Ordinary Time 23/Trinity 13 – Wednesday
I have hit another point in time when exhaustion has set in. Partly emotional exhaustion. Partly physical. The physical is ok because I’m trying to get back in shape again with exercise and a cut-down diet.
The emotional side of things is wrecking me. I’m questioning a lot of things I have assumed and thought about myself and my future. Questioning God about why he is letting me go through this. Why unrequited and unspoken love for a certain someone hurts so much. And this isn’t depression (though I know it can definitely lead me back down the path of feeling numb to everything and everyone else around me). I’m surprised that I’ve been able to wear a facade for the last few weeks in public: at church and at work (though if you did see me walking around Brisbane CBD during my lunch hours when I haven’t been able to make it to Mass, you’d probably get a hint of what was bubbling away on the inside, maybe).
And why out of all the books in my library has he led me to begin re-reading Andrew Krivak’s A Long Retreat: In Search of a Religious Life. About the life and journey of a Jesuit in training and what ends up happening to him as he explores who he really is and what his vocation in life is too.
I decided to use up some flextime today and leave work early to spend some quiet time at St. Stephen’s Cathedral. At least I knew I wouldn’t be asked to leave there at 5pm as is the case when St. John’s closes. It is truly amazing to actually be able to hear the cacophony of voices, thoughts, ideas and some demonic taunts as well that run through my head when I really sit still in the presence of God.
Some stuff happened while I was there and while it could have been sheer coincidence that I happened to be there while it did happen, it quite possibly could have been a hint about my future. Divine providence or just blind luck? I can’t call this one except straight down the middle; 50/50/.
This wrestling with the interplay between faith, doubt, belief, unbelief, life, death, past and future could kill the spiritual lives of others. For me though, this feels necessary. That God isn’t teasing me, but instead, inviting me to explore the depths of who he is and the breadth and height of his love. Honest to God, I’m scared to bits at times, but there remains an underlying current of peace and calm amid the rough seas and the cacophony of my voices, thoughts, dreams, hopes, loves and demons.
All I can ask is pray for me. All of you who read this here on Earth and all those who have gone before us in the Communion of Saints.
Now time for sleep. And I will recline into a slumber with one of Frank Sinatra’s Capitol Records concept albums on loneliness, No One Cares.