So for the past couple days, I have been experiencing elevated amounts of disorientation, the kind where you wake up and have to remind yourself where you are, what day it is, why it is the time that it is, and why for the life of you the bed you lie in is ten feet off the ground. Oh, you have a roommate, that's why. But honestly, it's been jarring to be polite. The last time I had bouts of this was more then a year ago, when a deep sadness left me stranded apart from my own heart. These moments of confusion are strange and have seemed to be a kind of physical manifestation of the state of internal affairs...caused by unbelievable blessings or lingering sadness:
Such as a childhood friend, like a sister, being receptive to the Gospel after 15 years of exposure,
the reality that the school year is coming to a close, and your best friend will no longer be your roommate and you will miss her dearly,
that the huge burden you have been treading through all school year has unexpectedly turned into blessing,
the realization that each moment is measured by what it contains, by your posture toward God.
Most importantly, that any of these things can change from true to false in an instant, for time is tenable and all that it contains, borrowed. Makes us gratuitous for all. But more than that. Makes us fall to our knees for each pass of beauty.
I don't know what the actual psychological, or maybe more accurately physiological cause of this disorientation is, what my brain is doing in response to my environment, to my experiences as of late, that is causing such jolts of awareness. All I know is that I am having them and that I can't help thinking, maybe God wants us to be like this with him--admittedly unknowing, receptive, confused, compliant. Maybe He expects us to allow His Love this type of hold on our lives, so much so that we pause to thank Him for a pile of purple flowers when we turn the corner, that we cognitively recognize His grace in someone's smile, on their face.
His Nature is impressive, why do we come to expect it?
His Love is safe, why do we see it as a threat?
His will is perfect, why do we doubt it?
His grace is sufficient, why do we tell Him it's not enough?
His ways are mysterious, why do we say we know what He's doing?
He conquered death, why do we still insist on trying to find Life apart from Him?
Because we know not what we do. And we know Him not.
And we refuse to remain in disorientation.
It's uncomfortable. It's uncontrollable.
But when I wake up like this, there is one thing I never forget.
It is written on my arm.
I laugh, for the peace of it. For the joy.
I am His. The beloved. Forever.
And this, it is the most disorienting knowledge of our collective, collateral existence.