epiphany

Faboo!!!

I've never bought a TV series on DVD, but I can't wait for this!

Happy Maundy Thursday!

Today is one of the greatest days of the year. Today we celebrate freedom from the Law. Today we celebrate Christ's one great law that crushes all others and renders them obsolete:

"As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love. These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full.

"This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that someone lays down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all that I have heard from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you that you should go and bear fruit and that your fruit should abide, so that whatever you ask the Father in my name, he may give it to you. These things I command you, so that you will love one another."

John 15:9-17

"Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love."

I John 4:7-8

Reasoning

I'll attempt now to answer some questions about the tattoo--both it's meaning and the reasoning behind getting one.

Q: What were you thinking?

Honestly, I've wanted a tattoo since high school. Over the past several months, I've been thinking about it more and more: what it would look like, where I would put it, whether or not I really wanted something like that. So, no, it wasn't entirely impulsive or off the wall. Odd, perhaps. Impulsive, no.

Q: I think I understand the cross, but I don't get the circle. What's the meaning?

There are two symbols that have stuck with me throughout my life: the cross, and the phoenix. The cross is a symbol of death, denial, and seeming defeat. The phoenix is resurrection. Originally, I was going to get a plain cross, though I thought it would be nice to have a little bit of decoration to it. A friend suggested getting a Celtic cross. I like Celtic/folk imagery, but I know that such things go in and out of style. Also, I'm not committed to Celticism to the level of advertising it. (I'm very picky about what I advertise, even with my clothing.) I also tend to be more classical and simple in my taste. However, as I thought about it, I did like the circle imagery from the Celtic cross, which looks like a rising sun behind the cross. In one symbol, I could capture that death and resurrection theme, revealing the truth of present suffering in the cross and the hope of future life with the dawning of day.

Q: Why the wrist?

At that location, I can wear long sleeves and still be professional, but I can see it most of the time when I'm working or relaxing. It's also right there when I pray. (Not that I'm praying to my wrist.)

Q: Why is it upside down?

It's not upside down to me. I didn't get this for evangelistic purposes. It's for me to consider and remember.

Q: Isn't this out of character for you?

The one consistent thing I've observed about myself over the years is that I tend to do things people wouldn't expect. My decisions aren't necessarily unexpected to me, though it does take me a long time of quietly working through an idea before I'll act on it. When I do act, I tend to act quickly.

Q: Does it hurt? What did it feel like?

The cat scratch is the best description I could give. But it would be a malicious, sadistic, and very patient cat. It's like the cat takes one claw and slowly, repeatedly, and intently scratches the same area over the course of fifteen minutes. Once I was bandaged up, it felt exactly as if a cat had scratched me, that same sort of acidy throb. The next morning, it felt like a bruise. Now it hurts only if something rough brushes it or I stretch my hand a funny way. I imagine even that will go away as it completes healing.

As for relative pain, several people told me that the wrist is a very sensitive place for a tattoo. Having nothing to compare it to, I wouldn't know. I don't consider myself to have a very high pain threshold. The slow cat scratch description sounds terrible, but despite that, it really didn't hurt much during the process--far less than I expected. Afterward it didn't hurt enough to keep me awake that night. The blister on my toe was much more painful.

Q: What was the shop like? Can't you get diseases from tattoos?

I can't speak for all shops, since I've been to only one, but it was a lot like going to the barber. Everything was clean and orderly. A buzz similar to hair clippers came from the back. The clientele and artists might have been out of place in Watertown or Greenville, but they looked fairly typical for Seattle folks. The main difference from the barber was that there were books and racks full of sample tattoos to choose from (not all of them very nice). There were some sheets with Chinese characters on them. I enjoyed reading those and what looked like mistranslations to me, since Chinglish runs both ways. The sheet claimed it was kanji, so maybe some of them mean different things in Japanese. The funniest was "da," the character for "big," which was translated as "dying young."

Going into the back of the shop, things were equally clean and organized. It wasn't some sort of high tech landscape, lest you get Star Trek squeaky cleanness in your mind. Stylistically, it was more of a 1950's look. But it was very clean, well lit, odorless, and comfortable. They had various booths with different levels of privacy, depending on where you were getting your tattoo. My booth was at the far end of the row but pretty open, since there's nothing too revealing about the wrist.

