The Serpent's Kiss

I've been in a bit of a stagnation point in my faith lately. I think it's largely because I've been so busy with day to day tasks and pastimes that I haven't given myself adequate time to spend with God.

Regardless the cause, I've definitely felt the effects of it. Backsliding into some of my old habits, physical, verbal, and mental, has been an inevitability. And of course, not giving myself enough chance to think it through has only worsened the condition. Now, as I assess my life as it is, I'm bothered to see the degradation.

Ultimately, it was the very fact that I'm bothered, and the way that that perturbance culminated, that led me back into a state of questioning. Not questions of belief or anything - I'm not going through another crisis. More like questions about how sin is defined. Generally, "Is it actually sinful to do this and that?" is a pretty accurate template for my inquiries.

Frighteningly enough, that phrasing, from my own mind, reminded me of an infamous exchange between a woman and a serpent. Realizing this, I was faced with the reality of how much danger I was in. So, per my nature, I did a bit of research.

Just a heads up: this isn't a new revelation. In fact, I'm pretty sure I've written about it before.

Among the first of my perspectives that needed to change when I began following Christ was my take on what's considered "sinful." The key, I realized even then, was that it's not about which behaviors and mentalities are sinful, so much as which ones glorify God.

We have to approach the issue from the positive perspective: giving ourselves a legitimate reason to live in a certain way, rather than reasons to not live in another. This course keeps us safely out of the risk of falling into sin. With eyes fixed on God, we need not even consider whether or not something is offensive to Him, because we're already preoccupied with living in such a way that glorifies Him. The sinful ways can't even find their way in.

Vocari Dei

One thing in my life that I think has been thriving in its own awkward way is prayer. I say awkward because it's a daily, clumsy struggle, but thriving because I've noticeably grown.

I've learned over the years that even though talking with people about what's troubling me can be therapeutic and at times directly helpful, there's only so much communication that can be done with our limited understanding. We can't make sense of ourselves half the time, so we can hardly expect others to do so. What's more, people aren't without their limits of patience. They'll eventually become frustrated, especially toward a person who's inconsolable or beyond their ability to help.

In contrast, God is always there, always listening, and never impatient. Most profoundly, He does understand us and our entire situation, even when we don't. That's been reassuring in ways that only a few months ago I wouldn't have even imagined. The option to turn to God when I just want to be understood by someone is comforting. Even if, when I'm on my knees, all I can do is be silent, sob unreservedly, or just tell God that I'm hurt, confused, and even mad at Him.

My latest reflections on prayer have led me to a conclusion about its sheer importance. And it's not about getting the answers that we want for our requests. While that happens sometimes, I feel like a lot of people miss the point entirely and see petitioning as a way to get wishes granted. In truth, our prayer should be focused entirely on open acknowledgment of how utterly we must rely on God. This form of complete surrender should be our humble approach behind all of the times that we turn to Him for anything.

Drowning in the Flood

I made a mess again.

My depression has dragged me down to what feels like rock bottom. I know it isn't, but perspective tends to dominate the human mind. It's times like this, when I feel the sheer weight of everything, that I feel, not so much that I can't continue, but that I have no will to do so. It's like I've allowed my circumstances to bear down on me so hard that my spirits have been crushed and I've degenerated into apathy.

My thoughts have been immersed in negativity for several days. I've felt lonely and abandoned, and these feelings seem to feed and sustain themselves, causing a downward spiral. I've felt so much anger and resentment, so much fear, and so much loathing for myself and for the world and all the people in it, that it feels like I'm beyond consolation. I've backslidden so far into old, sinful behaviors and attitudes that redemption feels hopeless.

The burden has been so heavy that, moments ago, I felt compelled to fall to my knees. I reread, for the umpteenth time, the description of love in 1 Corinthians 13, and it became painfully real to me that the way I've been has not been loving at all. I begged God for the forgiveness I knew I already have and will never deserve. But can I forgive myself?

As I write, I still wrestle with this, yet to find a peaceful resolution. To any readers, I'm sorry that this isn't a profound, feelgood, theological or spiritual post. This is a post of despair; of open recognition of my need for God's grace; of a deep longing to truly give my burdens to Christ. These are the thoughts of a human truly struggling with his humanity.

Darkness of Mine

I've been silent on this blog for a couple of months now, largely from a lack of inspiration or from scattered thoughts. I generally like writing, because it's helpful in anchoring the ideas that I have, providing a medium upon which I can expand and develop them. But lately it's been difficult, because not only are the ideas are all partially formed and lacking in any real consistency, but also because I haven't felt motivated. I suppose it's natural that these things result from depression.

