"But you, dear friends, build yourselves up in your most holy faith." (Jude v.20)
I feel as though as I've been slowing slipping, slowly drifting off into a slumber; a slumber into whose arms of half-consciousness I long to sink into. Not thinking is sometimes so much simpler than living.
What happens when you pray for something and pray for something and pray for something, and on the other side of your prayers there seems to be silence, emptiness, nothingness? Perhaps if you're a very wise person, you become the stronger and wiser for it. But wisdom is an excruciating choice, and sleep is easier. To turn off the brain into a simple, quiet existence. To just stop troubling yourself with such difficult choices and thoughts all the time. But this is a deathly choice in itself.
I've been drifting, faltering, allowing my soul to linger in unthinking slumber's arms even though I belong to another. My soul was just too tired to rouse and prod to move on. But sleep's seemingly inoccuous fingers will slowly curl their bony unbelief into your soul and hook you there. I can either choose to allow my soul to slip off and shut off, or I can make the choice I know a wise person would make, to continue moving, to continue building, to continue believing.
How does one continue? Sleep has corroded and jaded my heart. I don't want a heart of hard green stone.
I remember, oh I can remember, my youth. Of dreams and running and no limits. Of hope and mystery and a full heart.
I can't simply jump back to another place and time. But I can put one foot in front of the other. Step, pray. Step, build. Step, believe. And perhaps one day I'll be striding from mountaintop to mountaintop instead of faltering in the valleys.