worried. things are going so well. when does one of us (me) try to sabatoge everything?

I can't decide if I really need to write every day, or not. Sometimes there's not much that seems like needs to be said, sometimes there's so much it clogs up and won't come out. Right now I'm just so busy and tired that I can't seem to want to spare the time at the end of the day.

The stress is easing a bit, but I think I've just decided to keep my head down and barrell through. It's safer that way, and we'll get through. I'd rather live, though.

I wish I knew why I am so on edge. I feel just about ready to snap, and God help the individual(s) who are in the blast radius whe that happens. It's not like I've had a stressful time lately or anything. After all, it's quite normal to wrench your marriage back from the abyss, have your daughter bitten in the face by a dog, get sued (twice), lose a raise, and have your not-quite-sufficient income cut by a third. And in less than two months! I really have no reason to be bitter. None at all.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Quitchabitchin. I'd like to have a good reason to completely trash someone, like I did before I went to OBI. My internal rage is about at the same level, just for different reasons. And while I would love to do that, the repercussions are much, much greater. You're not a Juvvie anymore, Sparky.

So, I have to find out how to get a hold on the reins and stop this rampaging fury before it gets loose. I could really hurt somebody. Oh, that it would be someone who deserves a real ass-kicking! It's getting more and more difficult to just take a deep breath. Lately I feel like all I'm doing is deep-breathing exercises, like some sort of anger-management Lamaize technique.

fuck it. I'm too scattered to write tonight.

Worship is a relationship. I have come to suppose it's like being a kid, and telling your parents how great they are by showing them how much and how often you want to be with them.

I have this image of Koshka when she was about 14 months old. I'm in the living room, trying to get a fire going. I have the baby gate up so she won't get in. I don't want her in the ashes, making a mess (again), and I REALLY don't want her near the almost non-existant fire I'm building - or so I think. Koshka is pulling on the gate, rattling it in its frame, and whining. I'm getting so frustrated, both at the stupid fire, because it's cold (and, truth be told, the firemaker. I was a boyscout, for goodness sakes!) and at the constant rattle & whine. So, compassionate man that I am, I turn to my precious baby child, the delight of my life, and I say sweetly (and at the top of my voice) "What do you WANT?!?!?" She stops rattling, stops whining, raises her hands and says, "I want you. I want a hug."

I'm tired of 'intelligent' worship. Tired of not being able to experience the emotion of God's presence. I want to sing, weeping to God. I want to be able to lift my hands, and not be aware of what is happening. I want the Holy Spirit to take control of my worship, leaving 'me' (or, rather, my self-consciousness) out completely.

But I think I may have ruined that for myself. I so distrust emotionally based decision making that I've tried not to be influenced at all in that way. Coming from a dually emotionally based spirituality (in one service, "Do you FEEL the Saviour tugging on your heart?", in the next, "That is my Testimony, because I FEEL it to be true.") I despise(d) the 'stirrings of my heart'. I learned not to trust my emotions in other areas, it was only a matter of time before my spiritual life suffered the same hit. Opening up to emotion opens me up to pain. I've had enough of that.

Also, I don't trust what I feel as much as what I can reason. I don't have to feel God is there, I can, by reading the Bible, know intelectually that He exists. Some people reject that argument, but it is enough for me. i have no problem with reasoning out the exegetical topics in Scripture, digging into a passage, arguing an interpretation. In a Bible study, if someone says "I feel . . ." I usually say, "I don't. Prove it." I get such satisfaction from really tearing apart a piece of text - what does it mean? What is the writer saying? what is the historical significance? How does it apply today? I don't want to emotionalize my Bible study, I like it just the way it is.

But Worship! Getting together with a bunch of people who believe - or don't - with the sole purpose of praising God - like paying proper homage to a king, to the King. Or being by myself, so in the moment with God that He speaks! To me! I love listening to music, it gets me there so much faster than anything, but it seems that right before I break that barrier where I'm in the real, palpable presence of the Almighty God, something interferes. I can rebuke it all that I want, but all that does is draw attention to the fact that I'm no longer giving all of myself to honoring God. there's that little piece that refuses to give over. it's the one that - seemingly benign - wants to analyze the lyrics for doctrinal compliance. Or starts listening (appreciatively, of course) to the harmonies rather than unselfishly adding to them. Every time I get the urge to raise my hands, I suffer from the most frustrating catch 22. If I don't, I have to concentrate on quenchng the feeling, the desire, the longing of my hande to lift of their own accord. If I do, I wonder who's looking at me, if they're thinking I'm putting on spiritual airs (which is what I cynically tend to think). This happens whether or not anyone else is raising hands, or dancing, or crying, or being the least bit expressive.

My worship is repressive. I don't try to repress anyone else, at least I hope not, but I do a heck of a lot of repressing of myself. It helps that I play the drums in church - my hands are busy, I have an excuse. It would be very difficult for me to raise my hande between paradiddle flams! Well, maybe not flams, if I was creative enough! :)

But now I have the opportunity to lead the worship team again. If I do so, I want to lead, to lead the entire congregation right into God's living room, into His kitchen, to use His bathroom, and to know where the family towels are, that it's ok to use them. But to do that, I have to know the way there, I have to be a frequent enough guest, that I feel at home, ready to kick my shoes off and scratch my toes,as it were. I know the way, but there seems to be a barrier right at the doorway. God's inviting me in, I can see the coffee and muffins on the table, the sofa looks just perfect for leaning against, but I can't get through. I know the way, but I'm not comfortable there. The hell of it is, it's a barrier of my own making. I even put it there. I devised my own 'Don-gate' to keep me from where I don't belong. Where I could get hurt. "Is He safe?" "Safe? Oh no, He's not safe. But He's good."

Dear God, sometimes finding you is like trying to smell the colour 9. Expand my senses to make it possible. I can't get this darned gate out of the way. Take it down, I want a hug.

Of course, I still have to write the letter. I can start with Tom Fischell, write to him and send a sample of a letter to the churches. At the same time, send letters to everyone, connected or not.

Talked w/ Dr Watts yesterday. We went in there to talk about US, and ended up talking about ME. Since things with the uncles are at a legal end, he suggested I write a letter to Tom Fischell and explain that if he doesn't fire Jim, I will write to the convention, to churches, etc until he is no longer in a position to harm children. I hate to even think about threatening something like that, but it seems all other avenues are closed. So, it looks like I'm writing a letter tonight.

I think I'll write to all of them - the three, that is. Tell them that I know what happened, I'm not crazy, people believe ME, and that they suck. Then, I'll write to the prison that's holding Alan, to Bambi camp, and to whoever is stupid enough to give Robert a job. I'll find places to post it on the web, and keep on doing it until I get a cease and desist order. Then I'll keep doing it until they drag me into court. That'll be the day! "Uh, can you PROVE that they did these things to you?" "That's not my job. Can they PROVE that they DIDN'T?"

assholes.