Reality Check

First off, I would like to apologize to those few who want to read my thoughts here on the internet (though I do not know why you would want to...get off your computer and go outside or at least do something productive.)

I have found myself in a new world and have yet to catch my bearings here in the chaos around me to find time to write. I find myself either caught up in work, stress and mess around me to find time to be still and reflect. The time I do find is spent wishing I could just have a bit more sleep (I find myself sleeping less and less these days.)

Perhaps another reason that I have put off writing and most likely the better reason is that I am comfortable in my repression of things. I fear that if I were to relive all the experiences and emotions that have become a part of my new life here, I would break--for writing to me is much more than putting words on a page (or a screen). I do not feel my self anymore. I am being shaped, carved, broken and reformed into something new. I am lost in a world with different rules and do not know what to do or who to be here. I do not know what church is supposed to be or look like anymore. I have been swept of the chaos of real life and it will take me some time to drudge through all the words swarming in my head waiting to be written. (Sorry Allison, you'll just have to wait some more.)

Somewhere over the Rainbow

(I meant to finish this essay three weeks ago, but life is chaotic here, so here is the updated and revised version)

“Halsted Street” reads the signpost just around the corner from my new home. Rainbow bands cover the sign signaling to all who pass by that they have just entered the rainbow district of Boystown. It is one of the biggest LGBT communities in the world. Rainbow flags hang from the surrounding households and every business bears a rainbow sticker in their window to show their support for the gay community. Every type of person and every type of place can be found here. It is a neighborhood with its own rules and its own rhythms.

If you were to take Boystown and divide it by the color spectrum, I would live somewhere between orange and yellow, which happens to be right around the corner from a gay bathhouse. I guess that puts me in the middle of the rainbow and not over it, but the metaphor works regardless. I am truly in a different world. (Although to clarify, I have spent a good amount of time in Boystown before when I worked with Emmaus ministries, so my story is one of those that starts in the middle of the action—en media res.)

The purpose of this blog is to record my discovery of truth. I’m here learning how to live and how to love as my Savior did. I am in a search for alethic realism, the ultimate reality, what is really real. Boystown is a place of illusion. People here hide who they really are. This world wears a mask and puts on a façade of immense proportions. Yet, the smoke eventually fades and what seemed like magic is revealed to be trickery. I want to find the world that lies beyond smoke and mirrors. I want to pull back the curtain and find the man who was pulling the strings all along. God is active here and I want to find what he is doing in this dark place.

Boystown is a land of broken dreams and sleepless dreamers. My mom recently discovered YouTube and as a result, she watches Susan Boyle sing “I Dreamed a Dream” from Les Miserables. In the book/play/musical Fantine is the character who sings this song. She fell in love with a man and had a child with him. He made her promises that they would be together, but left her destitute. At this point, her factory has found out that she has a child out of wedlock and fires her because of her immorality. In order to survive, she has to become a prostitute. The song goes as follows:

There was a time when men were kind

When their voices were soft

And their words inviting

There was a time when love was blind

And the world was a song

And the song was exciting

There was a time

Then it all went wrong

I dreamed a dream in time gone by

When hope was high

And life worth living

I dreamed that love would never die

I dreamed that God would be forgiving

Then I was young and unafraid

And dreams were made and used and wasted

There was no ransom to be paid

No song unsung, no wine untasted

But the tigers come at night

With their voices soft as thunder

As they tear you hope apart

And they turn your dream to shame

He slept a summer by my side

He filled my days with endless wonder

He took my childhood in his stride

But he was gone when autumn came

And still I dream he’ll come to me

That we will live the years together

But there are dreams that cannot be

And there are storms we cannot weather

I had a dream my life would be

So different from this hell I’m living

So different now from what it seemed

Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.

When I heard this song in its context, it really hit me as the perfect description of the Boystown community. People are convinced that the longings of their flesh will give them fulfillment in life, but in reality, it only results in death.

I have entered a world of broken dreams. People wander around as the living dead, floating through a waking nightmare. I feel my heart and soul screaming out for this community. Those who were once strangers and guarded are now friends and brothers. Yet, they are lost. Oh God, I pray “Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” Wake them up…