AIM

Well, here's part of what was making me so sad after the Akron trip. As I was driving along in the dark car I was playing something on the satellite radio. It was crackling a bit, which usually means the FM channel it's transmitting to is being used by a regular radio station. So I shut off the XM so I could find an unoccupied frequency. In an instant "Stars" by Switchfoot was filling my car. It was apparently playing on the station that I was on, and the volume had been up for the satellite radio. That familiar music pounded through me, and I very nearly just sunk into it, letting the song which had been with me though so many trips and experiences and emotions just carry along all my feelings and undefined sadness. But I balked at that, since it wouldn't be honoring the intent with which the guys in Switchfoot made the song. So I held out and focused on the words, as the music poured through me. It built up, and when it hit the chorus, "When I look at the stars...I see Someone else," I just cried. I cried hard. I cried exactly until all the chemicals built up in my body from the emotions of the morning had excreted themselves through my tear ducts, and then stopped. But I didn't cry because of chemicals, I cried because that music gave me a glimpse of what I was doing these days. I was coming home and turning on the computer, seeking there warmth and light and companionship to make me feel "settled" and bring me joy. I had begun to realize lightly in the weeks and days before that those longings needed to be taken to God, and I needed to rest my feet on HIM when I came home to an unfriendly and empty room at night.
I cried because I saw God looking down on me as I turned this way and that, throwing myself upon others, disregarding His imminent riches and worth, opened up to me by His wrenching sacrifice.
I cried for the grief I had caused God, my God, sitting in heaven while I poured myself into the earth.
And I knew right then, as Jon Foreman's voice cut through the car, that I had to uninstall AIM from my computer. There could be no justification for leaving it on there, given what I saw now. And in that realization I saw the picture--as I cut off that lifeline (for that really is what AIM is for me), I would have NO CHOICE but to fall on God. It would force the issue, and precipitate the reality of relationship I have been painfully lacking for so long.

Now, uninstalling AIM alone will not thoughtlessly and effortlessly bring this change. I've got to keep myself from seeking the same comfort in this blog, or in emails, or in other forms of communication. When I feel that weird nasty bottomless alone feeling, I've got to take it to God. When the room around me seems bleak and the night gaping and friendless, I've got to take out my Bible and read it with my heart hanging out over the words. I've got to take my desires to God to be met. It was dumb to expect that I could continue sucking pleasure from AIM and God would somehow blast in and create in me a functional dependent relationship on Him. Yes He can, yes he sure's heck saved me out of the blue from total rebellion from Him...but it's not right to just sit back and expect Him to effortlessly work all these huge heart changes in me. As God is real, I will lean into Him with my present and real feelings and needs. (Feelings are real in that they are actually experienced; not that they accurately represent factual reality)

Such is my reason for hitting the "Uninstall AOL Instant Messenger" item from the pop-up menu. I see now that it's still going to be a battle, since the time for reading and praying in the evenings doesn't just present itself, and I can easily turn to other things to make myself feel better. But I've made a big change, and I made it in firm hopes of change and growth.

The next four or six months are a key time in my life. If I don't get my relationship with God grounded and settled in a practical and enduring manner, how can I expect to do so any easier as I enter the last brutal months of ChemE classes and approach an unknown future of job and hopefully family?

Onerous are the duties which require themselves of me. Bleak, in many ways and many moods, is the future that stares at me. Sickeningly weighty are the years that hang in the balance. Stern is the model that I fall so short of. If I could pick any one thing to NOT do, it would be this: forsaking the known and joyous comforts of free time and IM and spending my fleeting hours and flying energy on God. I despair of this because I don't yet know the pleasures that are at God's right hand. But even now the emotion of the past few days has calmed down a lot, and I'm more aware of the pragmatic peace of God's sovereignty and the simple things that need to be done in the coming days.

I've got a lot to think about, a lot to do, and a LOT hinging upon the next few months. I don't know when I'll return to Instant Messenger, and I don't know what else God might call me to give up, and I cannot picture what I will look like as someone who actually loves God and enjoys Him Himself and does spiritual disciplines. It is a void I'm stepping into, and in the mood I'm in right now, I'm somewhat expectant to see what will turn out to be in that void.

Peace out.

--Clear Ambassador