A couple years ago, I fell off the wagon, so to speak. I got fed up with christianity, so I kept my belief in a good god, a redemption, and a promise; I left the rest for the mainliners. The problem with detatching myself from that is that I can’t find where I put the rest of my christianity. The one where I believe in the promise. The one where Jesus is real and understands my problems. The one where I ask for help. I have dropped everything but a vague belief in God, a knowledge that a historical Jesus did exist, and an acute knowledge of my depravity, which has gotten more and more grave by the hour.
Where has my hope gone? It’s not like I don’t want a relationship with god, it’s that I can’t get my heart to do what my mind wants. Apparently, all my years of resistance has given my heart a strong will. One that is bent on following its own depraved path.
Maybe I don’t even want the relationship with my creator. I don’t even know what I want some times. I want to do what I want, I want to obey, I want to serve myself, I want to serve others. I suppose that’s the flesh against the spirit. I just wish my spirit were stronger. Beat the crap out of my flesh.
To be honest, what I want is both. Can I have my freedom and have my god? The trite and simple answer is this: Yes, freedom comes from knowing god. There’s more to it than that. There has to be, or else I’m just an idiot (which I fear may be the case). I want a different kind of freedom, to be myself. I can’t have people telling me what to do. It’s not that I have a problem with authority, I can follow “the chain of command” when I feel it’s right. But when judgments are handed down for the sole reason of displaying contrived authority, this very much offends my humanity. And for this reason, I rebel. Perhaps this is what caused me to stray from christianity in the first place.
I think I was destined to be a christian. I am a christian because I believe in the dignity of man as well created beings. I want to be a humanitarian. I love hope; I love the promise that the shit we get dragged through and drag ourselves through is not our end. I am brought to tears by sacrifice (ask mandy). I suppose this is the spirit calling for its redeemer. I just wish it would call louder than my flesh calls for its appeasement.
I guess in the end, I don’t really want to be back where I was. I want to be in a different place. One where I know exactly what’s important, and what’s man’s contrivance. I don’t want to perform for people. I left because I was doing that. I don’t want to have to evangelize at every instant to be called a “good christian”. I’d rather die than do that. I want my evangelism to come from who I am (not like eat-vangelism was).
If you’ve made it this far, dear reader, thank you for putting up with my self-righteous, self-important dronings. I’m just trying to put down in words what I’m feeling (and make it semi-readable). I’m just searching for release from myself. Perhaps that’s what a follower of jesus is. For now, I’ll just keep looking. Some day my prince will come.