I felt the need to write this. I'm sorry it's so long. But it's true.
It started pretty innocently. Campus was a long walk from any church I knew. At least two miles. And as the temperature dropped and the snow depended and the stairway that linked campus to the rest of the world got icier, those two miles grew. Plus it was a new church to me. I'd never been to it before. Easy to slip through the cracks that way, I guess. I just never got around to going. College had put me into a set schedule, and church would require gouging into it. And ruining my day off.
Like I said, it started simple. Two months later, I didn't have time for God. Nor did I much care. I used to have a morning ritual where I would examine everything in my mind and give it all to him, one by one, thing by thing, until my whole life was committed to God and nothing mattered at all but Him. And I would ask Him what He wanted. But that meant getting up an extra half hour early. And sometimes it was easy to fall back asleep during that ritual. Easy thing to cut out of my schedule. After all, if God wanted me, He'd let me know.
And bible reading at night. I used to read a chapter before bed every night without fail. I still did most of the time, but as often as not I fell asleep before I finished anyways, so what difference did it make if I just went straight to bed? More rest means a better day.
By two months, I barely thought about God. But I never once doubted his existence. And I knew I was a child of God. God's servant. If he wanted me, he'd let me know. Meanwhile, I wouldn't bother him.
And my grades died. I never had time for anything...I was never sure quite where it went. Sure I spent a lot of it in Furbian Nights. But that was fun. It was entertainment. Some people watch movies. Some people play video games. This was cheaper. And it didn't account for all that much time. Where did most of it go? I don't know. And I always felt drained, dead. It was so hard to get out of bed. I'm glad I cut God out of my life, or I would have that much less time for sleeping.
Another month or so, everything was going wrong. Mostly me. I felt so horridly depressed all the time. I just wanted to curl up and make it all go away. But it didn't. It just got worse the tighter I curled. Whenever I tried to lift my head, I'd be laid low by some new event in my life. My friends never had time for me. They would say hurtful things, or things that weren't encouraging. People were always looking at me sideways, or avoiding me like I was bad company or something. I was fine company. After all, I'd kept myself company for some time now.
I'd think back to how it was before I went to college. I was so happy then. Everything was perfect and wonderful. I mean, it wasn't, but it was like I could see the big picture, that none of it really mattered. The bad stuff didn't hold me down. Not just happy. I had joy. That deep, profound, enduring feeling that overcomes setbacks. But it was gone. And when I cried out to God to ask where it went, there was no answer. Nothing. Why had God turned His back on me? Where had he gone? I prayed and prayed with all my heart. I even tried listing off everything on my mind. But He wouldn't answer. Why didn't He care?
Finally in my desperation, I went home. I went back to all the old places where I'd felt particularly close to God, went through my whole life and begged forgiveness for whatever it was I had done to chase Him away. But still no answer. But I kept at it. And one Sunday when I was up on the alter begging and pleading, I heard a voice. Not a voice, a feeling. But this feeling could be translated word for word into a voice. "Why are you majoring in Biology? Major in Ministry." It was so small, just a wisp of a feeling, that even though it felt kind of like God, I knew God wouldn't say that. So many things had been falling together in Fairbanks. Barry Whitehill. Friend of Todd's. He was running SCEP recruitments. I liked Barry. I'm sure I could convince him to give me a job. Winter was almost over. It was all warm-hill from here. I knew God didn't want me to leave. Not with things like that waiting for me in Alaska. So I went back to school. I checked the UAF catalog. They didn't have a ministry program. Nor did anything else in Fairbanks. Proof that the voice wasn't God.
But occasionally, when I really searched my heart, I still felt that feeling. I did my best to ignore it. I kept asking God to give me some sort of evidence it was Him. I kind of uneasily accepted that this would be my last semester at UAF. But if I was going into ministry, then I wouldn't need chemistry! So I dropped chemistry. When I went in to drop it, they asked me what the heck I thought I was doing. I wasn't even enrolled. I hadn't paid my fees yet. I'd been dropped from enrollment.
That's when I started to run. God had made all these great things in my life. Everything had been going so well in Fairbanks. I'd been having such a great time. Never mind that I felt so horrible and empty and alone. I had been doing it on my terms. And I was gonna like it, darnit. Then in one fell stroke, God had ruined it. I accepted then that even if I tried to reenroll, something would happen and God would just ruin my life again. So I ran. I told Him to leave me alone, and I hid.
And wonder of wonders, He did. Leave me alone, that is. But I still felt so hopeless and depressed and pathetically empty. People shunned me. New town, new life, and everyone avoided me. Said I looked like darkness. Whatever that meant. I sure felt like darkness. Like a giant void from which nothing but darkness spewed. But this was my life. And I knew it would be a wonderful one. My friends avoided me. People were always sad and a little angry when I was around. I took offense to it, and let them know. But it didn't stop them. They just got sadder and angrier at me. Why is everyone mad at me? I haven't done anything. After all, I'm the Christian. What are they but mockers? God will protect me. God never forsakes His children, right? Even when they decide to start a life on their own terms. Even when they tell Him to leave them alone.
