Baptism

This past Sunday I got baptized for the first time.

During a Bible study series several months ago, I came across a reminder that baptism was a step of obedience. I had buried this fact very far back in my mind when I had started to accept that I would never be worthy. I had been waiting for the day that my desire to live righteously was greater than my proclivity to sin, and tried as I might to overcome my sin nature, I never could seem to measure up. I think of Paul describing his struggle with his own sin nature:

For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh; for the willing is present in me, but the doing of the good is not. For the good that I want, I do not do, but I practice the very evil that I do not want. But if I am doing the very thing I do not want, I am no longer the one doing it, but sin which dwells in me. I find then the principle that evil is present in me, the one who wants to do good. For I joyfully concur with the law of God in the inner man, but I see a different law in the members of my body, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin which is in my members. -Romans 7: 18-23

How might I approach God in such a grand state of imperfection? Looking back on the past several years, I think I almost looked at baptism backwards - as though I had to die to myself before being baptized, when in fact, baptism was the very moment to declare that death to self.

Death to self - what a concept. It was another reason why I was hesitant to approach baptism. A part of me was ready to do that and another part of me wondered what that meant giving up. I gave that some thought and considered what it was that I seemed to want to hold on to. Those things were sand in my hand, slipping through my fingers, and not worth holding onto. I was starting to believe that I wanted this, but there was still the worthiness problem.

I never did solve the worthiness problem, and yet, yesterday at the age of 27, I was baptized. Alas, the worthiness problem does not exist. In the last couple of years, and especially in the last several months, God revealed to me that He was not waiting for my perfection, just my heart and my obedience. Time and time again, God uses and rewards imperfect people who demonstrate a heart for God and the choice to obey Him.

Just as you might observe an image without comprehending it at first, I did not register this revelation for sometime. When it finally occurred to me, I knew that I was ready to be baptized.

As I sat through service anxiously awaiting my baptism, the teaching pastor spoke as if directly to me. “This is just the beginning,” he said. Baptism was not the mark of a completed journey in Christian faith - the end game. Baptism was not the magic step of obedience that would perfect me. I would come up out of the water much like I had gone in, having made my desire to follow Jesus known. Life would go on with much of the same struggles, perhaps intensified by this public declaration. This was just the beginning of a walk in a newness of life.

I listened intently, and when my time came, I stepped into the water ready for all that it meant. I was glad to be baptized by my pastor and friend, Kevin. The timing was particularly special since it lined up with Father’s Day. I knew that both my heavenly father and my earthly father were pleased.

Endeavor: Local Adventuring in Downtown Dallas

Recently my brother, Uriah, and I decided to start taking some time on Saturdays to explore our city together. We have reached a point in our lives where we want to take our interests and turn them into something more. For my brother, that means diving into photography. He's into different kinds of photography (excluding wedding and portrait photography), but at this point, he seems to be practicing architecture photography and street photography. For me, that means seeking out new places, people, and experiences to learn more about myself, as well as the stories and perspectives of others so that I can share those in a meaningful context. The decision to explore Dallas together offers us a backdrop for these endeavors we have, and a cool opportunity to spend some time together. Today was our first day of local adventuring. It was way too hot, but also fun.

Although we have lived in Dallas for about 12 years (which is longer than we have lived anywhere else), we have spent little to no time at all outside of the areas where we work, live, or attend school. I had seen a bit of the city on rare occasions - a field trip to the aquarium with my students, a concert in Deep Ellum, a lunch date with friends in the Bishop Arts District. We thought a lot about where to start exploring and decided to check out a store called The Lone Chimney Mercantile. My brother had had a chance encounter with the owner a few months ago, and she had encouraged him in his pursuit of photography. It just so happened that I also knew (of her), as I worked with her child. Naturally, she was not there at the time that we arrived, but we ended up seeing a bit of the Dallas Farmers Market. I tried a snowcone from Sno Gourmet Shaved Ice. In the spirit of trying something new, I opted for an interesting snowcone flavor, Orchid Creme Vanilla. When I asked the cashier to describe the flavor, she said it was "like vanilla cotton candy". Immediately I was sold. And then I tasted it. She forgot to mention that apparently, the orchid part of the flavor tastes like bitter poison - like actual poison that nearly killed me. I tried to be a trooper and finish it, but I ended up dumping it in a nearby trash receptacle. You guys, seriously, be advised that it was either a horrible flavor or an extremely acquired taste. I suppose I should have known better than to go with a floral flavor.

View fullsize

Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, S03E02: Kimmy’s Roommate Lemonades!

““You know what yuppies eat? Brussels sprouts!
And ice cream that tastes like lavender!”
“NO - that’s a smell!””

— Lilian & Kimmy

We exited the market to check out the art painted on the walls across the street - a set of painted mini murals comprised a wall along the block, with all kinds of images. Some were innocent and cute, and others were bright and bold, boasting thinly veiled meaning or references. I wondered about the children who were growing up with these adult images around them being normalized in their minds (I suppose there's a lot of that in our culture today).

