Haunted

"Cause I'm so easily satisfied
By the call of lovers so less wild"
-Wedding Dress, Derek Webb

Ok, maybe those aren't the exact lyrics, but that's what I hear when I listen to the song, and those are the words that keep haunting me. "easily satisfied...lovers so less wild."

I don't want to be easily satisfied. I don't want less wild lovers. I want the one who's so grand he frightens me. But I'm so easily satisfied. How disappointing. Is He disappointed in me, too?

It reminds me of this chapter in John Eldridge's book The Sacred Romance. I think the chapter is actually called Less Wild Lovers. I'm not sure I even read it. I think I was afraid of what I'd find. I'm still afraid, but not so afraid that I want to stop. I want to run. I want to run until I'm home. I want to run until I'm in my Father's arms. How do I run? How do I please the one who became incarnate for me, who loves me, who died for me, who knows me? Be a good girl? But I'm not a good girl. Be perfect? I would love to be, but I believe it's beyond my capability in this life.

Do you know Rebecca St. James' song Lion? That's what I want. The rush of knowing the power before me, the terror of it, and the confidence that what's before me is Good.

What are these whispers in my head? What will they turn me into, and am I ready?

"Because money cannot buy
A husband's jealous eye..."

Cuz love is different than you think

I've been finding myself lately ruminating over the same thought. Over and over and over and over. But, ironically, I find it hard to put it into words. Or maybe...I can.

I want nothing but God.
I want that desperately. I want it more and more each day. It permiates my thoughts dozens of times an hour. It stirs every atom in my body. I want to know Him and be known.

It's a living ache inside of me. A desperate striving. Just to know and be known by the Living God.

Nothing else matters, whispers a voice in my heart. I would do anything, I would give up anything, the world is a vapor compared to this. Nothing else matters.

And, interestingly, those thoughts motivate me to live. Sort of; this world is a vapor, breathe it in. But it's so confusing, because right now I'm a vapor, too. I feel like a ghost who wants to feel the Sun on my face.

And, I'm afraid. Afraid to be that committed, to be in one hundred percent, to hold nothing back. I'm not even sure what that looks like, that I've ever seen it, but it's like a tug of war inside of me. I feel like I should give it all away, and yet I have no physical proof for such an action. I feel like I should live but I don't know what direction I need to go. Like there's so much to be done, but I'm done with it all.

And, I just want Him. I just want His presence. I want to kneel before His throne and never leave. I want to breathe. I feel like I'm in a body that doesn't fit.

Also, I want to be worthy of His presence, but I don't think I can be. That, of course, brings up an entirely other internal debate.

Am I the only one who thinks like this?

My biggest fear about my Faith

Do you ever worry that it's not...real? Worse than that, that it is real and the answer's right there and you can't quite grasp it?

So often in my life I've felt like that scene in Dante's Infirno, where you're constantly chasing flags while fleeing a swarm of bees, knowing both that you'll never catch the flags and if you stop you'll be overtaken.

My greatest terror is not that I'll end up alone, or even that I'll end up with someone "bad," but that on the day that I am judged, as I wait in longing, it will turn out that longing for God was not enough. That believing with what little faith I have was not enough. That it will turn out that I simply didn't get it, or, for you Calvinists, that It simply didn't get me. And that God will turn to me and not know me and not love me and I'll be cast from the presence of the one thing I truly ache for. Perhaps because I didn't ache for it enough while not in His presence.

Which brings me to wonder about a works based salvation and if, in fact, that's really what I've turned this into. Even if the work is "getting it." I have a difficult time believing that believing and confessing is all we do, or that we only have to do it once. And, even if it's true, how do we know personally that we're among the elect?

There's a song by Sojourn that goes -
Mistaken souls that dream of heaven and make their empty boast
of inward joy and sins forgiven while slaves to greed and lust

I am terrified of being that person, the mistaken soul. It's a desperate consuming terror. Forget Hell. This isn't even a discussion of the punishment as much as the deprivation of the presence of God. How could you even notice suffering if you'd just seen Him only to be deprived of Him? Your own internal suffering would overwhelm everything else. The dispair would be never ending. And that's what I'm afraid of.

