Sun Setting on Sanity

Our words emit through the same opening with which we ingest sustenance. It is a holy passage. The future progressed through the primordial. The transcendent through the disgustingly elemental. And yet it is one, and it is good.

This is not dissimilar to (at least from the male perspective) the concept of reproduction. Males expel their liquid wastes from the same opening through which they provide their contribution of spermatozoon. The sperm itself is little but an optimistic and random attempt at initiating the creation of life. And the cell itself results not from any but the most carnal of activities. Once the ovum is penetrated, development commences, generally requiring nine months to incubate a healthy specimen, and the end result being only the messiest and fleshy of outcomes.

Yet, from the opening of waste and the crevice of a womb comes forth that which is most capable of learning. First to understand kinetics, and then noise, and then words, and then ideas. Suddenly it is a mind empowered, and even ruminates on the notions of God and eternity. It is from the earth, made from the dust, and raised from the mud, and yet in its very design, destined to become metaphysically enlightened.

This is good.


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I do not understand the environment within which I have been born. My life has been subject to so much pain and embarrassment and fruitless episodes. I am a collected mess of skin and thoughts. This afternoon I am without any notion of direction, and wonder if my labors are even worth these fleeting moments. Why was I born with such enormous aspirations only to toil in the ordinary?

I do not subscribe to the belief that God finds within the end a justification for the means. Did the lepers cry out in pain as Christ healed them of leprosy? Did the blind man scream in agony as Christ removed his blindness? Healing came without pain. Creation, but in a breath. Whole planets turn without a sound. If only the means to my end could be gentler!

When the creator God saw what It had created, God said that "it was good." God is omniscient. All of creation, existence, the beginning and end laid before God. Still, God called it good.

I struggle to find comfort in this thought.

Starting with the tiniest of atoms, pitted in fatal contests, evolving in a cutthroat system, humans arose as the most capable and clever of species, and God chose them among all of creation to be endowed a gift of revelation.

God must have foreseen all the years of destruction and war. On a micro level, evolution is war. It was built into human nature from the beginning. When God chose humans, God must have seen all the shadows of humanity's darkest desires; every child murdered in Herod's quest to kill Jesus of Nazareth; every Muslim and Jew slaughtered at the hands of greatly misled crusaders.

But God said "it was good!"

I was recently told that one cannot possess faith without hope. But I have long struggled to have faith, and only now am losing hope.

MUTEMATH: Before

The last two years of high school were hard times in my life.

For the first two years I fit in well where I wanted to, I was friends with a lot of people, I was a major personality in my 400-student, senior high, youth group, and I had a well-paying job at American Eagle that provided me with a continuous supply of very cheap, fashionable clothing.

Then one day my world crashed down around me. Some of my closest friends hurt me deeply. I lost confidence in myself, and thus also lost confidence in God whom I though would protect me.

I stopped listening to the factory-molded CCM that had for so long filled my music libraries, and sought out the more independent and underground of the Christian music world. As time went on, that also led to a discovery of quality secular music, aside from oldies and jazz. One of the first artists I came across on a Pandora-esqe online radio site was a band called Mute Math. They had only recently released an EP entitled Reset, and I soon found myself downloading it to enjoy the album in its entirety.

It was not long after that when I learned two of the members of Mute Math were originally a part of another old Christian band I was once a fan of--Earthsuit. I began following Mute Math pretty loyally, although I never had a chance to see them live for at least the next two years. At the time, I was into a different music scene which took most of my focus. Jazz, at the time, was much more important to me.

I asked for a turntable for Christmas, and my parents got it for me. The search was on to find my favorite artists on vinyl. But then I saw an advertisement for an exclusive Mutemath vinyl. They had just begun touring in promotion of their premier, self-titled album. Unable to attend the show in my area, I wasted no time in at least ordering the vinyl.

Then the hard times got worse with more friend drama. I felt like an outsider, and was ever-conscious of my brokenness. The album arrived in the mail not long after, and it became all that I ever played on that old turntable of mine. Their music was exactly my style. It was obscure and fresh, electronic and acoustic, and all around different from anything I had heard before. The lyrics spoke into my life, and a lot of the things I were feeling were touched on in one song or another.

It was music to get me through a hard time.

Tonight I am attending their concert, which is part of a promotional tour for their sophomore album. And let me tell you, I am excited!

jonah Complex

There's a whole strand of disappointments that have wound through the beginning of this week.

Up until last week, I was overly confident in my control of things.

Things. Things. Things.

Seconds and hours, and all those things that somehow added into a past for my Mr. David Vincent Goodwin, resident of 1400 Bemis, Grand Rapids, MI, student of three years and one half of a semester at Calvin College, son of Karen and Lloyd, and older brother to Julia and Natalie.

But what am I really?

About a year ago, I knew it all. And while all of my adventures as of late have been something, where does my identity fit into all of this?

The weekend before this week was really wild. On Friday, I spent a lot of time with a bunch of people I was very happy to see. The next day, I cleaned sheep skins with Alexander, helped in cleaning the house, and then went with the same people as the night before to explore Art Prize. Sunday flew by as well. Church was useless, only redeemed by a great breakfast with some good friends.

And then yesterday. Seriously, where does one begin? There was the frigid rain, the numerous mental mix-ups making me late, a healthy load of house tensions, a mis-communication ending in my feeling rejected, and a total stranger challenging my running from God. Does God want me so badly? Or am I just stuck in a place where I can't escape busybodies?

