Tuesday, March 29, 2011

When lost...seek

I am going through a crisis. I do not know what classification of crisis I would label it as, all I know is that it is dark and scary. As I began my second year at college, an empty feeling developed in the pit of my soul. That's right my soul. The innermost sanctum of my being. The spiritual penetralium of my identity. What gradually began as a empty sentiment has quickly spiraled into an all out loss of identity. I have tried to explain this idea of a "loss of identity" to my dearest confidants. Bless their hearts for trying to comprehend something that I, myself, have only begun to discover. The best way I can possibly explain this feeling is that one morning I woke up, looked in the mirror, and could not recognize the doe-eyed girl staring back at me. I had no idea who she was, what her talents were, who she loved, what she loved, or who loved her. Something inside of me shattered. I shattered. Lost and confused, I desperately have been on a quest to find that something that will make the emptiness vanish, make me feel like I have a purpose, and that one day soon I will be safe in the knowledge of my destiny.

In a vapid and somewhat vain attempt in restoring that feeling of solidarity in myself I turned to God. My relationship with God was what I thought was something powerful, something that no person, no beast, no force of nature could ever disturb. God was my rock, the only consistent aspect of my life. In reality, he was the only consistent aspect of me. I knew, without an inclination of a doubt, that when I was in trouble that I could talk to him. Even if that meant that I was laying in my bed in the middle of the night, talking to a dark room. As weird as it seems it felt completely right. I joined a church on campus, gained new friends with whom I did not have to conceal my powerful faith, and even began attending Bible studies. With newfound, and might I add unabashed, confidence I began paving out a new path for my life. Each brick I would cautiously and tediously spread cement and place it on the warm Earth, finding rejoice in looking back in seeing how far that I had come. Being the naive girl that I am, I did not keep my attention focused on what was coming. Reader, let me just tell you what was coming was a large black train. A train that derailed my spirits. Devout in my biblical studies, I would arrive at Bible study with a multitude of questions, a hunger to learn, and a yearning in my heart to be one microscopic bit closer to God.

It was a Thursday when I was told outright and upfront by the members of my bible study that I was going to hell. My beliefs and my heart were both inadequate before the eyes of God. I did not get to pass go, I did not get to draw another card. This is the only specific time in which I could pinpoint the first chunk of my heart crumbling into a pile of mush. Unwanted, unworthy mush. I was dazed. As the study closed in prayer, my eyes welled with tears. I felt my stomach turn and a knot the size of Madagascar formed in my throat. I could not breathe, I could not think, my stomach was pressed into my chest threatening a vile upheaval. I ended the prayer with a questionable amen and then ran. I ran away. I ran and found a quiet place to have a complete melt down. I sat outside on a bench and sobbed. I cried until it hurt. I could no longer breathe, snot was running down my red blotchy face. When the emotional storm finally quieted itself, I felt numb. Lost. God's hand on my heart was gone and all I could feel was the evanescent touch begin to fade.

The God that I knew and loved was gone. I could not feel him in my life. When I reached out I felt...nothing. Like I was attempting to whack a pinata with a stick, but only managed to disrupt the sanctity of the air with my crazed swings. Where did he go? Why would he leave me? Am I not worthy of his love? What did I do to deserve this abandonment? Questions remained unanswered and I remained alone. Praying became a forced foreign practice. Through the weeks my talking to God dwindled into a big fat pile of nothing. I did not speak to him. No longer did I bother to reach out for him. I was and am locked in a dark room in which I stumble over furniture and knick-knacks in feeble attempts to finally recapture my elusive God. When I will finally reach that switch that, with a flick of the wrist, will emit the light I have been looking for...is a really good question.

Still lost.

Still looking.

1 comment:

  1. Rachel, I am so sorry for the experience you had with that campus group. Please know that they are completely and utterly WRONG. No one can tell you where you are going for the afterlife. That is between you and Jesus. It has nothing to do with what ignorant people believe. It is all about what YOU believe and WHO you believe in.

    I love you. You are perfect. You will recapture the relationship you've had. God is there. You just need to turn on the light so you can see that he's been in the room with you all along.