He alone.

I think I'm getting the flu. Which I'm taking as a message from God that I should sit around in my favorite fuzzy slippers, drinking hot cocoa and reading about statistics, safely tucked into my bed. Because what's better for the feverish and addled mind than graduate-level, multivariate statistics?

I know what's making me feel isolated. It's that I'm asking the questions: What is Christ to me? Am I missing something really important in my relationship with God? If I ask non-Christians for help, the majority won't have substantive responses--they know little of my experiences, and thoughts. If I ask Christians, I risk becoming used. I won't get to be honest, and open about my feelings, and have those feelings accepted honestly and openly, because there'll be an ulterior motive. "We have to get her saved!" Despite any protestations of mine regarding whether or not I already am "saved."

Sometimes, conversations with Christians about salvation almost feel dirty. Like prostitution, except you're not being used for your body, but for your soul.

As they lean in, and ask the questions... Do you know where you'd go if you died tonight? What would it be like for you to know that you are unconditionally loved? Don't you want to be right with God? ...Something feels off. You realize...They've befriended you to conquer you, to convince you, and convert you. You're a number. A notch on a belt crafted carefully from pride.

Wow, that's cynical.

I think it's partially true--or at least it feels partially true (even to me, as a Christian), and it's something that I've heard echoed from my non-Christian friends time and again. So if nothing else, it's instructional for Christians--this is how salvation conversations can be perceived. Tread carefully.

I have to keep reminding myself that it's not about them, it's about God. He will lead the way. He alone knows my heart.