[+/-] Thoughts on Darkness (and prayer again)

Darkness.

What is it about darkness? Why does it scare me? Darkness is lack of security. It's confusion; vulnerability. When I'm in the dark I'm helpless and alone. I don't know what's going on. As a child I was afraid of the dark. I was afraid to go to bed every night because when the light went out and the door closed I was completely at the mercy of my fears and imagination. As a child I didn't have the advantage of knowing how the world works. I didn't know what could or could not happen. Anything that could be imagined - even anything that could not - might happen at any time. Darkness removes the comfort of familiarity. I know the laws of the world I live in, but when that world fades into night my faith in those laws ebbs away. As long as I can see desks and chairs firmly held to the ground by the faithful pull of gravity, I can trust that these laws will hold out from my reality the monsters that lurk in my imagination. The eye is the trump card. Dark dreams and musings are always playing at the back of my mind, churning out new horrors to overpower my reason, but as long as the great infallible eye denies them, they cannot take control. The problem comes when the eyes are laid to rest or muzzled in darkness. When I can see I am self-secure. I need no outside protection. I need no teddy bear or guardian angel. When darkness comes my defenses are overwhelmed, and I need to put my security in the hands of someone or something else. Generally there are two options: I can have faith in the continuing functioning of the laws of nature, or I can have faith in God. If I can trust neither, I will descend into fear and insanity.
The strange thing about being a Christian is that it means believing in monsters. We call them demons, but they're hardly different from the phantoms of my childhood nightmares. They're an unknown. I've never seen a demon; I don't know it's size, shape, speed, strength, color or texture. What I know about demons is the following:

1. They are real.
2. They are pure evil.
3. They have some form of influence on me.
4. They are related to - or perhaps the source of - all my fear.

This is what I can come up with off the top of my head. Altogether it's kind of scary; it makes me think of some Hollywood horror film. If you believe these things about demons, it's living in horror movie - or at least a suspense movie - because there are evil beings around me who I can't see and don't understand and hate me and want to destroy me. I don't know if I believe in demons in the Frank Peretti way - big reptilian beings who have swordfights with robe-and-wing angels. But I believe points 1 through 4 above, and that's enough to be scary. Especially in the dark.
When I think of being afraid of demons I think of a video I saw of a sermon in which some preacher guy talked about being "barbarian Christians". I don't remember the guy's name, only that he spoke well without notes and had green skin because the color on the TV was off. He said that one night at bedtime his son was afraid of demons and asked his Dad to pray that he'd be safe. He told his kid he wasn't going to pray for him to be safe, he'd pray for him to be dangerous. That was the guy's whole point: Christians shouldn't be safe and happy, we should be powerful. We should be scaring the demons.
This makes me think about "spiritual warfare". I always think it's a funny idea. There are preachers who'll tell you that God's on our side and we can do anything and prayer moves mountains and so on. And I think they're right. The problem is we have no idea what's going on. It's like having at your disposal some state of the art fighter jet with a bunch of nuclear missiles or whatever, only you don't have a clue how to fly. You can have the most fearsome weapons of war the world has ever seen, but if you don't know how to use them, all you can do is throw rocks. I guess I get frustrated because I'm supposed to be all excited about the power of prayer and all this spiritual stuff even though I don't see or understand any of it. Don't get me wrong, I want to be a "prayer warrior", like Jim Cymbala talks about. I want to be a prayer meeting stalwart and get up at 5:00 to pray and pray without ceasing like Brother Lawrence. But I don't understand it, and I'm so easily discouraged. I believe God's given us this phenomenal privilege and wonderful tool in prayer, but in practice it generally feels incredibly useless and boring. I'm trying to think of an illustration, but I can't. It seems to be a unique absurdity.
I see I'm talking about prayer again. I can't seem to stay on one topic for a whole entry. I guess all my frustrations are co-dependent. Which makes me hope that someday something will happen and my secret core problem will be solved and I can live happily ever after and say things like "Praise the Lord" and "God bless you, son", and wear a tie and a smile every day and drive a car with a fish on the bumper and have bible verse calligraphy in frames on my walls. I'm being half-sarcastic here, but it's a real hope of mine. I really don't want to spend the rest of my life picking bones with God.

I have to switch topics once more. I finally saw The Passion today for the first time. It was quite powerful. I came away thinking of a verse: Luke 9:23.