The following confession is one that I am neither proud nor ashamed of: I did not last for more than 10 to 15 minutes of our adventure once we stepped out of the market. The heat index was 110º. Somehow, my brother (and apparently loads of other people who were out and about on their scooters and feet) have convinced themselves that this is an acceptable temperature for human beings. I personally cannot rationalize any decision to subject oneself to such high temperatures willingly. I must not have been alone, because The National Weather Service issued an excessive heat warning.  So feeling a bit like a weak link, but even more so like a smart cookie, I decided to quit hindering my brother (by stopping to look for shade or air conditioning every few minutes) and go find a safe haven indoors. I had been wanting to check out The Wild Detectives for some time, especially as I was planning a scavenger hunt to conclude there for an upcoming Girls Day Out, so I headed that way.

The road between The Farmers Market and 8th Street was striking - like weaving in and out and in between "well to do" and "getting by". I lost count of the homeless men and women I passed on the way. In a little while, we were on a narrow street with cars parked down either side, leaving barely enough room for one car at a time from opposing sides of traffic. It reminded me of a New York street. The businesses resembled (or more accurately were fashioned in) varying little, brightly-colored houses. I liked the aesthetic and the vibe of "the neighborhood".

As I walked up the steps to The Wild Detectives, I could hear a good deal of activity from the inside. The place was packed and buzzing with conversation (and probably with drinks). The folks behind the counter were so enthralled by their own conversation that no one noticed me for a while. Eventually, I spoke up, and a gentleman behind the counter with his straight-haired dreads mounted in a man bun atop his head answered my questions about the place and "how it works". He offered me a menu where I found that that there were very few cold drinks (other than water) that did not contain alcohol (yeah, yeah - I know it's a bar). The place had crazy-cool vibes - it was covered in books, wood, and vinyl. There was a fridge full of books for borrowing. There were several picnic benches outside, where I could see folks setting up for what I learned would be a concert featuring a local artist later that night.  There was no shortage of people inside, all engaged in conversation, just as the creators of the venue intended. I just loved the idea of  The Wild Detectives, but I needed a cold drink and a little more calm, so I decided I'd come back another time.

I headed out and looked at what else was down the block. Just one house down, a little girl sat on the front porch of lovely a blue house. The sign out front read "SERVE". One word, all caps, no description. I could hear Christian music playing from inside. I walked into SERVE and found just the kind of calm that I was looking for. Inside was bright, open, and quiet, other than one couple talking to another behind the counter, and soft background music. The couple behind the counter acknowledged me with warm smiles and greetings. The adorable little girl from outside joined them behind the counter. The gentleman standing in front of the register asked: "How can I help you?" I asked him to tell me about the place - what it was, why it was called SERVE, was that his family behind the counter with him (yes), and did they own the place (yes). He and his wife shared that they felt called to be a lighthouse and to serve in the community. They wanted to provide good food (both tasty and healthy) for people in a place where more than serving food, they could serve up friendliness, community, and God's love. What a lovely notion! I wondered how they were carrying it out. I didn't ask. Instead, I asked for a drink recommendation and decided to go with the one provided by the little girl. It was a blue coconut refresher and it was very refreshing indeed, as was the wholesome and happy atmosphere. I chatted a bit more with one of the store owners and expressed my hopeful interest to interview them sometime.

I walked around for a bit without stopping inside many of the little house-stores. A few blocks down the stores shifted from homes to hip storefronts. There was a sort of community event taking placed called Christmas in July.  Several stores were sending "snow" from their rooftops to the people down below. One spot had a little photo backdrop set up with oversized sheet music in the background,  red, white, and blue Christmas trees, and (if memory serves correctly), a shirtless Santa in summer shorts. It was cute, but since I was alone and horrible at selfies, I lost out on the opportunity for my own fun photo. Farther down the block some stores were playing Christmas music. There were "Santa snacks" like popcorn and cotton candy being sold outside. And farther still, there was "ice skating" set up in one of the parking lots. I wondered if this area was always this busy. I had stopped into Eno's Pizza Tavern to meet my brother for dinner, but there was an hour-long wait and we were both more than ready to eat. We opted to eat at Cafe Brazil instead, which was considerably quiet and empty compared to the former option. It was perfect. After a day of exploring we were able to go to something familiar. The peace made it easy for us to talk with each other about what we had encountered. Uriah had some interesting stories to share (mine were pale in comparison, but that often happens to those who remain indoors).

As for me, I had found a couple of new places where I could surely start connecting with people and learning about their stories. I also came to realize that adventure for me (at least while I lived in Texas, particularly during the summer) would have to happen in the early morning or late night hour, so that I could manage it without being destroyed by the sun. In other news, I may or may not be a vampire.

My first step forward was to go somewhere new. My next one is to really meet someone new and engage them in a deep enough conversation to learn at least some part of their story.

Recollection & Endeavor: Alcohol & Margaritas

I tried a margarita for the first time tonight. That's pretty run-of-the-mill Friday night stuff for many folks, but not for me. I felt like I grew up a bit at the moment that I decided to try it, and even more so when I tasted it. What a bitter beverage! Why do people love it so much? It was refreshing, and I do love lime, but this drink was like consuming a lime in the opposite manner that it was intended - inside out with lots of rinds and a little juice. The fun of the experience was satisfying my curiosity and sharing the experience with a friend. Sometimes those are not sufficient reasons to engage. In fact, sometimes, those are dangerous reasons to engage, particularly when engaging in a particular activity results in some irreversible outcome. This, of course, was not such an occasion, but it made me think of such things nonetheless.

