Journaling: Love and Her True Implications

photo credit: Karen R. Kruse Photography

I am a prolific journalist.

Not in the news journalism sense, but in the vein of writing daily (almost without fail) of my thoughts, of the concepts dancing in my mind and taunting me with their elusiveness. I journal because I want to remember. I easily forget that which is not in the forefront of my focus. Especially the little things.

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Since I was a wee junior high boy, awkward mannerisms and inexpressible emotions included, I’ve written consistently in a notebook or fake leather journal about my spiritual learnings, personal progress, and even significant conversations with others. Of course, the content and style and handwriting have each morphed (some for better, some for worse). Through these scribbles and scratches, ever discovering, ever revealing the ideas hidden away layers deep.


Some of the most terribly cliche and simple-hearted lines penned by young John Weirick were those written in form of song, in my lyrics notebook. Throughout high school, song material and genres graduated from hopeless romantic pop punk, to angsty and edgy punk, to darkly emotive hardcore, then to emo pop solo acoustic ballads. In college, I mixed a bit of each with a dose of much needed maturity and storytelling, and so created the most complete musical work with college friends, under the name Telephonic. [You can download the album for free on NoiseTrade.]

When I recently came across my lyrics notebook from the past nine years, it was funny to read those lines again. Moments came back to life through the ink and jagged corners.

One of the entries was unique apart from all the others. It was an essay of some sort, a rambling I wrote in prose one winter night during high school:

Love and Her True Implications

January 23, 2006

Oh, that love and her true implications were understood for what she really is and stands for. That a wealth of numbers of people knew this very thing which has been taken hold of and twisted and manipulated and altogether deformed by a multitude of deceived and seemingly helpless persons. These have even deceived and manipulated themselves to redefine love as a merely horizontal thing, and just a feeling, an emotion at that, restricting her to only between man and woman (or to an even more rampant extreme), and having no focus, let alone inclusion, in relation to her and their divine inventor: The One who formed her and gave her the ability to give the human spirit and actual, lasting, meaningful sense of true joy. For this is what love was enabled to do by the only source of her existence and fullness: to mend within the inner caverns of one’s body…

(The body: merely a temporal shell for his soul, an earthly vehicle to which human capacities are bound, with exception to greater things only coming by way of gracious allowance of understanding. These are things not being things, but rather, that which we cannot grasp with hands.)

…Also to bring back together in reconciliation a humbled and repentant servant to His forgiving and receiving Master. It is then through this merciful, undeserved event of two entities that the lesser involved becomes aware of and can fully appreciate this true and absolute (in the form of agape-unconditional) love.

This gives way to an overflowing abundance of (phileo-brotherly) love which is shared with and dispersed among fellow colleagues of the human condition, perhaps enlightening, in turn, these to the original Source from which love and her manifestation came. Behold, what a grand cycle is evident through this economy not comprised of combustible goods or momentary, fleeting services not overseen by human eyes, not administered by human hands, neither conceived nor maintained by futile human intelligence.

But alas, for love longs to be known as she was made to be and is; a vertical and upward alignment to Him who is the sole Author of absolute dependence, through the annals of history (indeed it is His story, His glory and worth being brought to light, being based exclusively on Himself), during this present vapor-like moment, and even unto the vast, unfathomable reaches of time as it exists by and through the will of He who is the Keeper and Sustainer of time, and all things, for that matter.

Love. She is a glorious mystery.

[Not bad for a high school kid, huh?]


What ideas or writings have you rediscovered from your past? What would your young self tell your grown-up self today?


Read more from my childhood and growing up.

Read more From the Journal:

I Won’t Die In Roseville.
Hundreds & Thousands & Millions.
Hang On.
Ink & Paper.
Don’t Run Away.

5 responses to “Journaling: Love and Her True Implications

  1. Dang, dude! I knew you had a knack for words now, but were you really that poetic back then? No wonder I can’t beat you in scrabble.

  2. Ah, exciting! I recently rediscovered a set of a few blog posts that were “missing” from the summer after my senior year of high school (I reposted one here: I’ve been quite a journaler too, though they are what I’ve considered prayer journals – conversations with God, not with my notebook or with myself. Since I started (in 6th grade or so) I’ve had a habit of starting a new journal for each year. I regret that I don’t have them here with me in Colombia; it will definitely be a priority for me to carry them along with me after I visit home.
    My 2012 journal is bigger than any of my others has been. I hope to fill it. I also have a 5-year “one-line-a-day” journal that is currently making me feel only guilty and regretful for not writing consistently…

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