The Light that Fails

In one sense, this blog is my pilgrimage -- my pursuit of God -- but it is also a record of that pilgrimage, and as such, it is a record of my failures, my frustration, my desperate doubt. The world has seemed very dark to me of late, and good, trusted friends have suggested that I need to resume taking anti-depressant medication, that something is off in my brain, that my perspective is clinically skewed. They may be right. But here's my question: Is it possible that God can meet me here? Is it possible that God can answer the longing of my heart? Is it possible that I can throw before him my crazy, skewed view of the world and myself -- and find his grace truly sufficient?

The thing is, I don't want to just be OK -- saying and doing the socially acceptable thing, performing my tasks as wife, mother, writer, church lady in admirable efficiency or (since I never really was able to do that) with some modicum of normalcy. I want to look into the face of God and find him true. I want to look out on a crazy, mixed-up world and look in on my own crazy, mixed-up self with the eyes of God and see meaning and purpose. I want to love him with all my heart, mind and soul and be so transformed by that love that I am able to love my neighbor as well. I do not want to go through the motions of Christianity without an internal reality.

Oswald gives me hope that all of that is possible: "The one thing that remains is looking in the face of God for ourselves."