Dorienne's Log

I was telling one of my roommates about this past Sunday’s church service and I began to feel strained. I was yearning to ask her to come to a service, since the words of pastor about when was the last time any of our congregation asked a ‘white brother or sister’ to our service were still fresh in my head, but I did not. I already knew the answer, but I felt strained, compelled almost to ask anyway, most likely because it was the right thing to do, but still….

There is a part of me that feels like all this is maybe happening too fast, that if I were to even suggest that she come to church with me, that it would seem fake. Why? It’s not; it shouldn’t be. I am not doing this for anyone, and yet the idea of becoming a witness feels fake. It’s times like these that I wish I knew my Bible better. Maybe then, I could find something, read something that would make me feel better.

For that matter, I would simply like to find the Bible my grandmother gave to me so many years ago. It had sat, unused and unloved for ages, and now that I truly need and want it, I cannot find it. I’ve been bringing the Precious Moments Bible given to me when I was in Sunday school when I was about seven at Mt. Olivet. It’s the New King James Version and I feel like I’m old enough to have a ‘normal’ Bible. I’ve searched my room, my car, all through my room at my mother’s house, where I discovered that I’d done something with the Women’s Bible my father had given me ages ago too.

This has just now got me thinking….what have I been doing these past few years? What was going through my mind that I might have tossed out that Women’s Bible in some random haste to remove clutter? I would never have considered tossing one of my ‘precious’ The X-Files tapes, even though I never watch them and they are probably in need of being tossed. However, when it came to a Bible given to me from my father, I was only too quick, I guess, to give it away or throw it away or whatever.

I think that if I could just find the Bible my grandmother gave me, I’d feel better. Even if I didn’t know where to go to find something helpful, at least I would have SOME source to which I could refer.

I just now remembered I post I had made a year and a half ago in another blog (http://kaitco.blogspot.com/):

Friday, October 29, 2004

Pepsi’s log…

Two weeks ago, after finishing a 12-pack of Pepsi in less than five days and realizing just how much sugar I’d consumed in that time, I decided that my addiction had taken a new hold and it was time for a change. Thus, I began the “no-Pepsi” era of my life and I’ll see if this lasts at least until December….

So, tonight while watching an ER re-run, I was suddenly overrun by the urge to drink my third Pepsi of the day. Mind you, I’ve already had a breakdown in the “no-Pepsi” era of my life, by having two today and there I was craving a third. I tried to not think about, I drank water, I had a push-up pop, and yet the craving raged on. And then I looked to the small green Bible given to me by the creepy little man handing out Bibles on campus the other day for solace in my Pepsi temptation. I don’t know what I was expecting exactly, but to no surprise, I got nothing from reading passages on temptation in the Bible. After agonizing over the thought that I will never get back those five minutes I spent reading that damn Bible, the urge subsided and I’m happy to say, I’m back on track, so to speak. But then again I do wonder…..Perhaps reading that little Bible did work. Hmm……

I think I’ve been so caught up in the meaningless dribble of pretending that all those who turned to their Bibles when in times of trouble were stupid and ignorant of how the world worked, that I let myself be devoured by my own misery. I look at the words I’d written so long ago and I can see it. He had been calling and I simply chose to ignore it. Of all the things I’ve undertaken (if that’s proper English, and I know it’s not) in my life, this feels the best of all, mostly because I know that there’s no need to find another ‘obsession’ and that this one will not let me down. It was like during Freshman year when I’d lost my cross: I had been telling myself that I was technically not a Christian, but wore my cross all the time. Why? Because deep down in my heart, I knew that I could not live without feeling that Jesus, God if you will, was not by my side. When I lost my cross, everything in my life seemed to be going down in flames. I cried all the time, simply wallowing in my own despair. Nothing seemed like it was going right. When I got a new one, the world seemed brighter, birds were singing, children laughing….everything was right again. Last year, I lost my cross again, but depression did not follow. Why? Perhaps because I was already beginning this process, this journey, and I knew that I had nothing to fear.

I have to leave now, but I reminiscing just now has got me remembering the absolute hatred I had for a girl I knew while still in the dorms. I think I’ve come to that point in my life where I am strong enough to actually admit that half the reason I could not stand the sight of her was because she was keen on Jesus and happy all the time because of it. I was jealous that I did not have that same love in my heart. Mind you, this girl said and did MANY things that prove that she did not truly ‘believe’ as much as she wanted people to think she did, but at least now I’ve come to terms with all of that…

I think I feel fake when I try to be a witness because of all the people I know who are ‘witnesses’ everyday, but really are not. They say PTL – Praise the Lord – to everyone they know, but put down people when they are high and never have respect for those who think differently than they. They attend church every Sunday, carry a Bible in their cars, but sleep around with two, three, and even four different people at one time, without a second thought. I see them and see that they are false, and I can’t help thinking that if I open my mouth, I will seem just as false. I suppose I can only try to be the best Christian that I can be and pray that Jesus help all those who proclaim they love Him and His word without really meaning it; all those who say they believe in the Word, but hate those who are not Christians, or do not look or speak like they do; all those who say they believe without ever once asking themselves if they truly believe it….

At least on Xanga, I’m not afraid to say, “I love Jesus.”

….it kind of brings a tear to my eye.