[june meditations]

6.4 I smoked a cigar in the woods and was honest with God: I feel like I'm at the end of my rope, my life all but in shambles. I feel on the edge of a breakdown, tiptoeing along a precipice. I don't want this empty life anymore. Pursuing pleasure, knowledge, success, anything but God's kingdom is emptiness. This kind of life isn't for me, it doesn't fit right, it isn't my home. Others make it their own and revel in it, but I can't do that. I've tasted an intimate life with God, and I miss it. I've grieved God's Spirit, but his Spirit hasn't abandoned me. Although we be faithless, he is faithful. The Spirit reminds me of who I really am: God's child. I've been wayward, stubborn, and foolish, and it has cost me. But I believe there is yet hope, IF I return to God. Repentance is hard, damned hard, but easier than the lesson learned. I wanted to walk beside Christ again, and I want to become the man he wants me to be. The most beautiful thing is that I don't have to grovel for God's love, or beg for His mercy, or work for His grace. He gives it all lavishly at the first breath of repentance. We're so fortunate to have a Creator like our God.

6.11 "What's holding me back?" It is not I who live, but Christ in me. That's what I want my life to be like. Consumed by the Spirit, transformed into the person God wants me to be, not just a New Creation in name but a New Creation in word and deed. I want people to look at my life, see Christ in me, and marvel; I want to be condemned as a fool for Christ, I want love and the gospel to permeate my being, I want to turn the filthy menstrual rags of my life into priceless white satin. But I feel stuck, unable to move forward, held back; and by what?

(1) SHAME. I keep identifying myself not as a redeemed child of God but according to my sins. I am far from guiltless, a "chief of sinners." I hear that I am a New Creation, and I know that the evil of my past has been dealt with, that I have a new future in Christ, that God has good things in store for me and that he wants to do good things through me. But I can't seem to let go of my past, can't seem to grasp God's forgiveness and grace. I keep thinking, I've fucked up too much, I've gone too far, there's nothing left for me. My shame keeps me from accepting and embracing the good news of the gospel, that I'm not just loved but also liked by God, that he and I are cool and that he has much in store for me, if only I'll receive it.

(II) INSECURITIES. My self-image, you can imagine (given Point 1), is quite skewed. Not only is there insecurity due to shame, but I question my worth as an agent and herald for God's kingdom. If I'm honest, one of the main reasons for not pursuing ministry is due to insecurity: lots of interviews with churches went nowhere, and when interviews did seem promising, in the end I looked too young for any sort of adult ministry, and the coupling of my singleness and youthful looks barred me from youth ministry (and I'm not mad about that, it's a wise decision on the part of churches, just sucks to be on the ugly end of that stick). An awkward, short, pale and funny-looking guy such as myself seems to have no place in ministry; that's for the married folk and the older fellows. It's bullshit, of course, but churches operate as if it were gospel. So I stopped interviewing, decided I'd made a mistake going to CCU to pursue ministry, and consequently found myself lost. No small wonder that's when herbs came into the picture. It's great at making you forget disappointments. Ministry aside, I'm insecure as a child of God, questioning not primarily my worth or value as a minister as I am questioning my worth and value as a Christian. It's shame yet again, keeping me from trying to move forward, convinced that I'm eternally fucked up, that there's no way I can be the person God wants me to be.

Shame & Insecurity keeps holding me back, acting like a wall. And when I feel overwhelmed, it's far too easy to slip back into those old creature comforts. Truly, shame and insecurity keeps me rooted in place. All the while God, I believe, has lots in store for me, but I'm hesitant to "Get Up & Walk." That's what Christ is telling me, the same thing he told the lame men at the pool of Bethsaida: "Get Up and Walk." Like the lame man, I've been healed, and Christ is telling me to start acting like it. Am I too content to get up and move, so stuck in my own issues that I refuse to pick up my mat and walk about town? "I'm a lame man. Sure, Christ has healed me. But I've identified as a lame man for so long, I'm not sure I can do it!" But the lame man was no longer lame, and he took up his mat and walked. He's an example I must emulate.

