a response to ineptitude

Look, O Lord, for I am in distress;
my stomach churns;
my heart is wrung within me,
because I have been very rebellious.
In the street the sword bereaves;
in the house it is like death. 

-Lamentations 1:20

For the Lord will not
cast off forever,
but, though he cause grief, he will have compassion
according to the abundance of his steadfast love;
 for he does not willingly afflict
or grieve the children of men.

-Lamentations 3:31-33

ineptitude continued

I'd like to think that every moment is a moment of Truth.
I just took a pill, because I can't handle the heaviness of life.
Honesty sucks sometimes.

Truth sucks sometimes.
I've been having anxiety attacks.
I had one when I was laying in bed a couple of weeks ago.
I lulled myself to sleep by thinking about how nice death will be.
I know that's creepy.
But mostly, I was thinking about my Savior.

Another night, I muttered to Sadie that my head was going crazy.
She laid down next to me and said this person I am during the attacks is not me.
Maybe this needs medication.

Three hours ago, I was sobbing in my bed at school.
I just drove home, and I'm now in my bed at home.
I took the pill that my mind has been screaming for these last two weeks.
At least, I hope that's the pill it wants.
If not, I'm not sure what I'll do.
Part of me thinks this is ridiculous.
Another part just doesn't know.

ineptitude

As I've said before, I write the same thing over and over on this blog. Here it goes again.

Recently, I've come face-to-face with new levels of a weighty, uncomfortable issue I have with myself, which oddly enough, is not anything I'd ever want to disclose on a blog -- not in its entirety at least. It's been crippling me, but I don't know how to confront it or write about it properly. There is not much foreseeable chance I will ever handle this one well, so I'm trying to figure out how to trust and apply what God has to say to me about it. That's really hard.

It's kinda funny to treat blogging like therapy, though I'm pretty sure that's about all I use this thing for. Back when I actually did go to therapy, I mostly appreciated that I had someone to talk to who wanted to talk straight to the depth of my issues. Sitting in front of a TV, surfing the web, or any time I linger too long on surface matters in life, I just kind of go numb. The less deep I am, the deeper I want to be until no depth is satisfying. This is about as awkward as it sounds, yes.

I'm dissatisfied, and I'm not sure why.

I found out recently that a friend of mine is clinically depressed, which he didn't tell anyone or have diagnosed for about a year. I'm perpetually teetering on self-diagnosing depression and/or anxiety. Though it's pretty sick, I admit I'm a little jealous that he has actually been diagnosed and can now actively medicate his problem. Without a diagnosis, I keep wondering if I'm insane. I wonder why I can't function properly sometimes and why I periodically get so crippled by this (like right now). I can't say it's a chemical imbalance. I often say it's a spiritual imbalance, which is true of everyone. No one is spiritually perfect. Sometimes, I blame it on being in the college atmosphere, how it feeds this part of me that over-analyzes everything.

I don't really know what it is, but it hurts. I don't have depth, and I don't have clarity.

oh, for pete's sake

There are times I think back on my life before college and think maybe ignorance was bliss. I first heard this song, "Cynical Me" back then, probably around my junior year of high school when I received Iver's EP from Becca. I thought it was a beautiful song, but I didn't reflect on the lyrics, seeing as that sort of thing didn't interest me much. Nothing interested me much unless it had to do with my non-committal relationship with a boy or some other cheap teenage thrill.

Yeah, I was young. I was ignorant and even cynical in some of the more menial ways.

Currently, I am almost too exhausted to keep on with the thoughts and conversations I used to ignorantly go without. With God, about God, pertaining to some notion of God, pertaining to some notion of no God, with myself, about God and me. Relationships, right, wrong, success, failure, strength, weakness, faith, hope, love, joy, truth, Truth, peace, turmoil, purpose. People, this is exhausting. Simply put, I am tired, and I'm not even 23 yet. In fact, 23 terrifies me. This can't go on.

I'm starting to gather that there is a purpose in my incessant need to analyze these things and then analyze them some more and then analyze them to death (perhaps there's never a need for that last one, actually), but I also get that there need to be some pretty strict limitations on this as well. The fool wastes her life by constantly seeking and never reveling in the joy of Truth. It may never come naturally for me to do this, and the discipline to do it may be even more difficult than I imagine it is and will be. But there really is little joy in being jaded and cynical. The power of the mind is intoxicating, but living and dictating according to that power is exhausting and ultimately debilitating. Eventually, my mind is able to strip everything of its importance. Then I fail classes. Then I become a self-serving friend, sister, and daughter. Then I back out on almost every commitment. Then I curl up in this chair and write another blog post that enlightens me yet again as to how encumbered I am by my pride. Then, undoubtedly, I grieve the cycle and hate life.

I'm a puppy whimpering at the feet of my Master.

toward the end

It is exciting to look around and see my senior peers writing really awesome theses, stories, projects, what-have-you to wrap up the respective endings of their experiences in academia with big beautiful bows. A part of me wishes I could have that sort of ending, too. However, I left my meeting with Professor Lehman today the same as I do every week, feeling like a moron. I haven't understood a lick of what I've been "teaching myself" in this Independent Study. My experience with college-level math has been a humbling one to say the least. Consequently, I've had a lot of shoulda-coulda-woulda thoughts about how much I would have loved being a religion major, and how much I would love to be writing a religion thesis right now. Instead, I'm sitting across from my math professor each week with a blank look on my face, pleading for mercy. Not what I was hoping this whole academic experience would build up to, but that's where I've come.

