"Is This Really Your Plan?"

Well today was the day. One week since my morning of restlessness and . . .

nothing. Or so it seems. I'm trying not to be dissapointed, I'm really not sure how its going, but that's how it is when you're not very introspective.

A few possibilities come to mind. 1) Something did indeed happen and I missed it, because that is what I do. I miss things. 2) Something happened which I am not yet aware of. 3) It was a challenge and not a promise. One week was the amount of time I had to do or not do . . . well, something. or 4) I just made it all up. Unintentionally, of course.

This is the sound of a crushing and defeaning sigh.

I think perhaps the worst part is that I was seaking so much today. I was ready for it to be anything (though I had certain outlandish hopes). I prayed so much. I read the Word so much. And yet . . . I can't recall feeling filled up by those things. I'm not sure they made a lick of difference. I prayed prayers I've prayed a hundred times before, if that few, with no apparent result. I did everything I could think to give God room to speak to me through the Bible, with no result.

One thing that I really enjoy, and I mean really, is late night naps. Naps that are taken about or just before the time you'd normally go to bed, and then you wake up somewhere in the night and feel a little to rested to go fully to sleep. So you have at least an hour and a half of prime late night to do . . . something.

That word keeps coming up in my prayer journal. "God do something." I have no idea how many times that phrase appears in my journal. Too often. Is it me or is it Him? No, I know, its me. Oh how impatient I can be. I think the worst part is that so much, being so wrong, this early in my life can only mean preparation. And even though I've prayed big and dangerous prayers, now that I face the river rushing from the temple, I'm not sure I actually want to get in. Isn't there some other way? Some safer way I can serve You? Something that isn't so big? That doesn't need so much preparation?

I thought I was ready for anything today. Then around 8 pm I started to get this feeling. Nothing I had thought might was happening. Indeed nothing was. Then I started getting this feeling. I wanted to desparately to call Heather. Here I thought I was ready for anything. I was wrong. I wanted to hear her soft, warm, sweet voice. To hear her say "I love you" again. So I prayed. And I cryed. And I wrote in my prayer journal. And I sat and tried to listen, trying to see if that was what I needed to be ready for. And I got nothing.

At least my day was consitent.

I mentioned this in my post from (kindof) Sunday, but I think my dreams have subsided. I think I may have had regular dreams the other night, but I can't really recall. If so that's not a good sign. For a few reasons.

Along the same lines I remember that I forgot to tell a story from Sunday. Dustin was Aaron's missionary friend from Bangladesh. Long story short, at one point everyone was praying over three of us guys, that we would be called and enabled to go over and help them. Dustin was right next to me, and at certain points while he prayed I heard something very interesting. He prayed in tongues.

Now this both excited me beyond what I can explain, and upset me just as much. It excited me because the reason I knew that's what was going on, is that it sounded exactly like it did when Heather did it. Exactly the same. I could even pick out particular words I had heard. And it was systematically the same as well, being interwoven with English prayer. This was incredibly exciting because it has forever cemented my belief in glossolalia (Greek for speaking in tongues). I mean . . . I've heard two people, with absolutely no connection to each other speaking the same language, a language not of this earth. Now what could be so upsetting. Of course it reminded me of Heather, but more importantly, I couldn't make heads nor tales of what he said. I had not a clue. Even though I phonographically recognized some of the words. Not a single word of translation was apparent to me. This means that my ability to interpret the language of the Holy Spirt is solely tied to Heather. I suppose that should give me hope right? That should be a sign. But right now it just sucks.

I've lost my ability to dream the future. I can't understand God's own tongue. These are blessings I have had. These are blessings that were realized with Heather. And she wants nothing to do with me. She took 2 days to go from being madly in love with me to trying to wipe me out of her life completely.

Heather, I love you. Sometimes I doubt that you ever knew that. But you have to understand how deep, how wide, how strong, how covering, and willing and God enabled my love for you is. I will not give up. I am a warrior. I am a lion. I am fighting for your heart.

I have to admit sometimes I feel like giving up. Sometimes it feels like there is no hope. Each day that passes where I don't hear from her I feel she is further away. That things are becoming more entrenched. That she moves further from remembering the good. From remembering who I was when we met. And why she said yes. From how I treated her. But God . . . even though it has been a while, I can't help but think of that quote from Oswald Chambers, "Don't dig up in doubt what you planted in faith."

Do you ever feel like you hear things that were meant for someone else?

God has made promises. That night Heather and I met, on that car ride back, and I knew. I just . . . knew. And at every turn, when God's counsel has been sought . . .

The only thing that says we are not meant to be husband and wife is present circumstance. Is her mindset. If part of my problem was a lack of faith in a hard time, how can I give up now? How can I turn to God and say, "everything you've said, we must have just heard You wrong. There is too much that stands in the way."

There was a point, late last week where I was dealing with so much personal bitterness. And I hit this place of wanting to run from God's will here. Not to pursue someone else, but rather to never marry. To just go disappear.

Yet . . . of all the things God does want, of how He wants me to serve Him. I am meant to be an amazing husband. For Heather.

I'm not sure if I have actually said anything in this post. I'll end with a prayer journal excerpt, my second to last for the day, with the last going to be written after this.

"I am afraid to even ask You, for fear of being let down again.
What do you want from me?
Where are You?
Where are You calling?
What am I to do?
Please speak.
I want to hear You.
I want to listen.
I want to obey."