6.20 Shame and Insecurities indeed play their role in holding me back, but a third barrier would be FEAR, and a specific fear: the fear that I'll die young and soon, that my life's basicaly over and I'm just waiting to die as my young body's consumed by cancer or some incurable disease. Spawned by the events of May last year, this paranoia came out of nowhere, staining my life. Panic attacks, sleepless nights, overwhelming stress: I felt crippled, unable to function. Slowly things got better, and I was able to use rational thoughts to counter the irrational ones. I KNOW I'm healthy, I KNOW I probably have a long life ahead of me; tests have been done showing, scientifically, that I'm doing quite well. But the fear, you see, is still there. A year ago I thought I'd be dead within the year; a year later, I'm still fearing the same thing. The fear poisons my attempts to inaugurate change, for if the fear is legitimate, then what's the point? "Why start Graduate School and leave my family to pay off the loans on top of funeral costs? Why stop smoking and why start running and biking if I'll be dead soon? Why work on myself to be a good husband and a good father if I won't live long enough to taste those gifts anyways? And why even engage in any sort of 'sharing of life' with someone, investing into someone, if they'll just be hurt by my sudden death come the end?" This fear feels immovable, and I'm at its mercies. All I can do, really, is pray; and kill the fear as it raises its ugly head. But resisting yourself is pointless if the fear's legitimate, and my paranoia tells me that's the case. A vicious cycle.

6.23 God has so much for me, if only I take it. My spirituality has been dichotomous between the flesh and the Spirit. I'm driven more by my desires than by the Spirit within me; I make decisions based on MY desires rather than God's. The result is an anemic faith, a malnourished vine bearing dry and wrinkled fruit. This hole in my life, that vacuum from when I started forfeiting prayer, I try to fill with superficial rituals: house church, reading the Bible, elaborate prayers, all meant to try and suave a guilty conscience without risking complete submission and surrender to God, without the potential hurt of having to die to myself and live to Christ. I'm a decent person, sure, but I'm not a New Creation. I've focused so much on conscience-soothing practices that I've neglected the core altogether: union with Christ. Who I am now--a weak, sad, fear-riddled man barely holding on as life's difficulties surmount--isn't the person God wants me to be. He wants me to be a new sort of person, not an upgraded Anthony but a man of God whose real name is written in the Book of Life. He wants me to be consumed by the Spirit, and a man in whom flourishes the fruit of the Spirit, a man not driven by the desires of the flesh (that all-too-common craving for power, pleasure, and prestige--but by the Spirit, a man known for his peace, hope, and joy rather than for his crippling fear, paranoia, and regret. I'm holding myself back from what God has for me by refusing to relinquish control, refusing to surrender totally to the will of God. And why? Oh, the Usual Suspects: the shame, the insecurities, the fear. But let's not forget the doubt: I doubt that God cares for me, and consequently I doubt he'll take care of me. These doubts stem from my College Years, my own little microcosm of the Depression Era, when I sabotaged my own future and blamed God for it, refusing to own up to my responsibility because I couldn't bear to be the one to blame. We love scapegoats, and God's always a prime choice (but an erroneous one). The way out of this life and into the next isn't by way of external changes: I must kneel before the Throne in prayer, spend time listening to God like I did long before, and I must actively and diligntly crucify all that is fleshly within me and embrace life by the Spirit. It is not I who live, but Christ in me. That's the goal. God help me.

6.24 My confidence and trust in God took a plunge in 2006 following losing Julie, and a graver plunge after losing Courtney. The depression, the disappointment, the emotional hell made me question God's disposition towards me. "Why would he do this to me if he cares for me?" I blamed God, but really I was to blame. My own selfish decisions dug the grave I found myself in. Likewise, surveying the past four years, blame for most disappointments lies with ME. My actions and decisions have consequences, and when Self is the motivator, things can get mucky. I ask God, "How long until you do something?" and he counters, "How long until you get your shit together?" (I paraphrase, of course) My mind grew dark towards God and my heart grew cold. I stopped trusting and I stopped praying. But as I've been praying more and more, God has been showing me things. He's showing me that all the while I questioned his love for me and ran off my own steam, he was the one performing damage control. He didn't let me go too far, and he reminded me constantly of who I really am. God's presence in my life is seen in how he's kept me from wandering off completely, how he's sustained me in my darkest moments, how he's always been there drawing me to himself.