The Loser's Circle

Greetings, Readers!

Since I last posted, I decided to take a small sabbatical from blog writing. However I also decided not to tell anyone. I am dreadfully sorry, and ask you to please forgive my lack of professionalism.

Actually, that's not true, unless it was a subconscious decision. But it sounds better to say, "I took a much-needed break" than to admit I have been running around like a chicken with it's head forcibly removed by sharp instruments ever since I posted last year in December, and have only just now had enough time, energy, and usable material to create a new blog post.

Okay, now I got that over with, I'm going to quit using such a formal voice. It was fun, but what I have to say can't be said with a stiff upper lip, pretending to look down my nose at readers. Or as though I'm a British professor. Something along those lines.

First off, I'll try to explain the title. These days I feel very much like a loser. No, this is not some cheesy gag trying to extol the virtues of being "a Loser for Christ" and giving up one's life to follow him. If I ever do that, I sincerely hope one of my dear friends will be kind enough to walk up behind me and hit me upside the head (aka, Gibbs slap me). Honestly I do feel like a loser, literally. I lose a lot. Not just in sports. Though in that area, I feel almost cursed as, inexorably, whenever I play or watch a sporting event, the team I cheer or play for loses. Every time.

This January has brought that into sharp focus as I play Volleyball and struggle because I feel as though my presence simply brings down the team, that they would be better off if I didn't play. More than once I have lost my temper because, after two weeks of playing, my team has won only a single game, and the other team was sadly pathetic. So I'm not sure I should even count that as a victory. But every other game we always lose, and I feel terrible about it, wondering if I might have been able to prevent it just by not showing up.

But it seems to show up elsewhere too. I feel often not good enough because I find that I fail to achieve any goals which include winning something important. Scholarships? Can't seem to get any. Writing contests? Never good enough. And if you combine the two? Failure after failure after failure rises before my eyes, and makes me want to curl into a hopeless little ball. And it never helps when I see someone else I know win them because it's always a bittersweet experience. I'm happy for them, but I feel jealous inside, wishing I was as good as they.

I never feel as though I measure up, to myself, or anyone else.Other people (aka, my parents) say they see potential in me, but sometimes I wonder of they even know what that means. When you face so many other writers and excellent professionals and student in your field, when you always seem to fall short, I wonder if they know what they're talking about because they clearly cannot mean me. They haven't met the people who clearly have potential, because if they had, they would never mistake me as having it.

But, thankfully I have friends. Friends who tell me that there is something more, that there is a reason. Because of them I have hope again. I have to believe that God somehow has some purpose for me, that being in the "loser's circle" has some significance, some meaning some value! There has to be more than just constantly being cursed to lose. There has to be some sort of purpose, something going on that will give this, give me, a reason to continue. I need and want hope.

And please, DO NOT leave comments, email or Facebook message me, or anything just to tell me "You're not a loser, Nathan!" (Think I put enough emphasis on "Don't"?) In all honesty, I don't want to hear that. It doesn't actually make a dent, no offense. And don't recite Jeremiah 29:11 at me. That verse has become so clichéd that it actually sickens me to hear it. It loses more of it's meaning every time someone tells me to read it or look it up. That's not my purpose in writing. I'm not looking to get a bunch of sympathy cards. I want to try to maybe encourage you, even though sometimes I wish i could do the same for myself.


God has a purpose for me. Sometimes I doubt it. In my darkest moments, I give in to feeling like an accident without meaning. But that is not a way to live. That is a way to die. I believe that God has a purpose because sometimes I have to in order to just keep breathing, to fight the waves of depression I face. It is the rpoe to which I cling, and sometimes from which I receive burn marks when the trials of life cause it to start slipping through my hands. But it's still there. I believe it.


Sometimes, that's all we have. Knowledge stops, but belief can be eternal. Belief is powerful. Belief acts when nothing else can, when reason fails and discernment falters. Belief gives life to the dead and dying heart.


If I, the modern chief of losers (at least in my opinion), can believe that God has a purpose for me, then you, my dear, dear reader, can know that God does have a plan for you. That He will accomplish his purpose for you, though it might be obscure right now. His plan will be brought to light, into glorious light, and you will see the beautiful plan He created for you all along. A plan that will glorify Him, even in your failures.


Holy is the Lord, and worthy of praise.

Shame and Romans 8:1

Hi again, friends. At least, I'm pretty sure you're all friends. Most, if not all, of the people who read my blog happen to be friends with me on Facebook. So, I guess "friends" is a good greeting.

