God, I'm frustrated with you. And with me, I guess, and with everything else. I'm just fed up. And I know that I've felt this way before, but that just makes it even more frustrating. Seriously God, what's going on? I try to be totally honest with myself, and with you, and really with everyone. (If I wasn't striving for honestly I might express less frustration.) I'm just a little sick and tired of philosophical and psychological nitpicking. I'm fed up with the fine points of theology and the nuances of symantics. I want to know you, God. And I want to love you and serve you. And I'm tired of being a "great guy" for asking the "hard questions", and I'm tired of being corrected and refocused by all these wise people. I've been doing an hour of devos a day (insert theological clarifications and disclaimers here) and I try to think of you all the time. God, I'm scared because I want to know you more, and I am willing to do what it takes, but I'm afraid of just fooling myself into a psychological connection with a God who doesn't exist. I guess I might just be asking for a sign, but I hate to think that. No, that's not really what I want. I guess I'm in tension between craving yet scorning intellectual assurance and longing for yet mistrusting baseless psychological assurance. Wow, I'm stuck God. And I'm almost afraid to ask you for help, because I'll misinterpert any help you might give me. And I'm not wanting to talk to other people, because I'm fed up with theology and semantics. Ultimatly I'm maybe just sick of feeling like I'm doing everything right but nothing's happening. Shoot. Help me Lord.

Wow, I haven't written in a while. God, eh? Basically, I realize that I'm skeptical of God's involvement in all areas of my life. There is no event I can think of where I look back and say "There had to be divine involvement there". So even if I could reach a sort of sense of God's presence, I would tell myself that it's all in my head. So I'm stuck. I guess some day I'll develope the faith to see God in all the stuff in my life, and then I could accept a sense of his presence, but I can't get there just by wishing I was. And I don't totally want to anyway. I don't want stupid faith, but maybe that's the only kind there is. We'll see.

I've been trying to think a lot lately, but my mind is muddled. My Bible study tonight was on Romans 9, so I'm a bit mad at God right now. I'm wondering if my whole approach to God issues is wrong. See, when I read about these issues, I don't think "how can I fit this into my idea of a good God", I think "does this mean there even is a good God?" I'm not willing to let go of my skepticism. And while that may be a good thing, and even necessary for me intellectually, I think it hinders my spiritual growth. But I don't know if I should or even could give up my doubts. Maybe if I tried for dumb faith I would walk away from God altogether. Maybe I should just walk away. But I don't think I really could do that either. So I'm stuck. Jesus Christ help me. I can't even pray.

I've never totally resolved this apparent tension between thinking and having faith. I like to think that faith that infringes on reason isn't real/good/beneficial faith, but I'm not sure if that's true or not. I suppose I currently just see no reason to pursue faith at the expense of reason, so I confine faith to the things about which I have no knowledge. I have no idea if this is "right" or not.

"Give us clean hands; give us pure hearts. Let us not lift our souls to another." That's what's running through my head right now. Hm. I don't really have anything to write right now. God is faithful. God is good. Blessed be the name of the Lord. I've been thinking about how much we should be driven by passion, and how much we should rely on our wills. If I want to do more devotions do I psyc myself up or just bear down?

Ok, this part is written hours later. I have nothing really to say. I'm in one of those places, like the woods between worlds, where I'm just not thinking or feeling anything in particular. There's nothing left to say, except that God is good.

I'm feeling frustrated again. Yesterday I spent the afternoon rewriting the story of the prodigal son according to my experiences with the non-presence of God. I read it to a teacher and we discussed how I'm too cynical about everything. I was struck. I know I'm cynical, but how could I not be? Would I still be smart if I wasn't cynical? Could I even stop if I tried? I don't know. I started writing a New Testament paper today on the role of the Holy Spirit in the early church, and I quickly reverted to bitterness and cynicism. I don't know how to stop that. I can't envision thinking about things any other way. God! What do I do? Where are you? How can you be all-powerful and all-silent? How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? (Psalm 13) God, I want to break free from this pit of longing. Wait, I guess I asked for this, didn't I? Well, this isn't what I meant! It's not helping me! I'm just stagnant and self-focused, and it's holding me back. I don't know, Lord. Please help me.

The story referred to at the top is one of my favorites. I think I'll include it below.

