The Withdrawal Affects of Average

This is my first blog post in my new office, and it feels good to get writing again. This new basement office is the source of my recent blog writing hiatus, as most of my spare moments over the past months have been spent creating the office and moving in. All personal actions have been pushed to the side. The work is done, the Panther memorabilia is up, and I'm ready to feel right again.

The danger in writing a blog about my faith is that I unsparingly lay it out there for all to see. What's on my heart or mind is laid out on the page (or screen, in this case). When there's nothing on my heart or mind, there's nothing here on the blog. My month of inactivity displays to the world exactly what's been going on inside of me lately: no studying, no real deep-thinking, and realistically very little prayer. Basically, no God. I may not have had time to write, but I also had very little to write about. Though I performed my daily tasks of working and fathering, I accomplished little else. While God was certainly present in spirit, he certainly wasn't a priority in action.

I don't say that with a ton of guilt or self-loathing. It is what it is. I say it because it's true, and because I notice the difference.

I recently had a conversation with a friend about addiction and its affects on people when they remove the addictive device. When most people think about addiction, it carries a negative connotation of something that an individual wants to quit. In my case, though, I've realized that I'm addicted to something positive. That something is God.

I noticed the tie-in because by the end of last week, I completely recognized the "withdrawal" symptoms in me. The crankiness that would accompany a tobacco addict's attempt to quit made itself prevalent in me. When I was wronged, I complained to whoever would listen. I became irritable quickly. I held on to grudges and wrongs. I saw flaws instead of potential everywhere I looked. And I couldn't really focus on anything.

My mind ached for it's addiction. I was worse off without my "drug." Don't get me wrong - I could function. I could be effective at my job and my home life. I could even laugh. Life was average. But I wasn't the same. I wasn't as effective. And I certainly wasn't as happy. As if I needed another reminder, life is better with God.

As I was rifling through all I had collected over the past 10 years in my old office, I found some interesting items. I came across old notes, letters, and items of nostalgia from a range of relationships over the years. The past is important, and I had almost forgot what I was like "back then" and what some of the people important to me were like as well. Frankly, I was surprised to see the number of references to God, especially from individuals who now seem to have dropped God from their vocabulary and from their priority list. Like me recently, I think God is present, though not a priority for them now. Maybe I'm looking at this with rose-colored glasses and only seeing what I want to see, but it seems like these individuals I've mentioned here were so much happier with God. They seemed to walk through life with a much clearer purpose, with much more optimism, and with much more amibition. I still love these people as much or more than I did years ago. But I see this comparison between them then and them now, and I'm a little sad. And maybe I see myself then compared to my "wandering" self now, and I don't like that comparison so much either.

Elise and I went to church this morning, and though communion was interrupted prematurely for me due to her bladder, I walked away with a renewed sense of urgency to feed my addiction. I don't want average any longer.