Revelation, Revolution

I recently attended a baby shower for my friend Carissa, whom I met during my freshman year of high school in geometry class. [In fact, Carissa is the demonic genius responsible for my screen name and email address: having established herself at the front of my aisle, she was the gatekeeper of sorts for all homework that had to make it's way to our teacher. Somehow it got out that I enjoy growing my own produce, and Carissa being Carissa found herself in the vise of an irresistible compulsion to scrawl "TOMATO BOY" across the top of every assignment I submitted. We need not delve into the torment I endured at her hand because of my neurotic need to appear neat, professional and all-around-straight-laced before my teachers, but her graffiti was the source of much duress until I accepted the helpless estate to which I was relegated as the result of my seat assignment. But enough about Carissa; let's put the focus of this story back on me, where it belongs:] There I was, enjoying the delectable spread offered at the Los Coyotes Country Club, and partaking in lively banter among friends. But just as every rose has its thorns, I suppose ever bourgeois country club event is susceptible to a moment of reality.

Friend: I feel like we're all getting older: baby showers, engagements, marriages.
JT: [with mischievous grin indicating a moment of humor] Yeah, good luck with that whole aging thing. Lemme know how it works out for you.
Friend, rather than appearing amused at the clever joke, adopts a look of offense at the insinuation that Friend is aging but JT is not. Friend: Yes, JT. And part of getting older is making money. It's nice; you should try it sometime. [Having effectively belittled JT, Friend shoots a look of vengeful satisfaction from Friend's eyes.]

At that moment, I was struck with a feeling of complete Loserosity. It's one thing to be in want of a career, a child, a wife or even a girlfriend, but having one's loser status pointed out to him by Friend, a successful professional in possession of that which one lacks, is a very cruel cut indeed.

Still smarting from that conversation, I found myself complaining to Eddie earlier today about bloggers who are "living the life," i.e. those who blog for a living. There are writers who are read on NPR, who, like professional bloggers, seem to inhabit a realm somewhere between the second and third spheres of Dante's Paradiso. In a special category all of his own is David Sedaris, whom I admonished Eddie not to bring up, for fear of the violent fit of envy the mention of his name induces.

But then as I was scheduling my week, I realized how saturated with blessing my life really is. (I had a hard time squeezing in my small group meeting and tuxedo shopping because of my full schedule, which includes preparing to teach youth group this Friday, arranging the skit for youth Sunday at church, making preparations for our young adult retreat, private tutoring a friend in AP biology, &c.) I am involved in my church's youth ministry, which helps steer 20-some adolescents into adulthood, navigating the pitfalls and dangers of the teen years (and those of us who have emerged on the other side can testify that those pitfalls are many).

On Tuesday, I am going shopping with a student for his prom tuxedo. After my chat with Eddie, I realized what an honor this is: as far as high schoolers go, prom and graduation are basically the two most monumental occasions around. They're the closest things we have to coming-of-age rites in this society. And here is a very bright, promising teen asking me to pick out the vestments for his initiation into adulthood (due probably just as much to his trust in my person as to his belief in my fashion savvy). *I* am living the life.

During my time of wound-licking contemplation, I was also reminded of the insight recently shared by a friend in Sunday school in a discussion on John 21:

Simon Peter saith unto them, "I go a fishing." They say unto him, "We also go with thee." They went forth, and entered into a ship immediately; and that night they caught nothing.

But when the morning was now come, Jesus stood on the shore: but the disciples knew not that it was Jesus. Then Jesus saith unto them, Children, have ye any meat? They answered him, "No." And he said unto them, Cast the net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find.

They cast therefore, and now they were not able to draw it for the multitude of fishes...And the other disciples came in a little ship; (for they were not far from land, but as it were two hundred cubits,) dragging the net with fishes. As soon then as they were come to land, they saw a fire of coals there, and fish laid thereon, and bread. Jesus saith unto them, Bring of the fish which ye have now caught. Simon Peter went up, and drew the net to land full of great fishes, an hundred and fifty and three: and for all there were so many, yet was not the net broken.

I considered that when our catch seems most empty, when we most fear an empty catch, Jesus will come and give us instruction. And when we choose to obey, our nets will be filled. Though my life is overflowing, Jesus will hold everything together without any tearing, so that no blessing will be lost.