A Call to Go Deeper

Over the past several months I have been priviledged to hear from a number of different sources a call to take faith and community to a deeper level. Particularly noteworthy in my mind was a talk given by Pete Greig at the 24-7 Prayer Canada Launch Weekend at the beginning of April.

The call has been couched in terms of committment, in terms of willingness to surrender even greater parts of one's self to Christ. I have come away inspired, but frustrated.

I am living in a place where I feel so entrenched that I seem to be completely unable to move. Greig spoke of a vow to go deeper, done in community with what the Celts referred to as "cymbrogi" - companions of the heart. I have longed for the depth of that sort of relationship, but have not found it often or easily.

I find it incredibly difficult to build relationships that are deep and meaningful. I am an introvert by nature. I am a pastor's daughter, exposed to the hypocrisy and mean spirited nature of parts of the church at large at a very young age. I find it nearly impossible to trust others. I am more than willing to share my heart, but I share it with very little expectation that it will remain confidential.

How can one be called to go deeper, when one can barely survive in the shallows? How can the longing of my heart continue be for something so much more, when my heart is nearly collapsing under the pain of the journey? How can a life lived in fear be overcome to allow for something more to occur?

My deep desire is to live in a community where I am known and valued, where I have a god-given role to play. I want to know and value others in the same way I want to be known and valued. My desire is to find cymbrogi to share life with, but I wonder who would want to share life with someone as broken and hurting as me.

I don't say this with any sort of levity. I want so badly to find my niche - the place in which God has uniquely called me to serve and exist. And yet, I feel that I have nothing to offer to God or others. Most days I have to work to get out of bed without feeling miserable. I have more questions about God than answers, and spend more time angry and frustrated with him than filled with his joy and peace. I very rarely volunteer myself to serve, because I have become convinced that I at this moment have little to offer. I told myself that it was time to take a break from always being the one doing the "ministering" and allow myself to be ministered to. The trouble with that is that I have now been sidelined for two years. I am in worse emotional and spiritual shape than when I first allowed myself time off.

Can God use someone as useless as I feel? And how, when he is so painfully silent do I find that place that he is calling me to serve? How do I respond from this place of pain to a challenge to "go deeper"?

Conglomeration of Thoughts

I have a collection of random things on my mind tonight, in no particular order.

I'm done. I'm tired of everything. I'm tired of feeling like shit all the time. (Mom, if you're reading this, that is definitely the right word to describe how I'm feeling. Sorry.) I just keep thinking that there has to be something better than this. There has to be a better way to approach life than this heaviness. I'm at the point where I would quite gladly give up on faith. I go to church and Bible study more for the social interaction these days than anything else. I have good friends there - people who care - the one bright spot in my life.

My mind is numb. I had a nasty night of sleep again last night, woke up every couple of hours, restless and unsure. I came home from a day out, and wanted to cry my eyes out but the tears wouldn't come. I worked hard today to numb my mind. I watched something like 6 hours of Friends on DVD. A friend lent me the first season, and it was a perfect mind candy - a way to avoid the hurts that crowded in during the night and as soon as I rose this morning.

My real beef is this - no matter how hard I work to numb my brain, as soon as the activity stops, the pain is back. So, I'm sitting here in front of my computer trying to empty some of the pain instead of just numbing it.

I went out to hand out food on the streets downtown last night after church. Interesting experience that I haven't quite processed yet. It hit me as we left, that my uncle is so very like some of the people we were feeding. In the last couple of years he's spent more time living in his van on the streets than anywhere else. He suffers from a mental illness, has lived occasionally with family members, and has been occasionally hospitalized, but has mostly lived in his van on the streets of various cities. I hurt for these people, but at the same time am desperately uncomfortable around them. I don't know yet if I'll go back out in the coming weeks.

There was one man, obviously affected mentally by the harsh lifestyle of the streets, by drug use, by something. We couldn't do anything but feed him, and pray for him. A friend asked me to pray, and I couldn't.

