Get out of my brain, John Lindell

I'm reflecting. Reflecting on previous entries, and previous years, and previous evenings spent as this one, in reflection.

I came home early today from work with what I thought was the flu. My forehead was on fire, I had pain exploding through my frontal lobes, my body ached, my stomach felt weak. Mid-sentence at a practicum meeting this afternoon, I suddenly got so dizzy that I actually stopped, and apologized to the professor--I thought I would have to leave the room for air. I got home, fell across my bed (you know when you feel so weak, you don't have the energy to actually get under the covers?), and the only thing I could think was: "I don't want to miss prayer meeting tonight, but there's no way..."

I took a motrin, tried to eat something, and three hours later, said "All right, I'm getting in the shower. It was all in my mind. Let's go to prayer meeting." I am so glad that I did. It was an amazing evening. I'm still not feeling great, and I just took a dose and a half of nyquil, so if this blog stops making sense...

I have tried to be fair in noting my praise of James River as I note my apprehension. Tonight, I just want to concentrate on the praise. I realized, as I listened to Lindell talk, that I trust him. I'm not well-disposed to trust the pulpit. My distrust for the pastor at the church I attended in the Chicago area completely soured my experience there. But I feel intrinsically that Lindell is smart, that he's wise, and that he really means what he says about faith, and love, and God. And that goes for almost all of the people I've met at James River, from the people sitting around me, to the people at my Life Group. I don't agree with everything the church is, and does. But I get a sense of genuine love from the leadership and congregation. They have accepted me with such grace, even when I haven't been very grace-filled towards them. That feels so good. I felt it early on (as noted in this blog a few weeks ago), and the sense doesn't diminish as I get deeper into the church (as it does at some places).

The message tonight was... it was important. It felt good to hear. It drained my anxiety, which had been reaching a fever pitch, and it lifted my heart. Lindell talked about "stepping out in faith," and remembering that God is with you. He could not have spoken something more real to me, than if he had been reading this blog (a virtual impossibility). And the more he said, the more I thought "Oh man, yeah, that's me..yeah..uh-huh..."

See, I'm too smart to believe. I'm also too smart not to believe. And sometimes, I forget that I don't need to come to God with anything. I don't need the answer before the question is asked. His answer will be far better than mine anyway.

I forget to say, as I said again tonight, "Father, I'm here." I worry, and ponder, and think, and read--all good things, but I do them first, when what I ought to do first is to say "Father, I'm here." What I mean when I say that, "Father I'm here," is to say "Father, I'm open. I'm here with you, waiting on you. Allowing you to be first, to be sovereign, and whole. Father, I am here."

The truth is, I don't know the answers to any of the various theological conundrums I like to explore. Neither do those who would debate me. But I don't need to know. Maybe, over the course of my life, I'll get closer to the Truth, I don't know. Whether or not I do, it feels good to be close to God. Sometimes I feel, I've always felt, that there's an intense skirmish around my heart. It's an odd sensation.

That Nyquil is really kicking in...