Reflections on things that matter.
The world is rapidly becoming the type of place you read about in dystopian literature. Government corruption, natural disasters, terrorism…
When the attack on Paris happened on November 13th and the news footage was being played on a television near me, I heard somebody ask “is this real?” Our movies are so similar to our reality now that people don’t know when terror is non-fiction.
And here I am, little Miss INFJ idealist, having an existential breakdown every other day. “NF” types, in the world of Myers-Briggs, are Idealists. We perceive and desire scenarios for the highest possible good of the people we encounter. When things go wrong, we try to fix them. When they can’t be fixed…well, I don’t know about the rest of the idealistic world, but I freak out.
Not only am I an idealistic person, but I am also a Christian, and one who believes that all of this dystopian madness happening across the world is a sign of the return of Christ. You’d think this would provide a measure of comfort, but, actually, it really makes things worse most days. Knowing that the world is going downhill fast and that it was foretold, so there’s nothing one can do to stop it is murder on my conscious mind. I want to help people. I want peace and joy and well-being for everyone I encounter, and everywhere I turn I encounter yet another piece of evidence that shows me that the world is dying.
This may all seem pretty abstract, but recently, I find that these feelings are wearing me down inside. I’m slowly becoming cynical, pessimistic, and depressed. Again. I’m beginning to hate people and to hate life because I can’t fix anything. I find myself mentally repeating the mantra “I hate the world I’m in” because I can’t bring any sort of balance to it, either in my personal sphere of life or in the grand scheme.
Basically, I am tired. I am existentially tired. This seems to be my lot in life. My mountain. The one boss level in the game I can never seem to beat.
‘But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.’
2 Corinthians 12:9
To be quite frank, I have not yet experienced His power being made perfect in this particular weakness yet. I’m not writing from the other side of my mountain right now. I’m writing from under it, wondering if ever I’ll feel movement of fresh air on my face again. I don’t see or feel the grace of God just now. I’m not dead, and I’m not defeated, but neither have you experienced victory.
So I have to put my hope in this abstract reality and wait. There is some comfort in this. That small part of me that is awake and alive to the things of God, that portion of my being called my spirit is aware of God’s presence, and so in spite of my soul raging against reality, I know that God is real, and that he will bring me victory. That knowledge doesn’t always stop the mental or emotional pain, but it is there, and in spite of everything else, I can trust that God is still in control.