Then he said to them all: "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me."

[+/-] My problems with "worship" and prayer

Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man.
(Ecclesiastes 12:13)

I've always kind of liked that verse. I think it's because it's a good summary. It's good for firing off at anyone who asks about the meaning of life or whatever. Of course, it was written under the old covenant (before Christ), so it focuses on fear and obedience towards God, which is kind of un-Christian. If we were to re-write this verse, it might say something like "Now all has been heard; here is the conclusion of the matter: Love God and enjoy an abundant life with him, for this is the whole sales-pitch for Christianity." And I don't want to get in an argument with the "health-and-wealth"ers or the "abundant-life"rs or the Jabezes, but maybe we're all missing the point. Maybe I've been missing the point. I like to focus on the fact that God created me to have a relationship with him, because that's what I want more than anything, but maybe that's not where I should be focused. I don't know, it's tough.
I think a big problem is the worship songs we sing in Church. Let's look at an example.

How lovely is your dwelling place O Lord Almighty,
For my soul longs and even faints for you.
For here my heart is satisfied, within your presence.
I sing beneath the shadow of your wings.

Better is one day in your courts
Better is one day in your house
Better is one day in your courts
Than a thousand elsewhere

One thing I ask, and I would seek: to see your beauty
To find you in the place your glory dwells.

My heart and flesh cry out for you, the living God.
Your Spirit's water to my soul.
I've tasted and I've seen. Come once again to me.
I will draw near to you, I will draw near to you.

Forgive me if this is your favorite song, it has been randomly chosen from a bunch of worthy songs to be ripped to shreds. (I'll try not to spend a lot of time on this, because my blog entries are apparently the longest known to man.)
There seems to be two kinds of statements in this song. Conveniently, these are the same two kinds that appear in a lot of "worship" songs. The first is the kind that says "I live in the presence of God. I experience his fellowship." So this would be like the line that says "For here my heart is satisfied, within your presence." This just makes me think, "Wow, how can anyone say that? Who is this Matt Redman, and what great powers of metaphor and hyperbole must he employ to say that he dwells in the presence of God? Who are these people - these thousands and millions of church-goers - who dare to echo such a statement? Who am I that I would say such a thing casually, without even considering the magnitude of this claim?" What about "I've tasted and I've seen. Come once again to me." Tasted what? Seen what? The presence of God? Does Matt Redman equate a euphoric worship experience with an encounter with the Almighty? Has he tasted and seen the glory and majesty of God, and does he dare request such an experience? Do you realize what you're saying in this song to the Lord, high and exalted, with the train of his robe filling the temple, with the angels crying out before him, "Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory"? Have you seen the doorposts and the threshold shake, and the temple filled with smoke? Because if you have, the proper response is "Woe to me! I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty." Understand this: if you were to "taste and see" God, as you claim you have, you would be deserving of death.
Perhaps I am misconstruing Mr Redman's statements. Perhaps he mean something entirely different, like "I'm happy and I love God, and in that way I'm 'in his presence'". I know I'm almost being irresponsible by taking lyrics at face value, but there seems to be the implication here that something real - something tangible and experiential, something you can "taste and see" occurs between God and his children if they ask. Or at least, it should. Which brings me to the second kind of statement made by worship songs.
These are statements of longing for God's presence. "For my soul longs, and even faints for you" or "My heart and flesh cry out for you, the living God." This is the "one thing I ask, and I would seek" kind of song, as opposed to the "I've tasted and I've seen". (As I said, "Better is One Day" is an good example, because it is full of both.) These two types of statements are similar - they both encourage us to focus on how we feel and what kind of interaction we have with God. I tend to relate more to the second kind, so it's more dangerous to me. It's so easy for me to grab a phrase like "As the deer pants for the water, so my soul longs after you", and dwell on it, and get totally carried away with passion. Maybe I'm becoming cynical about passion. It feels good, but it doesn't really accomplish anything, unless you can channel it into something constructive. I seem to have a hard time doing this.
I could argue about whether either type of statement are really "worship", but I'm not interested in that now. I guess I'd like to say that I think these songs really feed into my longing for a real relationship with God, and I don't think I like that. I think I've come to a point (and if you've talked with me much this year you'll know it's been a long time coming) where I can say I've done everything I can to meet with God. I've focused on this for 8 months. I've prayed, I've fasted, I've stayed up until 5 AM waiting for God. There are a few things I haven't done - I haven't had some Pentecostal preacher lay hands on me, and I haven't slashed myself with a sword until my blood flowed (I'm alluding to the Mount Carmel story. It's very powerful for me. Perhaps I'll expand on this later.) I may be wrong on this - I hope I am - but I've come to believe that I'll never have any kind of relationship with God whatsoever as long as I'm on this earth. Of course, I have no real reason to believe that God will never reveal himself to me, except that the hypothesis has yet to be falsified, but I just have this gut feeling. I generally feel very much alone, very much isolated from God. I have a hard time believing that the Holy Spirit lives in me. I believe, in my mind, that God hears my prayers, but it's as if he hears them from way up in heaven, and does nothing about them.
I hadn't planned to get into prayer today, but I guess here I am. Let me tell you about the Mount Carmel Problem. 1 Kings 18:16-40. The prophet Elijah challenges the prophets of Baal to a showdown on Mount Carmel. They will each prepare a sacrifice and pray to their own God, and the God who sends fire from heaven on the sacrifice is the real God. The prophets of Baal (all 450 of them) danced around their alter for hours screaming for Baal to answer them, but he didn't. So Elijah taunts them, saying "Shout louder! Surely he is a god! Perhaps he is deep in thought, or busy, or traveling. Maybe he is sleeping and must be awakened." And these prophets of Baal shout louder and slash themselves with swords and spears from morning to evening, but nothing happens. Then Elijah tells them their time's up, and he rebuilds his alter (which apparently the prophets of Baal had knocked over in their frenzy), has water poured all over it, and then prays to God. And God sends fire from heaven that blows all trace of his alter off the face of the earth. This bothers me.
The other verse about Elijah that bothers me is James 5:17-18.

