"Torn, torn in two, by what I should and should not do..."

I'm surrounded by it. Everywhere you look, you can't help but step in it. Spring fever. Love. Lust. Marriage.

Wedding mania descends again upon the populace, like swimsuited beachgoers upon the nearest coastline. And it's not leaving before getting a good, dark tan.

I got an invitation in the mail to a wedding in Dallas in the next month. My dear friends Mike and Ginny, whom I haven't seen in several years. Finally--after years of belabouring the point--they have acquiesced to their entwined fates. Good for them. I look forward to celebrating with them.

This past Sunday, I found out that two friends at church, whom I didn't even realize were dating, had eloped. Eloped.

This means that, of regular weekly attenders, six of twelve are engaged or married; two have been dating for several years; and of the final four, one is NewGirl, one is NoInterestGirl, the third is NotAChanceInHellGirl, and the fourth is yours truly. (I can't help but think that God is using this to test my real motives for participating in church. I'm pretty sure I'm passing.)

It's not going away, this "marriage" craze. I hoped maybe this type of thing would die down after college (each summer of which containing at least 2 and as many as 5 weddings of friends). Doesn't seem to be the case. Who knows, maybe once I reach the upper echelons of bachelorhood, I can get some distance from it.

In the meantime, I just have to grin and bear being the (next-)best man and groomsman to each of these lovely people.

I've been skittish lately. I'd like to write it off as part and parcel of this phenomena occuring recently. But I know it's something else.

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I'm not doing anything meaningful with my life. Nothing lasting. I'm working, I'm coming home, watching TV. Seeing my family every weekend. I'm consuming. I'm not producing. I'm not serving.

I want to do something meaningful, but I feel overwhelmed by the things that need to be fixed. I flipped through my latest WorldVision newsletter and just sighed and shook my head. (How you must weep, El Roi. Selah.) But I feel utterly powerless to change things. I could commit to making a difference here; I feel like a selfish jackass for not doing so already. But to do so, I think I'd have to make some significant changes in my habits, in my lifestyle. I'd have to disconnect from things I enjoy, the things I'm excited about, to do this. I know it's not as drastic as all that, but it feels that way. I don't have any energy to do anything during the week, so I do it on the weekend. But if I want to serve, if I want to help others, volunteer, serve at a soup kitchen, whatever, it would have to be on a weekend.

During my "me" time. I shudder to even type that. But that's the struggle. To feel like I'm giving up the time I have to relax, to hang out with family and friends, in order to do what I should be doing.

Is this the Kingdom of Heaven? Is this the abundant life? Is this why You said that I must hate my father and mother and sisters in order to follow you? So that when these choices come, there would be no contest, no vacillation, no whining on my part?

I know what I ought to do, and I don't do it. As the Book says--for me, that is sin.

There is so much I want to do with my time. I want to exercise. I want to read. I want to write. I want to learn to play the guitar that sits in the corner gathering dust. I want to hit the open-mike poetry night at Ecclesia. I want to spend time with these people around me that I care about, before some of them disappear behind the marriage veil and others move away to following God's leading in their lives.

Yet each night, as I trudge up the stairs to my apartment, all I can think about is what will take the least time and effort to make for dinner, and if I have to do laundry so I'll have clothes for the rest of the work week. I can sometimes summon the strength to do the daily chores that should come easy to grown-ups and are nothing but irritation and frustration to me. I zone out in front of TV, I read a little sometimes. I listen to music. I get to bed too late, wake up too late, and go through the workday exhausted and overwhelmed. When the weekend comes, I'm relieved, but I'm often mindful of what I "should" be doing. I'm reminded that I shouldn't be so selfish. Yet only on Saturdays do I feel like I can get something accomplished, like I can feel something resembling a "life."

That's the thing I guess. "Take away my life, O God." That's what I should be praying.

It's just so hard to say. I have to let go of any expectations or desires I have for what I want my life to be, so that I can submit--disappear--to the plans and purpose of my Sovereign Lord.

I know, in my head, that I'll only find true contentment when that happens. I'm just trying to believe it in my heart. Right now, I'm torn; there's a disconnect.