Oh the waves (part 1)

I've been sitting here staring at the screen for a few minutes. I'm not entirely sure what to right. Really I'm not even remotely aware. But I didn't write last night because I felt the same way. Unsure of what to write, and really not wanting to do it.

I'm so freaking frustrated. I just want to kick and scream and fight and destroy. I want everything and I want nothing. Let's go back.

Yesterday was a weird day. I got up and did more work around the house. I spent time with God, I kept praying, and taking breaks to read the word. But I just didn't feel where I had been the night before. I think I woke up with a very reassured sense of Heather and I being reunited. Freaking stupid.

But . . . well, I'll go on. The day just kind of droned on. Nothing really happened, spiritually or event wise. I went skateboarding for a little while, because I needed to not go insane. The day before I'd so been looking forward to Wednesday night group. But as the day wore on I realized I didn't want to go. I just wanted to retreat away from everyone and everything. I was definitely suffering from the comma.

So I force myself to go. And I show up just on the edge of being late. Anyhow I sit down behind Steve and Trish and Andy. Now I want to get something out of the way before I get to the meat of this story. I noticed last night that my Wednesday night group has a few more immature people in it than my Sunday night group. I was aware of it last night paying attention to how some of the people were acting. What's odd is that there are some really great people there as well, but you can kind of tell who is who by where they sit. Mature people sit at the back and on the left side. Immature people tend to sit around the table and in the alcove on the right. Seriously.

So on to the real issues. Last night, the discussion topic was essentially the same thing as the message from Kairos the night before, and thereby my CIL meeting from Sunday night. No I am not lying. Its freaking Holy Week. Everybody should be doing traditional Holy Week things and what do I get. I go to three different services and get the same main point from each. God has purpose in hard times, trust it. Its freaking Holy Week.

Jennifer started by saying she knew it was Holy Week but she had wanted to take a different look at the cross and present it from a new angle. Yeah. So I'm still not sure how exactly she was trying to tie the passage from Matthew (the Crucifixion) into her main point. But that's not really important. What's important is that she was talking about how fire is purifying, and how it is good. Yeah, your jaw should be on the floor.

But the story has a twist. I'd say it was about 3/4 of the way through the night when I realized . . . it wasn't effecting me. I didn't feel anything. I should have been amazed. I should have been praising God. But nothing. I felt absolutely nothing.

I tried to hang out for a few minutes after the meeting, but I was so distracted. I had heard God, I knew what I was hearing but . . . how could I feel like this. I should be looking for a spot to cry in thankful prayer. I should be worshiping. I should be . . . feeling something. But I didn't, so I was even more distracted. So I just left.

As I turned my phone on I had a voicemail from Rachel, she and Nick were hanging out and while no one else from church was there they wanted me to come. I went where they said they were going to be in the message, but they weren't there so I turned and left. I drove home feeling . . . even more empty, and starting to run into the other side. Sadness. Loneliness. Anger.

When I got home no one was here. I had no emails. No one was online to talk to. I knew that nobody I could call would answer my calls right then. I was completely and utterly alone. God was calling me to spend time with Him. And I didn't want to. I was so . . . I don't even know what. I think angry, but I'm not sure. So here I was sitting at this choice. And I decided to push back. I reached back into my past and grabbed a hold of some old sin and tried to get back at God. I don't know for what. For being lonely? For everything that's gone on with Heather? For not striking me with words that should have. I don't know. But it didn't work.

I had one of those moments last night where you realize something you know; where you become acutely aware of something you have academically acknowledged. I became all too aware of what sin does to us hear on earth. Of how it alienates us. From God and from others. I was trying to fill my God shaped hole, and it just felt bigger. I wanted Heather more. I both wanted God more and felt less able to turn to Him. Even though I felt lonelier I equally wanted less to do with people. I wanted to just sink.

So I rallied a little. I prayed a little. I read a tiny bit of the Letter. I found B-Tran and asked him to pray for me.

I sat here and stared at another blank posting screen for who knows how long, wanting to get something out. But . . . even though I had so much to say, none of it could come.

I walked upstairs and layed on the floor. I wrote in my prayer journal. I tried to read the Bible. But still . . . nothing worked. I never felt better. Still just a mix of empty, and dejected, and heaped under darkness. I went to sleep just so it would go away.