Opiate Soul

In my perfect vision of other people's lives, particularly those for whom I care the most, I tend to notice areas where they've gone astray, or more problematically, where they are currently going astray. And of course, in my perfect wisdom, judgment, and understanding of all the circumstances, I also feel it's my responsibility, and even the kindest, most loving thing I can do to speak to these trends. And naturally, following my much needed advice is the best course of action for any of said people, and if they don't do it, they're going to spiral down a path of destruction.

If you didn't pick up on the sarcasm that was most of that paragraph, I don't know what to say to you. However, this post is not about my wisdom, my understanding, or even my advice and the sense in following it. For all these things, I can only say I'm right sometimes, and perhaps only as often, figuratively, as a broken clock.

For the times I have been correct in my assessments (in retrospect), the ensuing path of destruction can be traced back to clearly wrong and harmful actions, the outcomes of which can largely be predicted by the person taking them, ironically rendering my own overthought assessments and unsolicited inputs unnecessary. In equal irony, the same could be said of my own destructive path. Something about planks in eyes comes to mind.

I could go on about my hypocrisy, but the actual point I'm trying to make is more a reflection about the nature of the harmful actions we consciously take. Specifically, why we take them.

In a given moment, I might be fully aware that a temptation will only cause destruction, and that any enjoyment gained is extremely temporary and woefully insignificant. And yet more often than I'd care to admit, I find myself caving to that menial satisfaction. And then I have the absolute audacity to cry out to God about why my life ends up in shambles.

So for me it's easy, pointing out other people's harmful, destructive, and sinful decisions. But it's when my attention is drawn to my own that I'm really forced to think. Why, when I know the duration and magnitude of the harm far exceeds those of the satisfaction, do I still look at the decision ahead and consciously choose the obviously wrong path?

I could say I'm inherently sinful, which is true. I could say that unguided, I tend toward chaos and therefore my own destruction, which is also true. I could even justify the choosing of wrong actions by categorizing them as an opiate, to even temporarily take the edge off an otherwise pain-riddled experience, which stands to reason. But is that it? I am, to an extent, guided by rationality and a desire to self-preserve. But are those forces so weak next to entropy?

The short answer is yes.

What I can say with confidence is this. My liberation from the sin and chaos of a damaged world and my own damaged nature is Christ. I must find a way to lean into Him instead of the creature comforts that are so obviously no more than broken cisterns. Only in Him and His ways are found relief for the designed longings of the soul.

Into the Void

As life progresses, there's one point that's driven itself home, time and time again: there is nothing that is predictable. Truly, every time I've thought I had the vaguest idea of what was going on in my life, something (or nothing at all) occurs to turn all my plans and ideas upon themselves. What usually follows is a sort of personal crisis, in which I question God's plan for my life, how my redundant suffering could possibly glorify Him, how much say I even have in my own life, and the purpose of my proactivity at all.

Amidst each run of doubt, what I feel about God's plan wrestles with what I know to be true of God's character. And over weeks, months, and sometimes years of agonizing, my faith is tested and purified, and ultimately I have always lived to see beauty again. Yet, while I am able to look back, see the purpose, and recognize my survival, I also have to admit that survival simply isn't enough. I believe it's God's will to teach me to thrive through adversity; a thing easily said, but much more evasive in practice.

Lately I've been told by individuals wiser and more knowledgeable than myself to press into the Lord. But that seems like such a Christianese term, and such things have always come off as platitudes to me; banal and meaningless; almost like a polite way for Christians to tell one another to go pound sand, when they can't spare one another the time of day. I admit, that's a grievance I've always had; the language we use that seems to estrange the unchurched world. But now I think the meaning behind what otherwise seems cliché simply requires a bit of meditation and a lot of prayer to be able to adequately process.

Within the past day or so, I've been forced to look beneath the platitude and try to understand what it means to lean into the Lord. It seems like this is a thing that can only be tempered in the dark void of the unknown, or what seems like an inverted, chaotic hellscape of a sensible world. If all sense is removed and all mortal plans shattered, we're left in a crucible with a fate-altering dilemma: to give in to the comfort of human impulse, or to trust that our good, loving, holy Lord has a handle on the entirety of creation.

When it's phrased that way, the answer is simple. But in the midst of the forest, how hard it is to see it through the trees.

This is an active battle. For myself, as I'm certain it is for everyone aware of it in their own lives. To trust the Lord. To lean into Him. To cast our concerns upon Him. To truly let go, not only of what we think we want, but even of the whims of our hearts in general. What is God's plan for this circumstance? In what way should I interact with it? Shall I endure and hope for a thing which I believe I shouldn't give up on, or shall I pick up the pieces of my heart and move on, with a hope of something better beyond what I can see?

What I submit is neither. Instead, give the whole situation over to the Lord, focus fully on Him, and on doing in our own lives what best represents His character. Trust that, in circumstances beyond our discernment, He will do what is ultimately best, and we need only wait patiently, clinging to His hand like a child in the dark.

