Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Wandering Legs in the Night
I felt this way after a week long conference with screaming, blood-shot eyed teens slurping can after can of coke and running all over the place. Ok, so they weren't that bad, but it's the way I view them at "conference". Conferences can be sort of like Crack, where you get to observe the delirious manic swings of young people as one moment they gush about the grace of God in their lives and the next they bang their heads against a wall weeping over their i-phone app that won't load.
Teens are fickle. People are fickle. I am fickle.
My fickleness leads to funkiness. To say this last conference wore me out would be an understatement. Not only was I losing my car in parking garages, but I was getting up early to bike, teaching and trying to overcome my fear (yes fear) of loud praise and worship music. Add to all this hardly any sleep.
I had to sleep with another man in my bed. Being terrified of touching him, I slept on the very edge. But towards the end of the conference, with all of my weariness, my early morning instincts must have taken. I took my foot and ran it down my buddy's leg. He jolted and almost hit me, and I sat up in bed, realizing what I'd done in horror and then just began to laugh.
After conference experiences where I live the roller-coaster that is me under duress, I normally go through a period of funkiness or a dip in depression. During this particular dip, as with many others, I really just wished I could be dead. I know it sounds bad, but if you've ever experienced depression, even minor depression, you know the feeling - you pretty much always wish you were dead. I typically think of interesting ways to go: jumping out of an air-liner, signing up for Iraq, or running my foot down a guy's leg at my next conference.
I've written a lot on depression, so I don't want to bore you with more. What I do want to impress is that God is our help. He always is. I can honestly look back over my life and say, in every circumstance, God was my help. He at least enabled me to live, and often enabled me to see, in hindsight, the point of my suffering.
That's a reason I wish I'd worry less. I'm a very anxious person. I make up things to worry about if I can't think of anything. I really am a mess.
But with God, I need not fear. With God, I have help. With God, I can handle one more worship song. And with God, I can sleep wherever I dang well please.