This was another week of ups and downs for me. I was thinking about today and I've realized that, so far at least, my college years have been themed with issues I struggle with. Last year, I felt like I struggled a lot with Anger. They seemed to follow me and drove me insane while I battled them. No, I haven't completely won. I'm the son of a redhead, and have a temper to match. However, I do my best to conceal it under the guise of a good Christian college student. And I'm good at that. But I digress. The problem that I seem to be facing this year, along with Jealousy, a crossover demon from last year, is Shame. And not just being ashamed of having embarrassing moments of stupidity, or of smelling like a pig when it gets too hot out. I mean true, blue Shame.

I won't go into minute details, partially to protect the innocent and guilty involved (me), and also to avoid gossipers and other people I know who read this blog finding out stuff I'd honestly rather they not know. But I confronted Shame this week. Or rather Shame came and tried to have his way with me.

I was forced, or maybe compelled by the Holy Spirit, to confess to a friend that I had sinned against them. So, I wrote them an email, since I knew I needed to confess and I had no idea if I'd see this person anytime soon. Later that day, they sought me ought. We talked about rather inconsequential things. I could tell they hadn't read the email. But during our conversation, I found myself unable to look into their eyes. I was so ashamed of myself I couldn't bear to look into their face because I knew I had wronged them. I wanted them to leave because I couldn't stand to be in their presence. I felt I didn't deserve to be there.

No, I didn't break down and tell them the truth that I had wronged them. I just asked them to read their email when they left. Yes, I'm a coward. but I'm also a writer. And Everything I said was already perfectly said in that email.

So I ended up sitting in my room waiting for their reply. Shame overwhelmed me. I wanted to crawl inside a very small hole and die. (They were a very good friend.) Let me tell you; Shame, just like anger, can be a tough task-master. I felt hopeless, unworthy to be forgiven.

And I know this all seems extremely mellow-dramatic, but if there's one thing you readers must understand about me is that I value my friends extremely highly. I become fiercely protective of them, and if anyone dares trespass against them, I get very, very angry. Sometimes that's a good thing. Sometimes I just a) scare my friends, or b) end up embarrassed I couldn't keep a better control of my own emotions, since I apparently blew up over something rather small and inconsequential. Often they both happen. But that's beside the point. So, now you know how angry I get over other people harming my friends, imagine how terrible I felt that the culprit who had sinned against my friend was none other than myself.

My friend was more than willing to forgive me, and I, for once, accepted it without argument. (I'm really good at arguing against myself and trying to prove how unforgivable I am. At least, I try to be good. So far, I haven't succeeded in persuading someone not to forgive me. Ironic, huh?)

But shame wasn't (and isn't) through with me. I still struggle with it. Those of you who have read many of my blogs might have discovered that a good, Christian boy I am not.While I have never done drugs, smoked or had sex outside of marriage, I have smaller, hidden sins. Sins no one would know or even think about if they were to look at me. Or spend a little time with me, mostly because I don't open up to individuals easily. Funny enough, it's easier for me to confess my problems to a computer screen or audience than it is to talk with someone one-on-one about how I'm doing.

But those aforementioned sins have left their marks, some of them physical. And the shame still lasts. Still, still lasts. But there's something different about this year. it's almost like God is specifically trying to tell me to forget the shame. Easier said than done, let me assure you. But throughout the last two months Romans 8 keeps showing up. First, I have a small Bible study with friends at the beginning of the school year. The passage: Romans 8. We didn't finish it though. Then, during "Spiritual Renewal Week," the speaker decides to unpack Romans chapter 8. Now, after Parent's Weekend, when I decided I would try to help a friend by starting the bidding on some artwork of theirs, I own a piece of photography titled "Romans 8:1." (I lost the gamble that other people would bid on it.)

However, here's a bit of a conundrum. I know that Romans 8:1 says that there is no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus, but when I sit here, steeping in shame over the past and how my past has affected me, the words ring hollow. I struggle to know them as true for me, not just as true for the average Christian.

I want to know the truth that, not only am I forgiven, but that I don't have to be ashamed of what I've done. I don't have to be burdened because I sinned. And I'll admit the main problem is that while I know this intellectually, while I know this is true in my head, my heart, the seat of my emotions and thoughts, my soul does not recognize the truth. I pray God heals my heart and shows it the light. For now, I struggle to keep it out of the darkness Shame hides behind.

One day I will be free of Shame. One day, I know I will know the truth and I won't question it. I hope that that day comes very soon. Shame is a heavy burden to bear.

But holy is the Lord, who holds my heart, and my destiny in His hands. And even in my shame I will praise His name.