petering out.

What was I thinking?

Church with my parents? I hate church with my parents. It's so awkward. Church with strangers is hard enough.

Okay, get a grip.

But see, that's just the thing. If this were anything else, I'd have a grip. I don't generally falter to the normal blocks. Public speaking? Love it, let's do it right now. Paper due in 5 hours on no sleep? Stress makes the words flow.

But emotional vulnerability. Standing in awe of a God who awes me, though He is my Everything, in front of others...and I'm racing Peter to a denial.

I'm a faker. A failure. I was talking to my Dad a couple of nights ago, and he asked me if I thought I'd be comfortable in seminary, given that I am an "atypical Christian." I should have asked what that meant, but, surprised, I simply said that I didn't consider myself to be an atypical Christian. There is no core doctrine (that I know of) with which I depart from fundamental lines. If you've been reading this blog for awhile, please take a breath, it'll be all right. I was surprised, too.

But, that my Dad doesn't know, that I've represented so poorly my experiences here, tells me that something is wrong. That I'm hiding. And doctrine aside, my discomfort at the idea of tomorrow morning with my mother and stepfather, tells me that my heart is weak.

Granted, we all have weak hearts. We all have soft spots, and leaky valves, and failures. But I'm afraid that this is a very important weak spot.

I live in fear of being found out. When I talk to parents or friends about my James River experiences, I'm either giving my critiques, or speaking in vaguely general terms of how wonderful the people are. I'm never talking doctrine. I'm never talking heart change. I have a Twitter account that until recently was solely for my eyes, and even now, I purposely allow only SOMO Christian friends to follow me, because I am so openly, and emotionally Christian in some of my tweets. I do not link that Twitter to my Facebook, because I don't post that type of faith-related content to the wider audience of friends and family on Facebook. If there is something faith-related on my FB, it's a dispassionate news article, or a derisive Onion blurb. The only time I gave the address to this blog was in the very beginning, when I still intended it to be snarky and critical of organized religion--since then, when I've been asked, I have told friends that I keep it only as a private blog.

I read all of that, and I feel like giving up. I tell myself that I'll never be strong enough to live this right. That I'm a failure that God could never love. And that the odds against me are insurmountable. I'll never have a real voice with which to speak of God. I'll always be too weak to even admit to those closest to me that I am a believer. So why bother? What does this really mean, if I'm ashamed of all of it?

But I've made it this far. I have made it this far. The walls may not drop tomorrow. Or next week, or next month, or next year. But He has brought me this far.

I can go another day.