I couldn't pray. I'm not really on speaking terms with God at the moment. I am so angry with him, so tired of being disappointed by him. I can't pray anything other than my anger. I want to pray for friends, but at the same time question the point. Why set them up for the same disappointment that I've been experiencing? Why bother praying to a God who intervenes rarely, and seemingly in the lives of only a chosen few?

And why does God do that? Why does he work for some people and ignore others? Why do some people I know hear God so easily, while for others he is eternally silent? I know the cliche answer - the footprints poem answer. That it is in the times God seems most silent that he is carrying me. Well, good for him, but I'd be happy to walk if it meant that he'd just speak a word of encouragement - something to give me a reason to keep walking.

I hate all this anger. I miss having a loving relationship with God. I hate that I'm jealous of some dear friends because God speaks more readily to them than me. I hate how isolated I feel right now.

And one last thought - I can't handle the song "His Banner Over Me is Love" right now. It has that one line, that seems like it stabs me every time I hear it. "You do all things well, just look at our lives." If I was looking around for an example of something that God was doing well right now, my life would not be the place I would start. My life is a mess - it is not something anyone is doing well right now. (Least of all me). Nature is something God is doing well - my life is not.

At the same time, I feel guilty for feeling this way. I know (with all my born and raised in the church knowledge) that I don't see that whole picture. I continue to believe that God is sovereignly in control. But right now, those thoughts don't offer a great deal of comfort.

Restless

Restless is the best word I can come up with to describe my life right now. Restless and maybe unfulfilled. I experience life only partially, flitting from one time consuming activity to the next in a desperate attempt to fill my time, and still my mind - to distract myself from the challenges of my life right now. Television, novels, computer games, coffee with friends - all of these are excellent ways to fill time and avoid my own troubles for an extra hour or two.

I'm tired, so tired. All I keep hearing from people is how good God is. Just ask Him and he'll answer. He'll heal, whatever. That is so not my experience of God right now. I cling to Him desperately, because He's all I have, He's stability, but He's not healing, and I can't hear Him speaking. I'm tired of people who've never experienced depression offering useless answers. I'm tired of being tired and depressed. I'm tired of people who don't struggle so heavily with fear telling me that fear is a sin, and that God didn't create a spirit of fear. I'm tired of never being able to overcome fear - of wanting, but not quite finding the strength to battle the fear that stops me from praying, from risking, from engaging with the people around me.

Disconnect, Crash, and a Jann Arden Song

I realized something about myself last night. I can so completely involve myself in the life of another person, that I can forget about my own problems. I neglect my own life in favor of the life of a friend. I'm not sure that this is a totally healthy thing.

I spent a great portion of the last month with a very close friend who was preparing to leave at the beginning of May for two months doing HIV AIDS work in South Africa and Mozambique. I hung out with her, shopped with her, listened as she talked through some big issues in her life, let her vent frustrations and fears, and just spent time with her. Especially in the two weeks before she left, we were together nearly every other day for at least a couple of hours, and o­n the days we weren't together, we were emailing or talking o­n the phone. Add to that my work schedule and family committments, and you have a very busy month. It was a good investment of my time. I'm glad to have spent the time with her.

A week ago yesterday, she left. It took me until to realize that in the time I had spent caring for her, I had neglected to care for myself. Just before these weeks of time with her, I had a rather brutal nightmare again, o­ne that I believe has some degree of significance spiritually. In the frenzy of caring for my friend, I completely forgot that I had had the dream, until someone I had given a copy of it to reminded me of it. I've neglected personal devotions as well. This cannot be blamed fully o­n my involvement with her life, as it has been a struggle for months now.

So, last night I listened to someone share a story of deep depression, and God's intervention in their life, and my o­nly response was anger. I'm not sure exactly what I am angry at - God, for not intervening in my life, myself, for being continually susceptible to this depression, those around me for not understanding what I'm experiencing.

When I am vigilant, I am able to keep the depression to a dull roar. When I stop being vigilant my emotions spiral out of control.

