How far? How long? How much?

Unless you're unbelievably dense it is presumable you've noticed the application of a new template to the blog. I'm not entirely sold on it, but I think its an improvement. Obviously there are some small programming issues, like the partially hidden nav links above the body area. And I'd also like control over the "post info" elements that are currently stuck in that grey box underneath the post titles. Alas, the world is imperfect.



So what's been going on since Thursday? More importantly, does it really matter? I really feel like I'm about to spend an inordinate amount of time rehashing things I've said before. The end result is loss of time for me to be doing other things, like reading, writing, or sleeping, in addition to loosing the interest of you, the readership.



Friday was quite an interesting day. Was mildly productive for work, though some of it was merely working to find out there was a lot more to do, to the point that I'm now wondering which concern will give way. I know its hard to talk deep and ambiguous, but you'll have to trust me.



Friday night was quite the curious state. I was without arrangements, not a terribly unusual situation these days. But this was different. I was feeling incredibly restless. Which, while having other potential causes, is commonly a way for God to get your attention for an incoming message.



My prayer journal for the day probably didn't start until 8 or 9 pm.



"What do You want from me?"



Break as I go do other things.



"I don't want to hear You. I don't want to open my Bible.

I mean, ultimately I do . . . but . . . .

Am I afraid? Maybe. If so, of what?

I think of hearing You and dismissing it as me, and so thinking I don't hear You and drawing further away."



"I miss her. I miss everything about her."



"Fine, I'm here. Do what You want. Just please draw near. Don't make this for nothing."



That was followed by my first private worship time in I'm not sure how long. And it was wonderful. Listening to some quiet worship music. Turning the words over in my head. Trying to focus in on Christ. I was pretty well against an unaided listening session, even though I figured that's where it had to go, so I grabbed my Bible.



I prayed for God to speak to me and opened my Bible. 2 Chronicles 29, "Hezekiah purifies the temple". Now I supposed I should be far more impressed or awed by the consistent reoccurence of Hezekiah in my listening expeditions, but those feelings are definitely mitigated by the fact I have no idea what it means.



But I was distracted and I knew it. I pleaded with God in my pj to take Heather off of my heart, specifically mentioning the pain it was causing me.



Despite my not having been convinced by anything that's gone on recently, it has made me aware enough to not let certain questions leave my mind. So I asked God if I should fight for Heather.



I opened my Bible and was faced with Luke 19:11-26, "the parable of the ten minas". And that is undoubtedly a very curious happenstance.

For those of you who are unaware, that passage played a large part in Heather and I originally getting together. I had met Heather in a very unusual way, appearing as the most or least random happenings imaginable, depending on the viewpoint. Not long thereafter I went to Lake Champion to work on Young Life Summer Staff for a month. While there I had a conversation about meeting Heather described brefily in this post. The gist of it was a very wise and Godly person telling me they couldn't imagine why I'd met her if I wasn't supposed to pursue her. Well I went and prayed about it that night. And again the next day. And when I went to do my quiet time I prayed about whether I should pursue Heather, and then I opened my Bible, and it was the parable of the ten minas. And given the nature of the parable itself, in combination with the proximity of a similar word from Beth Ann, it seemed a pretty clear sign. And now it appears again.

Still, recent times have made me quite the doubting Thomas, or just as closely Peter on the water. So I again asked God if He wanted me to fight for her. When I opened my Bible it was at Habakkuk, chapter 2. I looked down and the first verse I saw was verse 2.

"The LORD's Answer
2 Then the LORD replied: "Write down the revelation and make it plain on tablets so that a herald [b] may run with it. 3 For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it [c] will certainly come and will not delay."

Now I don't know what you would think, but when I ask God a question and then open my Bible to a passage that starts with "Then the Lord replied" y interest is fairly well piqued. Still I am unconvinced, helped in part by the overall criptic nature of the response passage.

So I pray twice, more, asking God twice more if I should fight. The responses are Mark 4:35-41 where Jesus calms the storm, and Ephesians 3:16-19, which is Heather's favorite scripture passage, and one we discussed at length while in our letter writing stage.

Mildly frusterated I lay down and put on some Hammock to do a stretch of pure listening. I find myself hearing things that I'm sure most of you can fairly easily guess. So I dismiss them and try to clear my head to actually hear Him. With the end result being more of the same, and eventually nothing. My response was this:

"Lord, I've laid here for 30 minutes, at Your bidding, and all I've heard was of her. I lover her Lord, I cannot helpt it any more than I can keep the sun from rising. But there is nothing I can do. Please, Lord, intervene.

Lord, I wasnt someone else. I want to want someone else. I want to be okay being with someone else, and not dissapointed. If I am wrong, catch me, change me. But don't let nothing happen. Save me, somehow. Bring me someone, bring her back, give me peace in singlehood.
But do something, for I simply can't take this."

So my reaction to everything should be fairly predictable by this point. I called an ex from high school to see what she was doing and if she wanted to get together soon. I made one prayer journal entry the next day asking God to take Heather off my heart. I continually find myself being so angry that I can't take less of an interest in that part of my life. Just wanting it to fade and dissappear. More so just wanting memories of and feelings for her to be removed.

So far today I have one entry in my prayer journal, to that same effect.

"Please, Lord, take her off my heart."

This is unsatisfactory.

On the upside, the cookout tonight was a blast, though perhaps the best part was sitting around with just a few folks after it was officially over and talking way late into the night. But that should be no surprise. I love people, I love Jesus, I love real and deep conversations that involve good laughter, or sometimes not. And I love it when those things mix.

I'd like to think that this Tuesday will bring some sort of clarity but I already know its about sex, because Mike prefaced it last time saying it would be a mature night.

I'm not sure what God wants. But either way, I'm not sure of how to achieve it. I've tried every mental comfort I can to move one. Telling myself whatever I can think of as to how I'm better off. But I don't believe any of it. And if I'm being told to fight, I wouldn't even know where to begin.

I'm not sure if I really truly want someone else, or I just want to avoid doing something there. Or if I do that to legitimize what I think I'm hearing.

And I wish I could give all this crap up.

I'd love to sit down and actually write one of the academic posts I've been sitting on for only God knows how long. The unattractiveness of the gospel. The nature of slavery and freedom in relation to righteousness. Last week's Cake, last weeks' Kairos.

But this stuff consumes me, in part because I actually saw a picture of her tonight. Blurry, from a distance, and thought my heart my rip itself apart. Felt the heat of anger and loss.

Oh how I wish I could leave all this behind.

Lord, I am a willing servant. Lord, tear me apart. Lord, save me, but make me beautiful first.