The Facts

In no particular order...

Fact: I am the most selfish, lazy, apathetic, prideful people I know behind closed doors. Don't tell me otherwise, because I know how I look to others, and the two are in complete disunity.

Fact: I often think I'm terribly clever in the things that I think and say, and I often don't think what I mean to say through before it's already posted on some billboard for the world to see. I also realize how applicable this fact might be to itself.

Fact: I need to get off of my couch and live life. I may work hard eight hours a day, but a great deal of the rest of the day is spent doing next to nothing.

Fact: I'm too good at ignoring my better judgment for my own good.

Fact: bears, beets, Battlestar Galactica.

Fact: I often choose the wrong times to make jokes.

Fact: I very often take things far too personally and get flustered over things that I cannot change (Who of you by worrying can add a cubit to his height?).

Fact: I love very imperfectly and often selfishly, not taking into consideration how my actions might affect them. This is related to facts one and two.

Fact: I often seek validation through improper means. This sets dangerous patterns in motion and increases my pridefulness.

Fact: I have started things that have gone the way I have not wanted them to go and have gotten very unreasonably frustrated. This is because I do not like it when things do not go my way--especially lately.

TRUTH: I have come to a place of profound thankfulness for those things that have not gone my way. Some way, in His all sufficient grace, God has used my pride and unreasonable frustration to bring me to a point of realization about myself and how much I seek false validation and how prideful and arrogant I really am and how much my perspective has been shot to Hell (almost literally). It is through that which did not go my way (and everyone that pointed it out, as insensitive as you may have felt (you had no idea it was a big deal, because I didn't either, so how could anyone know?)) that I have come to the point where I realize how fully and completely I must rely on God's grace to fulfill every part of me that is lacking, i.e. idleness, imperfect love, vertical challenges, saying things without thinking them through.

Fact: I'm not worthy of His grace at all.

Truth: He doesn't care. Worth has nothing to do with Grace.
(that's what makes it grace)

Tallness of Heart

I have received absolutely overwhelming encouragement in response to my last note. I want to hold each and every one of you and kiss you on the forehead until you understand how grateful I truly am. I have been blessed by my God beyond belief, and each one of you is testament to that.

I'm coming to accept my shortness, and what's more, coming to embrace it as a very part of who I am. Yes, I may often feel physically insufficient, but I'm being reminded by the most beautiful people I know that it is what is unseen, not what is seen, that is eternal.

I realized yesterday as I was processing my insecurities that I have tried so hard lately to find validation anywhere I could, and in the process have lost perspective of where it is my validation truly comes from. It was once my battle cry that His grace was enough, and I've never realized until now how fully sufficient that grace is, and how much more it covers than what I had previously thought. See, I have said that so often thinking, 'If we would have merely been spared from death and sin, that would have been enough.' Instead, I must now think, 'whatever weakness or insufficiency or less desirable feature I have, His grace covers it.'

'Beloved, do you have any idea how deep that is?' He says to me
And I really don't.

But I really want to.

A pinch to grow several inches.

It is really no surprise for me to say that I am really not the tallest man in the world. In fact, far from it. In fact, I am quite short: a mere five foot seven at last measure, which is a full two inches shorter than the national average.

It might however be a surprise for me to say: I'm actually very self-conscious about that.

I've said it. And despite all that I may say or what may seem, it's very, very true. Through high school, I had friends that were much taller. I felt short, yeah, but I could always say that I hadn't hit my growth spurt yet. And as time goes on, I keep hearing more and more statistics that men don't quit growing until age twenty-five and stories of people that grew eight inches in a year at age twenty. My mom used to always tell me that she grew two inches her senior year of college. I come home on holiday, and my mom always tells me I look taller. In fact, between last fall and at present, I actually DID grow an inch or so.

But as time wears on, that hope becomes more and more vain. And so I resolve myself to my height, but never completely. As much as I try to tell myself, I don't know if I'll ever stop hoping that I'll grow an extra inch or four or five.

Lately, it's gotten ridiculous. A contested matter of height between a wonderful friend did little to resolve the issue and much to frustrate me to the point where I just got angry for her for such a stupid thing, even as much as I love her.
I've never been that upset over my height before, and it got me thinking if I really am okay with all parts of who God made me.

