Friday, January 27, 2012


I messed up. Again.

But it's really a rather long story, so let me start at the beginning. I was frustrated with God again. Actually, not so much with God as just frustrated in general. About my status as a forced celibate, I mean. This is super embarrassing to put down in any kind of form where someone else may read it, but I tried to masturbate. And it just couldn't happen. My body doesn't work. So I started praying about it and somewhere in there, I made a pact with God. You see, I know that I'm not totally broken. Mostly because of Alan from Cairns. There's hope for me.

I think (or at least hope) that part of the problem is my complete lack of emotional attachment for any/all these guys that I've been making out with. Maybe that's what I need to spark the proverbial engine. But if I'm counting on that to mak the difference in any future relationships that I might have, then of course Murphy's Law will snake its way into things and I'll be doone for. It's always when you expect things that they never happen. Also, life just isn't that convenient.

Anyway, back to my bargain. I told God that I would quit with this ridiculous research that I had started in the hope of figuring out which type of men I "feel" for, if you get my meaning. I would go back to my two-shoes ways, stop messing around, and save myself for the eventual possibility of getting married. In short, I would play by His rules. I return, I demanded (and I really was very demanding in the way that I phrased this to Him in my prayer. Feeling a little sheepish about that) that, in the event that I do actually get married, He had to fix me. I refuse to be that girl who doesn't like sex, and therefore doesn't give it to her husband, and then ends up having him end the marriage prematurely. I've comforted myself with the fact that there's got to be some kind of drug I can take, the female version of viagra, if necessary. But I would really just rather if God did a little hormone fiddling Himself and saved me the trouble.

So, bargain made, I continue on my way. Two days later, I decide it's a great idea to go out for Friday night and dance at the bar downstairs from the hostel. Actually, that phrasing makes me sound way more innocent than I was. It was one in the morning and I was angry again and was ready to go down and find someone attractive to make out with. I think a part of me thought I was just all bark and no bite. I don't know. Anyway, I sure as heck won't go into details, but I ended up almost going to bed with another guy from the hostel. Not even an attractive one. And the only reason I say almost is not because I came to my senses at the last second, but more that as he tried to get in, I discovered that sex the fourth time around is still just as painful as it was the first time around and I wasn't willing to bite back the graons of pain for this guy. I think it helped that I was entirely sober. So I stopped him, apologized and left. It was a lot of a longer and more embarrassing process than that, but you get the idea.

It was about halfway through my apology that I realized what I had done. I had broken my bargain with God. I had just traded my potentially successful future marriage for an ugly guy and a really painful experience. Instead of going straight back to my room, I spent a good hour walking around the city at 3am, choking back and then finally just letting loose viscious sobs.

A really large part of me is hoping that things will turn out okay anyway. I mean, God does have a history of keeping promises that He's made, even as we continually let Him down. I don't know if my deciding that we've struck a bargain when technically he never agreed to it counts that same as Him making a promise, but this is how I comfort myself. Then there's another part of me that's still convinced I'll never get married, so it won't even be an issue.

But don't feel too bad for me just yet, this long story does actually have a happy ending (well, at least I'm happy with it for now). I went to church on Sunday and there was a guest preacher at the podium (not Tim Hall, thank you God. Though ironically, I saw that he's going to be a guest speaker in a couple weeks. Too bad I'm gonna be in New Zealand. No really, I'm devastated), and he was really good. His talk mostly focussed on the idea that we should be content with where we are, because God has us there for a reason. But he went off on a side note to tell a story about a time when he had been offered a position with a certain ministry and he was fretting over the decision, convinced that making the wrong one would throw off God's entire plan for his life. So he's pacing and praying when God stops him and says, Dude, you are giving yourself WAY too much credit. You really think that some puny decision that YOU make is going to have any effect whatsoever on MY plan for you? I love you, but you are just not that big.

And I thought about that, then thought back over my previous week, and this huge wave of relief just washed through me. Why am I freaking out about things in my future? God's plan for my life is already in place, and nothing I can say or do would ever be strong enough to mess that up or throw it off track.

Whoever know that having no control over your life could be so reassuring?

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