Last Exit Before Oblivion

Ah, I'm sick of myself. God treats me kindly, and I run away. How is it that kindness feels like a lash on tender skin? Perhaps it's just the fear that it will not last. Or maybe it's just unfamiliarity. Walking into a warm room after being outside in the ice feels like a burn.

God calls, I come, get too close, and then run away. I stay just outside of the cone of light he casts, not wanting to freeze, not wanting to get too close. Why doesn't he just give up? Years and years. But this seems to be something very important to him, which probably means it's, in truth, something very important to me.

How could one live for a relationship with God? How could one not? I don't understand it, but this appeals to me more than anything else. Gadgets are nice when there's a job to do, but... there's no human touch there. No kindness, no life.

I don't really know what the call is. I just know that my soul echoes God's music and I want to go to the source. What would I give up for that? What would I give up to keep God away from me? Currently I'm on the verge of giving up all relationships so that I can ignore God, but I doubt he will let me get away with that. I was taking a shower earlier, thinking about panic, and he just wrapped me in his kindness and arrested the run. Quelled the panic.

Intimacy drives me nuts. Run or stay? I oscillate, irritated. I want nothing to do with it. My soul cries for it. God calls and I quiver, undecided, but the issue is decided. Against kindness, my kind of rigidity just doesn't work very well. I have no valid criticism of God's actions. He has only ever acted with kindness toward me, and he makes me honest. I flee because of my own fears, not because of his actions. Rigidity dissolves. I can't hold it.

Jesus said that if you didn't die, you couldn't live. I think I'm learning what he meant.