And I really have to say--
I'm not.

I work a physical job, and there are certain things I can't do, like reach the pedals of the work van with ease, or reach light fixtures, and to rub it in more, my shortest coworker is at least three inches taller than I am. And of course, it comes up, and I joke around about it too, but how much of it is funny to me anymore?
I want to be able to protect the ones I love. I want to be a comfort to them. I want to make them feel safe when they're with me because I'm strong enough to carry them. And I know that what is spiritual is what counts, but when you feel like you can't physically protect someone...

It just makes me feel so (grumble grumble) insufficient.


I want to come to understand the mind of God more--the God that chose the weak to shame the strong, and the foolish to shame the wise. And would it be a stretch to say the short to shame the tall?
I want to understand the all sufficient grace of Christ.
I want to come to know who it is He has made me to be.

But sometimes, I can't get around what's right in front of me.


And so it comes to this first step of confession.
I, Nathaniel FitzGerald, am short, and my perspective is completely off and I don't know how to change that.
I just know that He does.

Growin' up ain't always growin' old

Today at work, I witnessed a thousand small miracles. We were cleaning out the gutters, which were filled with wet pollen and decaying leaves, and was no appealing task. Then, we went to the other side of the campus, and the trees changed type. This particular kind of tree releases its seed in the form of a little pod with a wing on it. As a child, I knew these as 'helicopters.' I spent maybe an hour on different roofs gathering as many of them as I could and throwing them up high off of the roof and watched them twirl to the ground. I felt so much joy I thought I might burst.

Thank the Lord for simple joys--the only joys that really last.

A bittersweet memorial

I'm a little conflicted when it comes to holidays such as today. I really really really really really don't like war, and I'm incredibly frustrated at how much federal money goes to the military instead of to education or to hospitals or to creating jobs. But at the same time, I have no concept of the horrors that our soldiers face. The fact that thousands of young men and women risk their lives every day (whether it's really to defend our freedom or just because the big wigs told them to)
is astonishing to me, and I admire them greatly.
And I really really really wish we could solve the world's problems in a different way.


At any rate.

At church yesterday in Kalamazoo, we sang a song that said, 'Cry out to God with a voice of triumph.'
I realized then and there: triumph is so foreign to me. Not meaning that I never succeed at anything at all. It's that by nature, I'm a defeatist. When a challenge presents itself, I fold to it. There are things I know I need to do, but I don't feel ready to undertake them, thus forfeiting the triumph I might otherwise have.
I need need need need this pattern to be reversed. Christ died, and my defeat with Him. He came to life, and to life came also my triumph.
But I've tried to pull my defeat up from that tomb where Christ was buried and sits no more, setting it on my shoulder and listening to its paralyzing advice.

It's such a strange thing, completely changing attitude about everything. Periodically, I'll take ownership of my victory, and I become the man I always wanted to be--bold, courageous, confident...
Then discouragement comes in, slowly--almost undetectable--and bit by bit, my defeat creeps up on my and trades places with my victory, Indiana Jones style.

I know I need to do something about that...
But He needs to do it.

I think maybe He's just getting me to a point where He has to be my only hope, which is going to be a lot more painful if I don't let Him be that before He takes away everything else I try to hope in.

One of my favoritely named places

This weekend, the Married Mr. Nick Wayne and I traversed to Kalamazoo for groomsman attire for the wedding. The weekend was full of all kinds of adventures, including not being able to find everything we need then finding it, searching for a top hat (unsuccessfully), a dream where I'm hanging out with Barack Obama, and a 'bachelor party' for an already married man. At said party, the infamous James Amos and I met (although he claims we've met before), and then played Halo for a long time. If you didn't already know, Halo is not my strong point. It happens to be Mr. Amos'. However, after several rounds, I began to give him a round for his money. He was scared.