I'm not fool enough to claim inward joy. I'm not sure I've ever had sustainable joy or peace. I long for it, but I've not got it. Instead, I have longing. Consuming longing for something I can neither see nor sense nor touch. I've never felt much different any of the hundred times I said the sinner's prayer as a child, nor when I said my own as an adolescent, nor when I was baptized. I thought there was supposed to be something, like, like love at first sight. You just *know*. But all I know is that the older I get the more I realize that I don't *know* much.

Being a Christian is supposed to change us. How much and how fast? How much and how fast is personal proof? Or, is personal improvement not proof of anything more than a strong will? What if you didn't want to improve? Situational conditioning? Softening with age? If "belief" is all that's require than those who prayed a prayer and went on to live their lives as normal, are they going to be in heaven? Will God know their names? Will he know mine, even if I had sins I never overcame?

And, what is the standard for a godly woman? I hear things like good marriage is a "godly man and a godly woman pursuing and loving one another through godly means." But...what is godly? That goes back to the "how much is enough?" question. And, I don't ask it in a desire to do as little as required, rather more the opposite, but a desire to have some point in which I can quench that nagging voice that tells me that I never do enough I never am enough. I tend to go with "you're godly if you're as perfectly like God as a human can be." Unfortunately I'm pretty sure I'll never reach that standard while alive, and if I've somehow misunderstood the Gospel than not when I'm dead either. So, what happens if I meet a godly guy? Well, if he's interested in me than I can't accept his advances because I am most certainly not godly. Though equally I'd be baffled how he managed godliness. And yet, to live as an unbeliever is unacceptable, right? To bend scripture to make excuses, or to fit it to what you understand of the practical world, or to what you desire or think is best; all of that is unacceptable. So, if you don't do that are you godly? Or, do you have to do that plus be sociable (an extrovert if possible, get brain surgery if neccessary), have an hour long quiet time every day, write devotionals, be a leader (be going into ministry if possible, apparently there's one acceptable reason for debt; seminary) in some ministry in the church, go to church at least twice a week, participate in at least one weekly bible study, street evangelize, go on mission trips for foreign countries, wear cardigans and kackies, pray under your breath all the time, adopt an annoying person, read only Christian books, and have at least one accountability partner (or, if you're a woman, also have a mentor).

Is that what being a good Christian is?
If I somehow manage all that plus a job and personal interests without having an nervous breakdown will I than feel solid in my salvation?
If we can't be saved through good works can we be sanctified through them?
Can you *want* to be saved but not be allowed?
Is desire proof enough? What if desire rarely (or never) becomes action? What then?
How do you define godliness, and why does everyone assume that the definition is universally understood?

And, how do I know that I'm not just chasing after the wind in everything I do. And, if perchance I look inside myself and see that all my motives are tainted, that all actions are selfish at their root, then what? How does someone corrupted in a corrupt world become pure? How can I become anything to anyone? How can I be sure God wants me and has chosen me? How can I work out my salvation with fear and trembling so that the fear and trembling eventually gives way to confidence and...godliness (whatever that looks like)?

They say that migraines cause vivid dreams.

Thank goodness for that! It really makes up for the dizziness and the bummy feelings and the wafting headaches.

I've been having a lot of dreams lately.

I'll start with the most recent one (and this is totally the reason I take naps. I have absolutely awesome dreams when I only sleep for a couple of hours). My mother was driving me and my sister and herself to the Seminary for childcare, but we got there early and there was something odd in the parking lot. It was like a circus, but not quite, more like a few circus rejects and some kids with toys. The point is that she stops the car but decides that it would be problematic to stop now, so before I can get out she begins to drive again. She drives behind the Seminary onto this winding road and I ask her where we're going, we're going to be late for childcare. She says that we're early and we might as well go here for a little bit. We're surrounded by forest. We come out of the forest onto a beach. A beach I'd been to before. I said that we should get out and play around in the water for a bit. My mother wasn't so keen on that idea. That's when I realized I was wearing my long blue silk skirt. I opened the car door but she was driving into the water. Kids were playing. Out between two large and further down rocks we could see another beach, one that spread into the ocean. I think I was about to tell them that that was the rich people's beach. Well, the water was getting somewhat deep and I was worried about the engine flooding so I told my mother to drive to the right to get out of waves. She managed to back the car up into a deeper area before we came out and nearly flooded out the engine. Well, neither of us were in the best mood after that. She drove back to this picnic area because it was almost time for work to start. We hadn't driven that far so it shouldn't have been difficult to get back, but my mother drove around and wasn't able to find her way out. I was frustrated and she was frustrated. We got out of the car and I was about to suggest that we head toward the large painted exit sign and that I drive when a square between two trees went white with static, like a giant tv screen. My heart dropped into my feet. "oh no no no no no" I was thinking, as I began to turn in a circle. Other people were questioning what was going on as various areas between trees went white with static and then righted themselves, and suddenly I could see how the forest was only real a little way in (and I thought 'how could we have missed that all this time?'). I thought of the Trueman Show, and how this was frightening and rather cruel. I told my mother "we have to go, now." but then everything went dark. I woke in a room with a small television mounted to the wall next to the door. A door that wouldn't open. The screen came on and there was an alien. He was very thin and green and white. I thought he looked like Jim Carry. I thought that would explain a lot about Jim Carry. He said something about being stuck here, about choosing what we did, about people in other rooms (and I got the impression that they'd captured many people, and our cats). In the chair there was another screen and there was something on it about picking our pets. I think we were to pick how they were genetically manipulated. There were little screens in clothing drawers filled with my clothes. There were little screens everywhere, in ever drawer and shelf, but I had to look for them, they were hidden, ready to drop down. They wanted to participate or pick everything. Me, I planned to get out of there.

