A Chronic Conflict

* February 22, 2008 *

Tonight I find myself tangled in a sort of web of confusion. My head and heart have been all over the place for the last five days. I feel like I have been living in a sort of alternate reality since Valentine's night. Maybe a kind of dream, the kind that has twist after twist, and just when you think it's over, you get rear-ended by a car going 95 miles an hour... and it doesn't end there. I try not to be a victim of my circumstances, but I seem to be moving too fast to process everything. It's quite liberating actually. I feel raw; in a good way. Whenever I'm going through something confusing or difficult, I always find myself becoming introverted and wanting to spend as much time alone as possible. I find that quiet nights, after everyone is in bed, are the most productive in thought, and usually, if I think through something before I go to sleep, I rest easier. That is what I'm attempting to do tonight.

CS Lewis once said, "We read to know that we are not alone." Needless to say, I've been bathing myself in literature over the past month, and especially in the past few days. I've been reading everything from Yancey to TS Eliot to Augustine to Emily Dickinson. I just can't seem to get enough. Originally, my focal point was prayer. The one aspect of Christianity that I can't seem to rid myself of, no matter how potent my doubts are, is prayer. I always come back to prayer. I pray in times of anger and thankfulness, before conversations with friends, during conversations, when I feel lost and confused. I pray with hope. Hope that my prayers will be answered and that I will deepen my relationship with God. Yet so many times I fear that my prayers will go unanswered, or worse, unheard.

After Amanda and I had the car wreck the other night, we spent a while praying together. It was a deep deep prayer of thanks. We were so amazed, that after all that we had been through, we were saved. One wrong turn of the wheel, and we would not be here. It was very clear in that moment that God was real, and that we were shown grace for a reason. The next day I found myself anxious and overwhelmed with doubt. What had seemed so real the night before, now seemed incredibly absurd. I often get faint whispers of doubt. I usually brush them aside, because I know that by listening to them, a can of worms will be opened. This happens to me most often in prayer, which is ironic, because it's the facet of my faith that I spend the most time in. I can usually ignore these whispers for a while, until they gain abundance and strength and I am in a weak state. This was the perfect opportunity.

I don't doubt one area of faith specifically. When I doubt, it is of the legitimacy of the whole. It's often extremely frustrating because once I start this doubting spiral, it doesn't seem to stop. What I don't understand is when I look at Christianity from an objective lens (if that's even possible), it makes perfect sense. Nothing better explains the human condition. It seems unlikely that it could be fabricated... it's too complex, with too much history. The way the new testament fulfills the old covenant is miraculous. And on a broader level; the existence of God. If I exist, and our world exists, isn't it completely possible that something outside of this world exists also? The concept of time. As Lewis and Vanauken argue; after thousands of years living in time, we are STILL unable to get used to it. Time is always moving too fast, or too slow, and there is never enough time. Doesn't that tell us that we are meant to live in an existence that is free of time?

. . . I have grossly simplified the reasons why I have not completely fallen off the deep end (and there are many many more). But, even though I KNOW all of these things, I still find myself sitting on my bedroom floor some nights in tears because I can't believe that it's true. And what is this doubt, or fear, based on? MY FEELINGS. Well, because I FEEL like God doesn't exist, then he mustn't. Or I don't feel like I can trust these alleged prophets, so they must be lying. Which frankly, is bullshit. First of all, if I based my life on what I was feeling at any given moment, my life would be a mess. And how can the feelings of one TINY human, explain the world?

What I fear most in this is that I will never be sure. If ignore these whispers, which now seem more like deafening screams, then I feel confident in my faith. But when they become louder, I find myself paralyzed. My struggles aren't with one thing. if that were only the case! It seems that my doubts come from my heart and feelings... something that cannot be rationalized with facts. So how will I ever reconcile them? Well, I can pray to a God that (when I'm completely honest with myself) I'm not sure exists... that really is it. And I am scared that is my only hope. To read, to talk, and to pray.

What I want so desperately is for it to be true, and to BELIEVE it. And I guess when it comes down to it, I want to believe it because I'm afraid of what will happen if it IS true and I DON'T believe it. I feel like I am in a stuck in a place of not being able to accept it, but also not being able to reject it. I just don't want to live in this paradox.

I know that for me there are only 2 options. Christianity or agnosticism. If I come to a place (which I hope will never happen), where I can't accept Christianity, then I know I will be reduced to agnosticism. I think that if Christianity can't explain it, then nothing else can.

I wish I was able to wrap all of this up with some sense of hope... but right now I'm afraid that I am in the middle of it all, and that only time will tell. At least I can rest in the fact that if it IS all true, God sees my heart, and as Thomas Merton said, "My desire to please you, does in fact, please you." And the truth will remain even in my confusion.