On the way up, Nick and I were talking, and the topic of my obedience (or lack thereof) came up. Throughout my time ministering to youth and peers, I have come to almost excuse the outer behaviors while focusing on getting to the heart of the matter and changing that. Somehow, that had become an excuse for my disobedience. I would say, 'Well, the issue is something I need to change in my heart' and allow myself to do whatever I wanted. Nick told me about his own struggles and about his prayer where he told God, 'Completely change my heart in this matter.'

Somehow, I had skipped over that. The thought just never occurred to me to straightforwardly ask God to change my heart.
I over-complicate things far too often.

die so i can be born again

My adoption hearing was today. Our lawyer asked my dad yes or no questions, then he asked my mom, then he asked me, as the judge just listened and two other men took notes. The lawyer asked, 'do you consent to the adoption by your step-father?'
I said, 'absolutely.'

The judge then said, 'Do you realize that this will remove your inheritance from your natural father?'
'I could care less,' I said. The lawyer, the judge, and the two other men chuckled. I don't think they were expecting it. The judge then said he approved the adoption, and a wave of relief passed through me. Were I given a moment to myself, I would have cried for joy, but I was not given such a moment. My mother immediately asked the judge if we could take pictures, and he cheerfully said yes. There was a lot of laughter and a lot of thank yous, and a lot of hugs.
Now, I just have to wait for the paperwork to come back from the hospital. Did you know that when you get adopted, they change your birth certificate? That's getting it done, right there. That will take six weeks, the lawyer said.

But the process is through. It's finished. After three and a half years, it's finally finished.
And I couldn't be happier.

Also a plus: I called off work today for the hearing, and because I had a landscaping job afterward. As it turns out, I got back from the hearing around eleven or noon, and then wasn't able to leave for the landscaping until three or so. So I sat back on the couch talking to dearly missed ones on my least favorite of communication avenues (the internet) about my adoption.
There was much rejoicing, and it was well deserved.


It's a comfort to know that the process of becoming who I'm meant to be is a slow and sure process, as frustrated as the 'slow' part of that makes me. I found myself falling again today--but I stopped myself. I stopped myself at the last possible second, but I still stopped myself.

I was supposed to go to Kalamazoo tonight with Nick to buy effects for his groomsman, but Soni wanted him home tonight, so we're leaving tomorrow morning instead.
Don't argue with the wife.


I had a thought today of starting a band with Nate Hamblin, Chelsie Bennett, and Chelsea Henion, because the gimmick of having the same name is too good for me to pass up.
Then, with the idea of what the band would sound like, I wrote a song, as I laid the mulch in Patrick's garden.
It's a catchy tune, even though I can't remember it. But it was good! Trust me.

The Golden Goodness and the Ring of Power

I woke up this morning still reeling from the recognition of what He demanded of me (myself, all of myself, and all that comes with it), and I knew everything that would be given along with myself (idle moments, money, moneymaking, the internship, romance, etc...especially that last one).

And I begged Him to take it, and I did my best to freely give it. 'I know how hard it will be for me to resist taking them back,' I said. 'But You have to have them.'

Work was fine enough...then at the end of the day, we had a work order to deliver tables and chairs to the home of the vice president of development. It just so happens that I used to live in that house. I don't know what came over me, but when I arrived, I was just overcome with joy--and for no clear reason. I have terrible memories in that house: nights of loneliness and idleness and corrupted curiosity; shadows that would not lift; things I dare not let out of hiding. But I'm remembering now that is all past. The shame I bore was bore by Christ with my sin (My sin [oh the bliss of this glorious thought] not in part but in whole was nailed to the cross and I bear it no more) and I truly bear it no more.

Just like my habits. I need not return to them like a dog to its vomit--I was freed from them. How dare I bastardize my freedom by going back to my dank cell to live! The bright and living world may be a frightening place, but better far to live and die where Life is to be Lived than in a place where there is only death.

I read The Magician's Nephew tonight for the first time. It is possibly my favorite book I have ever read (note: before any debates are sparked about which of the Narnia books are the best, know that this is my first read through any of the series.) But, I realized how often I am like Uncle Andrew (conniving, cowardly, self-centered) and less like Digory (brave, obedient, and nervous-yet-accepting). At the creation of Narnia, Uncle Andrew reasons away the song because he is too fearful to think of what a singing lion would mean to the point that he no longer hears the song. Meanwhile, Digory (and Polly and the Cabby, who is now one of my favorite literary characters) watch in wonder and excitement at each new thing.

