Hardened Heart
Weeeeell, I hope I still have a readerbase after all this downtime. RSS, anyone?
Things are still plodding along as they have been for months now in Charleston, and I won't trouble you with the details of my new apartment. Why? Because I think they're boring. I have so many other things I think about, so many other grander things, that a new place to live, unless its floating, flying, or in orbit, seems rather dull.
As the title may have suggested to you, I chance another post about faith. I have been reluctant to talk about my spiritual struggles for various reasons. One, I dislike whining, yet it seems that's what this blog turns to more times than not. And two, its hard for me to imagine something more grating for those of you who are not believers than to hear a Christian complain about the state of his soul. I could be wrong. Perhaps it's fascinating. Maybe I should even invite Dave to critique from time to time.
Wait. Scratch that.
At any rate, I had intended this entry to bring a few things to public light. Whether they evoke sympathy, chastisement, or curiosity is up to my esteemed audience.
The first two things have to do with worship. Praise and worship, to be exact. From DCF to Seacoast, it is inevitable that at a certain point, hands go in the air. This is a good thing. The people raising their hands are celebrating an intimacy with God that can only find expression in exultation. My issue with this is the fact that it's never happened to me. I wonder why not. Is my faith too weak? My relationship with Christ too paltry? Or am I simply not a 'hand raiser'? For every person that lifts their arms to the ceiling, there are probably five who don't. Oh, they sway. They bow their heads under a holy presence, but appendages stay close to the body proper. It makes me wonder if the discomfort and envy I feel when I see hand-raising happen is perhaps not warranted. Is a silent, solemn praise acceptable, even in the midst of crying aloud?
The second thing has to with the band itself. It's petty, really; a trifling quirk. But its persistant. When the band really gets into the music its playing, they, too, feel the need to raise their arms. Since they're holding instruments, however, they find that a bit inconvenient. So, they just keep playing. Choruses will repeat and what was once an ending will stretch out, becoming almost instrumental. I find myself inwardly sighing and thinking, "move to another song or stop playing, but make up your mind!" I know. Its completely irreverent. But I had to say it somewhere, to someone.
The third thing is sermons and how my usual response to them is guilt. Yes, I say to myself, that's me. I've fallen short, I'm not even close to what I should be. I feel so dirty and ashamed. Or if it's about God, I'll think, "Yup, God's awesome, and how have I been treating Him?" It's almost pavlovian. Shame is so second-nature to me it's disgusting (which is a funny sentence when you think about it). But I caught myself on Saturday. I was driving back from volunteering at the Convoy of Hope where I helped stuff bags of groceries to be given to needing families. As I drove, I thought of how I could have done more. Stuffing groceries removed me from people too much, I argued. It was cowardice, a fear of interaction. Then, a new thought rose up. No! This was not cowardice! I was nervous about volunteering, so I wanted a job I was comfortable with but could still help. And now that I've done it, I know I can do more. This is not weakness! This is growth! And with that, my guilt disappeared. I guess sometimes it takes a roaring God to rattle the bindings of shame.
Now, you may ask, what of the title? Is this yet another abstract rambling? No, dear reader, not this time. I refer to the slight dulling of optimism over the years and its replacement by skepticism. It's only slight, and I'm sure to many of you I remain a bastion of naivete and positive outlook. Let me give you a more concrete illustration. I was recently called up by Pre-Paid Legal, Inc. after they had found my resume on Monster.com. They're a network marketing company selling what amounts to legal insurance. You pay a small amount every month for access to lawyers, consultations, a will, identity theft protection, etc. Not a bad company or setup. However, that still left the whole selling thing. They have a system set up where you're supposed to show people materials and get them to talk to 'experts' if interested. So it's not actually selling, they say. Splendid! Except that most people would probably be pretty skeptical, I imagined.
Then it hit me: I was losing it. Not just what little remains of my sanity; my optimism. I thought that I was just being more realistic, drawing from my experience with door-to-door sales. But what if this was different? Didn't I owe it to myself to take that chance? One of their principles was personal development, and the guy I talked to gave me a list of recommended reading. I laughed to myself inside when he suggested "How to Win Friends and Influence People", but did a double-take. Was this another sign of how jaded I had become? Is this the kind of person I wanted to be, scoffing at dreams and those who pursue them despite failures?
In the end, it doesn't matter, since there's a cost for them and I can't afford it right now. I'm having to dive into my savings just to pay my new rent. I've not yet found the kind of work I would jump at, and I really don't want to go full-time as a meter reader. So, I may have to accept that I'm only qualified to be a secretary. Yes, I had thought I was better than that, and yes I know that work is work. It's just not pleasant to realise you have no marketable skills. Maybe I'm due for a lesson in humility before I find anything I want. Maybe it's never been about what I want. Maybe I'm so twisted around in my own pensive musings and existential wanderings that I've lost track of what I should be doing. Oh, Blog, what should I do?
And there you have it, folks. Sorry it seems so negative, but I had to have a release somehow. It seems everyday is filled with a constant stress and anxiety about finding a real job. Hardly my normal character, but I don't want to think it's because of a hardening heart.
Twilight out.
Things are still plodding along as they have been for months now in Charleston, and I won't trouble you with the details of my new apartment. Why? Because I think they're boring. I have so many other things I think about, so many other grander things, that a new place to live, unless its floating, flying, or in orbit, seems rather dull.
As the title may have suggested to you, I chance another post about faith. I have been reluctant to talk about my spiritual struggles for various reasons. One, I dislike whining, yet it seems that's what this blog turns to more times than not. And two, its hard for me to imagine something more grating for those of you who are not believers than to hear a Christian complain about the state of his soul. I could be wrong. Perhaps it's fascinating. Maybe I should even invite Dave to critique from time to time.
Wait. Scratch that.
At any rate, I had intended this entry to bring a few things to public light. Whether they evoke sympathy, chastisement, or curiosity is up to my esteemed audience.
The first two things have to do with worship. Praise and worship, to be exact. From DCF to Seacoast, it is inevitable that at a certain point, hands go in the air. This is a good thing. The people raising their hands are celebrating an intimacy with God that can only find expression in exultation. My issue with this is the fact that it's never happened to me. I wonder why not. Is my faith too weak? My relationship with Christ too paltry? Or am I simply not a 'hand raiser'? For every person that lifts their arms to the ceiling, there are probably five who don't. Oh, they sway. They bow their heads under a holy presence, but appendages stay close to the body proper. It makes me wonder if the discomfort and envy I feel when I see hand-raising happen is perhaps not warranted. Is a silent, solemn praise acceptable, even in the midst of crying aloud?
The second thing has to with the band itself. It's petty, really; a trifling quirk. But its persistant. When the band really gets into the music its playing, they, too, feel the need to raise their arms. Since they're holding instruments, however, they find that a bit inconvenient. So, they just keep playing. Choruses will repeat and what was once an ending will stretch out, becoming almost instrumental. I find myself inwardly sighing and thinking, "move to another song or stop playing, but make up your mind!" I know. Its completely irreverent. But I had to say it somewhere, to someone.
The third thing is sermons and how my usual response to them is guilt. Yes, I say to myself, that's me. I've fallen short, I'm not even close to what I should be. I feel so dirty and ashamed. Or if it's about God, I'll think, "Yup, God's awesome, and how have I been treating Him?" It's almost pavlovian. Shame is so second-nature to me it's disgusting (which is a funny sentence when you think about it). But I caught myself on Saturday. I was driving back from volunteering at the Convoy of Hope where I helped stuff bags of groceries to be given to needing families. As I drove, I thought of how I could have done more. Stuffing groceries removed me from people too much, I argued. It was cowardice, a fear of interaction. Then, a new thought rose up. No! This was not cowardice! I was nervous about volunteering, so I wanted a job I was comfortable with but could still help. And now that I've done it, I know I can do more. This is not weakness! This is growth! And with that, my guilt disappeared. I guess sometimes it takes a roaring God to rattle the bindings of shame.
Now, you may ask, what of the title? Is this yet another abstract rambling? No, dear reader, not this time. I refer to the slight dulling of optimism over the years and its replacement by skepticism. It's only slight, and I'm sure to many of you I remain a bastion of naivete and positive outlook. Let me give you a more concrete illustration. I was recently called up by Pre-Paid Legal, Inc. after they had found my resume on Monster.com. They're a network marketing company selling what amounts to legal insurance. You pay a small amount every month for access to lawyers, consultations, a will, identity theft protection, etc. Not a bad company or setup. However, that still left the whole selling thing. They have a system set up where you're supposed to show people materials and get them to talk to 'experts' if interested. So it's not actually selling, they say. Splendid! Except that most people would probably be pretty skeptical, I imagined.
Then it hit me: I was losing it. Not just what little remains of my sanity; my optimism. I thought that I was just being more realistic, drawing from my experience with door-to-door sales. But what if this was different? Didn't I owe it to myself to take that chance? One of their principles was personal development, and the guy I talked to gave me a list of recommended reading. I laughed to myself inside when he suggested "How to Win Friends and Influence People", but did a double-take. Was this another sign of how jaded I had become? Is this the kind of person I wanted to be, scoffing at dreams and those who pursue them despite failures?
In the end, it doesn't matter, since there's a cost for them and I can't afford it right now. I'm having to dive into my savings just to pay my new rent. I've not yet found the kind of work I would jump at, and I really don't want to go full-time as a meter reader. So, I may have to accept that I'm only qualified to be a secretary. Yes, I had thought I was better than that, and yes I know that work is work. It's just not pleasant to realise you have no marketable skills. Maybe I'm due for a lesson in humility before I find anything I want. Maybe it's never been about what I want. Maybe I'm so twisted around in my own pensive musings and existential wanderings that I've lost track of what I should be doing. Oh, Blog, what should I do?
And there you have it, folks. Sorry it seems so negative, but I had to have a release somehow. It seems everyday is filled with a constant stress and anxiety about finding a real job. Hardly my normal character, but I don't want to think it's because of a hardening heart.
Twilight out.
posted by Aisyrn | 7:04 PM
6 Comments:
So you're ashamed when you learn from experience?
Sheesh. Maybe you should switch over to Pavlov's God. Ring bell for salvation.
Incorrect, sir. I believe my context put my shame before the actual learning, with gratitude ('but I caught myself') for overcoming it.
And I shall never switch.
Oh, dear, I'm nearly a week behind the times. Forgive me, for I was out of town.
I have many thoughts on all the spiritual stuff, but none helpful. Mostly about people acting the way they think they should act instead of focusing on their own genuine, internally-motivated feelings. But that's not where I'm going.
The job thing. Maybe you could apply at the various colleges and universities in Charleston. There are lots of positions in admissions/registrar/bursar offices, individual departments, etc. Maybe you end up with a secretary-ish job, but you'd be good at it if you chose to be, and you can't beat the benefits.
Working at a university would also keep you close to knowledge and allow you to surround yourself with smart people who would motivate and challenge you. You might even be able to take a class or two on the side just for fun.
Just a thought.
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"The four points of the compass be logic, knowledge, wisdom and the unknown,. Some do bow in that final direction. Others advance upon it. To bow before the one is to lose sight of the three. I may submit to the unknown, but never to the unknowable. The man who bows in that final direction is either a saint or a fool. I have no use for either."
Yama Death God
from Lord Of Light
You should know, Mr. Orange, that there is a woman who stands next to you at Sea Coast who has no inclination to raise her hands during worship. ;)
She, too, sometimes wishes for that song to please, for goodness' sake, come to an end already.
You are not alone.
Is it because I do not love God? No. We are not limited in the way we worship. My love for Him is personal - it's a personal relationship - not a religion. Remember that conversation?
David danced before the Lord; the band at church goes on and on and on; I, well, I sing to Him in my heart where no one can hear me.
It appears to me that you have a heart that is willing to become what God would have you be. That is no bad place to be, my friend.
If you dug ditches for a living it would not prevent you from being loved and valued.
When you come through this stretch you're going to look back and laugh at yourself. You'll find your place.
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