Earlier I had a dream that Dr. Who's ship had been captured by government agents. They were going to open it. Apparently he'd gotten the chameleon arch fixed because it looked like a big glowy dome now, not a police box. So, it's in this giant bunker type government building with giant bay windows looking out from rooms above it. There's general, rather young man, more likely a bureaucrat than an actual military man, who's determined to open it, and the Doctor was there. He wanted his ship back. He began to type into the computer at a blinding speed, and symbols and and equation came up onto the screen, and behind them the swirl of the time vortex. "Ah, yes," said the government man, "the time equation. But men are of such weak wills." Meaning that someone without the will of a titan could not control the time vortex through an equation. Glaring, confident, and defiant all in one sweep the Doctor came up behind the man and, as he looked out at his captive ship, he said lowly; "I'm no weak willed man." And then the time vortex expanded and he was gone and his ship was dissapearing. I stood there, staring out at the vortex and the ship and realized I was Rose. "Yes!" I thought "I'm Rose, he won't leave me behind." But, I wasn't completely confident of that. Then there was a news report about an alien space ship having been parked in a parking lot, and how the government had taken it. There were pictures of the ship and people watching it. Bit conspiracy cover-up thing. Then I was with the taxidermist from Pushing Daisies and we were trying to escape from something and he directed me into this sewer system. But, it went far far below ground and opened into this underground, multi-level, maze with stairs and such. I ended up on a higher level than him and he was trying to find a way for me to get down, and then someone came and stacked these little blocks and showed him how it to do it.

Earlier than that I dreamed that the Taylons had gathered all the existing meteor freaks (that's Final Conflict and Smallville) into one room. They were going to make use of them. I was gathered as well, though I wasn't a meteor freak. I was part Taylon, though not much, certainly not half taylon like Liam. People started to go around and share their gifts in an odd rendition of a group ththerapy session. When it came to me I just sort of looked around and went to sit against the wall. A woman came and sat next to me and asked me "hey, aren't you going to talk about your power." I looked at her, incredulous, and said "My power is that I'm sometimes sort of a little bit psychic. Why would I talk about that? I'm a little bit psychic, I have the lamest superpower ever. No thank you, I'm not talking about it." Then she left and there was this guy sitting next to me, and another a few chairs down. He had a long nose and a British face (no chin). I thought he looked like a character. The guy next to me was playing with water, making it run in patterns over a book and his face, defy gravity. I thought it was fascinating and I asked him "can you drown?" I continued to ask whether he could turn into water or if water could hurt him as one would assume that someone who controlled fire couldn't be hurt by fire. As I was talking he choked and died. It turned out he'd choked on an ice cube.

Because I had been talking to him, and obviously imagining his death when he died, the people in the room were no longer comfortable around me. They also discovered somehow that I was at the battle of Canary Warf when all those people died, and I knew that I'd been wondering about an alien invasion then. So, it began to seem that my super power was accidentally causing people's deaths, a thought that was nearly as disconcerting to me as it was to the people in the room with me, who gave me a wide birth. Then my mother showed up and began to wash something in a kitchenet, talking about giving a ride home to a woman I used to work to, and how rude she was, and I confirmed that it was the woman's nature.