Elijah was a man just like us. He prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the land for three and a half years. Again he prayed, and the heavens gave rain, and the earth produced its crops.

What am I supposed to do with this? You can't tell me Elijah had something special - he was a man just like me. He prayed earnestly, and it didn't rain for three years. I pray earnestly and see nothing. Will you try to tell me that my prayers are answered? The closest thing to an answer my prayer usually get is this voice I hear of a mocking old man saying "Pray a little louder, child of God! Surely he'll hear you! Surely he'll answer, if he loves you!"
If all it took for me to have my prayer answered would be to dance around and alter from morning to evening and shout and pour out my blood on the earth I'd certainly do it, but I don't think even that would work.
I don't know. There's more I could say on prayer, but I think I'm done for today. See ya.

[+/-] The Prodigal Returns (JHV)

Note (Sept. 09): I extracted this rewritten parable from the previous post, because I think it's worth preserving on its own. I actually wrote it before I began this blog, but I've referenced it a few times and I still kind of like it, even though I don't really feel this way any more.

...So he got up and went to his father.

But while he was still a long way off, he met his older brother working in the field. His brother greeted him warmly and welcomed him back to the family. “Though,” he said, “don’t expect to see Father any time soon. Oh it’s not that he won’t forgive you – they say he loves you very much – but he doesn’t see any of us very often. He stays in the house mostly, in a room with a locked door.” He looked wistfully towards the house. “I thought I saw him once, watching me through the window, but it was from a long way off, and I couldn’t tell if it was him. I don’t even really know what he looks like.” He turned back and smiled at his brother. “It’s good to see ya again bro. Here, you can work with me. I’ll show you the ropes.”

The younger brother frowned. “You’re… not angry with me? I mean, I screwed up big there. And you’ve always been the good one…”

“Hey, don’t worry. Daddy always taught us forgiveness. See, we get real good at following Dad’s instructions around here. If you work hard and do what he says – he wrote us a book, you know – you’ll become an awesome farmer. You can learn from me too. I’m not as good as Dad of course – they say no one ever farmed like him – but I’m learning to do things his way.”

“Will I ever get to see Dad?”

“Oh sure! We’ll all see him someday. And that, little brother, will make all our work worthwhile. We’ll have a feast like you’ve never seen, and we’ll be together, us and Dad. But no one knows when that will be. Maybe you’ve heard that this life is all about being with Dad. That’s not how it is. Mostly we work. It’s good work, and we get to talk to each other, but don’t you believe that stuff about a relationship with Dad.”