As anyone who knows me can probably attest, I go through phases of being depressed, sometimes punctuated by brief periods of inspiration, which convince me that I can do anything to which I set my mind. Unfortunately, "brief" is all too adequate a description of those times, and soon I'm back in a state somewhere between sadness and void of feeling.

However, what frightens me about that "dark place," as I've come to call it, is not even its frequency or duration. While those aspects can be frustrating, they don't necessarily indicate infinity. That is to say, there's hope for an end to that form of suffering.

But you see, I often long for the times before I was prone to depression. I'll wish I could go back to a simpler, happier state of mind, which I theoretically inhabited earlier in life. But the truly terrifying thing about that is my uncertainty that such a time and state ever existed for me. While I do long for it, it's difficult for me to envision, and I can't seem to think of any specific instances in which I was truly "happy." To clarify, I can think of happy moments and periods of my life, but on deeper thought I'll also remember negative thoughts and feelings of inadequacy that were always present, even amidst those happy times.

I've had people imply, or even outright suggest, that this depression is just part of who I am, tied to my temperament, and that there's no cure or solution. That's a disheartening thought, especially when it comes from the mouth of a fellow Christian. The notion that I have a joy-inhibitor hardwired into my brain seems to fly in the face of the theology of a God who wants us to have abundantly joyful lives.

I have, of course, had the thought that I misunderstand what true joy is. I know it's more than just a feeling, and so it doesn't mean we'll always be happy and carefree. But my impression has always been that joy can't exist in the same space as depression; they contradict each other. So unless that's wrong and I truly don't understand, there must be hope for freedom from this. And unlike everyone else in my life (whether they actually do this or not), I can't just give up on me. I have to believe there's hope.

Who Can You Trust

With all the controversial subjects that have been cropping up on the social circles, I've been forced to consider political perspectives, which, as a general rule, I do my best to avoid. I've found that in many cases I can safely stay off of those subjects, because they aren't my business. But the problems in that reasoning arise when those issues start to directly conflict with my convictions in faith.

I could think, talk, and write myself into circles when discussing the various pros and cons of each side of those issues. There are valid reasons why they're controversial, even among Christians, who should ideally be like-minded about the approach to life and all things in it. However, my thoughts now are not about controversy.

As I've gone out and listened to the host of opinions, many of which come from the lips of trusted peers and mentors, I've returned from my mental and moral pilgrimage exhausted, and in some ways more confused than when I began searching for truthful insight. I know that, being human, every person will inevitably have flaws in their thinking. But for something as divisive as the big issues discussed at present, I'd hoped that with biblical perspectives, at least the true followers of Christ would arrive at the same conclusions. However, the only thing I've conclusively learned from my experience is that the situation is never as simple as we'd like it to be.

All politics aside, I think that God is using this experience to reveal to me a more important truth: the complete extent to which I should be trusting Him. It forces me to acknowledge the inherent flaws in humanity that result in uncertainty as to what we should do in any given situation. That uncertainty necessitates constant communion with God through prayer and Bible study, because He alone has the true perspective on reality. Therefore, He alone always knows what's right.

This comes as an answer to prayer. I have, for a while now, been meditating on and praying about my difficulty in approaching all circumstances with prayer and entrusting everything to God. In His time and His way, He is revealing to me the utter importance of taking the things of this world, even the limited understanding of my fellow Christians, with a grain of salt and leaning fully on Him.

Lost in Thoughts

I often go back and read over things I've written before, just to review. It helps me to process my thoughts a bit further than the initial notions with a fresh perspective, or to encourage me when I feel down.

As I look back on my study notes, ideas, and previous posts, I often find things that seem radical, and perhaps even unbiblical. Subsequently, I often question how accurate they are and how much truth they actually contain. I do this because in fact, much of it isn't pulled directly from the Bible, but rather is conjecture based on logic and reason. The rationale behind these ideas is centered around a couple of key theological principles; things I know to be true of God.

One is that He is both omnipotent and omniscient. He is literally boundless. Our minds can't even begin to fathom His sheer infinity. This alone is a paralyzing truth if dwelt on. I could, and often do, think myself into circles about the things of God that actually can't make sense to my mind, just because I'm too small. Things like the purpose and effectiveness of prayer, God's interaction with the world and our lives, and predestination versus free choice. These ideas spend a lot of time fueling my thoughts, and often perplexing them as my relationship with Him grows. That thinking is comforting, in the sense that I know He's greater than I can fathom, and therefore able to observe all situational factors and interact in whatever way is truly best. However, it can also be frustrating for me, as at the end of it, there's so much that I still don't understand.