I know for a fact that the shop owner is very responsible. He will not allow anyone under 18 to get a tattoo, even if the parents are there to approve. He says that tattoos are a big decision not to be made under impulse. I may not be correct in this, but I believe that a professional shop will discard the needles it uses after finishing with each customer in order to prevent the spread of disease.

Q: What will your mother say?

There's no speculation to this one. I set up the three part entry series mostly to break it to her gently. :-) Unfortunately, I wasn't patient enough to let her discover it on her own. She hadn't checked out the blog for a couple days, so she found out as I was talking to her. My assumption of her reaction: she'd be angry/disgusted at first but would laugh later. The reality: she was angry/disgusted at first but laughed later. (For her part--and I have no problem with her posting her version of events--she says she was laughing because I was laughing.) She also told me not to tell my aunts, which I should have expected. ;-D

Q: What would your father say?

This is a matter of speculation. Mom says he would turn over in his grave. I think he'd respond like when I asked about going to Alaska. First, he would be surprised, but within moments he'd get excited, revealing that he always really wanted one.

Q: How did people react when they found out about the tattoo?

Some of the reactions you can already read on the other postings. Most people out here think it's great. Many are surprised that Jonathan would get one. Only one asked, "Why in the world would you get a tattoo?" My answer: "Because I wanted one. Why don't you have a tattoo?"

Q: What was the funniest reaction?

That definitely goes to my friend Richard. Richard is in my church community group, is probably in his early forties (I'm not a good judge of age), and is a mild mannered farm boy from Minnesota who now drives a city bus. It turns out that if Richard were to take his shirt off, he's covered with tattoos. At community group on Tuesday, he rushed over, excitedly crying, "Jonathan got a tattoo? Show it to me!" He praised it, looked at me with a twinkle in his eye, and said, "You know, those things are contagious. They tend to spread."

I can already think of two others I'd like to have. ;-)

If you have any other questions, feel free to post them or send me a private e-mail. I've been slow about replying recently, but I'll do my best for you.

Home Sick

I think I'm approaching my annual Spring Losing of the Voice. My throat was feeling a little strange just before bedtime and ended up keeping me awake a good bit of the night. It's one of those things where I'm just miserable enough not to want to do anything but not quite miserable enough to feel like sitting around the house all day. My brain says, "Come on! You can get up and do stuff! Hup! Hup! Hup!" My body says, "Go do something yourself, brain. The rest of us are staying right here."

This should give me some time to answer several questions I've received about the last three entries. But I'll do that later in the day. Right now, my body is definitely winning the internal argument.

Mark of the Best

W: "So, are you going to keep it?"

me: "You can get rid of it?"

W: "Sure. That's why I keep the dremel tool under the counter. The assistants are around to help clean up the blood."

[laughter]

W: "Congratulations, you're officially a colored man!"

Phylactery

Cat Scratch Indeed

"I heard it feels like someone pinching very hard."

"It's more like a cat scratch."

The Greatest of These

I am so mad that I don't know what to do with myself. I've been digging through a lot of personal crap over the past few weeks, and this morning one of my friends OD-ed.

I had stopped by church around 10:30 to see if they needed any help with video projects. Breakfast Club (food and a short challenge before volunteers start cleaning the building) was finishing up, so I sat down. An older friend of mine, J, left where he was sitting and came to join me. J's a little Tumnus of a man. He attends my community group. He's had a rough life and still struggles with addictions, though he loves Jesus very much.

Something didn't seem right about him. He kept falling asleep, but it didn't look normal. I asked if he was ok. He said he was just praying. When the challenge ended, he ran outside suddenly. I followed and found him vomiting into a garbage can. I told him I thought he should head back to the mission where he's been living. I had walked to church, so I couldn't give him a ride. As I helped him back inside, I asked him if he'd been into any "bad stuff" again, and he swore he hasn't. (He's trying to recover from addiction to pain meds.) He said he had taken two kinds of depression meds this morning, but both are supposedly prescription, and the amount he said he took doesn't seem consistent with what I would expect from a reaction. I asked one of the staff to find someone to give him a ride. We sat and waited in the foyer.