“I just thought I could talk to him… say I’m sorry.”

“You can certainly do that. I’ll take you to his room, and you can speak to him through the door. He’ll hear you, but don’t expect him to talk back.”

“He’s never even talked to you?”

“Not me. Some people – some of our older brothers, I mean – say he’s answered them. Some have sat by the door for years, and they say he’ll have whole conversations with them. I heard one story of a brother who was invited right into the room! Oh, but he was a good farmer.”

"So if you work hard enough..."

“It’s not dependent on you though. It’s all up to Dad. I know brothers who are better farmers than I’ll ever be, and they’ve never so much as heard him whisper. Others, it seems like he just… cares for them more. He’ll talk to them even though they can’t farm as well as I can.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“No, Dad’s not fair. But he’s good. He provides for us. He teaches us to farm. It’s a good life bro, and remember this: you wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for him. Who knows, maybe you’ll be a lucky one. …If you ever get to talk to him, tell him I love him. Tell him I work hard, and I just can’t wait to meet him. I mean, I’ve told him myself, and I know he hears me, but… never mind. Look, it’s great to see you again bro. You work hard and stick with me. I think you’ll make a great farmer.”

[+/-] A brief look at my relationship with God

I told a friend of mine that I have a Blog now. "What's that?" he asked. I said it's an online journal, so anyone can have a look at what I'm thinking about. "Oh," he said, "that's a bit egocentric."
I'm afraid he's right. I don't know, maybe this can't work. We'll see. One problem is that everyone who might view this would know different things about me. So whatever I write, there will be some people who have heard it all before, and some who don't know what's going on. I'll try to compromise, but in the immortal words of Calvin, "a good compromise leaves everyone mad." (And of course I'm not sure if anyone will actually be interested in reading this anyway. But we'll give it a shot.) Maybe I'll just plunge right in with what I'm thinking of right now, and try to explain myself as I go.
It seems like the last 8 months or so have been dominated by the question of my "relationship" with God. I put relationship in quotes because I think it's a kind of a Christian buzzword. Almost, maybe, a metaphor. Relationship to me means hanging out with someone, seeing them face to face, and most of all talking to them. I don't do that with God. God seems to be separate from me, and this is quite confusing because it's so contrary to what I've been led to believe. I've only recently been exposed to Charismatic Christianity and the whole idea that I can be "Baptized in the Holy Spirit", and thus achieve some kind of deeper relationship with God. I grew up in a non-Charismatic Church, and we talked about how God's always with us and the Holy Spirit lives inside us and all this, but it's always been something intangible. Like you weren't expected to ever really interact with God, but just believe he was there even though it didn't seem that way. And I never really thought about this too much.
Just since September I've unexpectedly been introduced to several incredible charismatic Christians who have challenged my previous notions. The idea that I could have a real relationship with God is very appealing to me. I've been really seeking this for months now. I've prayed about it and I've thought about it all the time. I've come to believe that my longing for relationship with God is the deepest and strongest of all my longings. Stronger than my emotions, my personality, my morals. Stronger even than my sinful nature. Put simply, there's nothing I wouldn't do to be close to God. Which is kind of scary... maybe I'll touch on this later. Anyway, I've been longing for this for quite a while, and periodically becoming discouraged because I see no change. You should know that I'm extremely - even dangerously - skeptical about prayer. I really don't understand it, and I've never experienced anything I'd call an "answer to prayer", but I know this: when I pray, stuff happens. I mean praying that God will help me with some sin, or to love people, or whatever. It happens so slowly, so that I can't even see - much less feel - the change, but looking back months later, I can see that I've changed. Not that this isn't easily dismissable, but it just seems like when I pray about and want something, it happens. However, I've seen zero change in my relationship with God since the fall, and I've never prayed as long or as hard or wanted anything as badly as this. And this is discouraging. I've come to realize that I go in sort of cycles, where I'll become discouraged with my asking God to meet me, and then always someone will encourage me to stick with it, and I'll get back to longing and praying, and eventually become discouraged again. I get dragged back so easily, I think, because I really, really want to believe this is true, and to somehow, someday have a real relationship with God.
I should explain what I mean by "relationship with God", because people always ask me what I'm getting at. Basically, I'm looking for something tangible. A sense of his presence, or some kind of communication with him. (Communication means it goes two ways. Prayer is not communication. Prayer that gets some kind of response from God is communication.) I don't want to over-define this. I don't want to dictate to God how he must make himself know to me or talk to me. I'm not looking for some one-shot miracle or magic trick. I'm not looking for Heaven or Eden. I just want to be God's friend. Or son. Or slave. I don't care, pick whatever metaphor you like. I just want something real. The way I read my Bible, this is a reasonable thing to ask. Of course, it's quite possible that I'm reading my own preferred meaning into this, but I don't think so. Expain to me Matthew 7:7-8 "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened." What does this mean? How about Revelation 3:20 "Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me." What's going on here? What's the door? How do I hear his voice? What does it mean that he comes in and eats with me (and me with him)? These are a couple verses that confuse me. I actually rewrote them, according to my experience. Here's what they look like.