Got kicked out. My money was fast fading away to nothing. Couldn't get a job. Not that I tried very hard. It was a new life. A job would come to me just like it always had. When I really needed money, it would always somehow work out. This would be no different. New horizons and all. Where was God? Why did I feel so alone? What was all this darkness inside me? I'm not dark. I'm not evil. Why is everything I do hurting people? Going wrong.
I got called one of the devil's own. Got told to leave and never come back. My only friend wouldn't even face me. Beaten, I was taken back to my room for the last time. Alone. No one cared. Not even God, or He wouldn't have let me into this mess. He sure wasn't saying anything to me.
Broken. So broken. I felt broken. I just laid there, pillow utterly sodden. I don't know how much time passed. But my mind was working. And I didn't like it. The darkness surged through me, sometimes driving me to do hurtful things, mostly just spilling from my eyes in oily black tears. The kind that stain the soul in unwashable spots.
I recanted. I knew what I had done finally. I'd been hiding it from myself and everyone so much that I had been tearing myself (and everyone around me) apart. I cried out and begged and pleaded with God in apology. I was so sorry for every telling Him to leave me alone. I wanted Him back in my life. I wanted to be like I was in high school. I was so sorry for everything. I named every last thing I'd done off, so desperate was I for some sign of acceptance form God. But none came. No voice. No nothing. Just silence. Deafening, terrifying silence. Numb and still crying, I flew home.
A week later I found my bible and started reading. And praying regularly. But still that awful silence, like everything I did I did into a void. Like there was no God. Around this time I got a message form my aforementioned friend saying that she didn't want to see me cry, that was why she hadn't seen me off. It made me feel better. For the first time in a week and a half, I didn't have a catch in my breath, like I might be able to take a breath and not have a tear threaten to fall.
I bounced from place to place, church to church. Searching for God. People would tell me I was a harbinger or darkness. That I felt evil. That I was from Hell. But I didn't listen. I kept right on searching. Sometimes I even went back to the same church and/or the same people. I knew what was missing form my life. And I wouldn't let anything keep me from finding it. I guess you could say I was driven. I went back to the old church I'd gone to at Christmas. The same familiar altar I'd prayed at and felt the touch of God so many times before. I clung. And kept clinging, even thought I felt nothing.
And then, slowly, so slowly I didn't realize it, I felt something. It was like picking up a TV station from 1,00 miles away and then slowly walking closer. You don't perceive the change, but eventually the snow has become a clear picture. Somewhere in there, I asked the pastor what it meant to major in ministry. Form there things started coming together. And although I often still doubted myself, I started to feel like something was out there. A voice. Off days and on days, regresses and progresses, leaps and stumbles, but I'm walking foreword. I can't sit there and expect to slide anywhere but backwards. No one can. We have to walk. And search.
Like I said, it started simple. Two months later, I didn't have time for God. Nor did I much care. I used to have a morning ritual where I would examine everything in my mind and give it all to him, one by one, thing by thing, until my whole life was committed to God and nothing mattered at all but Him. And I would ask Him what He wanted. But that meant getting up an extra half hour early. And sometimes it was easy to fall back asleep during that ritual. Easy thing to cut out of my schedule. After all, if God wanted me, He'd let me know.
And bible reading at night. I used to read a chapter before bed every night without fail. I still did most of the time, but as often as not I fell asleep before I finished anyways, so what difference did it make if I just went straight to bed? More rest means a better day.
By two months, I barely thought about God. But I never once doubted his existence. And I knew I was a child of God. God's servant. If he wanted me, he'd let me know. Meanwhile, I wouldn't bother him.
And my grades died. I never had time for anything...I was never sure quite where it went. Sure I spent a lot of it in Furbian Nights. But that was fun. It was entertainment. Some people watch movies. Some people play video games. This was cheaper. And it didn't account for all that much time. Where did most of it go? I don't know. And I always felt drained, dead. It was so hard to get out of bed. I'm glad I cut God out of my life, or I would have that much less time for sleeping.
Another month or so, everything was going wrong. Mostly me. I felt so horridly depressed all the time. I just wanted to curl up and make it all go away. But it didn't. It just got worse the tighter I curled. Whenever I tried to lift my head, I'd be laid low by some new event in my life. My friends never had time for me. They would say hurtful things, or things that weren't encouraging. People were always looking at me sideways, or avoiding me like I was bad company or something. I was fine company. After all, I'd kept myself company for some time now.
I'd think back to how it was before I went to college. I was so happy then. Everything was perfect and wonderful. I mean, it wasn't, but it was like I could see the big picture, that none of it really mattered. The bad stuff didn't hold me down. Not just happy. I had joy. That deep, profound, enduring feeling that overcomes setbacks. But it was gone. And when I cried out to God to ask where it went, there was no answer. Nothing. Why had God turned His back on me? Where had he gone? I prayed and prayed with all my heart. I even tried listing off everything on my mind. But He wouldn't answer. Why didn't He care?
