my life//in medias res*

Jesus You’ll have to come get me, it’s too far to walk tonight

February 7th, 2009 at 12:15 pm by sillyjoe (Feeling Bookish, Life and Introspection, Religion)

And I run to the arms of another song, another story by a man who’s dead and gone; When will I run, when will I run to the arms of God?

– Andrew Osenga – “When Will I Run?”

Now–here is my secret:
I tell it to you with an openness of heart that I doubt I shall ever achieve again, so I pray that you are in a quiet room as you hear these words. My secret is that I need God–that I am sick and can no longer make it alone. I need God to help me give, because I no longer seem to be capable of giving; to help me be kind, as I no longer seem capable of kindness; to help me love, as I seem beyond being able to love.

– Douglas Coupland – Life After God

I’ve been putting off writing this post for several months now, but a post over on Kari’s blog encouraged me to finally take the plunge. Right now, I’m listening to Andrew Osenga’s “Too Far To Walk” from his Photographs album. I could post all the lyrics to this song and they would apply to what I’ve been going through, but you’ll have to search them out for yourself. I need to get this out, and quick before I change my mind. If you read this blog, you know about the things I went through last summer (here’s the post about it), but I left out a crucial part because of the hurt that I feel when I think about it. I dream about it at least once a week, and it’s been the hardest struggle my mind has ever gone through. When my panic attacks started, I stepped down from leading worship at my church “temporarily,” until I could get things straightened out. I felt it was what I needed to do. I didn’t believe I could adequately lead the people of my congregation in worship when there was so much weighing down on me. This was supported by nearly everyone I know, including my family, my girlfriend, my friends, and the church’s pastor. After one failed restart (I had a panic attack on the way to practice on the day I decided I was ready to come back…I wasn’t ready, apparently), I finally knew, knew, mind you, that I was ready. That God had made me ready to do what I needed to do. I must digress to tell you that I believe more than anything in my heart that I’m supposed to use the musical talent God has given me to lead others in worship. So, I was ready. I met with my pastor and told him where I was at and how I felt. This meeting didn’t go the way I had hoped. I learned that my pastor believed the reason for my panic attacks, the reason for my depression, the reason I had struggled for three months was because I had somehow failed morally. He hinted that maybe it was because my girlfriend and I had slept together. This isn’t true, and to be honest, I was offended. I was hurt. I’d worked at the church for more than three years, and this man, my pastor, my friend, his first guess as to what has caused my problems is that I (pardon the commonness of this term) was screwing my girlfriend. Again, this isn’t true. Our conversation didn’t end there. He informed me that he would be happy for me to come back to leading worship at the church, after a four month probationary period, in which accountability would have to established, and I would have to earn back the trust of the church and its congregation. Let me restate that I stepped down from my position temporarily of my own accord, so I was confused as to where I betrayed the trust of the church. The meeting didn’t end well, and I haven’t been back to the church since. I’m fairly sure that no one there knows exactly what happened, and I haven’t talked to anyone from the church with the exception of a couple of folks. I regularly have dreams where I confront the pastor, asking him why he did things the way he did them, but the truth is I’m scared to talk to him. I know I should. I know it’s biblical (Matthew 18), but I’m afraid of what I might do. Yes, I’m really afraid I could become violent. I have so many feelings and emotions inside of me that I don’t know how I might express, or even how I could. My girlfriend and I attend church with my parents now, at a place where we feel welcomed and loved. I miss my old community so much, but I know in my heart I can never go back. I hope someday there can be reconciliation, but I fear there may never be. I pray there will at least be closure.

This situation has taught me, more than anything, and more than ever, that I need God. I need him more than the air that I’m breathing, and more than the blood pouring through these veins of mine. I know He’ll never leave me. I pray I never leave Him.