the Eleventh Hour

It's all about me. I am the center of my universe. Everything that happens is significant only as far as it affect me. I am the source, I am the reason, I am the life and the heart and the goal. I am an isolated, unfathomable, all-significant being floating through a sea of stimuli. Events and people have value only to the degree that I give it to them. God is significant only if I make him so - if I attach meaning to his existence, then he will exist. If I ignore him, he is nothing.
Of course, people, events, and God probably exist separate from my perception. Every other person on the planet presumably is also an all-important I, weighing and validating my own existence by their own self-serving criteria. God probably exists, probably created me, and probably loves me. He alone would have the power to blow my inward-focused existence to atoms, overriding my senses and will with his own searing brilliance. But as long as He chooses not to, I can choose to obsess over Him or disregard Him. And really, whether or not He exists, as long as He remains entirely absent from my perception He cannot be grasped by me, even on the most superficial, erroneous level. What I call God is my own personal image of Him, based on my interpretation of the Bible, of my surroundings, of other's experiences, and a thousand other things that are not Him. My religion or spirituality (take your pick) is not interaction with or even action towards any real God, but only towards the murky, hopelessly flawed image of him created by and entirely contained in my own consciousness. This is the situation, and it cannot be otherwise until such a time as he chooses to override my will, heighten my perceptive abilities, or end my existence.
But I'll stop talking like this, because those of you who aren't philosophically inclined probably don't have a clue what I'm saying, and those you who are already know all this because it's been said before by someone really smart (in much more intellectual lingo, I'm sure), and most of you are probably a little concerned about my self-centeredness. Yes, I could be less self-centered, but only through a conscious choice to care about others or (I hate to say it) at least pretend to. Ultimately, this would be motivated by something self-centered, because I cannot really understand any other person, or even really understand that they are existent in the way I am, so I cannot really understand their significance, and thus their claim on my efforts and attention. (Sorry, I said I'd stop.)
So I'm off to camp tomorrow. How terrifying. I am not qualified to do this. I am not prepared. I am a wretched, self-centered, confused being, twisted and evil in my very essence and self-indulgent and manipulative by nature and by continual choice. I misjudge people and circumstances, I am ruled by my emotions and crippled by my intellect. I have very little hope, essentially no faith, and a dim, inconstant love. Only these three things matter, only they will remain, but I do not possess them.
I'm going to have to cut this terribly short. What a shame, I had other things to say, but I have to pack and sleep.
Bottom line: I want to have faith that God will "use me" at camp this week. I want to believe that I can trust in him, and that I'll open my mouth and his words will flow out. I want to believe that I'll be broken and remade over this next week, that my doubts and my will will be destroyed and I'll be left naked and empty before him, overwhelmed by his power and saturated with his presence. I would give all of my possessions, my hopes and goals, my eyes, ears and limbs, even my very life for that. If I dwell on how much I want that, it will destroy me. I want to believe it will happen, even to the smallest degree or in the most diluted form, but I don't. Forget the why, forget psychology and experience and motives. The bottom line is that I do not believe God will work a miracle this week. I do not believe he will make himself known to me, or assist me in any way I can perceive. It'll just be me, trying to survive, trying by my own wisdom and strength to do the best I can on my own, without Him. My kingdom, my health and strength, for the faith of a child! (One thing - don't touch my mind. I won't part with that. (Now there's an insightful little comment.)) Anyway, I probably make that offer only because I have the utmost confidence it won't be accepted. Lack of faith is a terrible thing. Why am I even alive?
I don't believe in prayer. So pray for me, please.