For quite some time, I’ve been searching for proof that I’ve back-slided from Christianity. I’ve not found one; I’ve found two. On the eve of the second anniversary, is this relationship going to end?
Imagine cute, next-door-girl in the dining hall. We don’t know each other but she looks like a sweet girl who knows how to make strawberry-swirled cheesecake for dessert. I see a lanky and rather dashing freshman boy going up to her. Their lips move but I’m too far away. Her flitting eyelids as she peers through the corner of her eyes tells me there’s some flirtation going on. Immediately ten different ways of how to maim the bloke flood the nerves in my brain. I swear my anger was near infinity.
Two weeks later I meet a Latino at church who nudges my memory banks. It takes me a few days to realize this is the same boy who was the victim of my bloodthirsty rage for murder. See the irony? Hatred against a brother. That’s miles away from what a Christian should be.
I also recently discovered that a friend of mine is actually pretty darn good pianist. Well, he’s a brother first and a friend second. But instead of marveling at his ability to create beauty out of banging keys, my heart turns apple green with envy — of him, of course — and again boiling my own blood. All credit to him (and certainly no disrespect), but I can play the piano too, and I know I can play as well as he does, if I just damn well practise. The plot thickens when you realize that I’m a born perfectionist who has this innate need to be the best in everything that I do.
Because of that, the disappointments never stop. I’m a versatile writer, yet I haven’t covered all the bases, formats and genres. Neither do I consider myself a master of words yet. On a good day, I can certainly beat most fencers, but I’ve also had the opportunity (and misfortune) to fence against some near-world-class fencers. These are awesome fighters whom I would be lucky to get a point off them. See, even if I’ve won a little something occasionally, I’m light years away from that level, and I’ll probably never reach it. As my eyes follow the moving hands of my friend at the piano, I wonder where I threw away all that practice, money and musical talent. I want to be a maestro in the 4 instruments I play, but that dream sounds so far away.
Is that what Christians are supposed to be? Competitive junkies who kill to win? I know that’s a ‘no.’ Maybe some people can never fall under God’s grace. My sail boat just keeps drifting away, and I don’t know how to find my way back to paradise.