Inspiration

I apologize for my blogging delinquency. Besides briefly hosting one of my newly made BAC friends when he came to stay in the city for a weekend, I've done shamefully little worth blogging about in the ten days that have elapsed since my last post. Frankly, life in the city, after a brief and expected honeymoon period of adjusting, exploring, and playing, has become uninspiring. In prior years, I probably would have attributed this to the environment itself: the unfriendly locals who always seem to be pressed for time, the narrow muggy streets constantly filled with tourists and taxicabs, the lack of any landscape besides buildings upon buildings, etc etc. And I bet anybody from LA (or the west coast in general) would have agreed with me.

And yet, if I'm to be completely honest with myself, I can't just blame my surroundings. I admit that I have been lazy and misguided in my search for personal satisfaction this summer. I've sat around my apartment on the nicest of summer weekends, electing to browse the web rather than go for a run through the Village or read a book (from my ever-growing summer reading list) at the local park. I've lapsed on my vow to cook for myself and instead resorted to eating out or munching on cereal, fruit, and sandwich meat for most meals. Worst of all, I have yet again begun to search for my identity in aspects of life that are ultimately temporary and fleeting.

I must have the worst memory ever. How else do I explain the fact that I currently find myself wondering if I should work more hours to earn overtime money, or be more ambitious with my future career goals, or network wantonly with as many bankers as possible, when in a personal blog entry just a month ago, I recommitted myself to fully trusting in God's plans for me? Why do I bother memorizing Philippians 4:6 when I fail at both supplication and thanksgiving? Sometimes--no, oftentimes--I'm seized with the fear that someone will call me out for talking the talk without walking the walk, and yet a part of me secretly hopes that it'll happen so that I'll get shaken out of complacency. Is there any hope for a basket case like me?

I derive comfort from Paul's encouragement to the Romans: "Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death." Yet I've matured enough to know that this freedom doesn't give me license to live however I please and only return to God when I've had enough, like a child that only stops eating candy and chocolate when he gets a terrible stomachache (or maybe an ulcer). In recognition and gratitude for the new life that I've been given, I must sacrifice my own ambitions and (re)discover my passion for live for Him. This is paradoxically the most difficult and the most natural thing that a believer is called to do.

So I conclude with a declaration. New York, I dare you to tempt me with your worldly pleasures, your fast-paced lifestyle, your urgings to revel in my youth while there's still time. Because I know of something better than all that. It's called eternity.