Funeral Profession

This is a very long post, as it's the emotional dump of several weeks of introspection.

My new year's resolution was to “live life unhindered.” My intention was that the previous year stood out in my mind as being burdened by perfectionism, which has the nasty tendency to make you hesitant to do anything that might not work out exactly the way you hoped; you reject failure as an option and instead refrain from action. This is a terrible way to live life, and it chokes the soul. After all, if I'm a Christian, shouldn't I “have life, and have it more abundantly”?

Ballroom dancing has become a big thing recently in the 20s group. I've been encouraged to join my friends on a number of outings, most of which include lessons for beginners. Yet I've resisted going for two reasons. One, dancing has always been a point of anxiety for me. In high school I avoided it entirely except when my girl friends needed someone to dance with and I felt bad for them. I managed to sidestep my anxiety in college when I started learning funk styles and glowsticking at raves. But partner dancing remains something that makes me very uneasy. Two, and this touches on deeper issues which I'll get to later, is that I'm afraid of the stimulation of having a girl in my personal space. Reflecting on this alerted me to the fact that this certainly isn't “living life unhindered.”

After my last romantic relationship crumbled (a word to the wise: distance does NOT make the heart grow fonder), the emotional pain I endured from desire thwarted, opportunity lost, and promise abolished cause me to half-unconsciously set to the task of hardening myself against the wiles of desire, noting that every desire that was fulfilled in that relationship had awakened only greater desire. At this same time I was becoming fiercely serious about dealing with my lust, and it seemed only logical that if lust feeds parasitically on desire, then an absence of desire might abate the problem. My “efforts”, if they can be called that, seemed to have paid off as the last six months or so have been marked by a heretofore unmatched quiet. I've assumed this was that elusive “contentment in singleness” that often comes up in Christian singles' talks, but makes no sense to those who aren't currently experiencing it.

Some time passed and I came to a point where I was still content to be single, yet not content anymore. I met a few women at church whom I found attractive, and it seemed like a good idea to get to know them a little more, to test the waters, as it were. But a weird thing has happened. I've gone on several dates now, and had good times so far. My friends applaud my fearlessness, as dating in 20s can be a touchy subject, much like it was at UCU, and much for the same reasons, sadly. (Namely, the girls can be very inaccessible, even on a platonic level, and it's supremely frustrating. I think it stems from a faulty understanding of the “importance” of singleness.) But even though the dates have been enjoyable, and it may be that one of those girls even likes me, there is no spark to it. It's felt as platonic to me as going to dinner with my roommate, even mechanical. It could be that I'm just not interested in these girls after all, which by going on several dates I'm trying to make sure I know enough about the person to ascertain. It may be too premature to tell yet, but I've been a little surprised at the fact that though these women are physically attractive, even that stirs very little within me. What it does stir I hastily quash as being from my sinful flesh.

It seems that I've really done a number on myself: I've killed, or at least incapacitated, my “romantic” desires. I could ride this wave and claim that God has made me content to be single, but it somehow feels wrong. Nobody's pressuring me to get married, and I still believe that I probably won't be single for the rest of my life, but it's troubling that now that I'm stepping back into the world of relationships, I can't escape the notion that I'm only doing it half-heartedly, as if by some obligation to myself. What is it that's gone wrong?

God has a funny way of timing things. The other day my roommate came into my room holding three books. He said, “I can't read all of these at once, so pick one.” and left them on my desk. The one I ended up with is a book by John Eldredge, of “Wild At Heart” fame, called “The Journey of Desire) (Searching for the life we've only dreamed of).” I admit I'm reading it with a bit of skepticism. I've read some scathing, yet erudite rebuffs against the philosophy of “Wild At Heart,” and I've been unimpressed with other books about “finding true life in God.” I'm not too far into the book yet, but some of the statements seem to be speaking directly do what I've just discussed. The first few chapters deal with the fact that we have unmet desires, that having them is a problem because it opens us up to inevitable hurt (it is a fallen world, after all), and do we dare to embrace them. That's as far as I've got so far, but I wanted to share a couple of interesting points and apply them to myself.

He writes, “There is a nagging awareness inside us, warning that we'd better not feel our hunger too deeply or it will undo us.” This was the conclusion I came away with from my battle with lust. Everything that stimulates sexually is a breeding ground for it and so it's better not to be stimulated at all. I tend to stare off into space a lot when I'm around women because I can't trust myself not to look at their bodies. That isn't life. It's a prison where there's a vortex in the floor and I must cling to the wall or be sucked in.

He quotes a friend: “I thought the best way for a person to live is to keep his desires to a minimum so that he will be prepared to serve God.” This sentence really haunts me. Doesn't that sound like a lot of what we hear about “Christian life”? I know I've concluded from experience that desire only draws me away from God because when I desire things, they're inevitably things I want for myself, not things that I think are what please God. If I'm wanting selfish things, how can I possibly be surrendered to His will? This is an agonizing topic to me, because for all I've heard, if I'm surrendered to His will, my own will align with it and I'll take delight in it. In some small things that's true, but it always seems to leave out most of the things I call important in life—things like romantic relationships, in particular. What I want is what I want, and I never think to ask God ahead of time what it should be. This also isn't life. It strips away everything that makes me a human being and makes me some kind of faceless drone-for-Christ.

Earlier today I had an interesting conversation with a friend about direction and the leading of the Holy Spirit. I found I could spew a lot of advice about listening to it, but it proves me a hypocrite. I feel I have a very poor understanding of what it means to live life through Christ. A lot of the things I do, while motivated by a desire to emulate my Savior, don't feel propelled by the Spirit in a way I can perceive. I suppose God does his greatest work under the radar, but it just feels empty. I'm going through the motions and it's draining me. I have nothing in this life to complain about—everything's going great by human standards. The problem of no problem, maybe? I can't escape the idea that I'm somehow missing the point of “knowing Jesus,” based on what I hear others say about it. The oft referenced “freedom in Christ” is supposed to be a liberating thing. But my faith often feels like just a different cage that I've willingly climbed into. Does anyone else feel this way? I'm tearing through Mr. Eldredge's book, hoping it'll answer the question better than other books I've read on the subject. In the mean time, whatever the case, I certainly don't seem to be keeping my new year's resolution.