Still, I haven't been able to bring myself to really hate these past four years and what has come of them, because college has been exactly what I projected it would be back when I was a freshman who didn't really even want to begin college. I knew this would be a place where I would be able to question life and seek out God. I didn't know how that would happen, but I knew it would bring a sort of fulfillment that would make all four years at college worth it, no matter what the academic outcome. Freshman me would look very happily upon senior me, because God did that work in her heart that she desperately wanted but didn't know how to seek.

But I'm not ready to get totally reflective on the whole experience yet, seeing as it's not even over. Just saying I see my own big beautiful bow at the end of all this. It just looks a little different.

Poison

We discussed in Religion in America today the fact that some Pentecostals in the early 20^th century decided they were going to handle snakes, drink poison, heal people, and dance around quite a bit as a response to the movement of the Holy Spirit inside of them. They took this from Mark 16:18. You know, choosing what to take literally. I have no personal semi-objection except to say that snake handling sounds just about as silly as skydiving (can be) to me, because you decide on one thing that is going to take extreme life or death trust in the Lord, unlike your simple walk around the park or a nightly cozying into bed. Sometimes we itch to know God more, and we feel limited by our comforts. Even further than that, I’ve noticed, we feel limited by our theology – our notions of truth.

I think the Pentecostals got restless. God was too boxed in, and they pulled Him out of that box just like they did the rattlesnakes. The sort of weird part is that this makes other people angry and divisive. The weirdest part that I’m starting to see is how much of our pride is dictating our love and worship of God. This is not a shocking statement, and it’s no wonder some of us are staying up late at night pondering how the heck we got here and what we’re supposed to do to get out of this pattern. On one hand, we yearn for the sort of tolerance that Jesus had toward people. On the other hand, we aren’t Jesus, and we want to separate ourselves from sin. We dance along that line between bigotry and acceptance – often questioning if we’re even doing any of this right. We desperately try to cling to the Gospel because that is Truth, but in our efforts to grow and understand the Lord, we find ourselves separating from not only non-Christians but even our brothers and sisters in Christ. At freshman group last night, our little study book for Mark asked us how we think we can approach people with the Gospel message, knowing how Jesus approached people. There were some blank stares.

Because as much as we want to proclaim Jesus as Savior because he is and that’s amazing, I don’t think we can do it like him. I think he did it already, and our job isn’t so much to follow in some fashion of mimicry but rather just to follow. We read last night about Jesus explaining the purpose of him speaking in parables. He did it so that what he said was hard to understand. What? Jesus didn’t want us to understand everything?

“No, O people, the LORD has told you what is good, and this is what he requires of you: to do what is right, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God (Micah 6:8).”

Humilityhumilityhumility

I don’t think I can love enough. My rabbit trails toward truth, more often than not, are restraining my ability to love others. I’m reading J.I. Packer’s Knowing God right now, and he discusses this issue between knowing of God as opposed to knowing about God. To know of God is to have that relationship with God, but it’s an awful lot easier to know about God and think we’re actually seeking God through that.

Looking back over all of what I just wrote, it is all way too pedestal-y. I don’t know how to change that, but I would like to note that I know I’m not any real authority on anything. There is pride dripping through my words even now, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. I can’t tell you how to properly seek God, because I suck more at that, I believe, than anyone I know. Just go back to summer-fall of 2009 on this blog to see that. But when I see and feel hurt and notice a great disconnection and division among both non-Christians and Christians alike, I no longer want to follow my instincts and separate myself from that angst. That only perpetuates the problem. People have been separating for ages. I believe pursuing God puts one in the middle of all of this division and turns a blind eye to these ridiculous notions people cling to as truth worth hating and judging over. I wish that were easier, but Jesus told me he intended it not to be. Oh, grace.

continued lessons in hope

Last night at 7:53, my friend Lucy from high school sent all of us old high school friends this message: "Rob got into Cornell! ..... We're moving to Yankee Land this summer!" Rob is her fiance, and they'll be getting married this coming July 9th. My heart burst with joy for my sweet friend whose confidence has truly blossomed these past four years she's been at college.

Three hours later on the same message thread, we all got this message from Kirby (also part of the high school gang):
"Hey everybody, I hate to break the mood here, but I wanted to tell you that my grandfather passed away yesterday evening. The funeral is not planned until Saturday the 12th as of right now, and it will be in Mathews. I think we are having a visitation on Friday the 11th. It would be great if you guys could make it to the visitation, because frankly I am having a rough time here in FL with all my family in VA and D.C. I don't think I am coming back to Mathews until the 8th or 9th because of midterms. (thankfully spring break is next week for me)"

And my joyful heart burst. Prayerfully, I considered what a blessing it is to see such a stark juxtaposition of joy and suffering. I considered what it is to love a friend who is on a mountaintop and turn immediately to another in a valley--to raise one hand in praise and simultaneously use the other to pull a man up. I thought of life bobbing in a universe of Good and Evil, but I imagined the divine orchestration of God's hand. Then, my spirit was humbled, and God showed his love to these friends through me.