That By Which We Live And Die (part 2)

I'd like to go back and address my struggle with God's character, which also requires jumping back in the Kairos timeline. See just after Anthony finished his rousing encouragement I needed, the started in to a song that I love, but can't for the life of me remember. And I had a realization.

Even if God never delivers me a good thing from here on out. Even if good things do come, and then only add more pain, it doesn't matter. God loved me so much he endured the cross and the bearing of all sin to be with me. And that means He doesn't have to do anything else to be good to me. That offer right there, to bear my punishment for my sins, so He could be with me, is all it takes. And if nothing goes right for the rest of my life, I have reason enough to praise Him and trust Him. That's all it takes.

That being said, I hope that's not it.

So Mike went on, and as I mentioned before expressed an idea that I'd always felt, convincing me its not wrong to so strongly associate worship with the singing of praises. What is wrong is thinking that's all worship can be or has to be.

The longer I spend being introspective (see: since I met Heather) the more apparent it becomes that my spiritual health can probably well be tracked by how much I scream. Because when I left Kairos on Tuesday, I rawed out my vocal chords on the way home. I abused them mercilessly. Screaming along to my favorite bands, trying some of my own lyrics to see how I liked them. It was wonderful.

I came home all jazzed up and ready to blog. But as soon as I walked in the door I knew I'd lost something. I'd lost that feeling. When I left Kairos I was sure and steadfast in God's faithfulness. I was convinced I'd let myself burn for Heather as much as I could, and that my order to fight still stood. And as I sat down at this computer, I could remember why, I just couldn't feel it anymore. So I waited around, killed time, and ended up writing nothing.

The next day was a busy fest, and things just changed more. From the time I woke up I again found myself praying to not think about Heather, since all free time and space in my mind (even while I was reading, or hanging with friends) was found with traces of her at best, and often more than that. So I just put it off, and quickly found myself back to where I'd been before. Even at my busiest she's still there. And the only way to not have those feelings be semi-positive is to make them extremely negative. I've started internally only referring to her by a curseword preceded by a definite article. In order not to want her I have to either remove all though from my brain, or produce what can only be called hate. I keep telling myself if I can just find some job, or combination of job and ministry to occupy me mind it'll go away. But I've been there, and it didn't happen. Yet I still think it can, maybe. I'm not sure anymore.

As for God, I haven't moved back to rejecting Him, but I haven't been disciplined either these last two days. So what we're left with is . . . I don't know.

The product of it all is I don't know I'm supposed to do. I have an idea of where, in the long term, God wants me, but I can't do anything about it now, and might do best either way to put it off another few years. So I'm left with no idea of the intervening time. What occupies is the memory that my plan was to just find some job, do great ministry and be a fantastic husband. But now I'm left with a vision of long term purpose (which admitedly God might change) and haunting memories of being with someone I still want to marry, but wants nothing to do with me.

What I'm left with is still wanting to serve God, but wanting nothing to do with females. At some level I've convinced myself its really over with Heather, while still not totally believing it. And I'm well aware that unless I decide to settle I won't be happy with someone else. Even if it turns out well, there will be things. There have to be. So I hate the idea of females and marriage.

I find myself considering carriers with high divorce rates, most of which also have relatively high mortality rates. My favorites are epidemiologist and some form of law enforcement. Last I heard I couldn't join the military for medical reasons but I've thought of giving that another look. Maybe they have lower standards for Chaplains, I heard they don't even do regular boot camp.

Last night as I rode back from Nashville at horrendously late/early with some friends I sat thinking. I realized I like being a tough nut to crack. Being unknown and difficult to figure out. I like frustrating females interested in me. I like that stuff, even as I hate it.

Ultimately I don't know how much I mean of any of it. I'm terribly unsure of what God wants, and where He is.

But still, I keep telling myself, "you're waiting, and He WILL come."