So he got up and went to his father.
But while he was still a long way off, he met his older brother working in the field. His brother greeted him warmly and welcomed him back to the family. “Though,” he said, “don’t expect to see Father any time soon. Oh it’s not that he won’t forgive you – they say he loves you very much – but he doesn’t see any of us very often. He stays in the house mostly, in a room with a locked door.” He looked wistfully towards the house. “I thought I saw him once, watching me through the window, but it was from a long way off, and I couldn’t tell if it was him. I don’t even really know what he looks like.” He turned back and smiled at his brother. “It’s good to see ya again bro. Here, you can work with me. I’ll show you the ropes.”
The younger brother frowned. “You’re… not angry with me? I mean, I screwed up big there. And you’ve always been the good one…”
“Hey, don’t worry. Daddy always taught us forgiveness. See, we get real good at following Dad’s instructions around here. If you work hard and do what he says – he wrote us a book, you know – you’ll become an awesome farmer. You can learn from me too. I’m not as good as Dad of course – they say no one ever farmed like him – but I’m learning to do things his way.”
“Will I ever get to see Dad?”
“Oh sure! We’ll all see him someday. And that, little brother, will make all our work worthwhile. We’ll have a feast like you’ve never seen, and we’ll be together, us and Dad. But no one knows when that will be. Maybe you’ve heard that this life is all about being with Dad. That’s not how it is. Mostly we work. It’s good work, and we get to talk to each other, but don’t you believe that stuff about a relationship with Dad.”
“I just thought I could talk to him… say I’m sorry.”
“You can certainly do that. I’ll take you to his room, and you can speak to him through the door. He’ll hear you, but don’t expect him to talk back.”
“He’s never even talked to you?”
“Not me. Some people – some of our older brothers, I mean – say he’s answered them. Some have sat by the door for years, and they say he’ll have whole conversations with them. I heard one story of a brother who was invited right into the room! Oh, but he was a good farmer.”
"So if you work hard enough..."
“It’s not dependent on you though. It’s all up to Dad. I know brothers who are better farmers than I’ll ever be, and they’ve never so much as heard him whisper. Others, it seems like he just… cares for them more. He’ll talk to them even though they can’t farm as well as I can.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“No, Dad’s not fair. But he’s good. He provides for us. He teaches us to farm. It’s a good life bro, and remember this: you wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for him. Who knows, maybe you’ll be a lucky one. …If you ever get to talk to him, tell him I love him. Tell him I work hard, and I just can’t wait to meet him. I mean, I’ve told him myself, and I know he hears me, but… never mind. Look, it’s great to see you again bro. You work hard and stick with me. I think you’ll make a great farmer.”

I need to get out of this mindset I'm in. I have no faith. I question everything - theological concepts, church doctrines, the infallibility of the Bible, and the goodness of God. And it's crippling. It's poisoning. I can't show my joy to others, because I have an attitude of misery. I can't tell someone that Jesus will help them, because I don't believe he will. I am angry and mistrusting. And I'm wasting my life. I have 60 years on this earth to do God's work, and I'm sitting around playing self-destructive mind-games. I think it would be quite possible for me to spend the rest of my life in this state. What a waste! Oh, I want to have faith, but I don't even feel like I should want it, because if I want it too much I may concoct it out of my own mind. But even if it's real, it will still probably be indistinguishable from a psychological trick. And I would inevitably doubt it, even if I didn't want to. So I'm big-time stuck. But I need to get out. Jesus, help me. I'm hosed God, you're my only hope.

I've learned something very interesting about theology: it's illogical. On first viewing each doctrine seems simple. Then it becomes mystical, then complex, then baffling, and ultimately contradictory. Push anything far enough and it becomes a basic contradiction. Three in one? Absurd. Fully God and fully man? Incompatible. Predestination and free will? Lunacy. You know, I used to scorn Mormons - how could they waste their good brain on such obvious foolishness? And I used to shake my head at Orwell. Would any human beings so willingly abuse their intellect? But then I looked at what I believe. Christianity can only exist through ignorance or doublethink. So ultimately, I've reached a point where I have to choose between forsaking my mind and trusting an irrational God, or running from him, or staying in this terrible limbo. I suppose the critical factor here is my deep gut feeling that God exists and all of this is true. Perhaps it would be wise for me to attempt to break that bond, just to see if it could be broken. If so, I could forsake this illogical Christianity and go wherever my mind takes me - likely Agnosticism. If not, I would have to accept that I truly am stuck with God, and I'll have to do my best with that - likely by surrendering to him in faith. One thing is certain: I do not want to stay here in stagnant cynicism. But I do not think I could do what I've proposed - my fear of hell and a wasted life [wasted because it is not "lived for Christ" as the camp preachers would say] runs too deep. The irony is that by rejecting this proposal I may be choosing to waste my life in cynicism. God, what's going on? Am I being honest, or sensational? Guide me Lord.

I apologize for my rather scornful and dismissive mention of Mormonism. Where I come from Mormonism is the face of unthinking religion, and I'd be grateful for the opportunity to adjust my views towards Mormons if anyone were willing to help me out. (And I still think most of our theology is contradictory.)

Talked to my first person at my Impact program today. I'm hooked. It was a girl, and she was scared. She asked to speak to a girl, so I gave her up, but the sound of her voice was enough to slay me. I don't know why, but I was totally blown away. I was just struck that this is a real person, and she has real problems, and I can help her. I was just sitting there thinking "I love you. I want to help you and hold you and keep you safe. I want to wipe away your tears and give you joy. I want to be Jesus to you." Oh God, thank you so much for this opportunity you've given me to change lives and show your love. Please help me do a good job and really help these people. I just fear that my chronic doubting will inhibit my ability to help these people, or make it necessary for me to lie to them. May it never be! Don't let me be ineffective. God, this is what it's all about. Every step and every breath is working toward a greater loving and serving of your precious children. Oh Lord, don't let me be betrayed by my intellect. Mould and refine me for the sake of these, your Beloved. Jesus make it so.

All this apologetic, self-demeaning talk about thinking is getting on my nerves. I think it was my insecurity about thinking that inhibited me more than the thinking itself. But that's how I felt then.

Looks like I don't Journal much any more. Perhaps now I email instead. I've been struggling a lot recently with why I am a Christian. I decided that it's not based on any kind of reasoning, but just on a feeling in my gut that there is a God, and that he cares for me.

And that's all for February. It picks up a bit in March, but the journal is definitely winding down by this point. If you've stuck with me so far (and I have no idea if anyone is actually reading this) have courage - the end is closer than it seems. Love you.