In a world that focuses so much on emotions, it’s certainly easy to become numb and desensitized because we over hype so many useless things. So the feeling of “not feeling” isn’t a new one, but when it comes in the midst of things that “should” illicit some major response of the soul it has the potential to be discouraging, at the very least confusing.
It’s in these times we find our true motivation.
As you may or may not know, depending on the frequency with which you read my blog, Facebook status, or tweets, I’m in India. My team and squad leader Ben are working with something called Burn 24/7. We travel around the country and do worship and praise. The thought being that where God’s name is lifted up and praised even in the darkest places there His spirit dwells.
Now obviously, I feel like God is everywhere, but there’s a difference between that and the “manifest” presence of His Spirit. Week 1 in India we find ourselves in a church, some of our team leading worship at a seminar, a seminar that had people travel from as far as over 400 miles the night before to attend. At night, our team was worshiping and instead of being in the joy fest that was taking place below me, I found myself laying alone upstairs on the balcony. Feeling few things only… distant, attacked, far from the God which I claimed so much to believe in, all while my ears were being filled with the roaring sound of joyous praises just below me.
The guys and gals leading worship at the first "Burn"
Ya see… oddly enough the two times in my life I most remember that I’ve questioned His existence and worthiness the most were in the midst of a worship setting. I know, odds are that some people going crazy and raising their hands don’t mean it, which puts in me this question if I’ve ever been that person just going thru the motions and not really believing in what I’m saying. Do I really believe the words they are singing.
I felt just a heavy weight. All I could do was lay there and just talk to the God I thought was listening. All I could muster was stuff like…
God please show yourself to me. Make me feel you.
Help me want you.
I don’t want some crazy, weird miracle. I don’t necessarily want a sign or a wonder I just want to feel you. (I honestly can’t say with any certainty that I’ve ever seen one, in terms as most of us would think).
I know in my mind, or at least I think I do, that You are real and all the things we sing that You are, but that’s being weighed down on right now. I don’t want to just believe in You, because it seems unbelievable and illogical that You couldn’t be real, but in times like this it seems like “How could this be real?”
God forgive me for not praising You like I “know” I “should.” Forgive me for questioning. But honestly, given that you’re real, I know you’ll understand. Pull me thru this. Don’t let my disbelief hinder any work You want to do here tonight.
Don’t let my lack of “feeling” get in the way.
The next night I sat in a worship service with some kids and people rescued from the street. They had all sorts of ailments. Some couldn’t walk, but at most sliver along the ground or crawl. Some of these same children that I held and laughed with and prayed over had life-threatening diseases. Two of which were most closely stuck to me had HIV, one ask me to pray against the fear in him.
There are some moments that are humbling, like I spoke about some of my last blog. Having a boy no older than 10, infected with HIV, standing in your arms asking you to pray that He wouldn’t fear… that’ll do it. So here I knelt, a night removed from being in the midst of being maybe the most downtrodden I’ve ever felt, and given such a tremendous moment. Tragic? Yes, but tremendous nonetheless.
Some of the boys from SEAL
I prayed for peace in a language this boy couldn’t understand, but I don’t know if planted itself firmly in this boy’s life, or was just something temporary.
I prayed for healing for these boys in a language neither could comprehend, but I don’t know if it worked. (Had it not been for a 3rd boy, no more than 10 years old translating their requests, I would have never even known what to pray for).
And I hugged them and played with them.
But that’s in the end all I could do. I don’t know what will become of those boys. As with so many along this journey, I may never cross paths with them again. Likely I’ll just blend in with a crowd of other do-gooders, who’ve offered their time and a smile to Him, but if I could have only brightened their lives for the small hour or so that I was allowed to be there I can’t be downtrodden by what is, in my mind, the likelihood of not being a lasting world-changer in their lives.
The need is so big. The number in need are so vast. They all have faces. They all have hearts. They all have stories. They all have fears. It can be overwhelming. It can overwhelm us to the point of being discouraged and desensitized and we become dead weight helping and loving no one for disappointment in not being able to help all, or seemingly even many.
We must refuse to let hearts that seek good, be turned apathetic and bitter by the enemy. We must be a light so bright that we do our best, even in fleeting passing moments to pass that on. We aren’t responsible for it catching or others following the path it illuminates, we’re only responsible for being letting that light shine through even in our night.
In some ways it’s shades of the Dominican all over again. As a “missionary,” you go on trips like this and some might expect you to be intensely Holy and above such “weakness.” But in our “weakness,” He is made strong.
He once again shows me that He doesn’t need me to feel. My obedience is, as He’s been drilling into me for quite some time now, independent of circumstance, even if that circumstance is something as simple as “not feeling it.”
I don’t have it all together… “Shocker!” Which is good, because it forces me to seek Him out more. It doesn’t let me get comfortable. It protects me from the pride that so easily swells up inside.
But in the midst of this lack of feeling, He has been speaking, not audibly, but in subtle ways and thru the encouragement of others. He gives me words to say. He gives me a calm in the midst of an internal storm of dissatisfaction, when there is nothing in my heart to be dissatisfied about but the lack of “feeling” more.
Feeling is overhyped and overplayed. It can guide us to a great passion. It can guide us to great (or terrible) things. But it’s so… flighty. It is the epitome of inconsistency and dependency. Christ is the solid rock, not shifting sand. And any obedience built on the shifting sand of feeling will be washed away.
Let us not be washed away. Let's be flood proof, un-rocked by every wave of emotion, or lack thereof, even in an Indian monsoon season. All we have to do is be ON the Rock not BE the rock.
That is all for now... stay classy... hope you enjoyed this book.