He seemed to be coming in and out of consciousness, almost falling asleep while walking. He would cling to me, hug me like a frightened child, and pray. He prayed himself in and out of consciousness, clinging to Jesus far more tightly that he was clinging to me.

Someone called 911 for me. J's eyes would roll back in his head. I tried talking to him, but he was becoming less and less coherent. Several times I thought he had died. Another girl who knew him came over to help.

He became alert just before the an emergency squad arrived, but that was to run to the bathroom and vomit again. He said he wanted to go out and have a cigarette and was angry to see the medics, saying he was fine. We got him back inside, and they checked his vitals. Nothing was horribly askew, but something was definitely wrong with him. One of the officers said his pupils looked like he was on some kind of opiate, which would indicate heroin or a morphine base. He vehemently denied taking any drugs and took off his jacket to prove his arms were clear of needle marks. They kept asking him what he had taken. Unfortunately, he couldn't say what one of the meds was, and I couldn't remember what he had told me earlier. They asked if he'd had alcohol with the medicine. He said, "No sir, I've been clean. I don't drink." He was slipping back in and out of consciousness.

When the ambulance arrived, he did not want to go and said it was unecessary, but he let me walk him there and help him inside. Just before they left, he yelled out like an abandoned child, "Jonathan, why are you doing this to me?"

***************

I am so angry and sad I don't know what to do. I work on laundry or cleaning my apartment but suddenly want to cry or break something. I don't know if J was lying about the drugs or not. I want to believe him, and the struggle deep down is that I do believe him. If he was lying, he was utterly convinced that he was telling the truth.

And yet I also do think it was a pain med overdose. I want to find who keeps selling him that poison and stop him. For now, all I can say is,

HOW DARE YOU!
HOW DARE YOU USE SOMETHING GOOD TO DESTROY GOD'S CREATION!
HOW DARE YOU HURT MY FRIEND!
HOW DARE YOU FEED ADDICTION TO LINE YOUR WALLET!
HOW DARE YOU TREAT HIM LIKE AN ANIMAL!
HE IS A HUMAN BEING--A BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL, BROKEN MAN!
WHY WOULD YOU DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS TO HIM?
WHAT IS SO IMPORTANT TO YOU THAT YOU'LL KILL SOMEONE YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW TO GET IT?!?
DON'T YOU SEE WHAT YOU'VE CREATED--DON'T YOU SEE WHAT YOU'VE DESTROYED!?!

HOW DARE YOU!!!

***************

What would I do if I actually found the dealer? I would probably look at him and cry. Cry for the destruction he's rending on others. Cry for the destruction he's weaving into himself. Cry for my poor friend. Cry for all the pain and all the loss I've ever known. I would cry the dealer into submission and wash his sin with my tears.

***************

I didn't know what love was until my dad died. I had worked for years to turn off my emotions, worked so hard that I lost the ability to feel anything but pain. It takes a long time to regrow emotions. The bad ones are weedy enough, but good ones--faith, hope, love--those are finicky. They take the right preparation, the right conditions, and just the right event to waken their seeds and open their blossoms.

Days like these are the ones that made me turn off my heart. But I can't go back there. I know the death of unfeeling. I know the loss, the emptiness. I know the ravenous loneliness of stripping yourself of humanity. I will not go back there.

Love is painful. Love is harsh. Love is silent yet deeply jealous. At times it is fierce and aggressive. It insists on the death of evil. It hates what is wrong and clings to what is good. It finds pain in the destruction of both the good and the wicked. It rejoices in others and finds joy in its reflection. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends.

As for pain, it shall end. As for evil, it shall cease. As for death and addictions, they shall pass away. In the end, there remain but three things: faith, hope, and love.

The greatest of these is love.

I have known the death of unfeeling. I have known its loss, its emptiness. I have known the ravenous loneliness born from stripping yourself of humanity.

I will not go back there.

I will love.

Even if it kills me,

I will love.