Here I am! I stand at the door and wait. If you would only knock on that door, I’d fling it wide open. I’d welcome you in, and eat with you, and you with me.

Ask and it will be withheld from you; seek and it will be in vain; knock all you want, but you'll never be let in. For everyone who asks is ignored; he who seeks cannot find what is hidden; and to him who knocks, the door will remain firmly locked, and he will be left cold and confused on the doorstep.

So that's pretty strait-forward, right? Nothing fancy; I just reversed them. The other one I did was the ending of the parable of the Prodigal Son from Luke 15, starting in about verse 20. Here's God's version. ;)

So he got up and went to his father.
But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
The son said to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son." But the father said to his servants, "Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found." So they began to celebrate.

I've never understood this. It's a metaphor, clearly, but of what? How does God run to us? How does he hug and kiss us? What are the robe, the ring, the fattened calf and the feast? This is how the story looks to me (I'm the older brother):

So he got up and went to his father.
But while he was still a long way off, he met his older brother working in the field. His brother greeted him warmly and welcomed him back to the family. “Though,” he said, “don’t expect to see Father any time soon. Oh it’s not that he won’t forgive you – they say he loves you very much – but he doesn’t see any of us very often. He stays in the house mostly, in a room with a locked door.” He looked wistfully towards the house. “I thought I saw him once, watching me through the window, but it was from a long way off, and I couldn’t tell if it was him. I don’t even really know what he looks like.” He turned back and smiled at his brother. “It’s good to see ya again bro. Here, you can work with me. I’ll show you the ropes.”
The younger brother frowned. “You’re… not angry with me? I mean, I screwed up big there. And you’ve always been the good one…”
“Hey, don’t worry. Daddy always taught us forgiveness. See, we get real good at following Dad’s instructions around here. If you work hard and do what he says – he wrote us a book, you know – you’ll become an awesome farmer. You can learn from me too. I’m not as good as Dad of course – they say no one ever farmed like him – but I’m learning to do things his way.”
“Will I ever get to see Dad?”
“Oh sure! We’ll all see him someday. And that, little brother, will make all our work worthwhile. We’ll have a feast like you’ve never seen, and we’ll be together, us and Dad. But no one knows when that will be. Maybe you’ve heard that this life is all about being with Dad. That’s not how it is. Mostly we work. It’s good work, and we get to talk to each other, but don’t you believe that stuff about a relationship with Dad.”
“I just thought I could talk to him… say I’m sorry.”
“You can certainly do that. I’ll take you to his room, and you can speak to him through the door. He’ll hear you, but don’t expect him to talk back.”
“He’s never even talked to you?”
“Not me. Some people – some of our older brothers, I mean – say he’s answered them. Some have sat by the door for years, and they say he’ll have whole conversations with them. I heard one story of a brother who was invited right into the room! Oh, but he was a good farmer.”
“It’s not dependent on you though. It’s all up to Dad. I know brothers who are better farmers than I’ll ever be, and they’ve never so much as heard him whisper. Others, it seems like he just… cares for them more. He’ll talk to them even though they can’t farm as well as I can.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“No, Dad’s not fair. But he’s good. He provides for us. He teaches us to farm. It’s a good life bro, and remember this: you wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for him. Who knows, maybe you’ll be a lucky one. …If you ever get to talk to him, tell him I love him. Tell him I work hard, and I just can’t wait to meet him. I mean, I’ve told him myself, and I know he hears me, but… never mind. Look, it’s great to see you again bro. You work hard and stick with me. I think you’ll make a great farmer.”

