Gasp!

I like air. Contests to see who can hold their breath the longest never held much appeal for me. Panic engulfed me when a pesky brother or obnoxious male class mate would shove my head under water in a sick attempt at humour. My dad used to pin pillows over our faces much to my horror and the squeelling delight of my brothers. Personally, I find comfort in the whole breathing thing.

Physically speaking, I inhale and exhale without much thought. It's not until I am robbed of this very natural action that I acknowledge my dependancy on oxygen. Spiritually speaking, my soul was inhaling and exhaling the fragrance of God. The respiration of His presence became ritual and routine. In some ways, this is exactly what we strive for; practicing the presence of God, praying without ceasing, etc.. However, a spread of fingers had submerged my soul into a swamp of resentment and bitterness. My spirit stopped breathing the sweet scent of God's presence and a darkness began to suffocate the life of Christ in me.

Recently, most of my blogs have been whimsical and light of fare. I had nothing to offer in the way of godly insight or inspiration and wasn't ready to acknowledge my apathy. My old school journal is bleeding with ink; black and blue blood spelling out the awful places I have visited of late. I am ready to share some of those wounds and sores now by paraphrasing parts of my journal here.

"What kind of God am I serving and encouraging others to follow?...I'm still mad at God for what happened to me and for his "trick" to get me back here. I've been crying out for a long time, saying, "Something's not right between God and I and can ANYBODY help me?!? I cast out my lines of spiritual disorientation and no one bites the bait. No one grabs me and shakes me, not a soul dares to take me on and challenge my apathy. Where are those who would surround me, push me around a little, to slap my face instead of pat my back? I'm so far from where I used to be that I wonder how I can ever get back. I've gone on a hike, a long hike, and forgot that I have to cover the same distance in order to get home."

Yesterday the oppressive hand released it's grip on my heart and I realized that I was holding my soul under water. I burst through the surface and gasped at God's love and longing for me. I walked way too far, but I didn't have to walk back. I was carried, exhausted and relieved, back to the shore in arms of everlasting love.

I realize it is risky to put my raw and painfully honest meanderings out there. More and more, I think it's what needs to happen. I post this parade of thoughts in the hope that it will help someone else escape the drowning effects of apathy, resentment, and bitterness. Don't stay under too long, gasp in the goodness of God!