Jesus I'm scared

I didn't realise it had been so long since I've posted here... although, no-one reads this so I don't suppose it matters. Things have changed since I last wrote here. I'm engaged to the most wonderful man I know, and I'm petrified. Constantly. Yesterday I was so scared I typed "Jesus I'm scared" into Google. Another blog entry from 2006 came up, and it reminded me of this old thing.

I always sound snippy when I write - I don't know why. The truth is, am scared. I'm scared and am desperately asking God for help but He doesn't seem to hear me. Actually, that's not even true. I know He hears me; but what I want is for Him to fix me. My question is: why do we need to stand in order to be ok? The enemy can attack us any time; why do we need to push through it in order for God to help? Why doesn't He just swat the enemy away?

I feel like I'm losing heart, and losing hope. I hate sounding depressed. I just stumbled across someone on Facebbok whose every post was a depressing joy-sucker. Made me evermore desperate to never sound like that or be like that. But today am hurting and struggling and going to God with it doesn't seem to be helping.

"Butterfly Island" used to sound lovely - now it just sounds insipid.

Given no-one reads this, maybe I can just use it as a place to pour out and vomit all the fears out... at least that way they don't have to be in me, anymore. Bible College just recently got done telling me that every word we say has power; that what I speak out will come true and I think I've gone slightly OCD about it. Maybe talking about my fears is ok providing I categorically state it's also a lie from the enemy, etc etc. It just ties me in legalistic knots.

Have been listening to Biblegateway audio Bible all day; Psalm 1 through 150, lather, rinse, repeat. If filling ourselves with the Word helps, I'll just keep this on in perpetuity. Last night, things were so bad I went to bed at about 8pm and sweated and cried and panicked until I heard from him. It's now 7.30pm and am calm enough to sit at the computer and type. Maybe that's progress. Except I can feel the panic growing in my stomach and I don't know how to get it to stop. HOW do I get it to stop? As a Christian, the answer is to give it to Him. But I've been trying that and nothing seems to happen so either I don't know how to give it or He's unwilling to accept it. Even that, though, is a terrible lie.

I'm 31 so I don't have permission to go emo, but I'd like to. I want to wail and scream and I want someone to help me but am too proud to ask for help. If this were a movie, someone would get in touch right now to tell me God whispered to their spirit that they needed to call. My phone isn't ringing.

I'm angry at God.

I think I'm really, really angry at God.

And because I'm a Christian, I'm supposed to repent of it and consciously acknowledge that He is good and that all things work to the good of those that love Him. Except am tired of reciting things like that while the panic goes on and on, and while the depression encroaches and pulls me deeper under.

At Bible College, I walked when I was scared. I waked and walked and walked, for miles. In London, it's just not possible. Except, it probably is. And the depression has me afraid of leaving the house. He's arriving in 3 days - what am I going to do? Today was another day without tv; call it a fast, or a fleece, or whatever. At the moment, am hurting badly and... he just got in touch. My love, that is. He just got in touch. Part of me is overjoyed. But another part, the larger part, is locked into this anger.

Living with constant fear is untenable. No-one can live like this, and I need it to stop. I NEED it to stop.

Be like that, then

It snowed here last night... only it wasn't the lovely fluffy sort that falls in sprinkles and coats everything and makes it new: it only settled for a few hours so by the time I woke up, most of it had disappeared to wherever snowflakes go when they die.

Cosmic carrot-dangling at its best.

Say...

I'd completely forgotten about this tiny corner of cyberspace I started to carve out of whatever it is the internet is made of. Stumbling across it is a little like bumping into an old friend.

And discovering she's still a pretentious pain in my ass :o)

Cool

Today I cemented my belief that triangular sandwiches taste much nicer than rectangular ones. I also discovered I can touch my nose with the tip of my tongue.

Marco Polo and me.

Something Beautiful

I wanted to share something that I think is truy beautiful. Look how peaceful and tranquil that place is. I want to be standing against that wall with the dappled sunlight dancing on my cheeks and eyelids. I wonder at the lives of the people who live behind those walls. Do they know they live in a place that looks like Heaven?

If you look at the picture closely, the shadows of the leaves look like a trillion little butterflies and dragonflies.

Tis magical.

Retrograde narcissism is totally where it's at

There are so many blogs out there, and have always believed them to be narcissistic and self-involved. Which, of course, they are. But tonight I thought I'd join the masses.

In 1 Peter 1:8, we are told: "Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory:" "Joy unspeakable". I really think that's one of the most beautiful phrases I've ever heard. It's saying that despite not seeing Jesus in the flesh, not yet, if we believe and have faith, if we are filled with rejoicing and amazement at His glory, and we will feel joy unspeakable.

I don't feel that joy, really... sometimes I wonder if that means I don't have enough faith.