Later in the story, when Aslan returns them to the Wood between the Worlds, he shakes his head until it becomes a 'golden goodness.' It then says that for as long as they lived, whenever Digory and Polly felt sad or discouraged or lonely, they remembered the golden goodness, and they were joyful again.
I thought immediately, 'I could use something like that.'

I have a big, gaudy ring on my left pinky with a red ruby in it. Lately, I've been jokingly referring to it as my 'ring of power.' Among everything else I gave up this morning (and continue to give), I said to the Lord, 'If this is going to be a ring of power, why not have it have some actual power as a reminder such as the golden goodness?' And I took it off and gave it to Him, and He breathed on it and put it back on.
And then I realized...

It is no coincidence that my biggest ring is on my smallest, weakest finger.


It often seems the least capable are given the most power, because it's easier to sort out what's theirs and what's His.



Cannot shake from my mind: 'I do not think I'm ready.' "And it is for that reason that I know that you are."

I keep hearing that men don't stop growing until twenty-five.

I woke up late today. By 'late,' I mean five minutes later than I'm supposed to leave. That does not necessarily give one time enough to read two chapters in the Bible and arrive at work in a timely fashion. God offers forgiveness--this is not as true of the Bethel College Physical Plant.
Driving, I said, 'God, take my work today. I know how dangerous it is to say that, but do whatever You will, and I'll deal with it.'

I said that once at Subway, and one of the more reliable employees didn't show up, then I had a mid day rush of Amish people that all wanted extra meat and mayonnaise, and I was the only one working. I always expect something like this to happen whenever I let God have whatever it is I'm letting Him have.

But overall, it was a really good day. We set up for an event in the gym, were fed donuts and McDonald's, then hung pictures in an office with some really fun ladies working there. One of them knew my mom. We laughed a lot, and when we left, Raymond said he wished there was more for us to do in that office, because they were so enjoyable. I agreed.

As I drove off, the same thing happened again where I felt myself open up and get poured out and filled back up. I took a breath and filled to bursting with life. I turned my favorite radio show off so I could hear Him and hear what I had to say to Him more clearly.
And He said,
'See? I don't always take advantage of you offering yourself.' Sometimes, He just wants us to enjoy life.

Oh, my God.


I keep having this memory from Christmas break playing through my head again and again. I come into the elevator and sit next to you against the wall, and we just ride up and down as you tear loose threads from the holes in my jeans. She smiles and presses the elevator buttons for the kids that get on and off.

::edit::
I just want this process of being who I need to be to hurry up. God, please. I'm sick of myself.


Part II: thousands, thousands in the valley of decision.

The conflict came to an apex tonight. I heard very clearly, 'you can choose what is going to happen, right now. It is either you, or it is Me.'
I wanted to choose Him so badly. Oh my God, I want to choose You. But I couldn't. I chose me, even though I knew exactly what I was doing, more clearly than I ever have before.

I know what You would demand of me. You always tell me, 'I don't want your time/money/job/things. I want you. Only you.' I want to give that. I want so much to go back to my reckless abandon I had when I first got saved. I want so much to go back to that unapologetic boldness I had in the fall. But that requires everything. And I've accumulated so much the past several months that would need to be given over. I want to just throw it all at Your feet, but I'm trying too hard to hold it all up.

I'm sick of waiting for Brown City or some church event or when I start my internship to make the choices that need to be made. I want to choose You over me every time.
But I'm so conflicted.

I need a miracle.

Open, Pour, Empty, Wait.