Excerpts from Journal Entries From Spiritual Retreat:

**A FEW excerpts from my journal entires that I wrote while on my spiritual retreat. Note that there are a lot missing**

I'm starting off this individual spiritual retreat with a verse in my mind. I was reminded of it when I was praying to nights ago.

Matthew 11:25-30
At that time, Jesus answered and said, "I thank You, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that You have hidden these things from the wise and prudent and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for it was Your gracious will. All things have been delivered to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father. Nor does anyone know the Father except the Son, and any one to whom the Son chooses to reveal Him. Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

Two things strike me in these verses. The first is that god hides understanding from the wise. And even more, reveals it to little children. There are so many who are arrogant with their knowledge. It seems though, that while knowledge is a good thing, identifying one's self in it is not OK. Becoming too consumed with worldly knowledge prevents us from gaining understanding. And it doesn't just prevent us, God actually withholds it. I don't think this should keep us from attaining knowledge, but I do think we need to be careful. Holding it above God, or others is dangerous. Children, however, trust without question. They haven't yet learned critical thinking, and in regards to God, they trust. "Jesus loves me. This I know, for the Bible tells me so."... of course he does. It is what it is and there is no question about it. The adult, or the "wise", tainted by wounds and let downs say, "Jesus loves me? Who says? Why? Under what conditions?" God says, "I love you because I made you. I love you because I say so. Trust me."
We must be careful not to get too heady and to trust our Father. When we are weak, he can teach us and move us. "In Beginning To Pray", Vanauken says that prayer and change are like a sail. It moves a boat because there is little resistance and because it is fragile. A mother teaches a child to write- holds the pen in his hand and guides him. And because he does not know the right strokes, there is no resistance, and she can teach him. So we must be gentle, weak, vulnerable, willing and trusting. Like a little child. If we place our demands on Him, or we resist Him, think we know better, how will we ever learn? How in the world will we be able to follow his will?
The second thing that strikes me in this passage is the part about taking up the yoke of Christ. So often, especially in the intellectual mind, we run the risk of thinking that the demands of Christ are too hard, stressful, unattainable. Yet what Christ says is the complete opposite. He says that he is gentle and lowly in heart (he is?!) and Most of all he says, "My yoke is easy and my burden is light". Jesus said it, so it has to be true, yet how can this be with so many rules, morals, and guidelines? **This is where I deeply connect though. I think, at least for me, that deep deep down I WANT to be good. I want to be in a close relationship with God and I want that the be number ONE. The thought of that being my life; an intimate relationship with Christ, one in which I am so captivated by him and love him so much that the opinions of others don't matter to me. Being so close to Him that everything else fades into the background. I wouldn't worry all the time or over think everything. I wouldn't get sucked into the desires and passions of the world. That life sounds so refreshing, so amazing and my heart seems to imagine a soul at peace there. So maybe that is why it should be easy, because deep down, it's what we WANT. Our judgements of others would cease because we would be so close to God that we could see through Christ's eyes.
I get so afraid to open myself up and let Christ in because I am afraid of what that will mean. Of what I will be called to do and the things I'll have to endure. Much of the time, I think that my plan would work out better than God's. But with Christ, that is wrong. My worries and concerns really mean nothing because Christ has the plan ready, we just have to be willing to follow it.

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Love. I'm starting to think that I've been viewing love in the wrong way. "I love you". What does that mean? It seems to imply an action. And a willful action. A decided action. - Not so much a realization. For too long love has been used as almost a surprise word. Like we all of a sudden realize we FEEL this way. But maybe the realization should be that of what we are doing, if it is going to take us by surprise. We would no more chalk up, "I teach you." to a realization. It's something that is decided, and if not, it is the realization of an action. "I love you", requires us to DO something. IT seems to be more voluntary than I have thought before. "I'm choosing to love you." "I'm doing this thing, and I'm aware that I am doing it. I could also stop doing it if I wanted to."
But sometimes love doesn't feel like a choice. IT really does seem to take us by surprise. And sometimes, in fact, maybe all the time, it is something we can't control. Do we have a choice at all or are we love's victims and does it choose us? How do we fall in love and why with certain people? Because certainly a person is a person is a person. Maybe it's because of the extent to which we see this certain person. We see the whole of them, or get even just a glimpse, and thus love them because we understand them or they understand us. We see them for who they really are, and vice versa. So in this case, can we ever fall out of love with someone who we truly know, or do we just simply forget?

