I just realised why I like stream-of-conscious style blog posts so much: because of the literary choice, I'm not obligated to edit. Yes, stream-of-conscious writing tosses nothing out. (That's not even literally true. There are things I think that I wouldn't ever type, let alone post on the Internet but as far as writing, as far as what I'm intending to send to my fingertips, there's nothing held back.)
And today, I want to compose a post that will be given the "s.o.c." label in my account because I don't want to take back what I have to say. I'm feeling backed up and I have many things to say and to think through and I have come to my blog for an outlet.
The sermon this morning was horrible. Just horrible. Maybe I need a nap but this morning I felt tired of having my butt kicked for what feels like the millionth Sunday in a row. SIGH! If I could just stop sinning, I wouldn't have to take any of this in. Last two weeks I was eager to hunker down, to get the sermon all up in my grill, and figure out where the Holy Spirit was leading me to begin with what He was showing me. But this week? I just want it to go away! Bleh. (I really hope it is a nap I'm craving because my true self likes being rebuked and challenged and guided in growing up in the Lord.)
Selah.
My tea is cold. That is dumb. Too many things on the go right now. Too many things. When will I be good enough? When will I be done? (This is the part I didn't want to filter.)
Last night I was more concerned about my sudden death than I ever have been. Yes, something seemed to "rattle" in my chest right around where my heart is, almost like it had been gripped and shaken violently for a couple seconds (which actually felt like forever). That frightened me because I have no idea what brought it on, whether it would come back, or worst of all, how to describe it. What do you tell the paramedics?
I would like to insist that it was nothing, just a glitch in a body that has been compromised by the Fall. But it could have been more. I finished what I was doing and put the light out (it was bed time). My breathing was somewhat laboured. All down my sternum was somewhat sore to the touch. I wondered if two coffees a day has suddenly become too much for me. That's the mainest major change in the past several months that I could think of.
Then my fear deepened. Then I thought my vision was failing: the moonlight didn't seem to reach all the way across my bedroom. I started begging God not to take my life right then, knowing that He has a perfect plan and He has full rights to take and give all life and that neither statistics nor genetics nor desire earn me the right to long life--or any life! I think I was panicking. Tears began streaming. I so desperately didn't want to go. I was so scared. And I didn't want to wake my housemates up or call anyone because it was past 1 am. But what if I took too long to assess the seriousness and was unable to place my own 9-1-1 call?
I switched the light on, realising there was no one there to be tough in front of. I continued begging God for my life and I didn't like how every time I asked I had to answer the implicit why. Why would I want more time? When my inheritance is sealed, my eternity with the Lord is set, why would I beg to stay? And why should death scare me? Where's your sting, son?!
With the light on, I found relief in learning my vision was still sound. With the light on, I found more discomfort in feeling like I was hallucinating. Yes, the ceiling and the light were doing weird things and I just didn't know what to do. I was peaking and I didn't know what would happen if I didn't calm down soon. I didn't know what would happen. I didn't know what to do. I don't know how I would help myself if I was literally losing my mind.
Last night I told the Lord more than once that if I didn't have Him, I didn't have anybody. If He wasn't really there then all was lost. What could have any meaning? What could anything be without the Lord?
The answer to the hanging why took a bit of time to articulate. From the get-go, I knew it exactly but I was also aware that it would be good to say it aloud, to work it through. I would not like to go soon because I think there's more work to be done. I think that my little ol life that's as transient as mist could be used by the Living God to accomplish great things for His sake.
And the truth is that He knows exactly how to use everything well, so if my life would bring Him the most glory snuffed out on the 25th of January, 2014 from heart complications, He would take me. I had to know that. But still, the same guy in the back of my head that insists I won't be dragged into the bushes and beaten to death on my way home too late at night on too quiet a street, he was still sure that there's more for my life yet. Maybe it is arrogance and false entitlement on my part. Until I'm proven wrong, however, I'm going to continue to believe the Lord has big(ger) things yet to do through my life.
When do we start?
So when do we start? When do I stop being like this? When do I start grabbing hold of the things I ought and let my disease and corruption slip away?
This afternoon I've been wondering why I think I should be done with this now. I've been wondering why I see my friends half looking on with an impatient foot tapping, wondering what is taking so long. What is taking you so long? You should be better by now. We've already told you the truth, can't you just accept it? Can't you just be better and stop being so draining? I'm not going through this again. I'm not doing this again. You know better. Stop it.
Slink. Shrink. I can't figure this out. I cannot seem to get this blasted pendulum to stay plumb. What is good? What's left that's good?
Maybe I really, really need a nap. Maybe physical tiredness is not a moral failure.
Huh.
Maybe physical tiredness is not a moral failure.
Huh.
Huh.
Thank you, s.o.c..
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