[Pearl Harbor Day]

I have this awful, dreadful, fearful feeling that You have purposes in mind for this move we made, and I am obstructing the realization of those purposes. I don’t WANT to be depressed, but I can’t make it go away. I look at You, I read Your word, You do these remarkable things for me—personal, intimate, incredibly kind things—and I remain in this ditch. Most of it is my fault. Unbelief, despair, doubt, distrust, stubborn loitering in the bog of the bad-for-me-but-at-least-it’s-familiar... Yet a part of me knows that You supply everything. So if You supply everything, then where is the faith I need to take You at Your word that says You are trustworthy and Your kindness is everlasting, that I might believe this is all Good...? I’m going wrong somewhere in my logic. Do You not supply my faith...? Am I on my own in the land of the free-choice there?

This font is difficult to read, and there’s something in me that likes that. What part of me is it that WANTS to be difficult?! If your computer doesn’t have this font, I’m wondering if it even shows up to you.

Is it weird at all to anyone else that I’m here in my little home, and you’re out there in your own little world, but somehow we connect as you take in the words I’ve left on the worldwide web...?

I CAN access that part of me--the REAL me--that desires ONLY the good, true, perfect, and beautiful which parallels TRULY with the character of my Jesus… Spirit to spirit, deep calls to deep. Mae said that we are spiritual beings having a human experience. This deep dissatisfaction with the manner in which things are conducted on this earth bespeaks a condition with which we are not daily familiar—our new, real lives, “hidden with Christ in God” (Col 3:3).

But the key to accessing that part of me is to DIE to my natural life. And who wants to die to the comfortable, the convenient, the familiar, the known? My natural life is naturally at war with my spiritual life, at odds by virtue of their life source. Oswald Chambers says the only way the natural life can be made spiritual is by sacrifice. Eeeeyuck! The last thing I want to be is a martyr! C’mon, be honest—would YOU?! There’s only one person I know who is still alive who would answer a resounding YES to that question, and she would mean it. And I am not her. I am not even on the same planet in terms of willingness and courage. I’m the part-time inmate in a prison of my own design, constructed not of concrete and wood, but of stubborn willfulness, lack of motivation, hissy fits, and adolescent self-misdirection. Minimum security, work release, but a night-time location of Cell Block D, cell 6.

But this is about me. This whole blog is about me! But I’ll probably talk more about her later.

I am leaving this unresolved until clarity or resolution comes to me on this little blue planet.