On reluctance and faith

Honestly? I’m a bit embarrassed. I don’t really get self-conscious about what I write here. You’re free to read and think and comment freely. I don’t expect that everyone will like or respect what’s here and while I’d rather the anti-Katie people move along quietly, it’s perfectly OK to come every day so you can think about how you’re much more sane and competent than I am. I’m not exactly sure of the impression I’m making – I offer you a great deal more than I offer people offline. It’s a bit strange, but it’s how I work. I’m more willing to let people in through this medium.

I knew I struggled with writing my last post. I sinned. It was bad. I learned something from it. Hopefully that takes me a step closer to something good. So why get defensive over what people might think? Why pause to think about saving the post for later before I shook my head and published? Why hope that people decide to take the day off from reading me? It was difficult to write – hardly my most clear or entertaining post. I couldn’t decide what to edit out, so it was incredibly long. I was bothered by it – almost posted something this morning to move it away from its spot at the top of the page.

I think the truth is that I don’t want to be seen as overly spiritual. How terrible is that? I know God – well, to some extent. I love Him, though I acknowledge that He’s more aware of the extent of those feelings than I am. I'm glad He knows my heart - someone should, and I don't think I'm always honest with myself about what I feel. It’s confusing – the urge to move closer followed by a retreat when I feel He welcomes me to Him. It’s not unusual – I understand that. There are periods of religious strength then times of lethargy. Undulation. But to embrace those peaks and to display obedience in the valleys? I would change. Become a different version of myself. And, again, I don’t want to do that.

The pills and therapy. A closer relationship with God. Progress at work that indicates I’m operating on some level closer to faculty than graduate student. I’m digging in my heels or dropping to the ground like that toddler who doesn’t want to leave the playground, and resisting any changes for all I’m worth. And when I do try to alter something, it appears to be the wrong thing.

When my parents were here, I noticed that I’m different. It happened without my permission – I’m just not the same as I used to be. I had this urge to revert – to figure out what exactly felt weird so I could fix it. Move backward into the person I used to be and abandon who I currently am. But that’s not an option – not on a real level – nor should it be. I have to go from here. That post last night was true – I believe it to be correct to the extent that I’m able to understand right now. I also consider it relatively important. A point where I can decide which way to go – I’m currently thinking that there are countless moments like that. Where I can make the right choice. My experience is that God isn’t ever far away. If I ask for help – need guidance in making some decision – He provides in some way. I haven’t ever felt forsaken as much as understanding I’ve abandoned the assistance freely offered.

I felt badly about these feelings – the urge to remove what I said, to pretend everything was normal, to talk more of fun things. Projects at work! Shopping! Pretty pictures! Even loneliness and depression are preferable to preachy posts. People are bound to stop reading, I thought morosely. I do like my blog, after all, and I hate to see my audience dwindle if I start to become more of a shiny spirit. But regardless of how much I regret these emotions, I really am struggling with stepping on the path to being more…something. Spiritual? Peaceful? Centered? Focused on God?

In moments where I’m confused or conflicted, I do what has worked in the past. Since I’m struggling with identifying who I am versus who I was, I looked to the very recent past. And decided to read more CS Lewis.

Luckily, I had discussed him with Boss and his wife. Offered my appreciation for The Great Divorce and recommended it enthusiastically when hearing that neither had read it.

“I am reading The Screwtape Letters.” Boss said. “Have you heard of that book?”

“Heard of it.” I replied, looking away from his liver and onions with a slight grimace. “I haven’t read it.”

“It’s good, though it must have been difficult to write.” He noted. “Screwtape is a…what?” He inquired, turning to his wife. “Demon?” She shrugged, then nodded. “He works for the Devil.” He clarified, pausing to sip his water.

“So Screwtape writes these letters to a lesser demon - a tempter - named Wormwood. He offers all this advice on how to take over his assigned person. How he should keep this man from God and the truth and happiness by using all these tricks. It’s good – the stuff he mentions does distract me from God, keeps me from living the way I could. But it must have been hard to write – to turn everything around and make good seem bad and bad seem good. He calls the Devil something like ‘The Father Below.’ But I’m enjoying the novel.”