When All Is Lost

I've been doing a lot of thinking and soul-searching over the past week or so. Truly, since I left some open-ended questions in my last post, I've been doing a lot of thinking since then, but certain revelations have hit particularly hard in recent days.

First I'll touch on a thought I've had numerous times over the years; one that I think is quintessential to my musings. You see, I've gone through several phases ("seasons," I guess, is the Christianese term) during which I've felt a veritable cascade of destruction in my life. These periods are characterized and identified by a measure of loss: a friendship, a romantic relationship, a career goal, a physical object, or another thing to which I've simply grown accustomed and attached. Usually it's a combination of those in quick succession.

Each time this has happened, I've felt as though my desire and interest in some of those things has dwindled, and in some cases disappeared almost entirely. More than once during such a time, I've made the observation that, of all the hopes and dreams I've had, there has only been one that has never truly weakened: the desire for a romantic relationship. It was always, "the one thing for which I still hoped for myself."

The phrasing of that is important. Specifically, "for myself." That is to say, a selfish desire. People might say that it's okay to have selfish wants. But throughout my walk, one thing that has always stuck in my mind is the fact that a Christian life must be centered, first and foremost, around glorifying God. It's simply the only right way to live. And the reality is, there's no room in that focus for selfishness.

Let me clarify. This doesn't mean that the Lord will never put a thing in our lives that we'll enjoy. What I think it does mean, however, is that if something is in danger of becoming an idol that we, as Christians, will effectively worship in place of Him, He will take that thing from us, one way or another. And whether we choose to accept and believe it or not, it is for our own good; our Father knows best.

Throughout this crucible, I've been repeatedly receiving a message to let these things go and place my trust in Him. Up to this point, I've never understood what I needed to do, but now I wonder if everything had to be leveled, because I was never able to fully rely on the Lord as long as there was so much here in which I trusted.

On that note, I believe God is in the process of demolishing that one, final, unstable pillar on which I've placed so much of my hope. That is to say, I can actually feel my desire for romantic partnership slipping away, and I just no longer have the strength to fight to maintain it. The Lord wants me to surrender it, and after struggling for so long, I am too tired to resist Him.

Although this may sound bleak, hopeless, and defeated, I'm actually kind of at peace with it.

This was never what I wanted, and I would be lying if I said I was explicitly happy about it right now, or even that I think I'll see any mortal reward. But He knows my heart better than I do, as He knows the hearts of all mankind. Although He may never give me the things I longed for, I truly do look forward to seeing what He does with the new creation He is making of me. I pray that I will not quench His Spirit, so that I can do and be everything He asks of me.

Ending Theme

I often hear questions about testimony. Questions like, "When did you give your life to Jesus?" or, "Under what circumstances did He become your Lord and Savior?" As I think they should, they always make me consider the "journey so far." So often it seems like there should be one chief, defining moment, above all defining moments, at which point a person truly relinquishes that position of authority and dominion to the Lord. And while I have had revelations and points in time in which I learned a lot, I don't personally know that I could pick out that "single moment" in my own life.

Before getting any further, let me say that those moments of revelation and exposition have been amazingly enlightening for me. Many encounters, in fact, have brought forth knowledge, and even wisdom. What I've noticed is that those things tend to lead to more of themselves. That is to say that when properly applied, knowledge begets more knowledge, and wisdom begets more wisdom.

Yet, as personally satisfying as the acquisition of these things can be, even these are not, in and of themselves, good enough. They, like worship songs, fellowship, theology, and many other things, are mere tools given for a purpose: to worship and grow in relationship with Christ. They are the means, not the end. The bow, rather than the target.

What, then, changes these gifts of utility and makes them truly usable? That is the question with which I'm now faced. For this, I have theories. I have the idea that in order to truly grow closer to Christ, we must reach the end of ourselves; to realize that all things are ultimately in His power, and we have to make the decision to relinquish our insistence on control. This aligns with the opening questions. But does He not also expect us to move and to act? I can work until I reach my limits, but at what point does the relationship begin to manifest, and how do I recognize it when it does?

On principle, I hate ending posts with questions. Though I'm bewildered and frustrated, this is far from giving up. I just don't know what comes next.

affinity.exe

I have said before that it causes the most degrading feeling, being overlooked by those whom you think about the most. It's invalidating in the most unintentional, yet deepest of ways. And while it doesn't do to dwell on those sorts of things, or even to put other people on such a pedestal, the thought still finds its way into my mind occasionally.

As I thought on this subject today, I was given a different perspective: that I should be thinking about God more often than I do. We're told to pray without ceasing, which necessitates dwelling on Him equally ceaselessly, but I know I fail in that endeavor more often than not. Yet today's train of thought led me to speculation about how often He thinks of me. Again, ceaseless is the word. Granted, as He is omniscient, it's obvious that He's infinitely more capable of this than I am. But it is my desire and responsibility to do my best, which I must honestly admit, I don't always.

Although He's above petty feelings of inadequacy, the likes to which I'm prone, to me the reminder is clear that I have nothing to complain about. As He thinks of me more than I am capable of thinking of anyone, the only response is to give Him my utmost. Doing so removes the empty, meaningless idolatry of pining for people's attention, as it restores my own attention to Him who deserves it.

The Artist

I've had several conversations with friends about the creative nature of our being. To the world's eyes, logically, it is inexplicable that creativity should be a factor, let alone a focus, of human existence. Yet, as we've learned, it is inarguable that the desire to create is woven into our being just as essentially as the necessity to survive.

This point has been accentuated recently for me by such simple pastimes as leisure reading. Ironically enough, the book in question is from the Harry Potter series. I've noticed that, as I read, I find myself in increasing fascination of the minute complexities, which neatly tie the entire series together by the end.

As I was reading today, I once again had this awe sparked. However, as I've also been trying for a greater measure of diligence at Bible study lately, I found myself comparing my time spent at each. Specifically, I've noticed details in the plot of Harry Potter on this time through (my second reading) which I missed the first time, and they have helped me to draw up and bolster my own ideas about the things toward which Rowling was building. I found it to my slight shame that it was much easier for me to find those connections in this fictional telling of "witches and sorcery" than to pick out profound, relevant thoughts from scripture and apply them to life.

As a side note, I refuse to overthink this too much, for the simple reason that I've read the Harry Potter series more completely than I've read most biblical passages. It therefore stands to reason that more things will stand out to me within the former, especially given that it has a simpler grand design than the scope of all creation, as has the Bible.

Bringing the point back to how we are handcrafted with a creative drive, it only makes sense that we strive toward artisanship with our own crafts, such as writing. Regarding that example, to any piece of writing there is bound to be a certain poetry, beginning as small as words and phrases, but expanding to subplots and, ultimately, the broad compass of the story. We measure the quality of a piece of writing by the author's ability to subtly, yet certainly, convey their message in a way that is aesthetically pleasing; that is, poetically. This often includes seemingly arbitrary details throughout the writing, which are actually hints that make perfect sense in the end.

We focus our art the way we do because we're created by God in His own image; an image not just physical or visual, but one that extends to the very depths of the soul. Though the world ignores it, we as His creations cannot help but strive to be more like Him artistically.

The artistry of telling a story includes conflict and resolution; pain and relief; times of apparent senselessness and of clarity. Every call has an answer; like a rhyme. And in a way, the same can be said of any artistic medium: by its completion, we can see the extent of its beauty, no matter how ugly it may have looked somewhere along the way.

As flawed creatures following the archetype of a Divine Creator, it's obvious that we cannot tell a perfect story, sing a perfect song, or draw a perfect picture. What should be equally obvious is that we also can't see the perfection of God's creation, partly because of the imperfection of our sin, and partly because we've yet to see its full fruition. Therefore, in our daily struggle to find beauty, resolution, and meaning behind the constant suffering and redundant failures of our plans, we need look no further than Christ, who knows (*correction: is) the end and the purpose to it all. As He is the perfect artist, we must trust that His eye is keen to the subtleties as they relate to the finale.

The Forgotten Ones

As an extremely self-conscious introvert, I find my natural inclination is to stay out of the limelight. That's in every aspect of my life. In class, I tend to keep my hand down. In group conversation, in many cases I've learned to shut my mouth. In ministry, I stay in the background. And with most ideas, they usually remain just that. I could go on, but you get the picture.

Now, there is a lot to be said against being too self-conscious, which I won't deny I often am personally. But beyond that, the tasks and projects comfortably performed by introverts and self-conscious folk are necessary. Not everyone was made for the center stage. Such being the case, it's perfectly normal, even biblical, for the various "body parts" to perform their respective functions. Or, as I've said before, the kitchen needs all of its utensils, and as cool as cheese graters are, we can't all be one.

So what about the rest? Is our "glory" less, just because we're not the center of attention? Well, yes and no. (No.) We simply don't get as much praise from other people for doing things like cleaning, maintenance, ushering, and other support positions. And it doesn't seem fair, because we often work just as hard, but then might feel like we're completely overlooked by our peers when it comes to recognition.

Obviously, as egocentric as this blog is, I wouldn't be writing about this if it weren't an issue for me. But there really does come a time to take a good look at the state of the heart and recognize that pride has gotten the better of me again.

What I'm saying is, who cares? So maybe people don't notice as much. But is that why I'm doing what I'm doing? Would I clean my apartment bathroom so that my roommate will thank me for it? No, I do it so that it'll be clean. Likewise, do I do ministry for peer recognition? No. It's for God. And regardless of whatever anyone else praises, acknowledges, or even notices, my ultimate aim is God's glory. And He is honored by a heart that seeks to do His will.