Cloudy But Awaiting the Rainfall

Jeff

Jesus has continued to disrupt my definition of "normal" as I've walked with him through the years. I keep having to adapt and grow, always by stepping into uncomfortable, and even sometimes messy, places.

For those who are accustomed to comfort and complacency, I've heard that it can feel a bit like life as you know it coming to an utter ruin. I've even heard people use the word "wrecked" when referring to how God won them over to his agenda.

For the longest time, life was fuzzy for me - like trying to see the ground from an airplane that's flying through the clouds. Everything is translucent at best, and you struggled to understand where you are or even where you might be going. But anyone who understands the weather knows that clouds can only fill up with so much darkness, before the cleansing comes.

I myself was wrecked one day, driving home from work one summer, having spent the day in boredom at my telesales job trying to stay awake in between phone calls in which I asked people to take a general health survey, which I swore to them was for their own good.

On the drive, I was stopped at the railroad tracks, waiting for one of those interminable trains that always seem to take longer in the summer. As I was I was watching the train cars roll by, something caused me to think about life in general, about the mystery of time.

I guess it was just the movement of the train, but I was led into almost a trance, in which I had to face the unavoidable fact that life is, indeed, short, and that I had better make mine count for something.

I started reflecting on how I had spent the past weekend: getting drunk before 7pm, trying to "score" with the old homecoming chick who dumped me after one date, pulling off my belt and swinging it around my head like a sash, mooning my friends, and passing out on the couch. I had to have others help me remember certain pieces of the evening, but I do remember trying to "force" myself on that girl, and her rejecting my attempts.

Fortunately, in between her pushing me away and my calling her less-than-chivalrous names, I gave up, frustrated, and lost consciousness.

When I woke up that next morning, I couldn't face her or any of my friends. I was more ashamed than I had ever been before, because I thought that I could never do anything "that bad." Granted, I didn't have sex with her (or anyone up to that point in my life), but I knew that I probably would have if I hadn't passed out. It's a sickening feeling to realize that you're not good as you think. I came to grips with the fact that if I were left to my own devices, there was no level of depravity to which I would not sink.

To be continued...