So it comes to this; lying in my room pretending to be some brooding artist with a bleeding heart. 

 

The word leave holds so much power and intrigue for me.  It captivates me.  I feel that leaving anything and everything blows the possibilities of life wide open.  I know that the simple act of leaving, whether it’s some small habit or completely picking up, packing up, and getting the heck out of dodge, doesn’t change anything.  I won’t suddenly be happy.  It won’t make me any less lonely and out of place in a room full of people.  It can’t magically fix me.

 

I have some sort of block.  Something that holds me back; not from leaving, but from totally letting go and taking and accepting and purging.  At church you here the phrase dying to self.  I am aware that it’s not just a churchy phrase but a verse in the Bible.  Anyway, the concept is good in theory; however, in practice… it’s kind of like driving your car into a closed garage door.  Then you just feel like shit. 

 

I was reading this book and this guy was talking about having this come to Jesus moment and referenced the scene in Forrest Gump where Lieutenant Dan is in the lighting storm yelling at God.  The guy is driving around in the middle of nowhere and peels off into the desert and decides he’s going to have one of those moments.  He gets out completely ready to have this angsty yelling at God “play me or trade me” moment but notices all of the stars.  He’s overwhelmed and proceeds to share this beautiful experience.  And I’m thinking, “Really joker?”

 

I’m not going lie.  I’ve tried it.  The random we’re going to have this out, break on through to the other side, hell bent on this massive life changing moment experience set up.  But that’s all it was and has ever been for me.  It’s always the set up scripted like a movie or a book. 

 

I heard this guy speak at a church camp one time, who incidentally I thought was a total douche, talk about he had built his whole self up on a relationship and finding his wife, blah, blah, blah…. Anyway, he continues on with all the typical talk of this nature.  He then tells us that one night he was so lonely and rock bottom and knew that this was a part of his life that he had to give to God and rid himself of.  He’s at a friend’s house in the middle of winter and has this friend baptize him in a swimming pool and cleanse himself of this stronghold in his life. 

 

At this point I’m sort of intrigued because it seems like one of those moments.  And I’m thinking that this is a completely new concept and all I need now is a ten dollar kiddy pool and a friend that won’t think I’m a complete moron.  Moving on, the next thing I know the speaker says, and I quote, “The following Sunday I walked into church and met the woman who is now my wife.” 

 

Well hell.  Yeah, that is pretty much all I have on that. 

 

These come to Jesus moment stories are fascinating and soul stirring and I just want to be like, “Yes God let me have that.”  And then these tools conclude this story with them receiving this thing that they’ve made their idol.  It’s like their telling me if you give it completely away God will reward you with all the things you’ve longed for. 

 

So, let’s face it, you try it.  God it’s yours.  It’s yours God where’s my reward.  Why is nothing different?  I played the part.  I almost drowned in a kiddy pool.  Come on you’re not working, this is not working!  I love God.  I love him for saving me and for loving me.  I know he’s real and that he wants me more than I can possibly know.  I love as God, as this being that creates awe and brings fear and trembling and tenderness in a completely indescribable way.  But I do not love him as a person.  I don’t know that love him as a friend; as someone real.  I also know that that is not something I’m capable of doing on my own.  If that is what HE wants from us why is it so hard to attain?

 

I’m annoyed and angry.  And then I feel bad for feeling the way I do.  I feel like there is something wrong with me even though I know I’m probably more normal than most for no other reason than that I am willing to be blunt and say most of what goes on. 

 

I’m disgusting.  I take pride in the fact that I’m so blunt and honest about this stuff.  It makes me feel good to be a little raw and seem real.  When in fact it’s just one more thing that I use a cop out and hide behind.  And that sucks too. 

 

If there is “beauty in the breakdown” I must be a freaking super model.  I think my closest friends get tired of my breakdowns.  Particularly because it never seems like anything changes.  And quite frankly when I’m in the middle of one of these quasi-meltdowns, and the question “What’s wrong?” is posed… I’m pretty sure the response; “I don’t know.” gets old.  Fast. 

 

So the days, and hours, and minutes go on.  I’m always looking for something more.  Something new.  Something different.  Some place to go.  Something to leave.  Some way to change.  Some way to see and know God in a real way.   And then I realize I’m really tired and just want to sleep. 

I'm wearing a new blue shirt.  If I were going to describe the color exactly, I would tell you that it is more of a cobalt.  It's the color blue that all blue pottery glaze inevitably ends up.  I'm pretty sure I like it.  The color, I'm not sure about the shirt yet.  It's ok though.  I didn't pay very much for it.