursued by a man to pale in comparison to how it feels to share intimately in the heart of God. I want to comprehend how all human love falls short of what I already have.

But, I have no idea how to do that.

So I start to think that the real problem must be that somewhere deep down I must not believe that Christ can satisfy me as much as a relationship with another person could. But I a lot of times I go about changing this the wrong way. I start to think that the solution to this dissatisfaction is to just remove every other desire from my mind. Example: If I start to care about a boy, I will fight every feeling until I kill it.

But I’m not actually so sure that it is an achievable thing--to just try hard enough to rid ourselves of every desire that is not Christ. I’m not so sure that’s what He meant for us.

Our desire doesn’t need to be removed, but maybe it does need to be re-routed. What I mean by that is this: If we try to seek the blessings of God instead of just seeking God, we’re probably on the wrong track. The solution is not reactive (like, stop liking boys so much!) but it is proactive (start loving Christ more).

“The New Testament has lots to say about self-denial, but not about self-denial as an end in itself.  We are told to deny ourselves and to take up our crosses in order that we may follow Christ; and nearly every description of what we shall ultimately find if we do so contains an appeal to desire.  If there lurks in most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for the enjoyment of it is a bad thing, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is no part of the Christian faith.  Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak.  We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with [lesser desires] when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by an offer of a holiday at the sea.  We are far too easily pleased.” –C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory