A Spoonful of Evening

My internal chronometer tells me I'm posting this two weeks late. That's when I started to type it out, at least. It's been unusually difficult to get myself to sit down and type the rest out. I seem to have some reluctance to being quiet and still. Almost as if I'm afraid of what it would be like to face myself without distractions. My thoughts have always been jumbled. Now, though, I start to wonder if maybe I spent more time in earnest meditation, I couldn't sort through them a bit and maybe calm the stresses I subject myself to.

Its amazing, in a way, how I can let stress runaway from me and become its own vile entity. Oftentimes I'll be out of sorts for hours or days and then something will happen, a conversation or just a simple pleasantness, and I'll realize that I could have simply turned my thoughts away from the stress whenever I wanted. It had been my active maintenance of the foul mood that kept it alive. The same goes for many other states of mind. Wonder, boldness, enthusiasm. How many ways of meeting the world do I fail to achieve simply because I accept that they must come to me unbidden, like a spiritual dawn? From where would such a sun rise, after all? I wonder (and know that I'm not the first to do so) if many foul moods are not really an exaggerated form of self-pity. I am, after all, quite an expert at that.

I ramble, though. I have told Jeromie there would be an update on my internal affairs, so let me move on to the things that have happened in my life of late.

I should speak first of what happened at the small group before last. As usual, I drove over with stresses on my heart. Which, again as usual, were lighter when I left. This time, however, there was something more. During the discussion, I was struck with a sudden thought. It was the understanding that we are to die to ourselves and suffer for Christ. Its a teaching I have long known, but mainly on a cerebral level. This felt like my soul itself was waking up and realizing that things were expected of it. It was, in a word, terrifying.

I was reminded immediately of C.S. Lewis when he said that both Heaven and Hell warn the Christian to think well upon the consequences before he commits himself to the Gospel. I recoiled from it, expecting to be crushed under such awful weight. At the same time, I asked God in my heart to give me courage, offering Him my weak acceptance of such an obligation. It was so strong that I could almost believe that if I gave my consent, my pride itself would be pierced then and there to make room for obedience. I knew I needed it, but I didn't want it.

The feeling has waned since then, as is often the way with things of the heart untended. It is my shame that I have kept such internal distance, but my relief that I can still feel it -feel Him- reaching out. Its not what I would consider a call, since it is too abstract for that. Its more like a conviction. And yet I still feel so dirty and base and evil. I still sin while screaming in my head to stop. Yet, for a few moments last night after my last small group for a while, I felt like I could follow wherever I was lead, that I could let go of my fear and shame. It was a wonderful moment with some great guys.

This is the first I have spoken to anyone about it. Its also been the first chance I've taken to set it down in words. I had not thought myself such a coward. Got be praised, though, there is time and grace to grow brave.

Another thing that has encouraged this peculiar sentiment is reading "The Heavenly Man," an account of Chinese Brother Yun. Born in Henan Province in China, he becomes a Christian as a boy and begins to spread the Gospel across China. He is persecuted by the government and arrested several times. The recounts of God providing visions to believers and protecting Yun during his persecution, in addition to his miraculous escape from one prison, have served to bolster my own faith. Reading of the complete devotion of the Chinese church to serving God despite constant danger and hardship has also made me realize how easy believers here have it. Recommended reading.

On a side thought, I was watching a girl throw up her hands during a praise song in church today and started to wonder if it there was a greater propensity for exuberance among female believers than male. Sexist? Fallacy? Chastisement and opinions, please.

As to the title of this post, on Saturday of last week I was feeling stress from many areas. The conviction, worry over finding a job, doubts over my future, disappointment in what I've done with my life so far, and so on. I needed to get out. So I took a stroll through the nearby state park. I mused on the forest, drawing analogies for life against the trees. I watched the evening sky twinkling through the leaves like stars of twilight. I called Jeromie to share the renewing of my peace, but had to leave a message. I walked. I stared at the forest canopy and the sky beyond. I breathed.

I felt... good.

Huh.

Oh, yes. It looks like I finally have an internship. It will be at the SC Assistive Technology Program doing all sorts of web and tech stuff. The call for the interview came out of the blue. Ironically, while I was offering a prayer of repentance to God. He does provide.

Well, I'm sure there's more I could say, but that's enough "emotional whoring," as it were, for one post.


Twilight out.