That leads to the other principle: the extent to which His grace abounds, which is also too vast for us to know. Ultimately, our sole responsibility as Christians is to put our faith in Him. From that, His grace covers truly everything. The damage of all wrongs, doubts, and misunderstandings is effectively neutered by it, for as long as we're His. And again, as He alone is all-knowing, He alone knows our true relationship to Himself, and therefore who's truly faithful.

Anchoring my thoughts to these principles allows me to draw up conclusions that simply stand to reason because I know who God is, even without finding a specific verse or passage that's relevant (although sometimes I find some anyway). However, imperfect as I am, I'm sure this often puts some muddled ideas and warped perspectives of the truth into my mind.

I have no doubt that any such instances that are of importance will be adequately clarified in due time. How God decides to reveal that truth to me will vary, whether it's by a humbling correction from a peer or mentor, a convicting passage that directly challenges my thoughts, or a different means altogether.

However, in the meantime, I think my cognitive flaws fall into the category of things that are covered by grace. God knows that I'm seeking Him, and by extension, that I'm seeking the truth. In essence, He knows both my imperfection and my faith, and those two characteristics in us are the very reason that grace is both needed and extended, respectively. Therefore, when I write, or even think, I lean heavily on that grace, trusting that even if I misunderstand, God has me covered.

Routine

I've taken an unconventional approach to lifestyle with regard to worship lately. In fact, I sort of always have, at least within the confines of my life as aimed toward God's glory. To elaborate, some might look at some of my activities, or often inactivities, and think to themselves that I'm living a lifestyle that isn't faithful to Christ. And for most of my life thus far, I might have agreed with that notion.

Having grown up for about half my life in the Catholic church, I've been exposed to a lot of their traditions. And while my family and I were never particularly devout about many of those traditions, that limited perception was just enough to puzzle me. I never understood the purpose of any of it. It was what I would nowadays consider religious, which, as I've indicated before, isn't really a compliment.

When I was a child, church was merely something we attended once a week. And it was every week; skipping it just wasn't something we did. And each week it was effectively the same. The same agenda, the same prayers, generally the same songs, and what sounded to me like the same sermon, week after week. We observed the seven sacraments, I had prayers and creeds memorized to recite collectively with the congregation, and I survived each mass by counting the routine landmarks I'd learned to recognize over the years. None of it made any sense to me, and I was positively euthanized by it. The only thing I recall lending any distinction between weeks was that there would sometimes be doughnuts and hot chocolate in the pavilion afterwards, which might make the eternal hour-long session worthwhile.

When you do something monotonous for a long period of time, but never really understand why, there isn't a whole lot in it about which to be passionate. Needless to say, that whole experience was a complete turnoff for me with regard to religion in general.

What I didn't understand, either because I wasn't taught it or it just didn't sink in, was that Christianity is alive. It's, as I've said several times before, more a relationship than a religion. As such, it can't be just a set of rituals done solely on ceremony. If it means nothing to the person, it's blindly following other people, which isn't really any better than living a life without Christ.

Before I progress, I should clarify something: I don't believe there's anything inherently wrong with Catholicism. For some people, that may be the right path. But that's only because they understand the purpose behind those rituals, and that manifestation of faith resonates with them personally. In that case, it is the organic aspect of real faith that's required for a relationship with Christ. Theirs just looks different from mine, and that diversity is a beautiful thing.

In my walk, things might not look so conventional to the strict religious types. Certainly I have some rituals and traditions to which I generally adhere. I attend church services almost every Sunday and Bible studies fairly regularly, and I keep devotionals almost every day. But I don't think those things are what indicate a healthy spiritual life with God. That being the case, missing any of those things for a day or two, or even a span of time, isn't a sign of unfaithfulness. At least not in the relationship itself. It merely shows the natural waxing and waning of activities within the confines of that relationship.

Likewise, some activities, like watching a suggestive movie or TV show, reading a questionable book, or playing a tacky game, might make outsiders wonder how I could even call myself a Christian. Especially when coupled with my woefully human tendency to sin. And of course, I try to keep my more edgy activities fairly low-profile in comparison, not because I feel I need to hide them, but because they aren't what my life is truly about. Nevertheless, when used in moderation, common ground with those who don't know Jesus lends the ability to relate to them, which is a powerful ministry tool.

My point in all of this is that a standard life isn't something to which we're called. Falling into a habit or routine of simply following the rules and rituals is something I believe could be more insidious to our faith than would be outright doubt. And although there are some things that are undebatably and literally gospel truth, the relationship itself is unique to everyone, and is prone to ebb, flow, and ultimately change drastically as it grows.