I wonder if I'm taking the whole thing out of context. The point of the story isn't the relationship between the father and sons really, it's the forgiveness. But it always bugs me when I hear about the father running up and hugging the prodigal, or even having a conversation with the older brother. I like to say that I'm not interested in a robe or a ring or a fattened calf, but I'll take that kiss! Anyway, that's my perception of my relationship with God. I hope you'll respond. Send me an email, or post a response, or whatever. Do you agree? Disagree? I don't care if you can put together a smooth rebuttal or whatever. How does this make you feel? If I've talked to you about this before, tell me again.
I don't know what to say. It's a strain on me, this longing. I've been considering recently whether I should be trying to suppress it. I can do that sometimes: I can take an emotion or a desire that I dislike and slowly eradicate it. It doesn't go away completely, but it can be locked up. This sounds weird and wrong, that I would try not to long for God, but maybe that's the best thing I can do. I mean, I'd love to get married right now, but I can't; I'm not prepared for it. If I were to dwell on and feed that longing it would make me miserable, but if I can ignore and suppress it, I can focus more on what I have to do here and now. So maybe the same is true for my relationship with God. It doesn't really exist now, to my way of thinking, and maybe it never can until heaven. So maybe the best thing I can do is ignore it or suppress it. But that sounds so terrible.
What makes me sick is the idea that this is the way I'll be for the rest of my life. It's alright if it's part of a process, and I just have to work at it, but what if I can never have any interaction with God until heaven? What an awful way to live!
I don't know, it's so draining to even talk about this, because some people are like "Oh ya, keep at 'er, you'll get there", and others are like "Not this side of heaven." So I'm thinking that if I can really have tangible, real interaction with God, I'm willing to put any amount of time and energy into achieving that. But if it's not, then I'm wasting my time. I need to know. I don't need opinions on this, I need fact. I need the truth. But I guess that can only come from God, and he's not talking to me. Alright then, I'll take opinions.

[+/-] So about Blogging...

I have some mixed feelings about all this. I guess it's cool that I have a soapbox now - a place to rant about politics or hockey or whatever. But hopefully that won't be what I do. If you know me, you'll know that I hate talking about superficial stuff. I'm hoping this will be a sort of window into my mind and heart for those who might be interested. This is cool because maybe I'll do less e-mailing, and my Mom won't have to always be nagging me to go do something "important", like mow the lawn. I'm hoping that through this the people who care about me will always be kept up to date with my thoughts, and the people who don't care won't feel obligated to pretend to. And I won't have to resort to mass emails. The thing is, it feels kind of weird to post my heart and soul on the internet for anyone to see. It kind of makes me feel naked. Kind of. I don't know. The main thing is that if I'm going to be posting the things I'm thinking about, there are some people I wouldn't want seeing it. I'm not ashamed of my thoughts and convictions, but most of the time they're kind of dark, and not particularly edifying. I should explain that I'm a Christian, and my "relationship with God" is the biggest thing I think about, and will therefore likely be the focus of this Blog. The only snag is that my feelings towards God are often angry and frustrated, so it's not what you'd call "uplifting" or "inspiring" or any of those things that it seems all Christian literature tries to be. I tend to question the basic Christian stuff that we're all supposed to believe, and I'm not afraid to speak my mind to others or to God. (Although I have chosen to "protect my identity". I figure those of you who know me know me, and those of you who I might not want to know that I think this way won't have to have a rude awakening. If you're wondering why I'm "Jacob", it's the story of him wrestling with God in Genesis 32) Anyway, this kind of thinking is not for everyone, and I certainly don't think less of those who can believe without questioning and always be happy with God. Let me say that again: To those of you who are apologetic to me about your "child-like faith", please believe that I don't think less of you. We're just different. Anyway, if you're wondering about the title, Psalm 13 seems to really sum up my life right now. ...Except for the part about enemies. I don't have many of those yet. If you're not familiar with this particular Psalm, (it's not the kind that gets read in Church much) here it is.

1 How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?

3 Look on me and answer, O LORD my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;
4 my enemy will say, "I have overcome him,"
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

5 But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
6 I will sing to the LORD ,
for he has been good to me.