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These past 2 days have been a test for me. I romanticized them in my head before they came. "How wonderful! No distractions, a clear mind. Time to think, read, write, pray and nothing else." However, I have come to the harsh realization that my problems will follow me into any situation. In fact, they seem magnified when life is rid of the little distractions. I have taken a vow with myself and God to withstain from certain things these 2 days. No TV, computer, cell phone, or music with words. I am happy to say that I've done it thus far. But it has been a real test. What I didn't realize before was how addicted I have become to these things. What's even stranger is how I am not quite sure I know who I am without them. Without them to distract me from my relationship with God, who am I? I have put them in place as a kind of fortress. Something to protect me from myself. It's like an unhealthy pseudo-relationship.
Then I do something like this and I go into my room with nothing but myself and some pens and paper. And what do I find there? I find emptiness. I find myself desperately searching for a security blanket, something to give me a purpose. What I need to be filling myself up with and what I need to be using as a security blanket is God. Because the truth is, if I am alone, just with myself and nothing around me, then I am hopeless and empty. I pry deep into myself and find that I think and deal with the same questions I have asked hundreds of times. and with no real progress. Sure, I am not in the same place I was in 6 months ago and many things are better, but really overall I am in the same place. My outside circumstances have improved drastically and I am so thankful for ALL that has happened since I've been back from L'Abri, but what about my heart? My relationship with God? My questions? Have I put enough effort into dealing with those things? The only thing I can say for myself is that I have at least come to a deeper understanding of the questions I have and the struggles I face. But in terms of a solution, I am at the same place. Yes, we must understand our issues in order to fix them, but understanding is not enough. There is a point where we must act. This is where it becomes difficult. I find myself feeling paralyzed because the task is too great or I am lazy. Yet these issues are vital. If I don't become proactive and try to search for help, then I will surely be in a place of unrest for the rest of my life.
So I sit down to pray. Prayer seems like the most logical thing to gain direction. But 2 problems occur: 1. I'm afraid of what God will ask me to do and 2. I find myself empty and void of emotion. I feel like praying in a state of apathy shouldn't be done. But maybe that's just it. Maybe that's where I should start and maybe that's the problem. If we always had to feel elated or downcast when we sit down to pray then how often would we actually do it?
This brings me to a side note. I've realized lately how frustrating it is when God doesn't speak to us. We finally sit down to pray and wait to hear something. And he never says anything. But the thing is, we don't listen for him the other 23 1/2 hours a day. And if we aren't there when he wants to speak to us, how can we expect that he would speak to us in that 5 or 30 minutes a day that we come to him? We want him on our watch. So of course we never get anything. (not saying that there aren't exceptions). But I am just trying to figure out how to do that. How to be in constant communication with him. The author of the book I am reading relates it to an ache. For example, if you have a really bad toothache. You can carry on your daily life; running errands, being with friends, working. In the back your mind though, you are always aware of the ache. You can do other things, but you are constantly aware of it's presence. And that's how it should become with God. But of course it's a process.
Ok, so IF we pray only in these extremes, the relationship of course will be unhealthy. You can't sustain a relationship in moments of perfect joy and utter desperation only. There are moments with friends when life is just OK. There are moments when you feel void of emotion. That doesn't mean you should avoid having contact with friends during these times, but you should accept them and ask what there is to learn in spite of that. I need to be in a close relationship with God regadless of my circumstances.

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What if we were truly see inside out? What if, the people we meet saw our hearts instead of our faces, our passions instead of our hands? This would be a scary thing, for deep inside of us there is a real good. There is a desire to be sanctified, yet there is also ugliness. There are wounds. There is baggage. There is evil desire. So often when we say we are seeing someone for who they really are, we are seeing them in one of two lights. The good, "I finally saw his heart, and his love,and goodness." or the bad "He really is just a bad person". But what if we really, truly saw into someone. Wouldn't our compassion and understanding be magnified? You would see the deep pain someone has. You would understand why they are struggling with certain things. You would see the whole of them. Their life story and their souls. Maybe that is why God does and can accept us. Because he does see the scope of us. He sees the good, the bad, the desires and the true nature of our character. So many times I wish that other people could see me in this way and so often I wish that I really could understand people like this. But it seems that no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to grasp it all. Because we only get what we are given and sometimes too little is given. -Or too little is noticed. We (I) must learn to see past the outward words and actions of others and look deep into their hearts. And I pray, really and truly, that others will be able to do the same with me. And that I'll stop trying so hard to be something outside that I wish I was inside. And that the true essence of me would shine through to where I wouldn't have to try. And most of all, that my true essence would become good, wise, and loving.

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