When I was a freshman in college, I found myself a bit out of my depth. A classic introvert I didn't know how to ask for help or gauge who the right person to help might be. Lacan might say I was stuck in the imaginary phase (which turned out to be rather long). Regardless, I was susceptible to the high pressure sales we then called being born again: the process of tearfully (always tearfully - it's no good if done rationally, as a matter of course - how could you know it's the holy spirit otherwise) renouncing an old life and accepting a new one with Jesus. The things you think about yourself and your family and even things you loved in the past - screw them. It's highly charged and romantic. You now've embarked on the most perfect relationship. The I and the Thou are in exact proportion.
My reflection, looking through journals and notes, is that nothing changed. However my thinking was then less practical, covered with a supernatural patina of god's will. Had I failed in my tearfulness, failed to truly despise and renounce my gifts and inclinations, all too easily persisted in my sinfulness and now ashamed of my failure to truly let god in?
The kicker is when people respond with "if you forget me, you've lost nothing; if you forget Jesus, you've lost everything" - statements I found less than encouraging back then. Now these sentiments seem to hide a kind of "don't call me" vibe. Really this person is telling me that they're wanting nothing more to do with me - under cover of romantic piety. I say romantic piety because among the people I was around, and at gatherings like Jesus 80 in Orlando, there's a kind of heroic Christianity on display: This person gave up a career ; this person gave up wealth - ad nauseum - a kind of one-upmanship. And so there's this sacrifice - that 's what seals the deal. Only then does God adequately care - as apparently he (always he) cared for the string of testimonial speakers, who all went from derelict to stalwart believer in a blink of an eye.
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