Today I crashed. I feel a sense of disconnect with the world, a disconnect with myself. I cried at the simplest things, and longed to sob my eyes out, but couldn't quite find the emotional release necessary. I never thought that I would miss crying, but it has been at least a year since my last truly cathartic attack of tears, and I long for the release that they would bring. I fought a headache and an upset stomach - all signs of my own emotional crash. I know that the life I am living cannot be all that God has for me, and yet, I find myself still waiting for God to intervene, and wondering when he will show up in my life. "I love the Lord, for he heard my voice." (Psalm 116:1) I have clung to the simple consolation over the last months that God does indeed hear. I'm so grateful that God hears, but wish he would do more than hear - that he would intervene o­n my behalf.

Emotions are a volatile thing. For much of my life I believed that emotions were not to be trusted - that all emotions were liars. Then, as I began to explore a more emotional side of faith, it seemed that I was being told that my ability to reason was not to be trusted, that it was liar that kept me from experiencing God. So, here I am. Which o­ne is lying - my emotion or my reason? How do I navigate this balance?

So, the day is ending, and so is my time of crashing. I will take it easy again tomorrow, before I work again o­n Friday. This is how it works. I cycle downwards for a while, and then I have a day like today where I simply shut down, unable to believe that there is still good in the world. Tomorrow, I will pick up the pieces of my life, start looking for work again, and have coffee with a friend.

I've been listening to Jann Arden lately - mood music, I know! Anyway, o­n her "Greatest Hurts" album, she recorded a Leonard Cohen song with the following lyric that is my prayer tonight, from a place of pain and longing:
If it be your will
If there is a choice
Let the rivers fill
Let the hills rejoice
Let your mercy spill
On all these burning hearts in hell
If it be your will
To make us well
And draw us near
And bind us tight
All your children here
In their rags of light
In our rags of light
All dressed to kill
And end this night
If it be your will.

Random Retail Observations

I've been working in a variety of retail/customer service jobs for quite a few years now. The characters you meet, and the experiences you collect in that type of job never cease to astound me. Take the following examples:

• The man that I saw reading in the mall last week. His clothing, and the part of the mall he was reading in told me he probably works at an upscale men's clothing store. However, he reminded me of nothing so much as the stereotypical image of a used car salesman. His greased back hair and big glasses practically screamed of that movie used car lot. I spotted the title of his book, and had to laugh to myself. It was Emotional Blackmail! I had to wonder if he was feeling emotionally blackmailed by someone, or was looking for pointers to do a little blackmailing of his own. The things that pass through my mind...
  
• When I worked in a children's clothing store, I encountered the meanest mother I've ever met. She had her daughter with her - probably around five years old, and still in that "haven't quite outgrown the baby fat" stage. The mother tried a skirt on her daughter, and I complimented how it looked. The mother quite loudly informed me that the skirt wouldn't do - her daughter was "a bit fat", and the skirt might work later, after she lost some weight. All I could do was wonder what the self image of that little girl will be like by the time she hits thirteen. If at five she is already hearing from her mother that she's fat, then by the time she's thirteen, she'll probably be rather traumatized.
  
• And then there are the coworkers. My current favorite is a woman from the china store where I'm working right now. Picture your stereotypical, upperclass old lady. Got it in your head? I work with her. She dotes on her grandchildren - talks about them constantly. She sings with the Calgary Philharmonic Opera chorus, and if I don't bring CD's to work, will make me listen to opera for a whole shift - not so bad for an hour, but painful for eight hours! She not only does needlepoint, she is the PRESIDENT of the Calgary needle point guild. I didn't know that Calgary had a needlepoint guild until I met her. And then, just to make it interesting, she seems a bit crazy. Her behavior is unpredictable, her moods erratic. She's taken to pacing around the store, talking under her breath. Recently, she's added swear words to her under the breath repetoire, even when customers are around!
  

Ah, the joys of retail! Only until December, and then maybe, I'll find a nice, safe full-time office job while I figure out what I want to be when I grow up, and how my bachelor's degree in history fits into that plan!