Maximillian Amadeus Banzai (banzai) wrote,
Maximillian Amadeus Banzai

  • Mood:

Somebody save me

Beginning to realize that I'm quite frustrated with myself. That would begin to explain why I've been uncomfortable with both solitude and company of late, with both work and leisure: I am always present. The sickness I awoke to every morning during the Year of Hell returns some mornings, and I wonder if the things that made me miserable then are following me because they are me. Actually, I do more than wonder— I know that, to some degree, this is true.

I'm good at sounding pious, but the truth of my life is composed more of stubbornness and idolatry. It seems like my heart is willing to put anything above God and myself above all. Measuring the duration of my "repentance" would rarely require the hour hand of a watch. And berating myself for the state of my soul is yet another way of placing myself squarely at the center of the universe.

"Let go," I hear now, a voice that may well be still and small. "Let go of all that you are gripping so very tightly in fear. It's going to kill you. I want to save you, to give to you, to be your reward."

And I am afraid. Afraid that I have to provide for myself, to scramble to make it all make sense, to take care of my own needs, and— most terrifying of all— to find a way to fill the emptiness that comes when I let go. The emptiness that I fear will swallow me whole and drive me to everlasting madness. The absence, the lack. What if God doesn't show up?

Even though I am oh-so-tired, I look forward to Community Group tonight. That's unusual. Somehow I need their faces, their voices, their presence, their prayers. Of course I do, but how rare for me to realize it, to feel that need (and not shunt it elsewhere).

Feels so much better just to have written it down.

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