"everything's fine"

How much energy do we exert to convince ourselves that everything is fine? It is a dangerous assessment, indeed. Two of the most heralded values in the Western world are composure and happiness. So let's be honest: nothing is more unattractive than discontent. We know it and we live it. To lose composure or to be unhappy accepts that life (and our emotional responses) can be dangerously outside of our control.

Over the past twelve months, three of my most dear loved ones have admitted to me their struggles with how they feel. In these cases, either:

* Their feelings betrayed what they presumed to be true.
* Their feelings didn't match their intended desire.
or
* Their feelings were altogether unfamiliar.

In each occasion, I made the fatal suggestion to explore the cause. I'm not smart or arrogant enough to accurately explain why someone feels a certain way, but even the suggestion that there may be cause to explore has condemned me. None of these three are speaking to me, which obviously hurts a great deal.

Yes, I'm tired of losing loved ones; this is only human. It would be much easier for me to say nothing at all. They would still admire my spiritual life, and I would likely be married with 2.5 kids. Everything could be better for me, and all I would have to do is play the game, responding in turn that everything's fine.

For the most part, I should be able to fake it. As long as I limit my thoughts and conversations to benign, controllable, and successful areas of my life, I can push aside the nagging desires. Employment? Everything's fine! Finances? Just peachy! The American dream? Nearly a homeowner! It's warm outside, my breakfast was marvelous, and the Bears won this week.

And if any of this was remotely significant to me, it could work perfectly. It's not that I'm ungrateful; I thank God for my blessed circumstances. But in light of the heart He has given me, everything is far from fine. I hurt with longing for a bride willing to be served, and His church appears notoriously oblivious to its intended purpose. Both of these burdens (and their accompanying rejection) have left me a significant mess. But even if they cause me pain and grief, these burdens matter.

I'm not sure what else to say, because I know no other expression of love. I could shut down this blog, only date uncomplicated women, and go to church every Sunday; most of you will think that I'm better off for it. But if there's a chance that my being unattractive or despised leads to the redemption of even one of His children, perhaps my loneliness is a necessary sacrifice to avoid disturbing the fine lives of the satisfied.