I don't deny the completely wonderful smell of Autumn that fills my lungs everytime I step outside. And yesterday Henry was kind enough to go with me to the Hookah lounge and just listen. There was healing somewhere or another in the midst of those experiences.

But it is never easy to hear that the person who was once a massive part of your identity is now moving on to become part of someone else's. And that kind of hurts.

It certainly only rehashed my wrestlings with God from the day before. If I ever become a Christian again, I'm changing my name to Israel. Because God's hand is reaching for my hip, and I'm holding him until morning.

Ears to Hear

"What do you value in your God?"

That was the question of yesterday morning.

The night before yesterday, I stayed up way too late working on my studies. I didn't feel like sleeping in my bed because there's some sort of r.o.u.s. taking residency above it in the attic. Instead, I pulled out my sleeping bag and favorite blanket and curled up on one of the couches in the family room.

Six hours later--around eight in the morning--one of my housemates came pounding down the stairs. He was late, and he was in a hurry. The couch I was sleeping on was right next to the stairs, so naturally the noise emitting from his descent sounded like lighting in my ears. I sat up in surprise, looking around to make sure had taken an early morning tumble.

Henry was flustered but fine, yelling an apology for waking me up as he ran out the front door. I laid back down, but sleeping wasn't an option anymore. My options were stay up or move upstairs to my bed and risk awaking later with a giant rodent on my face.

John woke up soon after, and seeing me in my usual morning stupor, asked if I would join him for a morning smoke on the porch. I don't smoke, but I love hanging out with people who do. They always have great conversations while smoking, and you can learn a lot from them.

This morning was no exception.

I don't recall what began the conversation, but we ended up on the topic of God's grace versus his justice. John insisted that our main focus should be on God's justice. I disagreed, and no matter how either of us put it, the other would not change views.

But the question of the conversation prevailed, "what do you value in God?" It seemed to be the main cause for differences in opinion between John and I.

I was suddenly reminded of a time when I was studying the story of Joseph in Genesis last year. I had the incredible revelation that God blesses those who work hard for Him. Each time Joseph was thrown into a new situation, he'd work diligently, and stay obedient to his boss, and the Lord would in turn bless him for his faithfulness and hard work.

This revelation was so moving for me, that I called one of my closest friends, Eric Peterson, to tell him about it. I was in the middle of saying how encouraging the story of Joseph was, and about to explain the part about diligence and obedience when Eric cut me off.

"Yeah," Eric said, "because God protects and provides for Joseph."

"Um, well, yeah," I replied, "that too. But I was really more talking about how Joseph's diligence and obedience to each of his employers."

I explained myself further, but Eric didn't agree. He said he felt as though the protection and provision by God was the main focus of Joseph's story. I insisted it was the honoring of diligence and obedience. We eventually agreed to disagree and hung up, leaving me with a sever dissatisfaction with our conversation. But then a thought dawned on me.

At the time, Eric was living at home near Chicago, struggling through a period of great need and uncertainty. I, on the other hand, was an R.A., and really wrestling with whether or not to be diligent in my work and faithful to my employer.

I realized that what we often don't see within disagreements of theology is how our perspectives are manipulated by our situations and needs.

With that in mind, it's a curious experience discussing views of God. One starts to wonder what the situation is of each person, and a light is shined upon what they require in life.

Ultimately, that should be our focus, anyways, when talking about God with one another. We should be learning each others' needs. It is a whole different motive. Instead of asking how you can convert someone, ask how you can meet that person's needs. Care for people. Listen to their stories.

John and I continued in our conversation, but I no longer argued my point, I listened. And the best part is, I learned a lot. God taught me something through the needs of someone else. After all, we are all broken.

In the name of God, the Gracious, the Merciful...

Feeling Gravity

The last few days have had more than their fair share of excitement. Friday was strange at the start. I started having this feeling of restlessness. Like I'm uncomfortable in my own skin. Even now, in the lull of the day, I feel very uneasy. But Friday I wrestled with this feeling all afternoon until I went to Nate's place. After that, things picked up, as they always do when I visit Nate's house. Many songs and bottled messages later, we all settled down at Steph's house for a sleepover.
I slept until Susie offered to drive me home, where I continued to sleep until the early afternoon. That evening I visited JJ's pad, where he lives with Grant, Micah, Nathan, and Sam. They were hosting a game night, which was pretty fun, save that I had to leave before even the first game had ended. But I hadn't hung out with my favorite Wealthy House in a while, and we were planning a Dirty Dancing Marathon. Ironically, we only watched the first one. But everyone was tired (myself very much included), so we called it a night.
I slept again until the afternoon. I've probably been tired because I've been fighting a cold. And I imagine, I feel restless because I'm doing less due to my cold. But I'm really praying there isn't more of a reason. My mind is definitely not dualistic. My flesh and my spirit are one. I just wish that I felt more at ease right now.
Sometimes--in moments like these--I feel as though I hear the Earth yawning and groaning as it hurls around the sun. As though the whole motion does involve me, and my being is aware of its speed and its gravity. As though, at any moment I will be called to help in its turning. Am I the only one who feels as though the universe is watching me? As though it's waiting on my action? And what if I don't move? What if I let the Earth carry itself?
Is this what the voice of God sounds like?