Last Exit Before Oblivion

Last night was somewhat quieter. I actually got some sleep; I guess there was only one opera going on.
    I asked God for his peace. I've asked before, but it takes some time to figure out the language, and to discover what peace really is. It's a walking approach.
    Last night it became clearer to me that peace is very dependent upon being close to God. I have no way to produce peace within myself. I don't know how and I misuse what tools I have, and end up with wreckage.
    What became even more clear last night was how much I prefer self-judgment to God's freedom. Self-judgment is familiar. I know the limits, I know the road. It's a path I've travelled many times and all the rough spots have been pounded flat by the traffic. God's path is unknown.
    I also have the feeling that, if I don't keep going as fast as I can, God is going to catch up with me and do... something I'm afraid of. Is he a giant snowplow ready to just blow me off the road so he can get on with what needs to be done?
    I was also thinking about names. Names are often used as limits. We've all been there. "You'll never amount to anything." "You're nothing special." And more names, loudly applied. They're loudly resisted too, but the names have already done their damage, slipping through the defenses. I'm afraid of names. I resist being named, and I resist applying names to others. I especially resist positive names because these have so often been lies, used to manipulate me into doing what someone else wants.
    God walks his own path and, no matter what name is shouted at him, remains forever himself. If I stay close to him, the destructive name-darts--those I throw and those that others throw--don't stick to me. Can I be brave enough to allow God to fully express his name to me? And cease running, so he can come close enough that I can hear him speak his name for me? Last night, he simply said "Be loved. Beloved."

2012 July 27