I have a final in the morning. That probably won't be the case by the time this gets posted, but as of right now, it's 2 AM and I have a final at 8. It's no use trying to sleep though. I'm restless. I've got a tension in my chest, a swirling mess of ideas and feelings that won't rest until I give them some attention. So I'll write, see if its helps. I'll try, though, not to indulge my typical grandiosity this time around. I have something to say, but not much, so I'll try to say it in as few words as possible.
So for this one moment in time, I'm stuck between worlds, straddling my junior year of college and the last summer break I'll ever have. Hmmm. Sobering. And at this road's edge, I don't really know what to do with myself. I feel like I say the same thing every time I sit down to write though. Is it because I am perpetually tumbling about in a directionless void? Or because I never feel motivated to write except during those windows of time? Perhaps it's like how the Pevensie children never get to visit Narnia except when it's in a state of turmoil, when they're most needed. So it is that my readers only get to know what's going on in my head when I'm in the middle of some existential crisis or another, when I need to write most. It's probably a little of both. And on a related note, I wonder if other people are always so concerned with their direction in life, or if it's just me. I'll bet most people just live life, rather than constantly worrying about whether they're living it well enough. "The unexamined life is not worth living"? Is that so Socrates? Well, you can only beat a dead horse for so long, you old Greek so-and-so.
Reader: Where's the malaise coming from this time around Jordan?
Jordan: Honestly, Reader, I just don't feel very close to God right now. It's so surreal, so frustrating to see God working in so many situations in my life yet lack the necessary motivation to meet Him there. Since committing my life to Christ, I've had very little trouble identifying God's handiwork, in certain situations, certain moments, in the lives of friends, loved ones, and even strangers. His brushstrokes are just so evident to me, sticking out like fluorescents on a canvas of muted tones. But I also constantly feel like such discernment is wasted on a patently non-miraculous clod like myself. It's encouraging that God takes such pain to let me, of all people, in on what He's doing, then so disconcerting when I am of little to no help. I know God doesn't need my help, but I feel He might like it from time to time; yet I, without fail, meet his whispers and invitations with lethargy and disinterest, and, encumbered by the weight of my own thoughts, let those moments of divine opportunity slip through my fingers.
At this point, I must apologize for, yet again, allowing my writing to degenerate into a rambling, nebulous thought-cloud rather than saying anything real or practical. It's rather metaphoric when you think about it, my writing being as without-direction as I currently am. So here's what I've been meaning to say, the meat and potatoes: I'm coming home for the summer, I'm going to be interning at my home church (Springfield Faith Center), and I'm actually pretty excited about that. I think the change of scenery will be good for me, good for my walk. I just need God to shake things up for me a little (although I'm always wary to pray that prayer, because when I prayed it last summer, God answered with a booming "YES!" and things got weird for a while). Also, God willing, I'll get a driver's license soon, and maybe go to Young Life camp, but other than that, I'm not sure what this summer will look like. And it scares me, because I don't want it to look much like last summer, but I'm concerned I'm starting off on the wrong foot, feeling so far from God. And I don't know what to do about it.
I just wish I could serve God better, serve my friends better, ya know? That's all it really comes down to. Because I love God, and I love my friends. I mean, I REALLY love them, even if it doesn't always translate well in my actions. If I could give Jesus a hug right now, just let myself be held for a moment by my beautiful Savior, I would absolutely lose it. I would melt into his embrace, sob, slobber, and do all the other unflattering things that accompany a good cry (maybe blow my nose on his shoulder). Because I'm so thankful. God has blessed me more than I deserve (I'm getting misty just thinking about it), and that's why I feel so guilty about being an ungrateful little heathen. He's such a good Father, and I'm such a mediocre son. But He loves me, I know it.
And boy do I love my friends. At school, at home, Tony, Isaac, Joey, all the people who listen to me whine, who get my dumb jokes, who make me so proud I could, well, cry (gosh I'm a baby). Even on the days when I can't feel God (come on, we all have 'em), I can see Him in them. I LOVE them. And I want to be there for them, maybe too much. Maybe I smother my friends. These are the thoughts keeping me up at night. I just want to be a good man. I just want to help the people I love live full lives. And if this summer will have some opportunity for that, then it'll all be more than fine. I'm worrying about nothing, I know. But hey, maybe somebody else thinks about this stuff too. Maybe you do, Reader. And if you do, by all means, please don't keep it to yourself. It'd be nice to know I'm not alone. Well, I know I'm not alone, if only because my friends and family stick with me, ME, the neurotic mess, and God bless 'em for it.
She [Hagar] gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: "You are the God who sees me," for she said, "I have now seen the One who sees me."
Now hold on for a moment and read that again. How beautiful is that? I almost wrote a blog on that verse alone. But instead I wrote this one. Bless you friend. Goodnight.