Stumbling Toward God

When I was a child, the general consensus seemed to be that if you heard voices in your head, then you were crazy. A bit later in life, I would hear jokes like, "It's ok if voices talk to you, just as long as you don't talk back." These days, it is perfectly acceptable to talk about the "inner monologue."

I heard voices in my head. I talked back. At one point, I even gave them names. Now that may be pushing the boundaries a bit. I had a solitary, mindless sort of job. I spent more time talking with the voices in my head than I did with real people. Even that might not be so bad, but sometimes I would get confused as to which of these characters was the one that was supposed to interact with the outside world. I might occasionally suggest to people that I was made of straw, and could feel no pain...

Fortunately, I eventually came to my senses and realized that that was not a healthy way to live. My point in mentioning all this is that I do not trust the voices in my head.

Christians talk to God. It's just what they do. Even a lot of non-Christians talk to God from time to time. Sometimes people will claim that God talks to them. Of this, people are skeptical. I was skeptical. I am skeptical. I'm a Christian, but God doesn't speak to me.
There was this one time, almost two years ago now, when I thought maybe He was. But as I said, I am skeptical. I don't trust the voices in my head. So I asked for proof, Bible verses to look up. Three came to me, the second of which was John 6:20, which says, in bold red letters, "It is I; don't be afraid." WOW. Ok, well, that would have been pretty convincing... unfortunately the first verse was Genesis 13:39, which doesn't exist. The third came something like, "Sorry, I meant Genesis 13:~~" I don't remember the number now, but it also didn't exist. Sorry God, but I think You could do better.

I have been searching, seeking, stumbling for years now. I forever feel like there is something here, but I just can't grasp it. I remember at some point last year, it came to me that if I really, really knew the truth, that would mean that I would have to do something, and I wasn't ready to do something. I was afraid to really ask, to really look, because I was afraid of what the consequences would mean. And so I stayed in the dark.

Fast forward. A couple weeks ago, I was tired. I've been tired a lot lately. On this particular day I stood out on my balcony and asked, "How long Lord? Am I ready YET?"
"Not yet," came an answer in my head, "But soon." Which is a nice thought, but I do remain skeptical of those voices in my head.

In church last Sunday, the sermon was about people who talk the talk and act the act, but do not truly know Jesus. I did not feel that it was directed straight toward me, as people sometimes say, but it was certainly about me. I do not know Jesus. I have "talked" to him on exactly one occasion, when I was directed what to say to invite him into my life. I do talk to God, though, everyday. Several times somedays. Some might say that that's the same thing, of course, talking to God or talking to Jesus. I wouldn't. It matters little though. Somedays, I feel like God is just thinking, "Oh... it's you again." The other days I feel like I'm just stringing empty words together, like the hypocrites do.

Also in that sermon was the idea that God won't let anyone who is truly saved ever walk away. I didn't have this exact thought fully formed in my head, but my whole attitude as I left church that day was, "I bet He'll let me walk away, watch." WATCH.

I live in someone else's house
I sleep in someone else's bed
I'm living someone else's life
... Someone just like me.


I happened to wander into my old comfort zone a little while ago. It had not changed a bit. The weakness, the isolation, and the darkness. Oh yes, I remember the darkness.

Have you ever been in love? I have. Often.
I used to think that love meant something. But I've seen love fade and I've seen it die. I've been in love and I've been back out again. Feelings are so fickle. If I were to think that I'm in love, it really means nothing. Nothing at all. Much as I resist the idea, if feelings are meaningless, what choice do I really have but to go through life numb?

If only you'd never speak to me
The way that you do
If only you'd never speak like that
It's like listening to
A breaking heart, a falling sky,
Fire going out and friendship die
I wish you felt the way that I still do
The way that I still do
-- The Cure

I have been going to church for a long time now, and I've been wondering a lot lately, "How long do I have to do this before it all becomes real to me?" Longer than it's been.

When I left church last Sunday, I almost made the decision to not go anymore.
Almost.

I haven't finished the story that I began in my last post. I did start a follow up post, but I just have not had the time to finish it. The trouble with blogs is that they are so linear. Everything is nicely in order and date stamped. I can't talk about last week because I never got a chance to talk about the week before, or the week before that. And I certainly do not have time to go all the way back.

As I said, the story never ends, it just keeps getting longer the more you wait. And "you miss too much these days if you stop to think." I'm really looking forward to some time off that does not involve being on an airplane. I'm thinking maybe in March.

So, one of these days you might find a post pop in at November 6th. I wouldn't hold my breath though.

[1/9/08 Note: I never actually finished this. I only put it up now because I was going through the old archives and found a reference to it. I have long since forgotten where I was going with this, since the title seems quite incongruous with the content, but it is what it is.]

After the various revelations described in my last post (which, as I mentioned, took place over the summer), I fell into dark times. I basically became overwhelmed with the various burdens that life has to offer and more or less shut down for awhile. After a couple months of that, I was just looking for a good reason not to go to church anymore.

Some time ago, I would frequent the official website for a certain series of movies. It featured several comics and short stories, several of which contained some kind of scene in which a character would wake up covered in various tubes and encased in a vat of water. They would usually realize in one way or another that this was the real world, and that the "normal life" they were used to was only a dream of sorts.

A few weeks ago, I thought I had an awakening like that. I was in the car, driving back from San Diego late at night. This was something I knew. This was real. Just me, the car, and the darkness outside. I had been here before, and frequently. In fact, maybe I had always been there in the car. All those other things, those bits and pieces of life that seem to happen in between, those were just the dreams of a wandering mind on an endless road trip.

I had become distrustful of memory. How many past events do you actually remember living, and how many are just things that you remember remembering? And what is a dream, if not a memory of a memory?

I fell into a mindset of "There is only 'now.'" The past is over, it's done, it's gone. The future is uncertain, intangible, unreal. There Is Only Now.