It’s 3am and I’m sitting here playing a fish version of bejeweled. I have a quiz tomorrow. What am I doing?
It’s not that I can’t sleep–although, recently, it’s been pretty tough for me to go to bed at night and get up at a reasonable time. I also had way too much for dinner. But still, staying up late, playing games that take no skill usually end up with me reflecting on things that have happened recently. A question that just came to me:
Why am I so afraid to talk about my faith?
I used to be cool and confident when it came to my beliefs. But that was years ago. Now I can barely get myself to say “God” in front of other people. Even in front of church people. It’s been so long since I wrote a blog post about God, Jesus or the church. I feel really disheartened.
It’s hard to say that I’ve been trying my best not to get to this point. The truth is I haven’t been doing ANYTHING to prevent myself from getting to this point. The worst part is, I don’t even know why. Why did I let myself fall further into the hole? I knew that momentum would pick up over time; unfortunately, terminal velocity does not exist.
It’s a problem. How can I be one of the faces of my church if I cannot even say the name of whose house I attend?
I hope it’s just a phase.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been so busy with schools, schedules, routines and the modern life. Gotta get things done fast.
As I walked out my door a few hours ago, I noticed a beetle on the door frame. It was at face height.
I blew on it and it fell off. It hit the ground with a thud. I laughed to myself. What a pathetic little insect. Then I realized how great of a metaphor it was for life. You spend all this time climbing to the top, when some big wig walks by and knocks you down because he doesn’t like who you are.
And then I thought about how great it would be if I wrote a blog post about it.
And then I realized how silly it would be to write a blog post about it.
I prayed and prayed about it. “God, give me a sign.”
Then… silence. I waited. Suddenly, faintly, I hear the strumming of a guitar. A friend is walking through the woods with a guitar. That was it. That was my sign.
I chuckled. “God, this is your sign and I will obey to the best of my abilities.” The words flowed out of me almost naturally.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were here.” My friend turned and walked away.
As soon as he left, my face widened wih a smile. “God, you are so good. Thank you. Thank you.”
I was surprised not by the results of the sign, but rather that He’d sent me a sign in the first place. It was a miracle in all aspects.
But I didn’t listen.
Oh, no. In fact, I did the exact opposite of what I was supposed to do. I turned from God, and with one swing of the pendulum, I pushed Him out of my life. “I don’t need you, God. I don’t want you in my life.” I didn’t want the sign to be truth. I defied God and shut him out.
I lived for a month without God.
Then one aspect of the sign came true. Boy, did it hurt. It hurt like He’d just whipped me for doing Him wrong. I should have listened. I should have obeyed. I should have gone to Nineveh.
But I’m glad the sign was there in the first place. I’m thankful that God didn’t let me take the whole force of the fall. Otherwise, I’d be broken. Maybe dead.