My first time drinking alcohol was somewhere between sufficiently worthwhile and mildly (or not really) dangerous. I had my first drink when I was 22 years old. I was living on campus for the first time ever (in a dorm no less), after returning to school from a financial (read: involuntarily) hiatus. My roommate and friend, who spent a lot of time checking out new places around Dallas, would frequently invite me to join her. She is a Houston native and she had this local-adventurous vibe that I did not. I often declined, but we would talk about the places she went to and the experiences that she had. We also talked about the fact that I was not really one for drinking or dancing, which were often included in her local adventures. We talked about how I had never had alcohol, and how that choice was one that I had adopted from my upbringing, where we weren't even allowed to drink rootbeer as children, because "beer" was in the name. (I suppose my parents did not want that normalized in our minds.) We talked about how I had proudly owned the decision because I never wanted to impair my own judgment or counter my beliefs by drinking. We talked about the distinction between drinking and being drunk. And we talked about that unique place between fear and curiosity, where I often resided. She was like my cool and rebellious older sister, encouraging me to try new things and be a little braver. We both understood that I did not want to have the same life as her, but that I admired her ability to try new things fearlessly, as well as her adventurous spirit.

One night she pitched the idea of going out with just a few close friends to try a drink. The idea was to go someplace nice, where I could feel completely safe in the company of friends. We would enjoy a social drink and conversation, just as though we were going out for dinner, but with drinks instead. I was hesitant, but I liked the idea. We talked about it a few times throughout the semester, until one night, I decided to go for it. So off we went with a few other girlfriends to a cute little bar called The People's Last Stand. The bar was entirely different than I expected - quiet and calm - somewhere between chill and comfy (like a hipster church coffee shop). I felt a little out of place, but the environment was nice.

My friend offered to pay for my drink. The menu was descriptive enough for people who were accustomed to drinking, but unhelpful to someone like me, who couldn't tell vodka from tequila or whiskey from rum (I don't even know if those are good comparisons - they're the same colors, right?) I asked many questions and my friends were patient enough to answer them all. Finally, I asked for help making a decision, and my friend took it upon herself to surprise me. I hate to say that I can't recall what the drink was called or what was in it. What I do remember is that she had asked the bartender to make me the sweetest drink that he could make and the result involved strawberries and chocolate. It was a pretty pink drink, and it was, in fact sweet, but not sweet enough to mask the taste of alcohol. I tasted my friends' drinks too. The only drink I remember by name is the Sangria because I knew it to be my roomie's favorite drink.

On the whole, the experience was nice. I enjoyed a good time with friends and satisfied that often-perilous curiosity. I felt a little changed by the experience, but I needed a moment to process it. I also did not want to project that outwardly, since my friends were so sweet and patient with me as I moved at my own pace, which was pretty much a single half of a sip forward.

What my mind processed was that I could not undo what I had just done. I had finally had alcohol - and for what? A night out with friends? I didn't need alcohol for that. For the sake of my curiosity? That was hardly worthwhile - alcohol tasted (and smelled) horrible. I could have done just as well with a chocolate-strawberry milkshake. I would look back on that night as the night that I lost my alcohol-virginity. It seems dramatic (maybe it is), but I realized that I took a certain internal pride in the fact that I had never had a need to try it or a desire to consume it. I think there is a certain purity in choosing never to drink.

That being said, I do not believe that the choice to drink is wrong. It is a personal choice that you should make at the right time, for the right reasons, and with full confidence. What is done is done, so I move forward in light of what I learned. I learned that I never want to let my curiosity outweigh my convictions,  even when they seem more like personal preferences. I learned that I absolutely hate the taste of alcohol. I learned that I could have a drink without the slightest worry that it would go too far. That is simply not who I am.

I did not drink again for a long time, but when the time came to  "drink socially", I had little fear or apprehension. I typically opted for a non-alcoholic beverage, and if I felt like having a little fun, a virgin pina colada. Occasionally, if the drink of choice was Mike's Hard Lemonade or Seagrams, I drank (or more like sipped) in solidarity. I once tried rum from a bottle that my brother had been gifted. It smelled like pure vanilla, and I figured it might taste as lovely as it smelled. It did not, which makes sense, since I'm not in the habit of drinking vanilla. I had tried it when I was alone in the house, and when I told my brother about it, he laughed. Apparently rum is typically combined with another drink like coke. The first time I finished an entire bottle of Seagrams was last year, during a game night at my sister's house. It was unceremonious, but noteworthy - like a kid finishing all of his veggies for the first time. Of course veggies are good for you. The ability to drink (without spitting out your drink like I did when I first tried rum) can also be advantageous in that it enables you to engage in proper settings where social drinking is required, as in certain cultures. It has also enabled me to try new drinks with friends, like I did tonight, which is nice.

Still, if I ever invite you out for drinks, know that means boba tea or coffee!