Finally in my desperation, I went home. I went back to all the old places where I'd felt particularly close to God, went through my whole life and begged forgiveness for whatever it was I had done to chase Him away. But still no answer. But I kept at it. And one Sunday when I was up on the alter begging and pleading, I heard a voice. Not a voice, a feeling. But this feeling could be translated word for word into a voice. "Why are you majoring in Biology? Major in Ministry." It was so small, just a wisp of a feeling, that even though it felt kind of like God, I knew God wouldn't say that. So many things had been falling together in Fairbanks. Barry Whitehill. Friend of Todd's. He was running SCEP recruitments. I liked Barry. I'm sure I could convince him to give me a job. Winter was almost over. It was all warm-hill from here. I knew God didn't want me to leave. Not with things like that waiting for me in Alaska. So I went back to school. I checked the UAF catalog. They didn't have a ministry program. Nor did anything else in Fairbanks. Proof that the voice wasn't God.
But occasionally, when I really searched my heart, I still felt that feeling. I did my best to ignore it. I kept asking God to give me some sort of evidence it was Him. I kind of uneasily accepted that this would be my last semester at UAF. But if I was going into ministry, then I wouldn't need chemistry! So I dropped chemistry. When I went in to drop it, they asked me what the heck I thought I was doing. I wasn't even enrolled. I hadn't paid my fees yet. I'd been dropped from enrollment.
That's when I started to run. God had made all these great things in my life. Everything had been going so well in Fairbanks. I'd been having such a great time. Never mind that I felt so horrible and empty and alone. I had been doing it on my terms. And I was gonna like it, darnit. Then in one fell stroke, God had ruined it. I accepted then that even if I tried to reenroll, something would happen and God would just ruin my life again. So I ran. I told Him to leave me alone, and I hid.
And wonder of wonders, He did. Leave me alone, that is. But I still felt so hopeless and depressed and pathetically empty. People shunned me. New town, new life, and everyone avoided me. Said I looked like darkness. Whatever that meant. I sure felt like darkness. Like a giant void from which nothing but darkness spewed. But this was my life. And I knew it would be a wonderful one. My friends avoided me. People were always sad and a little angry when I was around. I took offense to it, and let them know. But it didn't stop them. They just got sadder and angrier at me. Why is everyone mad at me? I haven't done anything. After all, I'm the Christian. What are they but mockers? God will protect me. God never forsakes His children, right? Even when they decide to start a life on their own terms. Even when they tell Him to leave them alone.
Got kicked out. My money was fast fading away to nothing. Couldn't get a job. Not that I tried very hard. It was a new life. A job would come to me just like it always had. When I really needed money, it would always somehow work out. This would be no different. New horizons and all. Where was God? Why did I feel so alone? What was all this darkness inside me? I'm not dark. I'm not evil. Why is everything I do hurting people? Going wrong.
I got called one of the devil's own. Got told to leave and never come back. My only friend wouldn't even face me. Beaten, I was taken back to my room for the last time. Alone. No one cared. Not even God, or He wouldn't have let me into this mess. He sure wasn't saying anything to me.
Broken. So broken. I felt broken. I just laid there, pillow utterly sodden. I don't know how much time passed. But my mind was working. And I didn't like it. The darkness surged through me, sometimes driving me to do hurtful things, mostly just spilling from my eyes in oily black tears. The kind that stain the soul in unwashable spots.
I recanted. I knew what I had done finally. I'd been hiding it from myself and everyone so much that I had been tearing myself (and everyone around me) apart. I cried out and begged and pleaded with God in apology. I was so sorry for every telling Him to leave me alone. I wanted Him back in my life. I wanted to be like I was in high school. I was so sorry for everything. I named every last thing I'd done off, so desperate was I for some sign of acceptance form God. But none came. No voice. No nothing. Just silence. Deafening, terrifying silence. Numb and still crying, I flew home.
A week later I found my bible and started reading. And praying regularly. But still that awful silence, like everything I did I did into a void. Like there was no God. Around this time I got a message form my aforementioned friend saying that she didn't want to see me cry, that was why she hadn't seen me off. It made me feel better. For the first time in a week and a half, I didn't have a catch in my breath, like I might be able to take a breath and not have a tear threaten to fall.
I bounced from place to place, church to church. Searching for God. People would tell me I was a harbinger or darkness. That I felt evil. That I was from Hell. But I didn't listen. I kept right on searching. Sometimes I even went back to the same church and/or the same people. I knew what was missing form my life. And I wouldn't let anything keep me from finding it. I guess you could say I was driven. I went back to the old church I'd gone to at Christmas. The same familiar altar I'd prayed at and felt the touch of God so many times before. I clung. And kept clinging, even thought I felt nothing.
And then, slowly, so slowly I didn't realize it, I felt something. It was like picking up a TV station from 1,00 miles away and then slowly walking closer. You don't perceive the change, but eventually the snow has become a clear picture. Somewhere in there, I asked the pastor what it meant to major in ministry. Form there things started coming together. And although I often still doubted myself, I started to feel like something was out there. A voice. Off days and on days, regresses and progresses, leaps and stumbles, but I'm walking foreword. I can't sit there and expect to slide anywhere but backwards. No one can. We have to walk. And search.