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THOUGHTS IN MY HEAD THIS WEEK: LIVING RIGHT?.

I grew up as a Christian- that really meant I, along with the rest of my then-nuclear family was chauffeured by my dad to church every Sunday. I didn’t have a choice. No one in my family did. Besides the free chauffeur privileges, it also meant that I marked “Christian” in the “Religion” box in the countless forms I’ve filed since I could hold a pen. It took most of nineteen years of doing most of this (after one semester at the university, I realized that I didn’t have to do church) before I finally came around to any meaning of what being Christian was… or is.
I wish I could say it’s been a smooth sail from my moment of epiphany but that would be as true as claiming my weaves are real.
It’s been a mix of stumbling and falling and getting up, and falling and running, and returning, and living and falling and living and wanting and … a lot more.
Sometimes I want so much of God, it’s overwhelming, like I live so much in him and I don’t want out. Like I‘m walking a few inches on air, lots of space between the floor and my silk-stockinged feet. It feels like lots of fire and love, like He’s right beside me, inches away- everything seems so possible.
Then sometimes, even faster than my eyes can catch it, the clichéd tables turn- it’s like it seems not worth it- a sense of my failure unforgivable by God and myself. It’s more like a feeling of helplessness, all the Christianese about Christ and His sufficiency, bout how he’s willing to have me back, about the strength in getting up- they just don’t work, at least not then.
Sometimes it gets so hard that I don’t even want to try.
Psychologist call it “depression”, though I’m more inclined to go with “condemnation”. I recognize it by the heavy feeling of helplessness, a “why bother”, a sense of failure and shame in God and myself. It’s dark and heavy and it nudges me to give it all up.

Through time, I have learnt to remind myself that He really will have me back. At my darkest, I cling to an assurance that my foolishness is not enough to wipe out His love and that he will.
It could be hard, but I try to cling harder.
I rely on Him to help me up and I try to pay attention to the reason the darkness started.
Sometimes, it’s easy to give it up, sometimes it’s difficult. Especially when I have managed to convincingly lie to myself about its harmlessness, or when I simply ignore His quiet warnings.
I want to always remember that there’s something more important than whatever I’m holding on to, outside of Him. I strive hard to remind myself that He’s God anyway, He knows better, He’s assured me of something better- (Christianese again). Sometimes, it’s I hit my head against a “life” brick, too many realities in my face and the shortcuts seem quicker. But I know, at least my pint-size faith tells me. I hold on to it and believe.

And I mess up… again.
And I start over… again.