The Banzai Chronicles

While I've no business being in a funk, I've still been in a bit of one all day long. "Bear one another's burdens," Scripture exhorts, and sometimes I think I do this a little too well. Not to paint myself a martyr, mind you— if I were a man of greater faith, I think I'd also be a man of greater hope.

All that to say I haven't left my apartment today. My wardrobe has been blue plaid flannel pants and an old t-shirt; my menu has been leftover pizza and snack food; my entertainment has (by and large) been whatever seems most diversionary on hundreds of channels of distraction (note: The Virgin Suicides is not an uplifting film). A world on the brink of war, a church that counts on me, a life filled with irony and potential, and I've spent my first day off in a week wrapped in a little cocoon of self-absorption.

The hardest part: I don't know what's on my mind, my heart. I'm not sure what's bothering me. The cumulative effect of the races I've been running? A reminder of my limits and need of God? Something borrowed and blue? The best guess, as usual, is D) All of the above.

Jesus can handle this, whatever it is.