So I bought Screwtape from audible and started listening to it this morning. I abandoned America: The Audiobook – which is really quite funny – in favor of more Lewis. If you recall, I waited for a few weeks before reading The Great Divorce – I thought it would be difficult for me to hear some of the stories it held. It wasn’t – I was ready and gave over to it quite easily. It was just so good – so filled with light and grace. The angels who came to help the ghosts? They were so joyful, so eager to provide that peace and purpose to the souls who had just entered Heaven. And the ghosts just had to decide to take the trip. To get on the bus that traveled to Heaven from the gray town. Then to walk with an angel until they gained enough strength, lost their ties to the world, and climbed the mountain to reach God.

I pushed play on the iPod and began The Screwtape Letters with the expectation that I would be similarly infatuated with this story.

I’m not.

It’s exquisitely written and read – I’m completely focused on the words and story. I remember nothing about my commute to or from work today – only the 10 letters I was able to hear while I drove. I nodded along, recognizing some truth, wincing in shame when I noticed places I’ve failed – allowed these demons to win.

But it’s hard to read – terrifically difficult to hear. I’m not supposed to believe in demons – don’t know that I do, really. But Screwtape indicates I’m not supposed to – it’s better if I don’t acknowledge the existence of evil. It makes it easier for it to take hold. Screwtape would enjoy that I feel embarrassed and awkward about my recent realizations. A moderate faith, he says, works as well for their side as no faith at all. Which irritates me, honestly, because I don’t like to lose. Don’t like thinking of my particular tempter writing to a favored uncle demon, skipping with happiness because I sinned against God knowingly. That I ignore what I know and avoid learning more. That sin and temptation appear to be victorious for the moment.

The fascinating factor is that Screwtape only grudgingly admits to God’s power, though he calls Him ‘The Enemy.’ So this book feels very dark to me. It’s funny in parts and very compelling throughout (though I’m not even halfway finished yet), but it’s scary. Absent of much hope and light – the work of my tempter, when I think of him, seems so easy. I help him out so very much. Don’t think enough of God or faith – convince myself I’m tired or unable to comprehend some of the concepts. I should instead have some lunch, as Screwtape suggests, or perhaps watch television, read blogs, focus on earthly pleasures – how pretty the leaves are. How nice the soap at work smells. What's going on with entertainment news. Anything to retain focus on sensory information.

“You don’t win.” I said to my tempter, eyes narrowed. “I’m learning. I’ll pray out loud because Screwtape is right – it’s too easy for me to lose focus when I’m silent. I will obey even when I don’t feel God’s presence because you creatures hate that. I do have hope – I do feel amazing relief because God doesn’t want me to be anything other than me. This bright person He put here for a reason and wants to love. You and those like you want me to become nothing more than food for a collective of evil. But now I know. And I can fight back.”

People will think I’m crazy, I thought immediately. That this depression pushed me over the edge into some fanatic faith because I’m very lost. I need to be moderate – talk about something else for a few days, then return to my discussion of faith. That would be more sensible, but would ignore the truth I think I heard from my car speakers.

That truth? I think there’s a struggle. It exists within me, so it’s certainly possible that it also occurs on a larger scale. Good versus evil. Heaven contrasting sharply with Hell. How I spend my days and how that affects where my soul spends eternity. I obviously connect well with what Lewis writes - how he portrays our attachment to this world and his illustration of sin and temptation. It makes sense to me - I can use it to grow and change and become better.

There are all sorts of adjectives I could string together to describe my life, but complicated would need to be included. So, regardless of my true motivation or my feelings about doing so, I’m pulling my faith from the periphery and toward the center. While I certainly understand oscillating between spiritual and secular focus, when I’m offered chances to change – when I’m compelled to think and write and pray even though it’s more than a little uncomfortable – I can’t resist anymore. So I’m moving forward. It’s slow, and I keep looking behind me and perhaps ducking my head because I’m not as proud as I should be, but I’m trying to shuffle out of my slump. It just feels shamefully difficult right now.

Oh, and I'm listening to Screwtape again tomorrow if for no other reason than I think the damn demon would rather I didn't.