I was unusually tired at work today, even after getting seven hours of sleep (compared to Sunday night's four, after which I felt awake enough to work fine). I just wanted to fall back to sleep every time I had an idle moment. Except for the last half hour of work, where I got a pretty lengthy idle moment in which memories of things I have done and regret came back without their usual shame. My mind started to move between the possibilities until I had to stop it and remind myself, 'That is no longer who you are.' As much as I say Nathaniel Tschetter is dead, I sometimes have to wonder how many of his habits Nathaniel FitzGerald picked up from knowing his history so well. (I have a hearing for my adoption on Friday--hopefully the FitzGerald is at least finalized then)

Whatever the case, I have let myself wander too far back into shadows I have lived before. Here, I am selfish. Here, I am isolated. I am proud and invulnerable. I have too much time for myself and very little for the Lord.
Change is a process, but it starts with a single step. I've been kind of inching toward the light, and it's not nearly fast enough for me. I want to run out of the shadows into everything illuminated and beautiful and terrifying.

After work today, I spent some time with my friend Chris. We've been trying to keep eachother accountable to different things, so we talked about those things (however briefly) while at Guitar Center and then Burger King. Then, I dropped him off at his house, and started driving away. It was raining ever so slightly, and the occasional drop of rain hit my windshield with a small tap. And I felt as if my entire being was opened up in front of God and poured out. I didn't even know what started it (do I ever?), but I don't have to. I just want Love; for Him, for others--for myself.
I'm worth so much more than what I've been letting myself onto.

I miss everyone in Port Huron. I want to see them so badly that it physically hurts when I think of it.
In two weeks, I'll be in Utica for my internship, fifty minutes away from the Port and everyone I love there.

I can't wait.



And You; take everything.

the place I spend each recent day

I've been dreaming at night again. I don't remember what happens when I wake up like I used to, but I just remember that things were the way I would like them to be (specifically in one situation).

I've fallen back into my defeatist mindset. Victory seems so unattainable that I just disregard it and accept defeat before the battle is even over (or sometimes, even begun). I want to claim victory, but defeat is so much easier, and sometimes much more gratifying at the time. I want to say that I will not allow myself to compromise anymore, but it's so much easier to say that outside of the battle than when the offer of giving up the fight is dangling on a tree in front of me, looking so ripe.
I say that it's up to me to get myself out of this pattern--just to choose what I know I should choose, and that God is just waiting for me to do that, and I am forestalling His plans until I choose to obey it (true to a point)

But there has to be something He can do. There's got to be a way for Him to pull me out. There has to be, because I thought the solution was in my own obedience, and when the time came, I found myself completely unwilling to obey.

Yesterday in the car on the way to church, I knew that God was going to do something in me there, but I really really really didn't want there to be an altar call, because I knew I needed it, and I hate going up to the altar when I'm with my parents. I don't know why, and I hate that I hate it.
The message was about Gideon, and being made a mighty warrior by God even though you feel that you are nothing special at all ('My tribe is the least of the tribes of Israel, and my family is the lowest of our tribe...')

And, true to God's form, there was, in fact, an altar call.
So I decided to swallow my sonly pride and respond as soon as the offer was given.

Then, my mom came up too. I just waited for my dad to come up, but he didn't. I'm not sure if he needed to--God can work just fine with people in seats.
Still...


I'm just waiting for the Lord, trying (halfheartedly as it may be) to stay obedient until He arrives.

every day holds a new forever.

I'm growing up, slowly, but surely, despite my Peter Pan promises that I never would.
I'm working a full time manual labor job until I leave for my internship at Redeemer Missionary Church in Utica, MI. I'm considering options of a steady job for next year, what to do after graduation, and different options for a career* (eesh!). There's also the whole issue of marriage--which I've fretted about, been at peace about, freaked out about, chased, and now am waiting for. My best friends are married (they visited tonight). My sister is getting married this summer. There are several gray hairs in my beard.

I'm simultaneously nail-bitingly nervous and valiantly accepting of this new grown-upness at all times. It's something that I've run from, knowing the whole time that I need to take ownership of it. So I am. I'm digging my heels in the dirt and turning to face my fate, and I will take it for what it is.

Part of this growing up is the initiation of this new blog. I've had LiveJournal and Xanga, and have slowly grown out of each. I feel so juvenile and pretentious on ElJay, and Xanga is just kind of lame. (sorry--but it's true.) I don't really say what I mean to say on either, and given that part of my new resolution is to do just that, here I am. New days, new blog.

Until next time.





*traveling evangelist, worship leader, youth pastor, employee in para-church organization, pastor...