I long to be lost.
I want to forget who I am.
When I was lost, unsure, inept I was desperate. Desperation drove my soul forward, searching for my place in the world, seeking Daddy, the Holder-Together-Of-All-Things that held me in the web of his life. I had no idea why I was here, what He would want with me, I just knew that I was here, and I desperately needed to be with Him.
Four years of theological training and I know have answers. Not all the answers, but answers. I have studied myself to a point of Know-It-Allness that I have forsaken my panic induced striving after the one Holy-Know-It-All (for he Made-It-All). I have become the doctor--the one bringing answers to those who are desperate.
In my learning of the answers, I lost my desperation. Loss of desperation kills.
...It means I no longer seek (how then can I find?)
...It means I am no longer sick (how can I be made well?)
...It means I am no longer fragmented (how can I be made whole?)
I know (thanks to my ever so great self-knowledge) that I am still reliant on the Source; that I am being made well and whole and complete and perfect according to His blueprints for my soul...
...but some days I miss the desperation of the start, the days when whine my prayers out into a tear stained pillow...
...for it was in the start that I felt the gentle God arms on my shoulder, not telling me where to go, but revealing that He Is.